Gilead

In an effort to both spice up my blog, and keep me accountable to reading, this is my first installment reviewing books. There is going to be a steady diet of Trinitarian theology, as well as some sin and repentance books, in the coming weeks, but today we begin with a novel.

Synopsis

Gilead is really a masterfully told memoir of an aging minister written for his young son. John Ames is aware that he will die soon, and embarks on sharing some of who he is through these letters. Gilead is the name of the small town in Iowa where Ames has spent almost his entire life. The book deals throughout with themes of fatherhood, sonship and grace, and on the whole is amazingly crafted. Robinson has a knack for wrapping you in nostalgia, and then quietly leaving you to ruminate through other people's memories. This is not a fast paced, plot driven, action infused novel, but rather feels more like an afternoon on your porch listening to a grandfather tell you stories.

Reflection

It is the disarming method of story telling that really is the trick to Gilead. At the moments when you are least ready for insight, reflection, and honest revelation, we are opened to new possibilities. I read through this book while I was in the hospital and recovering from an illness, so perhaps I was more open to questions of mortality and nostalgia than I normally am, but there were some very clear resonances for me throughout out. Ames' love affair with baseball, particularly on the radio as opposed to TV (because TV is too two-demensional), his recounting of jumping to catch a line drive as grace, and teaching children to play, was a welcome backdrop throughout the book.

I first heard about Gilead from Will Willimon, who quotes Hauweras as saying this is the first truly Barthian novel, and this takes some explaining. I think Hauweras is right, but it takes a long time to understand why. The general Barthian thrust is the need for God to be other than us, the need for God to be holy, but the peculiar Barthian slant of this work is the reliance on God speaking, and our unfaithfulness or faithfulness to that speech. The ability for Ames to look over his entire life, to see the death of a wife and a child, to never travel the world, to be willing to discard all of his sermons and books, to honestly struggle with doubt, to be estranged from his father, to witness three wars, the Depression and plagues and to still see it all is grace, as God's unproportioned gift is the Barthian core of Gilead.

I can pretty strongly reccomend Gilead with the caveat that it is not easy to read. It is a book that is so well written, you often feel cheated if you read a page to fast. Marilynne Robinson rewards her reader's patience and challenges us to savor all of it. This of course is no easy task, but doubtless there is grace in the practice.