Summary: Marilynne Robinson, one of the greatest novelists of our time, returns to the town of Gilead in an unforgettable story of a girlhood lived on the fringes of society in fear, awe, and wonder.
Lila, homeless and alone after years of roaming the countryside, steps inside a small-town Iowa church - the only available shelter from the rain - and ignites a romance and a debate that will reshape her life. She becomes the wife of a minister, John Ames, and begins a new existence while trying to make sense of the life that preceded her newfound security.
MY THOUGHTS:
This third novel in the Gilead Quartet plumbs the background of Lila, the enigmatic mother of John Ames' precious young son, born to him in his old age. As a tiny girl, Lila was kindly kidnapped from her kin by a tough lady named Doll, who evidently thought they were a bad lot. Yet life for Lila is rough notwithstanding, including a nomadic, hard-working lifestyle on the road, some very undesirable jobs, and the unsolved mystery about her real family's identity. Life deals her some trust-shattering blows, so when she meets her future husband, she has plenty of emotional baggage to sort through, with his loving support.
Marriage to a Protestant minister has emotional perils of its own though. Lila picks up some very concerning details from listening to the silver-haired, theological Dream Team, (her husband and old Boughton). She quietly deduces that loved ones from her past, especially Doll, her surrogate mother, might not be among the 'elect'. In other words, since considering Christian ways was never remotely on their radar, their souls are bound straight for hell. In turn, this notion had never occurred to Lila either. She understandably tends to stew over it. Lila's own sense of justice chafes at the idea of 'souls just out of their graves having to answer for lives most of them never understood in the first place.'
I love the comforting words Marilynne Robinson (a self-proclaimed 'hopeful universalist' herself) places in John Ames' mouth at this point.
'Thinking about hell doesn't help me live the way I should. And thinking that other people might go to hell just feels evil to me, like a very grave sin. So I don't want to encourage anyone else to think that way. Even if you don't assume that you can know in individual cases, it's still a problem to think about people in general as if they might go to hell. You can't see the world the way you ought to if you let yourself do that. Any judgment of the kind is a great presumption. And presumption is a very grave sin. I believe this is sound theology in its way.'
(Whew, heady stuff for certain. I'm sure many of us have come across other ministers and pastors who don't share Ames' scruples, and would, in fact, think he's talking heresy. What a thought-provoking novel, prompting us to consider two sides of a question. We get no definitive answers, of course. 'The old man always said we should attend to the things we have some hope of understanding, and eternity isn't one of them.')
There is a fair bit to shock in this book. The main couple's courtship and marriage strike some members of the congregation as unconventional bordering on scandalous. If I was among them, I'd probably agree. It is such an unlikely romance, and the age gap merely scratches the surface. John Ames instantly accepts Lila's sudden marriage proposal, when she's only ever behaved in a prickly, brusque, and secretive manner toward him. What a reckless impulse from a long-time shepherd of men and women. No wonder he can't relax in their early months of marriage, anxiously worrying that she might abscond with their child (when it's born), leaving no trace.
As for Lila, referring to her husband, in her own thoughts, continuously as 'the old man' strikes me as odd. Granted, she also thinks he's 'beautiful', but it's still strangely generic and impersonal. Although Robinson makes it work for these two, I'd never recommend any readers to follow suit. So if you're an elderly minister and a wild child who are contemplating marriage, please think carefully before going ahead.
What makes Lila, the character, so special and memorable, though, is the boldness of her contemplative, Mary-style heart. Lila knows full well that she's a tabula rasa, a blank slate, but delves into her study of Scripture anyway. Grappling with theology is brand new to her, but instead of growing intimidated and overwhelmed, she simply resolves to understand what she can. I honor her for that. Lila is resistant to the discouragement that comes from knowing she'll never grasp it all. And perhaps approaching study with an open heart, free from biases picked up after years of well-meant indoctrination, is a great springboard.
She is definitely a character to remember, and draw from her mojo, for those moments when we think, 'This is too hard to bother trying to understand.' The snarls and mysteries of theology are particularly thorny, but if Lila can attempt to hack through them, so might we. (I now have a Post Grad Diploma in Divinity and this holds true more than ever!)
Check out my reviews of Gilead and Home. And now stay tuned for my upcoming review of the fourth and final novel in the quartet, Jack.
🌟🌟🌟½
