Thursday, July 30, 2009

Style and Structure

I suppose as good a place to begin as any is with the thing that could make or break Gilead for its readers: its style. There are really two halves to this book - the first rooted mostly in the past, and the second focusing primarily on the present. Similarly, when the focus shifts from the past to the present, Robinson's method of storytelling shifts as well. Gilead is mostly narrative in the beginning - a series of letters to his son, the subject of which often seem random until we read a bit further and see how each observation or memory leads to another. This way, themes, symbols and plot threads are introduced and woven together to form the core of the novel. Later, when the focus shifts from Ames's family history to the return of Jack Boughton, the style shifts to something a bit more familiar - more dialogue and plot here than the largely stream-of-consciousness method employed in the beginning.

So, some questions:

What did you make of Robinson's method of storytelling? Did it work for you, or did it feel like a slow, meandering mess? Furthermore, in what ways did the changes in style reflect the changes in John Ames?

5 comments:

  1. I think you are definitely correct to point out how difficult this book was to read, at least initially. And I think you're right about tuning into the fifty page mark. I had a conversation with Kevin right when we were both at that point and it centered on how we both just couldn't get into the novel. However, shortly after that, something in the novel clicked for me and I read it rather voraciously. I can't pinpoint a specific passage that won me over, and when I was done I still didn't quite know what had done it. Then, as I was telling Carrie about the book, I read the blurb on the back from NY Times book review. The gist: "Gradually, Robinson's novel teaches us how to read it, suggests how we might slow down to walk at its own processional pace..." For an author to do that, and to have it affect me without my realization, really is a special thing. So the initial long and short of it: for most of the novel there were many things that made me think I would respect and not like this book, but in the end I found myself really quite taken by it.

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  2. Not sure where to put this, but it does deal with Structure. What I found most compelling was the was the structure and act of storytelling revealed who really is the most important character in the book: Jack.

    I found myself frustrated with the narrator because he continually spoke of something (and someone) as though we (the reader? his son?) knew what he was talking about. It's clever and frustrating the way Jack is revealed. Mentioned first on pg. 18, then a few times in passing before we get the narrator's first real discussion of him on pg. 72. He then weaves himself in and out of the narrator's thoughts and actually (and surprisingly) alters the way the narrative is presented before the big Jack Boughton reveal on pg. 217. Jack's misdeeds and indiscretions affect the structure of the "story" as well as the characters in it well before we as readers really have any sense of what's happening. What's ironic about that is toward the end of the book, you realize the bias that Jack has been painted in, and I for one kind of felt bad for the what I felt of his character in the end.

    I know that was kind of rambling, but I really think getting to the uses of Jack Bougton by Robinson is really interesting to discuss...

    For instance (and to further complicate things) am I wrong to see Jack Boughton as an amalgamation of John Ames' Grandfather and Edward? Was that the storyteller's way of introducing us to Jack before we were ever really introduced to him? It's a really interesting and complicated narrative.

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  3. My experience with Gilead was very similar to Mrs. White's, in that while they first fifth of the book was obviously lushly written and interesting, the style really prevented me from falling in love with it. I didn't have any specific turning point, but by the time I was halfway through Gilead, I noticed I was having a harder and harder time putting it down, despite the continuing lack of a discernible plot. It wasn't until the confession of John Ames Boughton at the end of the book that I really fell in love with it. The author did a tremendous job bringing out his grief and heartache, while John Ames himself struggled with his feelings for his namesake, and his former grief for a lost wife and child, tempered only by the wife and child he was blessed with at the end of his life.

    It's difficult to say whether the structure at the beginning of the book was a negative, or if it just set up things to come in the second half. It would probably take a second reading down the road for me to come to terms with that question. After reading the novel as a whole, however, I'm more inclined to say that this was a masterful novel and that the fault lies within myself.

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  4. The closer you look at the structure of this book, the more you realize how well-organized Robinson is in the telling of her story, how precisely she layered seemingly unrelated events to create a coherent whole. Case in point - Paul's observations about how Jack's character was introduced and how John may have been preparing us for the story of Jack through the stories of Edward and his Grandfather. I very much believe that these characters are meant to foreshadow Jack's arrival, in addition to establishing the theme of fathers and sons, the generational divide and the way they are often incomprehensible (not to mention disappointing) to one another.

    Additionally, the stories of John's brother and grandfather allow John to introduce a discussion on the spectrum of belief: the person who takes too zealous a view of God on one hand versus the person who questions God's existence entirely on the other. In a sense, that later becomes John and Jack. John takes a rather hard line on the changeability of human nature when it comes to Jack, and man who is, like Edward, a non-believer. Just as John's father was endlessly frustrated with Edward's atheism, John cannot seem to accept the fact that Jack's questions on issues of faith may, in fact, be sincere and well-intended rather than just pointlessly malicious. Our view of Jack is largely clouded by John's past disappointments of him, and it isn't until John can resolve those issues that we can start to see Jack clearly.

    Furthermore, it's worth noting that John's Grandfather and Father never seem to come to any greater understanding or acceptance of one another, which possibly is why John craves a understanding of Jack. When the gives him his blessing (outside of the church, no less) John is perhaps breaking a cycle of father/son tension. In retrospect, it's pretty interesting (and impressive) to see how Robinson laid the groundwork for these later conflicts.

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  5. I found this book really easy to read, by contrast with some ohter people. Maybe because I havea friend who tells really good stories that are rambling, and he may tell a story about the same thing 15 times before I feel like I have a grasp of the actual story.

    I was very impressed that the author was able to actually wite this story out like it was a diary. I'm not sure how many people could write a story like this, especially considering it's from a person's life story that must be significantly different than her own. I wonder if she got the idea from family stories? and imagined herself as her great uncle?

    I am still trying to figure out the relationship between John and Jack and if there's some deeper meaning. Maybe I'll have to read it again.

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