Gilead

Gilead Marilynne Robinson 3.5 / 5	Published 2004 First Sentences "I told you last night that I might be gone sometime, and you said, Where, and I said, To be with the Good Lord, and you said, Why, and I said, Because I'm old, and you said, I don't think you're old. And you put your hand on my hand and you said, You aren't very old, as if that settled it."
Publisher's Description: Twenty-four years after her first novel, Housekeeping, Marilynne Robinson returns with an intimate tale of three generations from the Civil War to the twentieth century: a story about fathers and sons and the spiritual battles that still rage at America's heart. Writing in the tradition of Emily Dickinson and Walt Whitman, Marilynne Robinson's beautiful, spare, and spiritual prose allows "even the faithless reader to feel the possibility of transcendent order" (Slate). In the luminous and unforgettable voice of Congregationalist minister John Ames, Gilead reveals the human condition and the often unbearable beauty of an ordinary life.
Dear Reader,  I know I was supposed to love this little book. I found it beautiful, and moving at times. But it was so slow. For such a slim volume, it felt like it took me ages to read. And it was so religious! It just wasn’t my cup of tea. I was able to look past the religiosity because I didn’t feel as if that was the writer’s point, but it was glaringly there all the while, as the book detailed three generations of preachers.  With her spare prose, the author manages to write some very memorable moments. She reminds me quite a bit of Faulkner. I felt the wideness of the prairie and the smallness of the town and of John’s life in every sentence. He never strayed far from Gilead, but that suited him. He was a preacher to a small congregation in a small and weary town, one which had an auspicious history but which now feels dusty and run-down. Quiet. Unassuming. And for John, home.  John Ames had a simple way about him, finding joy and beauty in the world, and I did appreciate that about the book. He found joy in the simple pleasures and noticed the smallest wonders, which is a thing I strive for always, and so I found a kindred spirit in him in this. I think I would have loved to have spent some time just sitting with the narrator on his front porch. I liked the juxtaposition of the town’s beginnings and the book’s ultimate conflict (if that is what Jack’s story amounted to), but I feel as if it just wasn’t enough for me. I got drawn in by the stories of John and his father and grandfather, all three very strong personalities in their own ways. But I found I just stopped caring, and I don’t have much interest in what happens to John’s son, when he finally begins to read the pages. The story was quaint, and sweet, and touching. I’ll give it that. And it had a lot of promise. But I just didn’t feel as if I was able to take anything away from it. And I think that should be the point of any book. Don’t you? Yours, Arianna P.S. Not that it should sway you one way or the other, but, just so you know -- this is one of Obama’s favorite books. P.P.S. Full disclosure: I read this for my book club. Would I have picked it up anyway? Probably. It’s been enjoyed by many. And it's a Pulitzer Prize winner, after all.

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Ireland

Ireland Frank Delaney 4 / 5	Published 2004 First Sentence "Wonderfully, it was the boy who saw him first."
Publisher's Description: In the winter of 1951, a storyteller arrives at the home of nine-year-old Ronan O'Mara in the Irish countryside. The last practitioner of an honored, centuries-old tradition, the Seanchai enthralls his assembled audience for three evenings running with narratives of foolish kings and fabled saints, of enduring accomplishments and selfless acts -- until he is banished from the household for blasphemy and moves on. But these three incomparable nights have changed young Ronan forever, setting him on the course he will follow for years to come -- as he pursues the elusive, itinerant storyteller . . . and the magical tales that are no less than the glorious saga of his tenacious, troubled, and extraordinary isle.
Dear Reader, I actually tried to read this book once before, right after I finished Mildred Pierce. For some reason (maybe it was the change in pacing from one book to the next?), I could not stick with it & my mind kept wandering! I was wary of trying again, but I have had it on my iPod waiting to be listened to forever, so I figured I should give it another go. I'm glad I did, too! It was a fascinating book. That might be heavily influenced by - as anyone who knows me well can attest - my infatuation with all things Irish. I love the Irish! I don't even know if I have a fraction of Irish blood in me (I've been told I may or may not - I'm that much of a mutt!), so it's not like I'm being patriotic for my home country or anything. I just love the scrappiness and spirit of the Irish, I guess. Plus, Irish boys. :) In ANY case, I digress: the point is, I chose this book based solely on the title when I was browsing through my library's Overdrive selection. The premise sounded intriguing, so I loaded it onto my iPod and gave it a go (well, two, to be exact!). There were certainly slow moments to the book, and parts I didn't love - some of the stories got very deep into describing battle scenes and the like, and that just doesn't appeal to me; my mind ends up drifting away from listening to those parts. Additionally, I found I enjoyed most those stories which were based in reality, versus the fairy-tale feel of some of them. Overall, though, all of the stories were entertaining. So. What was the book about, you ask? In the most basic description, it was about an Irish storyteller - or a seanchai, as they are called (I found a great video of what the old man probably looked like while telling his story!). This man travels the country, earning his room and board by entertaining the townsfolk he encounters. If he tells a good story, he is invited to stay longer, and thus have a place to call home for a time. He has no permanent address, no way to be found. It's a rather romantic idea, isn't it? Not something that would even be feasible today, but Delaney based his story in the 1950s. As someone on Goodreads rightly noted, this book was MADE to be audiobooked: I got to experience the closest thing to being in the room with a seanchai. The stories were made to be TOLD - not watched, not read on the page - so they were really well crafted for the aural venue. I'm glad I happened upon the audiobook version of the novel! The stories the old man tells begin with the earliest known Irish history and continue progressing until they reach the (relatively) present day - stories about everything, including the island's original clans, the British invasion, the IRA. I learned SO MUCH - about Irish history, and surprisingly about the origin of certain words & phrases, which as many know is right up my alley! The book was also really well done in that it didn't just consist of a bunch of stories told one after another. The author really knew what he was doing: he kept things varied (and really interesting, as it examined the fading calling of storytelling as the world became more technological) by having the stories told not only from the teller's mouth, but also through the mediums of television, transcription, audio tape, letters, and even through other characters. The story revolves not truly around the old man so much as it does around the life of Ronan O'Mara, a young boy who first becomes enchanted by the storyteller at the impressionable young age of nine. He spends his life following the man, in various ways, and there is even a mystery intertwined with everything! Delaney really understood what was necessary to make what sounds like a somewhat dry idea into something so much more robust and read-worthy. I'd definitely suggest this book, especially to those who seek to broaden their knowledge about their own Irish heritage. Yours, Arianna

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