Marilynne Robinson's Gilead

Gilead is the story of an elderly reverend recounting days of family history and personal thoughts to leave to his son. John Ames begins his book length letter to his son by saying his heart is failing. He does not expect to see his very young son grow up.

John Ames comes from a line of preachers. His grandfather and father, also named John Ames, served as pastors. This does not mean they saw eye-to-eye on all matters. John writes of some of the conflicts between generations. His grandfather was a gun-toting abolitionist. His father, a pacifist, was ashamed of his father for his militant attitude that came out of the Civil War. The current John Ames, who writes the letter in the late 1950’s, did not disagree with his father so much, but still created some conflict by attending another church.

For John, he hasn’t a conflict with his toddler son, but he does have a conflict with the son of his best friend, named after him – John Ames Boughton, also known as Jack Boughton. Jack Boughton is the son of a preacher too, but is certainly not one to carry on the tradition. John recalls Jack plaguing him as a boy, mischievously taking his things or damaging them. When Jack returns to Gilead in his adulthood, John is wary of him, repeatedly warning the addressee of this letter about the man. Eventually Jack admits his wrongs to John, since he feels he cannot admit this to his own father, proving John’s suspicions right, but also surprising him by what may be genuine seeking of spiritual guidance.

Marilynne Robinson writes a story in which theology is lived by its characters. It is sometimes brought forth as it is integral to the narrator, but it is not didactic. The voice of John Ames is rather folksy, “When you encounter another person, when you have dealings with anyone at all, it is as if a question is being put to you. So you must think What is the Lord asking me in the moment, in this situation?” (p. 141). His voice, that is Marilynne Robinson’s voice, is also poetic. Ames writes, as he considers life’s end, “I didn’t feel very much at home in the world, that was a fact. Now I do” (p. 4). He notices the beauty of life, and appeals to the senses. One line, among many, that reflects the poetic voice: “Everywhere you stepped, little grasshoppers would fly up by the score, making that snap they do, like striking a match” (p. 15).