In Defense of Difficult Reading: Marilynne Robinson's What Are We Doing Here

Reading something fun and light can bring us joy as readers. There are some days when we just need to sink into another world and read something that my father would refer to as "fluffy." Sometimes the security of knowing that the chef will solve the mystery while making a perfect souffle is enough to make us feel a little better about life.

But I think there's another side, too. Reading can and should be fun and entertaining but it also has the capability to make us think. It can teach us about the science and history of the world we live in. Books can compel us to ask hard questions about ourselves and the choices we make individually and collectively.

I like to read for fun, but I also enjoy being challenged. I recently read What Are We Doing Here?, which is Marilynne Robinson's newest collection. The book mostly contains speeches that she has given over the past few years. They are not easy reading--the speeches consider our history as Americans, what it means to be a person of faith in the 21st century, and the place of both humanities and science. I so appreciated that both Robinson and her publisher saw the opportunity for readers to do some hard reading and think about big questions, even if they only knew her as the author of novels.

After graduating from high school or college, there is not a requirement for most of us to continue learning. We don't have to learn a new language, or learn how to write code for our website, or read hard books. But what are we missing if we don't?

Reading doesn't have to always be complicated or always be carefree. How wonderful it is to live in a world where we can read a cozy romance with the knowledge that they will get their happy ending and then turn to a book that explains the complexities of space or physics. Readers have the unique joy and privilege of experiencing all worlds, both real and imagined, and I intend to try to read about all of them.

Review: Gilead

Gilead

By Marilynne Robinson

Picador 2004

247 pages

From my shelves

John Ames is an elderly Congregationalist minister living in a small town. He never expected to remarry late in life and be blessed with a child. As his health begins to fail, Ames thinks about the things he wants his son to know. He wonders what words of wisdom he should leave behind and begins to write about his past, his faith, and his conclusions about trying to live a good life. 

From a brief description, this book sounds as if it could be a bit boring. An old man writes down his thoughts on life and love? That's it? But in the capable hands of Marilynne Robinson, this short book is full of warmth and life that will take up residence in your soul. The crux of the brilliance rests in the character Robinson has created. Ames is quiet and contemplative at the end of his life but still holds on to his beliefs with passion. His calm, steadfast love for both his wife and his son is evident in every line that he writes. 

"I'm trying to make the best of our situation. That is, I'm trying to tell you things I might never have thought to tell you if I had brought you up myself, father and son, in the usual companionable way. When things are taking their ordinary course, it is hard to remember what matters. There are so many things you would never think to tell anyone. And I believe they may be the things that mean most to you, and that even your own child would have to know in order to know you well at all."

While Ames has a lot to say about belief in God and the role of a pastor, this book has a universal feel. It's about family and the ways that our upbringing makes us like our parents and also causes us to find our own paths. As he writes about his past, we meet someone in the present who was very dear to Ames and is now a source of worry. His best friend Robert named his son after him, but the young man has not behaved like his namesake. Our narrator spends much of the book trying to decide why he has so much difficulty forgiving this man.. He worries that Jack will encroach on his family when he is gone and perhaps this is a way for him to deal with his fear that his own son will not grow up the way he hopes.

Gilead is not the sort of read that you race through with bated breath. There is no great mystery to solve unless you, like Ames, are looking for answers to those great, quiet mysteries of life. Robinson's writing in this sparse novel is quietly brilliant and reading this book may leave you wondering about your own life and what it is that you will leave behind when you are gone. 

Review: Housekeeping

Housekeeping

By Marilynne Robinson

Picador 1980

219 pages

From the library

Ruth and her sister Lucille live in the dreary town of Fingerbone. Their lives are upended by the appearance and disappearance of the women of their family – their mother, grandmother, great-aunts, and finally, their peculiar Aunt Sylvie. As the two girls grow up, they find themselves following different paths. Lucille tries desperately to be accepted within the constructs of their small community, while Ruth finds that the Fingerbone cannot contain her wandering spirit or wounded heart.

This was my first novel by Marianne Robinson, and I found myself savoring it. This is not a book that can be read quickly. The writing is very perceptive, but in a lovely, quiet way. Robinson begins by examining family. Ruth and Lucille are constantly abandoned by the very people who should stay in their lives – their mother, their grandparents, and their great aunts. The only one who will remain is their aunt, whose unusual habits and personality could threaten to tear apart the little family they have left.

“And I was left alone, in the gentle afternoon, indifferent to my clothes and comfortable in my skin, unimproved and without the prospect of improvement. It seemed to me then that Lucille would busy herself forever, nudging, pushing, coaxing, as if she could supply the will I lacked, to pull myself into some seemly shape and slip across the wide frontiers into that other world, where it seemed to me then I could never wish to go. For it seemed to me that nothing I had lost, or might lose, could be found there, or, to put it another way, it seemed that something I had lost might be found in Sylvie’s house.”

This novel reaches down into the depths of grief and examines the way that it stays alive for years after loss. The sadness these characters feel is constantly reflected in their surroundings, particularly in the lake where Ruth’s grandfather died in a train crash and her mother drove off of the bridge. The family cannot escape their ghosts, since a reminder is always in view. Robinson does a beautiful job of really creating this atmosphere – the water’s potential to heal and destroy, the claustrophobia of a small town, and the way memory can be more powerful than the present.

Housekeeping is a gorgeous novel; it’s small and quiet and will sit in your soul for a long time after you read it. It’s a perfect choice to read on that rainy day when you are feeling a bit melancholy and need an author who truly understands how that feels and what that means. I have a feeling that I will frequently return to the writing of Marilynne Robinson and hope that this book and her others will find a home on my bookshelf.