Gilead by Marilynne Robinson

Okay, so my sister, Jenfari, gave me this book maybe 2 years ago. And I started it. And I put it down, in favor of more exciting books. And then I picked it up again, and I put it down. And normally, when I have this much trouble getting into a book, I give up, because, you know, life is too short to waste on nap-inducing fiction. (I feel like non-fiction is often worth ploughing through, pillow-drool or no.) Usually. But Gilead is so beautifully written, that some passages, boring or not, needed to be read aloud, for the sheer pleasure of the language. So I decided, enough circling my big toe in the shallows of Chapter 3, and I cannonballed in. 

And I was still pretty bored. 

But I am happy I finished it. 

And I would recommend it to you. Heartily, even! If you love yourself a perfectly written novel, with no nastiness at all. Which is very rare in modern literature, as you probably well know. The Venn diagram of perfectly written modern novels and no nastiness would intersect at Gilead. And maybe a few others. I can't think of any, right at this moment. 

Now that I think of it, it feels a lot like C.S. Lewis, actually. But prettier. Like C.S. Lewis poetry. Except, stream-of-consciousness narrative, and not poetry. Glad I cleared that up.

You're welcome.

I asked Jenfari, and she said she doesn't know what I am talking about. She wasn't bored at all. She thought there was plenty of plot. She totally hearted it.

Summary: The premise is that an old minister is about to die, and is writing a lengthy letter to his young son, who will not remember his father when he grows up. So the old man sets out to explain himself, and some of his history, and his family's history. And he wanders a lot, from one subject to another. And he talks about religion, and about his faith. And it is nice. 

So nice, in fact, that somebody gave it a Pulitzer Prize. In 2005. 

This is not a beach read. But worth it. I kept marking passages that really spoke to me, and I never do that. Except in the scriptures.

Let me give you an example:

I feel sometimes as if I were a child who opens its eyes on the world once and sees amazing things it will never know any names for and then has to close its eyes again. I know this is all mere apparition compared to what awaits us, but it is only lovelier for that. There is a human beauty in it. And I can't believe that, when we have all been changed and put on incorruptibility, we will forget our fantastic condition of mortality and impermanence, the great bright dream of procreating and perishing that meant the whole world to us. In eternity this world will be Troy, I believe, and all that has passed here will be the epic of the universe, the ballad they sing in the streets. Because I don't imagine any reality putting this one in the shade entirely, and I think piety forbids me to try.

I know. Fantastic, right? Seriously, I'm getting all weepy. 

So, have you read it? Or anything else by this author? Or something else fantastic lately, that I can buy on Amazon used books for one cent plus shipping? Please discuss.