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.

Beautiful fiction, worth reading at least twice

"Gilead" is a novel so quiet in strength but so beautiful in prose that it took my breath away. To echo the sentiment of another reader, it's amazing what the English language can do; never have I felt that so strongly than when I read this book. Family, faith, and redemption are a few of the themes that run through "Gilead," and Marilynne Robinson gives credence to each. The prose is brilliantly simple, though the subject matter is as complicated as life itself.

People have used the word "spiritual" to describe this book, and it's an appropriate adjective. Without being religious (or zealous--why are the two so often interchangeable?), it is quietly, beautifully spiritual. The narrator, John Ames, an old minister in the twilight of his life, is writing a history of his predecessors and life--which hasn't always been lovely-- for his young son, whom he refers to as a blessing every chance he gets. Ames's love for his son is touching. While he is mournful he won't be around for much longer, he does not feel sorry for himself. His faith gives him peace.

Robinson's words fall together lyrically and seemingly effortlessly. It is often humorous and always moving. "Gilead" is one book that belongs in your permanent collection.

Son of a Preacher Man

Gilead currently has the dubious honor of being number 16 on the New York Times bestseller list, placing it at the top of what the NYT calls its "extended list" but putting it just out of reach of being included on the list printed in the newspaper itself. It also has the (much less dubious) honor of having won this year's Pulitzer Prize for fiction.

Marilynne Robinson may not be a household name, but (although few would admit it) she was known in literary circles for being a one-hit-wonder with her highly acclaimed 1981 novel Housekeeping. Sure, there were essays and book reviews and non-fiction publications, but a good second novel following a well-received first novel is a difficult achievement. (What was it that Salinger wrote after Catcher in the Rye?) With Gilead, Robinson defied expectations by producing a brilliant novel that is so well written that it is practically a 250-page poem from father to son.

Gilead takes place in Iowa (which, by the way, is where Robinson teaches at the Writer's Workshop). It is the 1950s and Reverend John Ames, in his 70s, is coming to the end of his life. He decides to write a letter to his seven-year-old son to pass along his family's history and whatever words of wisdom he can muster. These themes - family history dating back three generations and musings on life, goodness, and religion - make up the first half of the novel and there is a beautiful observation, insight, or phrase on almost every page. Ames is a good man who does not know bitterness. He believes in the greatness of God and the goodness of people, even if people cannot always get along with each other.

By the second half of the novel, Ames gets sidetracked from his philosophical discussion and begins to discuss his concerns about his godson John Ames Boughton. Boughton has always unnerved Ames, and his sudden reappearance at the end of Ames's life brings suspicion and fear into the pastor's otherwise calm and poetic writing. While the Boughton storyline creates a plot where there might otherwise be none, it crowds out the perfect phrases and gentle compassion abundant in the first half of the novel.

Gilead is a tribute to mid-western America, to religion, and to life. Robinson's narrator - and Robinson herself - has a knack for discovering and describing beauty in what most would see as banal and common. Would that we all could have the patience and wisdom of Reverend Ames and that we could have a father willing and able to pass along lessons from his mistakes for us to ignore. Gilead lives up to its potential almost fully and deserves all of the rave reviews it has received. Perhaps Salinger will be inspired.

The Means to Experience

"Gilead" is a supremely charming novel. Taking the form of a letter scribed from a 73 preacher in failing health to the seven year old son from his second marriage, the story is more than just a pleasant account of the man's life, it is at heart a story about relationships and the bonds, obligations, and expectations between fathers and sons. Author Marilynne Robinson has a real talent for description and humanistic tone. "Gilead" is one of the most charming reading experiences I could recommend. I would also recommend "The Kite Runner", "My Fractured Life", "The Known World" and "Housekeeping."