'Gilead' by Marilynne Robinson (further thoughts)

The traditional Christian season of Lent isn't generally observed across the board in the 21st century, but I like to keep the time of year on my radar not by a sustained fasting period from anything, but by adding a book or two which fits my category of reflective or devotional fiction classics. This year, Lent begins today. What better than a re-read of this Pulitzer prizewinner. I sadly lost or misplaced the secondhand copy I purchased back in 2017. I can only assume I might have lent it to somebody, and now I'll be looking out for a replacement copy. I borrowed this one from the library and was re-wowed. 

NOTE: My initial review from back then is here. And during the coming weeks and months, I intend to also read and review all four books in the Gilead series so look out for them. 

MY THOUGHTS:

First a quick recap. The elderly Reverend John Ames has been told his days are likely numbered. As he prioritises writing a heartfelt collection of letters for his young son, he is blindsided by the homecoming of his prodigal namesake. Jack Boughton is his best friend's son, who has always been a great disappointment to his family. Reverend Ames intends to keep a disapproving distance, but his memoir project gets hijacked by his encounters with Jack, this baffling godson who has always challenged and horrified him. Reverend Ames even grapples with the dilemma of whether to warn his wife and son that Jack is a bad egg, for he certainly hates to imagine the ne'er-do-well wreaking more mischief once he is dead and out of the way. 

When the past is gradually excavated, the a-ha moment packs quite a punch. A crucial reason for John's antipathy to Jack reveals a fact about himself that he'd prefer not to admit. How can a man help resentment when he sees somebody else squander a gift that he himself would have treasured with all his heart; one which he once had within his grasp but tragically lost. I think the fact that it was done by the boy who bore his own name seems like a particularly cruel twist. It's as if John is taunted by a tantalizing glimpse of a life he might have had, but sees it stomped on with apparent indifference. 

Although Jack's major scandal as a very young man wasn't personally directed at John Ames, old Ames can't help taking it personally. Jack's situation stirs up a well of covetousness that John would prefer to leave un-rippled. Since his position among the clergy denies him the outlet of blaming the Almighty, it is easier to hold a grudge, however suppressed, against young Jack.  

Ouch! Robert Boughton's profoundly loving gesture, of dedicating his newborn son to his best friend all those years earlier, seems to have backfired badly!  

But this novel is all about grace! What takes place quietly between these two families in this nondescript, humble town is a powerful example of practical holiness. John and Jack are both wonderfully nuanced characters, and the change of heart is subtle and touching. I love Reverend John, whose depths of compassion turn out to be bottomless after all, and I love Jack, whose personal soul-searching, and quest for authentic answers, is so honest and raw. When John finally tells his dying old friend Boughton, 'I love your boy the way you always meant me to,' I just had to stop reading and sit still for a while.

This story is what all devotional fiction should be like.

Of course this will automatically make it onto my list of the year's best reads, for I'd go so far as to call it one of my best reads ever. 

🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟    

'The Penderwicks on Gardam Street' by Jeanne Birdsall

I'm two down and three to go with this award-winning, twenty-first century middle grade series.

MY THOUGHTS:  

Timewise, we're barely any further on from Book One. The Penderwick sisters are back in their routine of school and neighborhood goings-on. Then their favorite aunt drops a bombshell. Before her death, their mother made Aunt Claire promise to encourage their father to start dating again. Now that four years have lapsed since that sad time, she decides to set the ball rolling. 

However, the girls aren't crazy about the idea, and neither is Martin Penderwick himself. His daughters conduct top secret 'Save Daddy' meetings. They agree that the best way to achieve their goal will be to set him up with horrible enough first dates that their aunt's scheme can't possibly launch. 

(Despite the name of their committee, it's themselves they really want to save from the prospect of having a stepmother. Their ignoble ulterior motive extends to wanting to squelch potential 'good' dates.) 

Meanwhile, having got over her unrequited crush on Cagney, Rosalind tries not to notice the sudden appeal of her friend, Tommy. Skye and Jane decide to switch homework assignments with unexpectedly alarming consequences. Their plight shines a light on the school system's way of keeping us distracted from our true passions to focus on what bores us. And little Batty notices a furtive, bug-like man loitering around their cul-de-sac, although everyone else thinks she's invented him. 

The main premise makes me question how much power the hand of the dead should wield. Because Aunt Claire is doing her heavy-handed meddling on Elizabeth's behalf, it's meant to be fine. Yet Martin is adamant that he definitely doesn't want to begin dating again. Does Claire really have the right to boss her brother around and override his wishes simply because she considers herself the ambassador of her dead sister-in-law? Implying that the pressure comes from beyond the grave seems particularly manipulative, however well meant. Who says dead loved-one's wishes should always be fulfilled anyway? What if they're as off-the-mark as any living person's?  

 Of course the outcome of the 'Save Daddy' thread is predictable from the very start. 

Two books in, I still find the Penderwick series to be nothing like the vintage counterparts I've seen it compared with. Goodreads calls them 'modern classics.' This novel reminds me more of a sentimental nineties sitcom. Either that or an overdrawn movie with a PG rating. There's a sudden ridiculous Home Alone style twist near the end. I find there's a fine line between charming and cheesy, and this book keeps crossing it. 

I can't blame poor Martin Penderwick for wanting to escape from this book he's written in for a far better one! His third daughter, Jane, hates coming to the end of a favorite book because she'll have to wait a few months before reading it over again. Same with me, Jane, but rest assured, this isn't one of those! 

🌟🌟½

Note: I've borrowed the third installment from the library. Not sure what keeps me going, but I'm in this far, so why not see what happens next? Stay tuned for The Penderwicks at Point Mouette. 

'A Caribbean Mystery' by Agatha Christie

 

I'm getting toward the tail end of the Miss Marple section of my Agatha Christie page. 

MY THOUGHTS: 

Miss Marple is far from home. Her nephew, Raymond, has sent her on a holiday to the West Indies to help her recuperate from a bout of pneumonia. The setting is an earthly paradise, the Golden Palms Hotel on the Island of St Honorė. There is plenty of sunshine, sea, and coral reefs. There is also music from a steel band, which Miss Marple resolves to try and appreciate although she finds it cacophonous.  

When another elderly guest dies suddenly, Miss Marple can't help suspecting foul play. The talkative Major Palgrave had been on the point of extracting 'a photograph of a murderer' out of his wallet to show her. But then he was shocked by the appearance of somebody approaching along the beach behind Miss Marple's shoulder and changed his mind. Now he's dead.

Miss Marple understandably feels too uneasy to dismiss this hearty, garrulous old man's death as a case of high blood pressure and old age. She begins to look into the case using her only weapon - conversation. However, she knows this can be a landmine, and tries to guard against her human tendency to automatically place words in people's mouths, filling in gaps and making leaps of supposed logic about what she thought they'd inferred, or been about to say. 

Jane Marple's own spiritual convictions get stirred in this story. She feels almost like a humble deputy of the Almighty, quietly responding, 'Here I am,' in response to the question of, 'Who will go for me? Who shall I send?' At one point she reads a few lines of Thomas ȧ Kempis before bed and says a prayer, 'for one can't do everything oneself.' Agatha Christie could hardly make it clearer that Miss Marple is willing to consider herself an agent of divine retribution, somebody's nemesis. 

Miss Marple's views on how elderly people may appreciate the value of life more than anyone else are interesting to ponder.

'Life is more worth living, more full of interest, when you are likely to lose it. When you're young, and strong, and healthy, and life stretches ahead of you, living isn't really important at all. It's young people who commit suicide easily, out of despair from love, sometimes from sheer anxiety and worry. But old people know how valuable life is, and how interesting.' 

This 1964 publication reveals some thankfully dated twentieth century personalities and attitudes. The resort is run by a young couple named Tim and Molly Kendal, and Molly feels she must politely brush off the sleazy pick-up lines of Gregory Dyson, because 'you can't offend guests.' Even her husband agrees with her logic unequivocally. And Miss Marple refers to this middle-aged creep as merely, 'someone who has a very gallant manner with the ladies.' Come on dudes, this is sexual harassment! She shouldn't be expected to put up with this behavior. 

As for Major Palgrave, the victim, perhaps one less old blowhard wreaking mass destruction on the world's precious population of elephants and tigers, bringing them to the brink of extinction, isn't such a bad thing. 

🌟🌟🌟