Book Review: Gilead (Marilynne Robinson)

Someone wrote that this book simmers on 'slow burn'.

This is such a perceptive comment when it comes to this wonderful work of fiction. It feels like it has been written in the time of the great American novels like To Kill a Mockingbird, when novelists could take their time to establish their characters, the scene and location, and the atmosphere of their work.

In my church there is an Indiana man who is proud of the fact that as a teenager he was taught the art of telling stories. Storytelling is now integral to how he speaks. Gilead is a book about the art of storytelling as much as about the content of the story itself.  

                                                                                     Pages: 291


Gilead is actually not a book as such, but a letter written by an aged and dying pastor, the Reverend John Ames, to his infant son (after being widowed, Ames remarries later in life to someone much younger).

In the letter John Ames portrays the relationships between he and his father, and between his father and grandfather. All of them were pastors, and it becomes clear that grandad and dad have had a particularly difficult relationship.

Yet the letter is so much more than a family history. Perhaps reflective of its setting in Gilead, Iowa, in 1956, John Ames' letter is both reflective and delightfully meandering. Perhaps the reason for his careful, slow-paced writing is this:

One great benefit of a religious vocation is that it helps you concentrate. It gives you a good basic sense of what is being asked of you and also what you might as well ignore. If I have any wisdom to offer, this is a fair part of it.(p6)

Reverend John Ames indeed takes his time writing his story, and this is the 'slow burn' of the book. In cooking, a slow burn always gives meat that richer and more rewarding taste on the plate. So it is with John Ames' letter. I was mesmerised by his meandering descriptions and frequent asides as his letter unfolds.

A couple of examples:

I'm about to put on imperishability. In an instant, in the twinkling of an eye. 
The twinkling of an eye. That is the most wonderful expression. I've thought from time to time it was the best thing in life, that little incandescence you see in people when the charm of a thing strikes them, or the humour of it. "The light of the eyes rejoiceth the heart". That's a fact. (p61) 


There have been heroes here, and saints and martyrs, and I want you to know that. Because that is the truth, even if no-one remembers it. To look at the place, it's just a cluster of houses strung along a few roads, and a little row of brick buildings with stores in them, and a grain elevator and a water tower with Gilead written on its side, and the post office and the schools and the playing fields and the old train station, which is pretty well gone to weeds now. But what must Galilee have looked like? You can't tell so much from the appearance of a place. (205)

Along the way there is an unfolding subplot. It is the return of Jack, the son of John Ames' lifelong friend Robert Boughton, who is widowed and looked after by his daughter, Glory.

As Jack returns to the small town he carries a secret scandalous for a small USA town in the year 1956. Read the book to discover it. Jack's eventual confessional with the Reverend John Ames forms a climax of sorts to this book, and it's a credit to the writer that this finale shows clearly the wonderful grace of God found in Jesus Christ that is available to all people to receive. The book finishes with Ames' future death seen not with sadness but with hope and delight in his son.

Needless to say, as a believer I found great hope in this book.

Hope because firstly the book is the real deal, a genuine classic ( I don't use that term lightly). It's a book that has won a globally recognized secular award - The Pulitzer Prize for fiction. It's light years ahead of the sometimes-embarrassing fiction that can be found in our Christian bookstores. This book has serious credibility.

But the real hope in this book is that its serious literary credentials are matched by its beautiful Christian witness. Gilead carries a constant, gentle undertow of Christian grace. This is a book you can give to your most fussy literary friend or family member, not only for its literary value but for its Christian witness. I thoroughly recommend you do.          

One final point, more about myself than the book: I noticed my own impatience while reading Gilead. Its 'slow burn' manner made me impatient at times. I see this not as a criticism of the book, but as a marker for my own change in reading habits. As a pre-internet school student, I did take the time to read books such as To Kill a Mockingbird and Heart of Darkness, which were similar slow burners. However I notice now that as a 39 year-old reader I am far less patient. I've turned into a Facebook status update reader. To be disciplined enough to slow down and let a book like Gilead speak at its own pace was very difficult at times.

Another reason to close the laptop and open a good novel more often.        



 


 
   

 

Stories of the Broken

I am drawn to autobiographies of the broken. In reading such books the grace of God glows brightly. Henri Nouwen's books are an example. Nouwen was a Catholic priest who worked as an academic at Notre Dame University in the USA. Feeling like his faith was being shrivelled by the academic world he accepted an invitation to be a pastor at L'Arche, a Christian care facility for the mentally unwell.

In his first year or so there, Nouwen suffered a nervous breakdown and took an extended absence. After three years he had recovered and written a book called 'The Return of the Prodigal Son', in which he recounts his discovery of the Rembrandt painting of this gospel parable, and his personal insight from God into Jesus and God's amazing grace through both the parable and painting.

The book above is actually a collection of Nouwen's notes from conferences he spoke at, in which he relates the story of his breakdown and recovery experience.

There'll be a couple of moments where you go 'hmmm, not sure I agree with that', however the book is still  quite moving in parts and, again, a powerful witness of the grace of God. Along the way are practical exercises to slow yourself down and meditate on God and his word. Recommended.

Book Review: All is Grace (Brennan Manning with John Blase)

Pages: 236

There is something special about immersing yourself in the life of another person for a few hours. It's special because you see from inside all of the flaws and flows of another person's journey. You see that brokenness is a characteristic of every person. And if you're fortunate, you'll see a deep insight into the grace of God somewhere in there too.

Some of my favourite books of the last couple of years have been autobiographies for these very reasons. It was a privilege to read the life stories of Stanley Hauerwas in 'Hannah's Child', and Eugene Peterson in 'The Pastor'. And now 'All of Grace'.

Brennan Manning has been preaching this message for over 40 years to believers: God loves you unconditionally, as you are and not as you should be, because nobody is as they should be (p192). This is, of course, due to the work of Christ on the cross to rescue us. Yet Manning's autobiography depicts a man who 'kept getting on airplanes and flying places to proclaim a gospel he believes with all his heart but has not always lived' (p15). In the middle of this unfortunate paradox, however, comes an aroma of grace; 'the prodigal can never outrun the Father...that I am not measured by the good I do but by the grace I accept' (p.23).

Manning was born in Brooklyn, USA during the Great Depression. What is depressing about his birth is that his mother prayed for a girl and told his son, "You don't always get what you ask for". His parents' method of child-rearing was 'discipline, regimentation, sternness, and a minimum of affection' (p39). As a result, Manning was followed throughout his life by a menacing shadow:

As I think back on my childhood, the word shame serves as an umbrella. It is the sense of being completely insufficient as a person, the nagging feeling that for some reason you're defective and unworthy. That's how I felt all the time. (p51)         

As a result he made an early vow to himself to play the role of 'the good boy' for his parents. The problem with becoming this 'good boy' was that Manning 'placed a muzzle on his emotional self' (p51), creating in the process an insatiable hunger for the acceptance and approval of others as an adult.  Manning writes wistfully that this vow 'cost me my voice, my sense of wonder, and my self-worth for most of my adult life' (p56). Then, at the age of sixteen, being 'young and horribly insecure and willing to try anything not to feel that way' (p76), Manning began to regularly drink massive amounts of alcohol as his cure. Thus began a lifetime of alcohol addiction that caused great destruction in the life of this famous preacher.  

Alcohol featured in his life, but also God. Manning impulsively joined the US marines in the footsteps of his older brother at age 18. At 21, he realized there must be more to life than being 'a troubled guest on this dark earth' (p88). So he went to a spiritual director who told him that maybe the 'more' he was looking for was God.

Almost immediately Manning quit the marines and joined a Franciscan seminary. During his time at the seminary Manning went through much searching for God. As he realized he was 'Manning-centric' and not God-centric, he was given a message by a wise mentor that was to have a profound imprint on his future path: "It's okay not to be okay"/"He loves you just as you are, not as you should be" (p106-107).

The rest of the book describes Manning's lifelong battle with alcohol; his leaving the priesthood at 41 to marry, only to later divorce due to his self-destructive tendencies; his continuing family tensions; and later in his life the wonderful friendship and love he experienced forming a support group of men called 'The Notorious Sinners'.    
    
I was enthralled by this book. It is beautifully written. Manning was told early on by his superiors in the Marines that he had a gift for writing. They were not wrong. I was deeply moved by the tragic story of his upbringing. I was deeply appreciative for his openness and honesty to share his wretchedness with me, the reader. I was fascinated by the insights God had given him into that time and wished more people would pick up this book and read them:

My life is a witness to vulgar grace - a grace that amazes as it offends. A grace that pays the eager beaver who works all day long the same wages as the grinning drunk who shows up at ten till five (p193)       

A quote from one of Manning's good friends echoes this need for both God's grace and self-honesty:

My highest hope is for all of us to stop trying to fool others by appearing to have our act together. As people living in intimate union with God, we need to become better known for what who we actually are...if we really believe the gospel we proclaim, we'll be honest about our own beauty and brokenness, and the beautiful broken One will make himself known to our neighbours through the chinks in our armour - and in theirs. (p179)

I would not be surprised if this is the best book I read this year. I highly recommend this book to you all.