With Gilead I was reminded of the gentleness of John Ames and his love for his young family as he writes to them as he ages. Home stood out more than previously, with the reality of two clerical men facing the frailty of ageing. On this read, I found Boughton more crotchety and less gracious, but also his son Jack maddeningly impotent. Lila again brought Ames’ wife to life charting her history of poverty and hard living, and changed by her slow romance and possible faith.
(Spoilers included below for those who haven’t read the first three)
I was hoping Jack would pick up again where Home left off, with Jack hopefully somehow getting his life together with Della. But Robinson chose to turn back the clock and have it set earlier than all three previous books, where Jack and Della meet and how they slowly come to be together. It’s the late 1940s and it’s illegal for a white man and a coloured woman to be together. Yet, they meet. Him in all his poverty, aimlessness, thievery, and often homelessness. Her, a Christian, and teacher with a bright future, as long as she doesn’t get in trouble and have stories circulating about her and a white man. So begins a romance that will get them both into trouble. I can see why some will love this book and everything it stands for. I just found it depressing. A search online will cover ground like Robinson’s Calvinism, which raises more theological questions than it answers. I appreciated this assessment, and agree that her concept of grace extended with no actual change or repentance seems to cheapen it. Assessing it on face value, and not theologically though, I find myself depressed by two characters who just kept moving towards each other without really being willing to face the obvious consequences. Perhaps sometimes love does conquer all. But I wonder in this case, if love conquers them instead.
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