Gilead

Although Marilynne Robinson's Gilead had been strongly recommended to me by two people whose literary opinions I value quite highly, I now admit my initial reluctance to read it. A epistolary novel about a preacher in 1950s Iowa just didn't sound like something that would grab me, I suppose. And although the first fifty or so pages were exquisitely written and sprinkled with gorgeously constructed sentences and sentiments, I'm not entirely positive I would have made is past those first fifty meandering pages has it not been for two things: this book club, and this passage:

I'm writing this in part to tell you that if you ever wonder what you've done in your life, and everyone does wonder sooner or later, you have been God's grace to me, a miracle, something more than a miracle. You may not remember me very well at all, and it may seem to you to be no great thing to have been the good child of an old man in a shabby little town you will no doubt leave behind. If only I had the words to tell you...You're just a nice-looking boy, a bit slight, well scrubbed and well mannered. All that is fine, but it's your existence I love you for, mainly. Existence seems to me now the most remarkable thing that could ever be imagined (52-53).

As corny as it sounds, I fell in love with John Ames (and, consequently, this novel) during this moment, a moment which encapsulated John's worldview for me: there is the potential for grace in everyone, beauty and joy can be present in even the most ordinary of things, and the mere existence of a person can be miraculous. (Of course this worldview is tested later in the novel with the return of Jack Boughton, but that's a topic for discussion, I suppose.) And after a few more glittering moments like the one above, I stopped searching for a plot - though one does eventually emerge - and started reveling in the way the novel was making me feel. Gilead is perhaps the single most loving thing I have ever read. For me, this book was a source of calm during a time in my life when it was sorely needed, and I am deeply thankful to have read it.

(And for the record, I'm not just saying these things because this book was my choice. I quite sincerely mean every single sappy word.)

But with that said, I also understand that this is an incredibly challenging novel in a lot of ways. Some readers take issue with the use of religion, others with the seemingly random narrative structure, and I'm sure a great many readers called it quits before the eventual plot began to reveal itself. And although I can (and will) defend all these criticisms, I can't fault anyone for having them. Gilead is an acquired taste, and one probably needs to be in a certain frame of mind to fully appreciate it.

So, in accordance to custom, I've posted below several questions for possible discussion. I hope you all get a chance to share your thoughts at some point soon, and please feel free to add a topic/question if you feel there is something I have overlooked. After all, there's quite a lot here to discuss.