It's such a cliche thing to say that a book is "of the times" or "just what we need right now," but as Jack himself might say, cliches sometimes become what they are because they are nearly always true. Reading a single book can't solve America, but Robinson comes as close as is possible. Her Gilead series paints a vivid a picture of this country, providing some answers but also posing questions for how America can properly understand itself, and possible transcend itself.

If you've read Home, you'll have a good sense of Jack, but of course, a good sense cannot fully describe why and how a person is. Della is a wonderfully complex and realized character that, like all of Robinson's characters, seems like she could be the person behind the curtained window across your street. Their thoughts and dialogue are simple, natural, yet get at the immense themes and questions of what it means to be a human (like all of Robinson's writing does).

Another cliche: "You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll cheer!" But also, you'll be deeply moved, come away understanding yourself, God, America, race, etc. a bit more, and have many more questions to ponder as well.

A wonderfully written introspective on two people who are lonely, hurt, and find one another and share their beliefs and love. It's a keen look at John Ames Boughton, the son of a Presbyterian minister, and Della Miles, an African American, daughter of a preacher. Taking place in Gilead, the well. known place of the books that precede this one, we find a beautiful love story, one that transcends time and the unrest and discrimination of the South.

Jack is ever so troubled, seeing himself as less than nothing, a failure, a drunk, a draft dodger. As his relationship with Della proceeds, he finds himself looking at a different Jack, one who has a poetic side, a lover of literature, a value he has never considered, a person to love. Her love for him is fraught with the dangers of the time and develops slowly and beautifully.

Wondrously written as all the book about Gilead are, this book is breathtaking in its view, and enables the reader to once again view the times of life and its unhappiness and joy after the war. Truly a recommended read.
Thank you to NetGalley for a copy of this story due out September, 29, 2020

Loved it....
.....I loved the pure beauty of the gracefully written words....the feelings they stimulated in me.
Each sentence seemed to be fierce and affecting.
Spiritual, morally and emotionally complex ‘novels’ are exceptionally rare....
Marilynne Robinson is ‘exceptionally’ rare....
Her entire body-of-work is quietly powerful.

Reading, *Jack* [an affecting novel during the 1950’s], came at a perfect time...absolutely perfect! With all the racial upheaval happening in 2020...
and many American’s taking time to read - study - and re-educate themselves about American Black history - racial and civil inequality- “Jack” is the ideal ‘fiction’ satisfying tale - with it’s wonderful experiential storytelling ....to compliment the other ‘non-fiction’ books I’ve recently read:
....Stamped: Racism, Antiracism, and You, by Jason Reynolds
....So You Want to Talk about Racism, by Ijeoma Oluo
....White Fragility, by Robin DiAngelo
....The Buddhist on Death Row, by David Sheff
....Caste: The Origins of Our Discontents, by Isabel Wilkerson

Fiction and Non-Fiction Bipartisanship unite!

The story, ( with the memorable characters), language, interracial and religious themes, explored in *Jack*.... lyrical, meditative, and thoughtfully contemplative.....spoke to my heart. I was left feeling that even with all the evil in the world—goodness prevails.

“Jack”....is predominantly Jack’s story... ( told from his point of view), the son of a Presbyterian preacher. Self-acclaimed bum, living in Saint Louis. Jack is white. ( also, a former convict, drunk, and thief)....
yet....I was rooting for him.

Interracial unions were illegal - and loathed upon in the 1950’s....
But....the heart wants what the heart wants ( it’s our minds, judgements, fears, guilt, evaluations, righteousness,.....egos that block the flow of love).

Della is a young beloved daughter, of a Memphis Bishop....a proper Christian woman.

The simplest way to say this: Jack and Della fall in love.
The complexity of their love is less simple.
The story captures splendors and pitfalls of being human.

Sooooo many deeply felt moments ....page after page....
Moments like this:
“An ordinary man would not grieve forever over the sins of his youth, he was fairly sure. And an ordinary man would not dread this great, blind impulse of distruction prophesied at officious length in any newspaper.
Then there was Della. Abstractly considered, a man who could threaten her as Jack did, if he felt no more guilt about it than he could live with then, would be an utter scoundrel. This meant the dark storms of bewilderment would deepen and Jack would have no refuge except, of course, in Della’s sweet calm. He took comfort so quickly at the thought of her that he felt a shudder of calm pass through his body, a thing he had never even heard of. He had to surrender his refuge in order to avoid the most desperate need of it. An hour or two tomorrow evening and then he would tell her goodbye and he would mean it”.
“Try to mean it”.

“I am a Negro, because my God created me to be what I am, and as I am, so I will return to my God, for He knows just why He created me as he did.
Marcus Garvey, of course. Teaching us to respect ourselves. To live up to ourselves. I will say it to my children, and they will say it to their children and their grandchildren. They’ll be Negroes and they’ll live Negro lives. And you won’t have any effect on that at all. Does that bother you?”
“No. A little. I haven’t given it much thought, really. This was probably not true”.

Love love love ....ALL of Marilynne Robinson’s book....and “Jack” was a wonderful sequitar to the Gilead-series.

Thank you Netgalley, Farrar, Straus and Giroux, and Marilynne Robinson for this wonderful timely-powerful and affecting novel.

The author writes so beautifully her words her characters come alive.I was immediately drawn into this book this story bathe unique characters especially Jack.Highly recommend as I do all the authors books.#netgalley#fsg

My initial reaction towards "Jack" reflects more of my own evolution as a reader than Robinson's evolution as a writer. In fact, I would describe this book as classic Robinson: slow build, dialogue heavy, sometimes heavy- themes of religion and family. I've been a devoted fan of the "Gilead" series since first released, and to my own surprise I found myself bored with "Jack". Perhaps I've exhausted the patience I'm willing to give the author for her disdain of chapters, and her very occasional use of a paragraph break. And maybe I don't feel like I have the emotional energy to try to comprehend the minutiae of complex metaphors and the intricacies of Calvinist predestination. It feels elitist, an ironic takeaway since Robinson largely writes about rural Iowa. I imagine I'm in the minority and fans of Robinson's work will be happy to be plunged back into the Ames' family, but this is likely my end of the road with her work.

Jack is the fourth installment of the Gilead series, and it zooms in on the black sheep of the Boughton family who has made appearances in each of the other novels.
In a time prior to Loving v. Virginia, Jack meets Della. Though he tries to stay away from her for her sake, his attempts at being harmless are more conspicuous than he realizes, and they soon find themselves on a road of impossible choices. Both heartbreaking and hopeful, this novel is timely in light of the headlines of the day surrounding race.
What makes Marilynne Robinson’s writing so unique is that it is beautiful without being showy; simple without being boring. This book contains the lovely writing found in her other works, along with the familiar themes of faith, family, belonging, and redemption.
One note I would offer to prospective readers is that although Gilead is considered a “loose” series, I think important context is offered in the other books that would be helpful before reading Jack.

Marilynne Robinson is among a handful of my favorite contemporary novelists. Based on her initial four novels, I think of Robinson as Nobel Prize worthy. <i>Jack</i>, Robinson’s latest, is her fifth novel and the fourth of her Gilead series, in which she has created a seemingly simple but emotionally rich world with a small cast of memorable characters searching to understand themselves, each other, their lives, and their relationship to their faiths, I’ve admired and appreciated Robinson for her careful and elegant prose, where every sentence and every word fill a specific purpose necessary for telling Robinson’s stories and explaining her characters.

Reading <i>Jack</i>, I missed the strong, direct first person voice of Ruth in <i>Housekeeping</i>. <i>Jack</i> feels much talkier, much more verbose than Robinson’s previous novels. I wonder if this represents Robinson’s imagining of Jack — a change in character — or a change in Robinson’s style? Authors, of course, adapt their styles, just as readers prefer some styles to others. The St. Louis of <i>Jack</i> is not the Fingerbone of <i>Housekeeping</i>, and Jack is not <i>Housekeeping</i>’s Ruth. Where Robinson’s previous novels felt meticulously honed and sculpted, <i>Jack</i> feels near bloated. Where theology and faith were undertones in <i>Gilead</i>, <i>Home</i>, and <i>Lila</i>, gently binding characters together, in <i>Jack</i> Robinson transforms these undertones into overbearing overtones. This is true throughout <i>Jack</i>, but especially so in the interminable opening graveyard scene with its unlikely, strained, unconvincing dialog: at times charming and heart-warming, but nonetheless tedious.

At the risk of sounding cranky and unfair to an author I esteem, I found that Robinson’s prose in <i>Jack</i> ranged from magnificent to tiresome, all embedded in a cliched and curiously dated story of Della Miles, a young Black high school English teacher, thoroughly grounded in her faith, her church, and her family, falling in love with ne’er-do-well older white guy, who accurately describes himself as <i>”a confirmed, inveterate bum”</i>. And not just any older white guy. Jack has his charms: he enjoys poetry; he plays piano; he’s thoughtful, especially about himself; and he’s a fine dancer. While Della and perhaps Robinson see Jack as a damaged soul, I see in Robinson’s portrayal of Jack signs of a low level sociopath: his admitted need to inflict hurt, his rejection of his family paired with his willingness to rely on them for money, his thieving just because he can and because he <i>”never quite learned to distinguish mine from thine”</i>, his casual destruction of public library books. As Jack says, <i>”’I’m a gifted thief. I lie frequently, often for no reason. I’m a bad but confirmed drunk. I have no talent for friendship. What talents I do have I make no use of. I am aware instantly and almost obsessively of anything fragile, with the thought that I must and will break it. This has been true of me my whole life.’”</i>. As for Della, perhaps this is her at her most believable: <i>”’Sometimes I shut myself in my room and throw myself down on my bed and I just let it run through me. All that wrath. In every bone of my body. Then it seems to wear itself out and I can go for a walk or something. But it never goes away.’”</i> The love of a good (Black) woman for a bad (white) man? Redemption through love, where the redeemer is the young Black woman giving up her comfortable life as she has known it for an irresponsible white man? This portrait of the saint-like Della trying to redeem Jack feels almost offensive to me. As Della tells Jack, <i>”’I think most people feel a difference between their real lives and the lives they have in the world. But they ignore their souls, or hide them, so they can keep things together, keep an ordinary life together. You don’t do that. In your own way, you’re kind of—pure.’”

If not for my agreement with NetGalley and Farrar, Straus and Giroux that generously provided me with an e-copy ARC in exchange for a review, I would forego attaching a star rating. Marilynne Robinson remains a wonderful novelist based on her initial four novels, but <i>Jack</i> feels like a disappointing departure. 4 stars for any author other than Marilynne Robinson, but 3.5 compared to her wonderful earlier novels.

Jack Boughton is the son of Gilead, Iowa’s Minister Boughton, named after John Ames, the preacher and narrator of Robinson’s Gilead. This fourth in Robinson’s connected volumes is his story, revealing much about Jack, and the woman he meets, and falls in love with. Della Miles – a teacher who is the daughter of an important black family in Memphis.

Jack is viewed by others as a good-for-nothing bum, indeed, he views himself a less-than. He is a man who has been to prison, a draft dodger during WWII, and tends to enjoy the bottle too much and too often, and he often finds himself on the wrong side of the law as well as the wrong side of those who he owes money. Money he can never repay and so he resorts to petty theft, but ends up either drinking it away, or losing it one way or another, no matter his intentions.

And when he meets Della Miles she sees another side of him. Over time, she is drawn to his poetic nature, his love of literature and eventually a love develops, slowly, unevenly, and with much back and forth, over time. Each knowing that in this place and time, and because of these constructs of the world - their love not approved by society - their love would need to be hidden from the world.

For those who have read, and loved, Marilynne Robinson’s Gilead,Home,Lila this will be a must read, as the fourth novel in this collection. For now, I am content to savor the moments I have found in reading Jack, re-reading the many excerpts I have highlighted over and over again.

Jack is simply a lovely, beautifully shared reflection on life and love, and the salvation that is conveyed to us through love.


Pub Date: 29 Sep 2020

Many thanks for the ARC provided by Farrar, Straus and Giroux via NetGalley

There are moments of clarity and brilliance in Robinson's newest. But, simultaneously, there are moments of an absolutely awful yawning repetition that make enduring through the book a chore. The opening...conversation (?) in the graveyard is horribly paced and often devolves into a repeated pattern of each character worrying over whether they've offended the other. While we should not expect this book to be the same as Gilead and Lila (or other works), there is something particularly "off" about this one.

Others have given adequate background to place Jack in the world of Gilead. As with all of Marilynne Robinson's novels, the writing is luminous, Should a reader approach this as a stand alone work? I think no. First, because the preceding 3 novels are so wonderful, they should not be missed. The second reason involves a detour to the Wendell Berry world of Port William. Berry set a dozen novels and short story volumes there and peopled it with a large cast of recurring characters. No matter where you start, each book is engaging and complete. Gilead is more complicated. Each book builds on the one before and is best appreciated as a step in one long saga -which may not be complete! By all means read Jack - after you have enjoyed Gilead, Home and Lila.

It would be easy to describe Jack Boughton as a prodigal son, but that might not be quite accurate. As the main character in <i>Jack</i>, the fourth installment in Marilynne Robinson’s beloved series of novels focusing on the lives of two religious families living in Gilead, Iowa shortly after the second world war, Jack is clearly a lost soul. However, he is also someone for whom redemption has not come—not yet, at least—despite the efforts and prayers of his father, the town’s Presbyterian preacher, and brother Teddy. Having introduced his ne’er-do-well ways in the earlier books (<i>Gilead</i>, <i>Home</i>, and <i>Lila</i>), this novel focuses on Jack after he has been released from prison and is basically living as a bum in St. Louis. There he meets Della Miles, a young black school teacher herself a minister’s daughter, and begins a halting courtship that eventually leads to something like marriage. The fact that interracial unions are still illegal at that time—and, more importantly, frowned upon by pretty much everyone else in Jack and Della’s lives—is what creates the dramatic tension in the story.

I suppose it is worth noting that I greatly admire everything I have read by this author and find her prose to be both consistently luminous and deeply affecting. That said, I did not find <i>Jack</i> to be nearly as compelling as the three other novels in the series, or <i>Housekeeping</i>, an earlier work set outside Gilead. The problem with this book is that it is told entirely from Jack’s point of view over a reasonably brief period of time, which gave the story a distinct one-note feeling in which not much actually happens. It is established fairly quickly that Jack is someone who cannot seem to get out of his own way despite his occasional good intentions and this theme is then repeated many times throughout the story. Further, while Jack’s interest in Della is plausible, her character is not sufficiently developed that it is ever possible for the reader to understand what she sees in him, especially given that the potential price they both may pay for pursuing a love affair is so incredibly high.

Still, there is much to admire about <i>Jack</i>, particularly for those already invested in the saga of the Boughton family. Robinson’s writing continues to be simply beautiful throughout the entire novel; I really think that she is incapable of writing a single bad sentence. There is such a thoughtful spirituality that imbues the entire work, which allows it to transcend the otherwise mundane details of a story in which not a lot of action occurs. I once again found myself transported back to a world of characters that I have come to care about over the years and even found myself rooting against my more measured judgment that things would work out this time. Inducing that sort of buy-in from the reader is undoubtedly one mark of a great writer and it is certainly enough to justify recommending the book, even if it does not quite rise to level of its predecessors.

Marilynne Robinson's Gilead was my novel of the year in 2015 when I came to it, and the other volumes of the trilogy, Home and Lila, rather belatedly on the publication of the last of the three, particularly notable for its reverent and sympathetic, but at the same time theologically questioning exploration of religious faith, a rare thing indeed in modern literature.

The three novels were (as Rachel Sykes observes in this article http://ijas.iaas.ie/issue-6-rachel-sykes/) more "simultaneous texts" than a conventional trilogy, even Lila, which, while looking back on the 'past' life of the eponymous subject, does so from the standpoint of her memories of these events in the 'present' of the trilogy (1956 in Ohio).

Jack is in that sense rather distinct, in that it is written from the standpoint of a previous period (around 8 years before the trilogy) and place (St Louis in Missouri). It picks up on the character of Jack, or to give him his full name John Ames Broughton, son of the Presbyterian preacher John Broughton and named after his friend and fellow pastor, the narrator of Gilead, John Ames, and in particular the story he tells Ames at the end of that novel of his common-law marriage to Della Miles, a black woman, and also daughter of a preacher (who is aware of, and strongly opposed to, their relationship), and with whom he has had a son:

"He cleared his throat. ‘We are married in the eyes of God, as they say. Who does not provide a certificate, but who also does not enforce anti-miscegenation laws. The Deus Absconditus at His most benign. Sorry.’ He smiled. ‘In the eyes of God we have been man and wife for about eight years. We have lived as man and wife a total of seventeen months, two weeks, and a day.’"

Their relationship was illegal in Missouri, incredibly one of 16 US states whose anti-miscegenation laws (reminscent of Nazi Germany and apartheid-era South Africa) were overturned only by a Surpreme Court decision in 1967. That 15 of those 16 states gave Donald Trump 172 of his electoral college votes in 2016 rather tells its own story, and emphasises why this novel is so timely. Interestingly in this novel we learn the opposition from Della's father to their relationship is more his own view that the 'races' (*) should be kept separate, to help the improvement of his own people.

(* as another recent book I've read points out - Superior: The Return of Race Science- race itself being a rather nonsensical concept)

The story Jack tells (or rather the narrator tells) in this novel is subtly different to the account he was to give Ames 8 years later. For example, in both accounts, at his and Della's first meeting she mistook him for a preacher, but in this (presumably the real) story she discovers the truth for herself, whereas in his later account he almost immediately puts her right.

Gilead was told in the first person but for Home and Lila Robinson switched to a very close third person, which in Lila in particular led me to question whether I was reading Lila's thoughts or the author's. The device works more credibly for Jack as the theological inspired musings are rather more appropriate.

“I’m a simple man who was brought up by a complicated man. So I have mannerisms and so on. Vocabulary. People can be misled.”

And while a non-believer - although as he tells Ames in Gilead, not so much an atheist "‘It is probably truer to say I am in a state of categorical unbelief. I don’t even believe God doesn’t exist, if you see what I mean" - his thoughts are infused with theological influence, perhaps more so that he realises:

"If the Fall had made sinfulness pervasive and inescapable, then correction might be abrupt and arbitrary, to draw attention to itself as the assurance of an ultimate order without reference to specific wrongs, which, in a post-lapsarian world, must all more or less run together. These are the terms in which he made sense of most bad surprises. They were of little use except in retrospect, which had not arrived yet."

Jack is aware he is hardly a suitable partner for Della, as he tells (another!) Minister at a Baptist church he briefly attends, in part for the food and in part for having someone to whom he can have the conversations he might, in other circumstances, have with his with his own father.

“All right, I’ll tell you. I’m a gifted thief. I lie fluently, often for no reason. I’m a bad but confirmed drunk. I have no talent for friendship. What talents I do have I make no use of. I am aware instantly and almost obsessively of anything fragile, with the thought that I must and will break it. This has been true of me my whole life. I isolate myself as a way of limiting the harm I can do. And here I am with a wife! Of whom I know more good than you have any hint of, to whom I could do a thousand kinds of harm, never meaning to, or meaning to.”

The minister said, “Good Lord.”

The novel doesn't always give us a convincing account of how Jack came to be the rogue he is, but realistically so as he doesn't always understand himself:

"He had never been good at explaining things he did. It was just alarming to him to consider how much sense they always made at the time, or in any case, how unavoidable they seemed. He suspected he drank to give himself a way of accounting for the vast difference between any present situation and the intentions that brought him to it."

Della's own side - as a reverse Mrs Merton-Debbie McGee - quite what she sees in the drunk-lying-dissolute-loner Jack - is rather absent from the story, although again this is consistent with the narrow third-person narration (and perhaps there is a fifth novel Della coming one day?), but she does suggest that she senses a purity to his soul, rather to Jack's mystification.

To the extent Jack has a philosophy of life it is, as noted above, to avoid others lest he does them harm, a realisation and resolution that he came to some time before this novel is set, when he tried to find the other key woman in his past, the girl he seduced and got pregnant back in his days in Gilead (Jack fled the scene, and the child died at a young age, a story, as with his 2 years in prison, he has yet to confess to Della).

"Then it was that he had first realized what an exquisite thing harmlessness must be, what an absolute courtesy to things seen and unseen, to the bruised reed and the smoldering wick. If he could not achieve harmlessness, his very failures would give him much to consider. He would abandon all casuistry, surrender all thought of greater and lesser where transgressions were concerned, even drop the distinction between accident and intention."

This is a theme he returns to repeatedly, one notable passage being (the quote from Robert Frost, one of several poets and poems that play a key role in the text, and which cement the relationship between Della and Jack, Shakespeare, particularly Hamlet, forming another key reference):

"He was acquainted with despair. The thought made him laugh. He had to admit that he found it interesting, which was a mercy, and which made it something less than despair, bad as it was.

"I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain—and back in rain"

Much of the time this was his favorite poem. The second line seemed to him like very truth. It was on the basis of the slight and subtle encouragements offered by despair that he had discovered a new aspiration, harmlessness, which accorded well enough with his habits if not his disposition. Keeping his distance was a favor, a courtesy, to all those strangers who might, probably would, emerge somehow poorer for proximity to him."

But "so he had lived, more or less, until he met Della."

Recommended - a strong 4 star read.

If you've read Marilynne Robinson [I have], you know what you're in for--a prose treat. [is that a thing?!]

The setting--a part of the Gilead series [though I believe this can stand alone]. Set in St. Louis, sometime after WWII. John Boughton, aka Jack, is a drunk , ne'er do well, and the black sheep of his family. His father is a Presbyterian minister in Gilead, Iowa. Jack meets Della Miles, an African-American high school teacher, whose father also is a preacher, in a cemetery--late at night. They fall in love--and set in motion a story of racism [among other things--their relationship is illegal], sadness, struggle, self-doubt, self-destruction, loneliness, hope, grace, religious themes, and more.

This is a book that builds, and must be read slowly--because, the language, the language! At first [very early on] I thought it somewhat simplistic, but then it becomes far more intense. One must devote time to reading and savoring the descriptions and directions that Robinson is leading us in this eloquent and thoughtful novel..

Some of the descriptions slayed me--but it is the paragraphs that are truly thought provoking and concentration is necessary.

Nonetheless, I offer a few brief phrases that resonated images:

"...his age, that relaxation of the flesh..."
"...feeling the overbrearing innocence of strangers' domesticity"
"...vanished, a little arthritically..."
"doors of churches were open, releasing gusts of music and sociability"
and so many more.

Much resonated with timeliness of today--especially the racisim. But also consider:
"You are good as a courtesy to everyone around you." {i.e., wearing a mask]

And I learned several new words--e.g., narhex, cerements, and apophatic.

I'm not sure my review does this book justice. But do read if you are at all inclined. Just be prepared to have your jaw drop at times and your brain be somwhat confounded by the complexity of this novel,

Marilynne Robinson’s “Gilead” trilogy (with “Home” and “Lila”) is one of my favourite ever series of books both for their sheer craftmanship of the writing, the maturity and insight of the discussion of the issues covered, and for its sympathetic and intelligent exploration of the depths, consolations and challenges of Christian faith.

It is I think very telling that the collective reviewers of the Guardian (a paper which is somewhere between non-Christian and positively anti-Christian) rated “Gilead” the second best book of the 21st Century.

Therefore imagine my delight when it was announced that the author was writing a fourth book in the series – and one which forms a perfect (and obvious) compliment to the first three volumes – the story of the prodigal son who returns in “Home”, “Jack” (John Ames) Broughton, and whose difficult relationship with his father’s friend John Ames (after whom he is named, and who fears he will usurp his place as husband to Lila and father to his son) forms much of the tension at the end of “Gilead”. That tension is partly dissipated in “Gilead” when Jack confesses to Ames about his black wife (Della) and their child – and the difficulty of their relationship: struggling both against racial miscegenation laws and the avowed disapproval of Della’s family, headed by a minister. Della’s appearance at the end of “Home” forms the ending to that book also.

This book is the story of Jack’s meeting with and burgeoning relationship Della – one which closely but not completely follows Jack’s recounting to Ames (which presumably suffers both from the unreliability of memory and the selectiveness of retelling).

The book is written in the third person, but very much from Jack’s point of view.

At the opening of the story he is only just released from prison (wrongly convicted of theft – albeit he could have been correctly convicted for countless other occasions) and living as a down and out, estranged from his family (other than for regular donations from one brother) and struggling with alcoholism, kleptomania and self-destructive tendencies which seem to extend to anything he holds as precious: his only strategy is to aspire to “utter harmlessness” – trying to isolate himself so as to do as little damage as possible.

But into this mix – via a chance encounter, comes the schoolteacher Della and the two are drawn to each other. Jack’s early behaviour forces a breach between them, but both retain feelings for each other and the book opens on a second chance encounter – overnight in a graveyard (where Jack is staying having sold his bed for the night) and Della is inadvertently locked in. This opening conversation is covered almost word for word and covers around the first quarter of the novel and, in perhaps my only criticism, is a little too extended a set piece – I preferred the book when it reverted to perhaps a more conventional pacing.

The book is replete with meditations on poetry, on Hamlet (the subtexts of which form a backdrop to the cemetery conversations), on hymns and on bible verses.

But it is also shot through with the reality of racial tensions in 1950s America: Jack encounters threats and hostility from whites; he struggles with his secret satisfaction at reading of a planned demolition/regentrification of the black area of St Louis as it fits his own tendency to destruction; contrary to Jack’s account in Gilead, Della’s father’s objections to Jack centre less around his atheism and unlike her extended family less around his disreputable character, but instead centres on a firm belief in Negro self-sufficiency and separatism.

But of course like all the series, religious concepts dominate.

Jack struggles with pre-destination; habit, impulse and temptation; penitence, regret and forgiveness; and most of all grace.


Della remains more of an enigma, and I have seen reviews that query her feelings for Jack, but her motivation – a revelation of her redemptive role, and her opportunity to show non-judgmental kindness to the outcast, and to see and reach the inner soul behind the outward behaviour is revealed in a powerful speech.

A worthy conclusion to a wonderful series. One that I will revisit on its paperback publication with a read through of all four books.

My thanks to Farrar, Straus and Giroux for an ARC via NetGalley

Book #4 in the Gilead series provides the backstory for the prodigal Jack Boughton, and to a certain extent, for the unimpeachable Della Miles. You need not have read the rest of the Gilead books to enjoy this novel, although "Home" may be one you will want to read afterward.

Set in St. Louis sometime after World War II, this book tells the story of Jack's and Della's unlikely and then-illegal relationship. Jack is a liar, a drunk, a thief, and a former convict, the white, reprobate son of a Presbyterian minister. Della is a successful, respected teacher, the black, perfect daughter of a Methodist bishop. Despite miscegenation laws, societal hostility, and the disapproval of Della's family, employer, and neighbors, Jack and Della fall in love.

The book showcases the author's famously beautiful writing and religious themes. Told from Jack's POV, the book is most successful when it delves into the losses and transgressions that have driven Jack to exile himself to the fringes of society. Jack is a great, complex character, and this book provides insight into how he will ultimately appear and act in "Home." Despite the overall seriousness of the subject and tone, it is sometimes very funny, as when Jack tries to adopt a cat and when he reflects on difficulties he had in prison: "From time to time there would be trouble - he was accused of cheating at cards because he was cheating at cards."

The book is less successful in exploring Della's character. It's never quite clear what Della sees in Jack, the self-described "old white bum." Della works symbolically to illustrate grace, but it would have made the book even richer to see her more as a multi-faceted person instead of an ideal.

Many thanks to NetGalley for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.

The timing of publication of this book and its stunning account of interracial connection during Jim Crow couldn't be more fortuitous, with all the current racial upheaval. Marilynne Robinson is truly a writer's writer, an inspiration and mentor to writers of renown (I know at least one personally, and his assessment means a lot -- he says "She uses full sentences when she writes.") All that in mind, it took a while to read this rich, intense novel, No. 4 in Robinson's Gilead universe. Because every sentence counts.

We first meet Jack and Della on a lengthy night-long stroll through a cemetery, during which they engage in the kind of soul-baring conversation that can't help but bring two people together. This takes place during the early 1950's, St. Louis, and the two fall in love despite their racial divide. Both have fathers in the clergy, but Jack has been regarded as the black sheep of his family whereas Della is the beloved daughter of a Memphis Bishop, a highschool teacher, a proper Christian woman. But she has fallen in love with Jack's soul, and as their story progresses, she forgives a lot. Since this book is told from Jack's point of view, we get to know him from the inside, his weaknesses and dangers, and we tend to forgive him too and root for him.

Robinson's second book in the Gilead series, Home, is Jack's story some years following this time, and I'm ashamed to admit my memory of that book is vague over 10 years later, but I will re-read it it knowing this part of Jack's history.