A life on the prairie
I finished reading Gilead, by Marilynne Robinson, this afternoon. I’d heard a lot about it, but had no idea what I was up against once I got into it.
To say the least, this novel was written in a format unlike anything I’ve read before. Gilead was written as a journal from a dying father to his young seven year old son. The father, a seventy-six year old preacher from a small town in Iowa, writes this journal to make up for all of the lessons he will not be able to share as his son grows to manhood. The year is 1956.
The father is a country preacher who is the son and grandson of country preachers. Religion plays an important part in the storyline, but it has to be taken in the context of being part of the father’s livelihood. He’s at the end of his life, approaching the gates of heaven, and doubts still assail him; but he still wants to give his young son something to remember him, some key to future happiness because there is little money to give as an inheritance.
The father’s regret at not being able to live long enough for his son’s sake runs through the book, but it is the father’s relationship with his god that he most want to give to his son, as it was given to him from his own father and grandfather.
A good book? Well, Gilead won the Pulitzer Prize and that was reason enough for me.
Mostly, though, I wanted to get some sense of what living in that part of the country is like. My grandparents on my mother’s side come from Kansas and Nebraska, while their parents and relatives lived in Kansas, Oklahoma, Missouri, Iowa, Minnesota, and Nebraska. There are still distant relatives out on the prairies, too distant for anything close to contact, so any book that can give me some sense of that place usually ends up before my eyes. This book came closer than any other book I’ve read.
And, there is the religion. As an adult, I’ve been sprinkled and dipped. I’ve professed a born again experience that I truly believed occurred. Yet, I’ve always approached belief as a scholar might research some iota of knowledge. So this book was enjoyed for its religious experience, too.
Finally, Gilead is a good, easy read. The author doesn’t play any grammatical games because she’s writing as a father might write for his son. The language is simple and direct. A dictionary is not required to look up words so obscure they’re usually considered archaic.
To say the least, this novel was written in a format unlike anything I’ve read before. Gilead was written as a journal from a dying father to his young seven year old son. The father, a seventy-six year old preacher from a small town in Iowa, writes this journal to make up for all of the lessons he will not be able to share as his son grows to manhood. The year is 1956.
The father is a country preacher who is the son and grandson of country preachers. Religion plays an important part in the storyline, but it has to be taken in the context of being part of the father’s livelihood. He’s at the end of his life, approaching the gates of heaven, and doubts still assail him; but he still wants to give his young son something to remember him, some key to future happiness because there is little money to give as an inheritance.
The father’s regret at not being able to live long enough for his son’s sake runs through the book, but it is the father’s relationship with his god that he most want to give to his son, as it was given to him from his own father and grandfather.
A good book? Well, Gilead won the Pulitzer Prize and that was reason enough for me.
Mostly, though, I wanted to get some sense of what living in that part of the country is like. My grandparents on my mother’s side come from Kansas and Nebraska, while their parents and relatives lived in Kansas, Oklahoma, Missouri, Iowa, Minnesota, and Nebraska. There are still distant relatives out on the prairies, too distant for anything close to contact, so any book that can give me some sense of that place usually ends up before my eyes. This book came closer than any other book I’ve read.
And, there is the religion. As an adult, I’ve been sprinkled and dipped. I’ve professed a born again experience that I truly believed occurred. Yet, I’ve always approached belief as a scholar might research some iota of knowledge. So this book was enjoyed for its religious experience, too.
Finally, Gilead is a good, easy read. The author doesn’t play any grammatical games because she’s writing as a father might write for his son. The language is simple and direct. A dictionary is not required to look up words so obscure they’re usually considered archaic.
posted by Carl Holiday at
2:16 PM
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