First edition as new

In 1950s Iowa, precisely in the windswept settlement of Gilead, Congregationalist minister John Ames is preparing to meet his Maker. Ames is 76 and his heart has been playing up. He knows that he does not have long to live, and that he will be leaving behind a young wife and a seven year old son, the unexpected blessing of his old age. So he sets out to write a long letter to this boy he will never see growing up. As Ames sifts through his memories, the story of his family (particularly his preacher father and grandfather) and the community which they served starts to take shape. Old pains and preoccupations resurface - particularly those related to the minister's godson and namesake John Ames Boughton. A troublemaker in childhood, youth and well into adulthood, is there the possibility of salvation for Boughton as well? Will God's grace ever touch him?

This is "Gilead" - part diary, part memoir; part testament, part confession. Robinson writes brilliantly - her narrator's style is perfectly pitched and utterly convincing with its continuous scriptural references and discursive theological debates underscored by very human emotions. Some scenes and metaphors - such as the image of John and and his father standing on the desolate grave of John's grandfather against the backdrop of a rising moon - will stick to the mind.

At one point in the novel, Ames mentions [b:The Diary of a Country Priest|63672|The Diary of a Country Priest|Georges Bernanos|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1436634216s/63672.jpg|1174195] by [a:Georges Bernanos|35812|Georges Bernanos|https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1245180195p2/35812.jpg]. Although the latter book is written from a Catholic viewpoint (indeed, it is considered a classic "Catholic novel") whilst Gilead reflects a "Calvinist" theology, there are surprising similarities between the two works in their conception (a first-person journal), narrators (troubled "men of the cloth" in a small community) and in their concerns (mercy, grace, sin, redemption). However, I'd say that Robinson is a cannier writer. Although hers is no plot-driven novel, she tightly controls the few narrative threads and introduces gradual revelations in such a way that she grips the interest of the reader. I'd even go as far as saying that she manages to make her novel "entertaining" - and I mean that in a good way. Both are great books - but, to use a musical analogy, it's rather like comparing the organ works of Messiaen with the more immediate pleasures of Copland's "Appalachian Spring".

4.5* rounded up to 5* ( )

Here in 2023, after reading Robinson's Lila and starting to read her Housekeeping, I see that I logged in this book in 2011. Now, though, I have no certain memory of having read it. ( )

This book has been on my to-read list for a long time, but I resisted reading it. I do that often when a book seems too well-liked. But this one was different, because I knew I loved Marilynne Robinson and the book won the Pulitzer for god's sake. It was EXACTLY the type of book I like. So, I bought it. Waited a few years. And finally started it.

It was not over-hyped and I was not disappointed.

I can't put into words what I want to say about this book, so I will only say it was beautiful.

For a more perfect review of this book, see David Schaafsma's review: https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/617828154 ( )

I'm late to Robinson's books, but I read Housekeeping earlier this year and was mesmerized by it and felt deeply connected to Ruth, the narrator. When I began Gilead, which is also in first person, I had a harder time finding a connection to the dying preacher, John Ames. However, the language was just as beautiful as in Housekeeping, so I was drawn in. Writing a letter to his young son, he tells stories of how his grandfather's abolitionism and time as a Free Soiler came in conflict with his father's pacifism, and their family history, but this novel's heart, for me, was in his relationship with Jack, his best friend's prodigal son who has returned home. ( )