Book Review: Gilead, by Marilynne Robinson (2004)

 

In a list I saw of the best books written this century (to date), Gilead was placed second. The brief blurb to justify its lofty position mentioned something deeply philosophical, and I thought I’d better look into it. The novel was also a winner of the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction. It is perhaps unfair for a book to be quite so highly acclaimed. No doubt it does wonders for sales, but it does foster a fervent expectancy in the reader.

‘Fervent’ is probably not a word you will read in any other review of this work. ‘Electric’, ‘explosive’ or ‘exhilarating’ will be equally evasive. ‘Heart stopping’ might come up, but only in the context of the dwindling health of the Reverend John Ames, the main character of the novel. In fact, Gilead consists entirely of a letter or epistle written by the ageing Reverend for his young son to read one day, knowing that his memories of his father might be limited. The title of the book is the name of the small, sleepy town in Iowa where the Reverend has lived his entire life, inheriting his vocation in the Congregationalist Church from his father, who in turn had followed in his father’s footsteps. Much to his own surprise, John Ames had married for a second time late in life, hence his expectation that his time with his young son will be so brief. His life-long friend is the Reverend of the Presbyterian Church, ‘Old Boughton’, who in contrast has a sizable family, with whom Ames is well acquainted, including with the ‘rogue’ son, Jack.

As I see it, Gilead is divided into two parts, even though there are no individual chapters in the book. The first half consists of the old man’s thoughts and memories, anecdotes from his childhood in the town, the differing attitudes of his father and grandfather, as well as his own life in the church. We also learn how he came to marry again. The pace is slow, the stories are repetitive, and I have to admit I came close to giving up reading on more than one occasion.

The second half of the book focusses more on Jack Boughton, that wayward boy, who makes an unexpected reappearance in Gilead. This causes some considerable distress to our Reverend, who confides that he never much liked Jack, and discloses the numerous indiscretions from the past that he believes marks his character. He soon becomes convinced that Jack has certain intentions towards his wife and son once he has passed away, which is obviously quite a strain on the old man, and necessitates much praying in search of a solution. The old man’s worry becomes rather obsessive, but the story does at least become more alluring.

The book is very well written, there is no question about that. It must indeed capture a particular place at a particular point in time, both of which I am too unfamiliar with to truly appreciate. The philosophical musings over the intricacies and purpose of religion were wasted on me too. In truth, I probably didn’t give this novel the concentration it deserved, try as I might. My issue with the story was that it is, obviously and inevitably, completely and utterly one-sided.¹ The idea of an old man writing such an exhaustive and rambling letter for his son is certainly quaint and endearing, but I couldn’t help wondering what the son would actually make of it once he came to read it, especially at the point his old Dad went off on his detour after Jack Boughton. I was also concerned that logic would dictate that we could never learn how the story resolves, since the book was obviously destined to end with the Reverend’s final instalment prior to his own end. As it turns out, the worry over Jack Boughton was misplaced, as a series of conversations between Jack and John reveal a different, redeeming side to the younger man’s nature. Also, when it does come, the close of the book is very nicely done.

 

Favourite Character: Reverend Ames, so I read, is one of Barak Obama’s favourite literary characters. I didn’t dislike him in any way, but I wouldn’t particularly want to have to sit through any of his sermons. The worthy side of Jack’s story is certainly commendable, but for me it doesn’t explain, exonerate, excuse or erase any of his earlier deeds. This doesn’t leave much to choose from. Old Boughton didn’t appeal to me very much. Therefore, I’ll go with the Reverend’s grandfather – who doesn’t like a one-eyed, gunslinging, thieving, eccentric old preacher?

 

¹ I have since learnt that there are now three follow-up novels that tell the stories of the prominent characters in Gilead, and these likely add the balance that I felt was missing in this book alone.