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Gilead: A Novel | 
| Author: Marilynne Robinson
Publisher: Picador
Category: Book
List Price: $14.00
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Rating:  304 reviews
Sales Rank: 857
Media: Paperback
Edition: 1st Picador
Pages: 256
Number Of Items: 1
Shipping Weight (lbs): 0.6
Dimensions (in): 8 x 5.5 x 0.8
ISBN: 031242440X
Dewey Decimal Number: 813.54
EAN: 9780312424404
ASIN: 031242440X
Publication Date: January 10, 2006
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Amazon.com Review
In 1981, Marilynne Robinson wrote Housekeeping, which won the PEN/Hemingway Award and became a modern classic. Since then, she has written two pieces of nonfiction: Mother Country and The Death of Adam. With Gilead, we have, at last, another work of fiction. As with The Great Fire, Shirley Hazzards's return, 22 years after The Transit of Venus, it was worth the long wait. Books such as these take time, and thought, and a certain kind of genius. There are no invidious comparisons to be made. Robinson's books are unalike in every way but one: the same incisive thought and careful prose illuminate both. The narrator, John Ames, is 76, a preacher who has lived almost all of his life in Gilead, Iowa. He is writing a letter to his almost seven-year-old son, the blessing of his second marriage. It is a summing-up, an apologia, a consideration of his life. Robinson takes the story away from being simply the reminiscences of one man and moves it into the realm of a meditation on fathers and children, particularly sons, on faith, and on the imperfectability of man. The reason for the letter is Ames's failing health. He wants to leave an account of himself for this son who will never really know him. His greatest regret is that he hasn't much to leave them, in worldly terms. "Your mother told you I'm writing your begats, and you seemed very pleased with the idea. Well, then. What should I record for you?" In the course of the narrative, John Ames records himself, inside and out, in a meditative style. Robinson's prose asks the reader to slow down to the pace of an old man in Gilead, Iowa, in 1956. Ames writes of his father and grandfather, estranged over his grandfather's departure for Kansas to march for abolition and his father's lifelong pacifism. The tension between them, their love for each other and their inability to bridge the chasm of their beliefs is a constant source of rumination for John Ames. Fathers and sons. The other constant in the book is Ames's friendship since childhood with "old Boughton," a Presbyterian minister. Boughton, father of many children, favors his son, named John Ames Boughton, above all others. Ames must constantly monitor his tendency to be envious of Boughton's bounteous family; his first wife died in childbirth and the baby died almost immediately after her. Jack Boughton is a ne'er-do-well, Ames knows it and strives to love him as he knows he should. Jack arrives in Gilead after a long absence, full of charm and mischief, causing Ames to wonder what influence he might have on Ames's young wife and son when Ames dies. These are the things that Ames tells his son about: his ancestors, the nature of love and friendship, the part that faith and prayer play in every life and an awareness of one's own culpability. There is also reconciliation without resignation, self-awareness without deprecation, abundant good humor, philosophical queries--Jack asks, "'Do you ever wonder why American Christianity seems to wait for the real thinking to be done elsewhere?'"--and an ongoing sense of childlike wonder at the beauty and variety of God's world. In Marilynne Robinson's hands, there is a balm in Gilead, as the old spiritual tells us. --Valerie Ryan
Product Description
Twenty-four years after her first novel, Housekeeping, Marilynne Robinson returns with an intimate tale of three generations from the Civil War to the twentieth century: a story about fathers and sons and the spiritual battles that still rage at America's heart. Writing in the tradition of Emily Dickinson and Walt Whitman, Marilynne Robinson's beautiful, spare, and spiritual prose allows "even the faithless reader to feel the possibility of transcendent order" (Slate). In the luminous and unforgettable voice of Congregationalist minister John Ames, Gilead reveals the human condition and the often unbearable beauty of an ordinary life.
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| Customer Reviews: Read 299 more reviews...
 gorgeous November 30, 2008
Tamara Redburn (Memphis, TN)
What an amazing book! Quiet, thoughtful, slow-moving....but so thought provoking. Events unfold delicately, memories surface gently -- there's a wistfulness to this book that is rarely found. It's hard to believe that this book was not written by a male minister, it so completely gets into his head and heart.
A Hill of Testimony November 17, 2008
M. L. Asselin (Bethesda, MD USA)
Marilynne Robinson's GILEAD is written in the form of a letter from an aging Congregationalist minister, the Reverend John Ames, to his young son. The novel is set in 1956. Ames, his young wife Lila, and their seven-year old boy live in Gilead, Iowa. Gilead, a biblical place whose name means "hill of testimony," seems to be something of a misnomer for a place so flat as that part of Iowa, but in the context of this novel, "Gilead" takes on an additional significance as a life testimony, and for Ames himself, a memorial (a grave mound). Ames, who is ailing with a heart condition, writes in order that later his then grown son will know something about whence he comes.
Ames, his father, and his grandfather were all ministers. Ames's grandfather was literally called to the ministry, believing that he had been graced with visions of Jesus, of which most striking of all was an appearance of Jesus in chains. His grandfather took that to mean that he should dedicate himself to the abolitionist movement, and he became involved in some violent radical actions along with the (historical) abolitionist John Brown. Ames's father was, by contrast, a pacifist, and the father and son had a difficult relationship. Ames feels distant from both his father and grandfather. He loves his own son dearly, and yet knows his life clock is running out on him.
It's difficult to carry off an epistolary novel. In the days before email, the letter was a real art form, though, and the best writers could be spellbinding and highly entertaining. GILEAD's success rests principally on the strength of Robinson's masterful use of language. Early on in the novel it seems like the story, as such, really isn't going anywhere, but you want to continue on just because the language is so beautiful--spare, astringent. Eventually, though, this reader hungered for something a little more. Later on in the novel, fortunately, some tension develops when Ames's namesake, John Ames Boughton, the son of his best and oldest friend, comes to town. Boughton, a disgraced profligate, returns as the prodigal son, but Ames isn't quite ready to assume the role of welcoming substitute father. Ames is also worried about Boughton's friendly contacts with Ames's wife and child.
I had the opportunity both to listen to the audio version, read by Tim Jerome, and read the book myself. Jerome has a marvelous voice, perfectly suited for the Reverend Ames, but after a while I frankly found it tedious to listen to the audio version. On the other hand, I very much enjoyed reading GILEAD, even if, admittedly, it tested my patience at times.
beautifully written novel of reflection November 8, 2008
ironman96 (Ohio)
Gilead is a beautifully written novel of the thoughts and memories of a pastor in his later years. The main character recounts the events of his life and portions of his family history for his son when he is gone. This book is not as much action or event driven as it is almost a poem as a novel. The story is touching at times but at the same time gets somewhat repetitive regarding the relationship between the main character and his namesake. Worth reading.
 Wonderful bedtime reading - puts me to sleep everytime. November 7, 2008
K. Kovach
I keep this book by my bed as a sleep aid. Even if I am not feeling overly tired, I read a few pages and I can't keep my eyes open. I would highly recommend this book to anyone with insomnia!
This is a nearly perfect book October 19, 2008
Brent Sleeper (San Francisco, Calif.)
Gilead is a nearly perfect book.
It is quiet, multi-layered, and deeply spiritual. Composed in the form of a letter from the elderly protagonist, John Ames, to his young son, the work is a meditative near-monologue about faith, anger, love, and forgiveness; emotional patrimony, isolation, and loneliness. Absent characters loom large, and vast haunted landscapes are communicated in just the barest of verbal exchanges.
It also is without question an American novel; Robinson has made an unspoken agreement with her readers that we possess some intuitive understanding of the fiery arc of radical abolitionism and its dissipation, of the Congregationalists who moved from New England to claim the prairie as Free-Staters, and of the central role of Calvinistic theology in shaping a certain type of intellectual life.
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