'Home' by Marilynne Robinson

Summary: Home parallels the story told in Robinson's Pulitzer Prize-winning Gilead. It is a moving and healing book about families, family secrets, and the passing of the generations, about love and death and faith.

Hundreds of thousands were enthralled by the luminous voice of John Ames in Gilead, Marilynne Robinson’s Pulitzer Prize–winning novel. Home is an entirely independent, deeply affecting novel that takes place concurrently in the same locale, this time in the household of Reverend Robert Boughton, Ames’s closest friend.

 MY THOUGHTS: 

This isn't a sequel so much as a complementary story. In Gilead, we have Reverend John Ames' written account of what happens when his namesake, Jack Boughton, returns home after an absence of twenty years. This book shines a light on what takes place in the Boughton household simultaneously, with frequent intersections. 

This time round we see Jack through the eyes of his sister, Glory, the youngest Boughton sibling who holds the home front and cares for their ailing father. Glory is a former English teacher with a Master's degree, and she's been jilted by her long-term romantic partner. Now that she's back where she started, her question is, 'What have I done with my life?' Full-circle at the age of 38 isn't what she'd ever planned. 

It's a great story about the strong bond that forms between Reverend Boughton's two self-proclaimed unexceptional children, Glory, the frustrated try-hard, and Jack, the brilliant underachiever. Their other six siblings all managed to tick the boxes of respectability and conventionality. There are all too few great books about sibling relationships, especially those like Jack and Glory, who are nudging middle-age. 

Although Gilead and Home are companion novels, I believe this one should be read second to give us the best all-round picture of Jack. I appreciate his self-inflicted torture and complexity even more, having first seen him through old Ames' cynical and weary eyes. Now, Home delves deeper into ways in which Jack's youthful indiscretion has, in fact, rocked his world and shaped his personal conception of himself.

Ah, Jack! He's the quintessential spiritual seeker who cannot bring himself to accept the validity of the religious panaceas he sees on offer, or at least not in his case. In Gilead, we see him grapple with the question of whether he is truly among the damned. Here we see more of his inner struggle. 

As I read Home, I asked myself whether Marilynne Robinson really intends to reveal what makes Jack tick for us. He's never managed to fathom his own self, after years of effort. Does she truly hope to crack his code, simply because she's his author? Jack Boughton has taken on a life of his own, if ever a character has. The question certainly kept me reading.

I've got to say, one thing that boy can do is garden! He has an undeniable green thumb. Perhaps he should consider that his true calling. Instead, he perceives it as a restless use of time that would otherwise hang heavy on his hands. Never have I made any property as shipshape as Jack manages to get the old Boughton place in a reasonably short time frame. 

And then there's Glory, whose tears flow so easily and frequently. I consider her a super-sister, for Jack is not an easy brother to deal with. It must be true, deep affection. Glory's weeping is a sign of strength, revealing her tremendous reservoirs of empathy and solidarity. Her tears indicate a seeping over of all that she's processed in her life. I've often noticed modern reviewers criticize the tears of any female characters as gender weakness. But examples such as Glory Boughton prove to me that this is sometimes a shallow judgement. 

The third family member beneath their roof is, of course, the patriarch, Reverend Robert Boughton. He's a frail wisp in his physical frame, a titan in his faith, yet very old-school and reactive in ways elderly clergy can be, taking provocation out of proportion. For example, Reverend Boughton is horrified to hear Jack blaspheme, yet dismissive of the horrific and topical cause that triggered it. Still, sometimes the simplest souls grasp the greatest truths. Robert sums up the paradox of life when he says, 'Some things may have worked out better than they did. I know that. But there was always a lot to enjoy.' 

I loved the brief appearance of Teddy, doctor extraordinaire and cream of the Boughton crop. He's fourteen months Jack's junior, but drags himself through life like a weather-beaten Atlas, old before his time with grey hair and rheumatism. It's fascinating to see the toll being the 'good boy' has taken on Teddy. And one of my favorite moments of the book is when Teddy flings his schedule to the wind, telling Jack, 'I'll just make a few phone calls. I see patients every day, but seeing you is exceptional.' 

As you might have gathered, it's a very character-driven, rather than plot-driven book. The ending is as frustrating as any story can possibly deliver, but in a way which suggests hope of future fulfilment not far on the horizon. I'm removing one star though, because of the frustrating ending.

Toward the conclusion, Glory prays, 'If I, or my father, or any Boughton has ever stirred our Lord's compassion, then Jack will be alright. Because perdition for him would be perdition for any one of us.'

I'll certainly be continuing with Lila and Jack to conclude the Gilead series, so stay tuned.   

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'Sleeping Murder' by Agatha Christie

Summary: Our indomitable Miss Marple turns ghost hunter and uncovers shocking evidence of a very old crime.

Soon after Gwenda moved into her new home, odd things started to happen. Despite her best efforts to modernize the house, she only succeeded in dredging up its past. Worse, she felt an irrational sense of terror every time she climbed the stairs.

In fear, Gwenda turned to Miss Marple to exorcise her ghosts. Have the two of them dredged up a perfect crime committed many years before?

MY THOUGHTS:

21-year-old Gwenda Reed purchases a quaint home to live in with her new hubby, Giles. 'Hillside' is a small, white Victorian villa in the seaside town of Dillmouth. Gwenda claims it as hers in an instinctive, emotional way. It's love at first sight.

However, something creepy begins happening. Any changes or renovations she commences turn out to be peeling back the past. Gwenda's bright ideas have all been done before. She fancies a door in a particular wall, and one already existed at some point, now boarded over. Old garden steps are excavated precisely where she desires a new path. Even her ideal wallpaper pattern turns out to be an old feature, long covered over. 

Things come to a head during a night out at the theatre with distant relatives, Raymond and Joan West. A startling line is delivered in 'The Duchess of Malfi'. 'Cover her face, mine eyes dazzle, she died young.' Gwenda gets a vivid flashback of a young woman named Helen being murdered at the foot of her very own stairs. It turns out Gwenda had actually lived at Hillside briefly during her very early childhood. 

The 'sleeping murder' of the title doesn't refer to the victim, but rather the hidden crime itself. It would seem that eighteen years earlier, somebody got away with murder. Now there is only the hazy memory of a three-year-old as a springboard for investigation, unless Gwenda dreamed or imagined the whole thing. (Unsurprisingly she didn't, or there would be no story.) Or perhaps Helen simply disappeared with a lover, as people assumed. (Ditto. I wondered briefly if this might be the big twist. A Christie murder mystery without an actual murder, but no.) 

Luckily Raymond West's Aunt Jane, who was there at the theatre, takes Gwenda seriously. Miss Marple establishes herself as a friendly guardian angel to be sure young Gwenda and Giles don't get carried away in their eagerness to excavate answers. She's seen enough of human nature to suspect that the murderer may be lurking in the shadows, alarmed to have light shone on the scene after such a long time. Miss Marple knows that for this person, the effect must be like peeling the top off a long un-prodded wound.

Sadly, this is not one of Agatha Christie's best stories. I guessed who the murderer was instantly. As soon as this person came on the scene, I thought, 'Aha, I'll bet's you. Stands out a mile.' My instincts were sound. And the murderer's motive was based more on their own defective, twisted personality than on anything specifically juicy or interesting. 

But the story is not devoid of appeal. The premise is suitably chilling, Gwenda and Giles have an eager Tommy and Tuppence vibe, from their most youthful stories, and Helen Halliday's trio of former male admirers under investigation are all quite intriguing.

Then of course there's Miss Marple, a perfect period piece, according to her nephew, Raymond. Victorian to her core. She's adept at using pleasant small talk to disguise the fact that she's digging for information, and takes advantage of her appearance for all she's worth, because, 'old ladies are supposed to be inquisitive.' 

The cover declares this to be 'Miss Marple's Last Case, ' so I left it until last. But chronologically, it is nothing of the sort. That honor belongs to Nemesis. Miss Marple is far less frail than she is in some of the other later stories, she's out weeding in her garden and Dr Haydock pronounces her in remarkably fine fettle for a woman her age. And her friend Colonel Arthur Bantry is still alive and well. What's with these false cover claims? It turns out this was, in fact, the last Marple mystery published, which was done posthumously as a treat for her fans.

Anyway, for me it's farewell to the fluffy little old lady sleuth who claims to have lived such an uneventful life, but understands human nature all so well. 

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 Do check out my entire Agatha Christie page. 

The Greatest Story Ever Told: An Eyewitness Account by Bear Grylls

MY THOUGHTS:

My daughter gave me this book last Christmas, and my first reaction when I saw the cover was, 'Haha, I had no idea Bear Grylls was so old.' But joking aside, I decided to save it for a couple of months to read during the season of Lent, which is what I've just done. And truly, Grylls has done a fabulous job. Adapted versions of the gospel events in story form are a dime a dozen, but this is one of the most appealing and immersive I've come across so far.

Grylls chooses five 'eye-witnesses' whose headspaces and cultural biases he appropriates while the action plays out. I'll mention just a few examples of their collective amazement, for the story is full of them. 

First is Mother Mary (Myriam) who is rattled when the Magi present her infant son with myrrh along with gold and frankincense, for it clearly signifies death. Enough death omens occur throughout the years of her son's life to wrench her maternal heart, right up to the pivotal day when she considers herself an old woman at the age of 46. Her being present on that day is unimaginable, yet how could she stay away?

When practical Thomas (Ta'om) wonders why his unpredictable leader would take them straight through the dodgy land of Samaria for a shortcut, it's easy to echo, 'Yeah, what the heck is he thinking?' We also 'get' Peter's (Kephas') instinctive antipathy to the ratty, beady-eyed Zaccheus. ('It's one thing to hang out with the poor and sick, but to be associated with the corrupt and traitorous? That was something else.) 

We share John's (Johanan's) confusion regarding the Passover elements at that Last Supper. And we glimpse a flashback of Mary Magdalene's (the other Myriam's) fearful and grievous life before Yeshua entered her world. She was said to be demon possessed, but this story makes her sound more like a sufferer of panic attacks and what we may now consider mental issues, which is interesting.

The unconscionable behavior of the religious leaders and Pharisees is right in our faces, their hypocritical insistence on wanting to avoid street riots by manipulating events to make Yeshua's execution appear like a Roman decision. The devious arm-twisting it takes reflects particularly badly on them, when Pilate keeps repeating, 'No, I don't want to do it.' 

The Crucifixion itself is written in such a way that makes clear how costly and powerful the sacrifice on our behalf truly was, not a throw-away gesture. Overall, this book is a brilliant attempt to make the ancient and alien political climate of Roman Palestine accessible for 21st century western readers. The inclusion of what would have been contemporary Hebrew and Aramaic person and place names is a nice touch, making the unfolding action feel fresh and immediate. 

Most importantly, what a legend our hero is! He calls everyday people his closest friends, attacks conventional sacred cows and tall poppies, hangs out with the unclean, and makes healing and restoration his main priority. And he doggedly keeps his revolutionary and subversive stance, knowing full well that the world's religious leaders see him as somebody who keeps forgiving the unforgiveable and breaking the law instead of fulfilling it. And, of course, knowing what it will cost him.  

The back cover flap tells us that Bear Grylls has written over 100 books (I never knew he was that prolific) but says that if he were only to have written one, this would be it. And his devotion shines through every page. It's a must-read not just once but over again.

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