I have a scratch-off poster of 100 “essential” novels from the Pop Chart Lab, and one of the things that surprised me the most was, as well read as I consider myself to be, I hadn’t read even half of the books on the poster when I got it. Since I am something of a completionist, I decided I should read the rest and see if they were worth my time. Some of them were much longer than others, and I wouldn’t even say I am going to like all of the ones I have read, but most of them have at least been interesting.
Most recently, I finished author Marilynne Robinson’s Pulitzer Prize winning novel Gilead. And, well, this one was more than interesting. It was wonderful.
As novels go, Gilead doesn’t have much of a plot. It’s more of a meditation on life and faith than anything else. I’m not a particularly spiritual man, but I can appreciate well-written or expressed spirituality when I see it. Robinson’s work is written as a series of diary entries from the Reverend John Ames, pastor of a Congregationalist church in the fictional town of Gilead, Iowa. A man in his 70s, musing he may vote for Eisenhower for president, he married late in life to a much younger woman and has a very young son he believes he will not see grow up due to a heart issue. The text of the novel is Ames’s words of wisdom for his son to read someday long after the good reverend is gone.
And that’s it, really. The novel can be roughly divided into two sections. In the first, Ames discusses his father and grandfather, themselves both ministers, but very different men. Ames’s father was a pacifist through-and-through who disagreed with his own father. Ames’s grandfather was something of an old rascal who blew in and out of his family’s lives since he rode off to help John Brown and eventually fought in the Civil War to free the slaves. Ames himself has only rarely left Gilead, most notably a trip, by foot no less, with his father to find his grandfather’s grave and to go to seminary school. That was it. His closest friend is a man named Boughton, pastor for another church in town, and the second half is about Ames’s feelings for the black sheep of Boughton’s large family, Jack Boughton, named for Ames and seen for most of the book by Ames as little better than a childish troublemaker.
That the book ends with Ames finally understanding Jack is another wonderful thing about this work.
Most of what makes this book what it is is how simple and good Ames seems to be. He doesn’t hold grudges or lose his temper. He prays often, especially when he thinks, rightly or wrongly, he did something wrong. He sees joy and beauty everywhere, especially in his young wife, a woman who seems to have had a bad life herself until she met and eventually married Ames. Ames delights in his young son (who I am not sure ever gets a name in the book, nor his wife for that matter). Mostly, Ames marvels over God’s creation. Even if he rarely left Gilead, he’s no George Bailey regretting it. Quite the opposite, in fact. He found everything he needed in the town, and he spends much of his time reflecting on Scripture and the writings of various Christian philosophers, plus the occasional atheist after his older brother came back from college without any sort of faith to speak of.
As I read this book, I honestly wondered if Robinson herself was a minister of some kind. Her Wikipedia entry does say she has done some preaching, but mostly works as a writer. She has since written similar books to Gilead about the lives and perspectives of Ames’s wife and Jack Boughton, so perhaps I will look into those. On the other hand, a work like this is beautiful enough on its own, and God knows I have enough unread books as it is. But really, this was a fantastic book, and I’m glad I got to it.
Grade: A+
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