Marilynne Robinson – My Own RE:public

Just a phone call away

Former NYT star critic, Michiko Kakutani, makes a return to talk with Barack Obama about A Promised Land – the book and all the books that led to it, and the land, and all the promises it makes – sometimes fulfilling them and just as often not. One could say her piece (based on an extended telephone conversation) confirms what one already knows about Obama’s intellectual and literary influences, but it does also reveal a few new things. For instance, about his method of writing – not a disciplined keeper of a diary, rather a collector of fragmentary anecdotes; digitally inclined when it comes to research; very analogue – legal pad and favourite pen – when it comes to the writing.

In her opening paragraph, Kakutani refers to A Promised Land as being, beyond the expected historical record, also “an introspective self-portrait”. Perhaps, not exactly the same thing, but Chimamanda Ngozie Adichie, in fact missed “true self-revelation” and bemoaned Obama’s (too) cool detachment. Nor does Kakutani insinuate any discomfort with his handling of race issues, unlike Adichie who is frustrated by what she identifies as his tendency towards misplaced evenhandedness. But, then, Kakutani is not writing a critique. What they both do agree on, though, is the fineness of the prose and the pleasure of the reading experience, and the service done in giving an enthralling account of an extraordinary (too) few years.

Any hesitancy I may initially have had about diving into such a meaty tome – fearing somewhat the insider policy-speak that comes with most political memoirs – was quickly assuaged. Obama talks to us! Every other passage, every turn of phrase, one may well imagine coming from his lips – just without the ums and ahs! The complexities of politics are so well packaged in familiar real world scenarios, and without a preponderance of technical jargon, that they should be understandable to most, and, more importantly perhaps, are embedded in the common warmth of a life being lived.

Asked about what he is reading now, I am absolutely unsurprised that Obama has turned, amongst other things, to Jack for some respite. It would not need me to bring to his attention the significance of his return to Marilynne Robinson’s “Gilead” opus just now; the first story of which had accompanied him as he traipsed around Iowa in 2007, at the beginning of an odyssey that could have led nowhere, but instead to the highest echelons of power. Did he ever imagine that the (once) “bright radical star” of the Union would play such an important role in his life?

Granted, I must confess, I am only a couple of hundred pages in – chronologically speaking, the first weeks of his presidency – and as one unable to confine myself to just one Lektüre at a time, I do have some reading ahead of me, but I look forward every day to a bit more. And, I will most definitely have more to say.

Sympathy for … “Jack”

Did I not say I wasn’t going to read any more reviews on Jack? But, when it is from Hermione Lee in the New York Review of Books and is titled: “Sympathy for the Devil”, what can I say? Must be read. Lee, wonderfully I think, fixes this new novel in the midst of the greater oeuvre of Marilynne Robinson’s work, foremostly the other “Gilead” books (which she revisits) but not only, and encapsulates, what for me is the essence of Robinson’s writing: her singular way of grasping the ephemeral in the every day, loading them with grace and kindness, then giving them permanence in the greater human narrative.

Elaine Showalter’s review in The New York Times (as pleaded for, I did get another, a better, review from NYT!) is not as extensive nor does it assiduously reference Robinson’s past works or comments, but obviously she read the same book as Hermione Lee; right down to Prince of Darkness metaphors.

Finally, a couple of general points: Lee and Showalter do seem to agree that this new novel would be difficult to appreciate outside of the context of the previous three in the series, and both remain unconvinced as to why Della is prepared to forsake so much for Jack’s sake. In respect to the latter, Showalter makes a plea for the another instalment – and for it to be called “Della”!

Start the Week…

with Marilynne Robinson et al.

Always a very good listen, but I was especially delighted with Marilynne Robinson being a guest on Andrew Marr’s BBC Radio 4 program “Start the Week” this morning. Here it is at Spotify (also available as podcast at Apple.)

Andrew Marr talks to Marilynne Robinson and Rowan Williams September 28, 2020.

Robinson discusses her new novel in the context of her wider work and concerns in the modern world; both the sacred and the profane. Her co-guest is Rowan Williams, former Archbishop of Canterbury, who speaks on the 16th century Benedictine monastic tradition; subject of his recent book The Way of St. Benedict, and its relevance now.

With such a pairing one expects the sacred to win out, but Marr ensures the more profane does not come up short. For me, at least, a very nice start to the week.

Reading Reviews – on “Jack”

That’s a thing with pre-sale reviews: does oneread, or does one not? And that question arises especially when applied to a work long awaited, and, for me, that is the case with Marilynne Robinson’s Jack; her fourth novel in a series that started with Gilead in 2004, which is in stores, on shelves (or coming via one of those ubiquitous “distribution centres” or appearing on a screen out of thin air; named for a mythical tribe of female warriors, or for the tributaries of some mighty waters) next week.

Alas, the temptation can not be resisted, and all my resistance must be directed instead against undue influence. But I usually do this well enough.

Here, then, a selection from the last couple of days:

Jordan Kisner’s reading is the one with the most intellectual depth. It is clear she knows the place from where Robinson comes, metaphorically if not in a real sense. It may, or may not, be called “Gilead”, but I would guess it has the essence of nonetheless. An excellent essay, I think. Should I wonder that they – Kisner and Robinson – share a publisher? Well I could but I won’t – and her piece is certainly not uncritical, but it is written with admiration and serious intent. She really makes some quite profound observations, not the least her identification of “predestination” as a leitmotif in Robinson’s work:

…Robinson is a Calvinist, and over the course of these novels, Jack has stood out among her characters—troublesome, seductive, full of pathos—because he most represents a central theological question raised by the Calvinist doctrine of predestination: Can a person be damned to perdition? Or, to use non-Calvinist language: Can a person be irretrievably and miserably wrong, broken, no-good, unsalvageable? If he is, and he knows that he is, what is he then to do? Does he have anything he can hope for?
The Atlantic, October 2020 issue

A wonderful extension of this, is Kisner’s assertion that Robinson has “trapped Jack and Della in a kind of structural predestination….”. This can only really be understood having read the other novels of the Gilead series with their sometimes parallel and sometimes circular chronologies, being such that we do know how it ends for Jack and Della. (Though I could qualify that and say: well, up to a point – who knows!)

Now, Dwight Garner at the NYT approaches Robinson with a determinably non-religious attitude. Which is okay, because I did likewise (and in some ways still do). But her work – and I can’t imagine this new novel to be otherwise – can not be understood without reference to the inherent Calvinistic stance from which it comes. Don’t say it can’t be done – see James Wood’s 2004 NYT piece; and I shouldn’t have to tell anybody where Wood stands when it comes to religion! It is obvious Garner can’t see much beyond the obvious when it comes to Jack; a miscreant, a bum – slick, unsavoury. As true as the nouns may be, so the adjectives. It’s just that I would call him: the loneliest of men; a weary, tormented soul. And Della? Garner says: “…[she is] a fascinating character [who] should resonate far more than she does…”. How can she possibly fascinate if she does not resonate? He goes on to bemoan that neither character has an “independent life” because the author has placed them both in “halters” of her own making. All I can say here is – besides well, they are her (Robinson’s) characters after all – is that I will return to this after my own reading.

Am I wrong in thinking that Garner didn’t have much interest in reading this novel (he sort of admits as much, or at least his ambivelence!) let alone reviewing it? Did the NYT have nobody else doing books this week? Anything by Marilynne Robinson deserves more consideration than that granted in this review. Mr. Garner didn’t have to like it, but he could have accorded just a modicum of the effort granted by Ms. Kisner. (Should I be sounding peeved, may I say in my defence, I am a really fair in this regard. For example, earlier in the year Daniel Mendelsohn gave a rather unfavourable review of Hilary Mantel’s final Cromwell tome, a lot of which I was not in agreement, but it was so well written, original in thought, fair in criticism …and respectful! That’s important I think, and what I miss in Garner’s review.)

Jack & Della

To tantalise and in anticipation of Marilynne Robinson’s continuation of the Gilead saga, The New Yorker has published a short story called “Jack and Della” adapted from the new novel, simply called Jack, which is due out at the end of September, and also a mini-interview with Robinson.

It is said the story is adapted, so I don’t understand it to be an extract, but what it is, is another telling of the meeting between Jack and Della in St. Louis; first related by Jack to Reverend Ames in Gilead and then again by Della to Jack’s sister Glory at the end of Home.

What is it about encounters in the rain? So often looms a sense of rescue and of chance; both redemptive and portentous at the same time. Reading “Jack & Della”, only now do I recognise a parallel between this first meeting and that of Reverend Ames and Lila – instigated too with an opening of the heavens, and opening of a door. As Della’s simple respectful “Thank you, Reverend” inspired by Jack’s funereal attire, so Lila’s “Good morning, Reverend”, are received as a promise, perhaps of salvation, and endure in both men’s memories long after. But, just who is saving whom is not plain, nor saint and sinner unambiguous – and that I suppose is the point.

More than tantalised, I positively ache to read Marilynne Robinson again. I have convinced myself that her words, the grace and wisdom she imparts with her words, make me just a little bit better a person.

Waiting on …

“Jack” by Marilynne Robinson (29 September 2020)

Hallelujah! Something to look forward to still! (The truth is, look hard enough, and there is more than enough!) Some time ago I blogged on the confirmation of another Gilead novel from Marilynne Robinson, and schedule-wise not much has changed in the interim – what after all is a couple of weeks in these trying times! But it does now indeed have a cover – and, it seems, an author’s name typeset to the same dimension as the title. Presumably “Marilynne Robinson” sells! And so she should!

“Jack” by Marilynne Robinson, pub. Farrar, Straus and Giroux.

In any old time I would be awaiting this book, but the circumstances and constraints, under which we are at the moment so struggling, particularly cries out for the grace and quiet and fortitude that emanate from Robinson’s prose.

Jack’s story

Expected, but still thrilled by the formal announcement of Marilynne Robinson’s new Gilead novel – the fourth. Finally (and is this the final word?), we are going to hear Jack’s side of things – at least the St. Louis story, for I recall Robinson stating last year that the new instalment would go to Gilead; though in some respects the place “Gilead” – real and mythical – and its effect on the characters, is always present.

City on the Hill

And now in the The New York Review of Books this adaptation (subscription required) from Marilynne Robinson’s first lecture. An interesting (and unusual) discourse, with as a starting premise: capitalism, as an economic theory at the very least misunderstood and often very well perverted, an altar worshiped upon by many and just as equally disavowed, as American as the proverbial whatever but with its historical and societal roots in a reaction against the brutality of the Poor Laws and conditions of pre-Modern England (and Europe) and the liberality borne out of an understanding of Scripture, based on love and generosity, dating from Wycliff.

This is me speaking here, wondering out loud: I wonder whether it was the secularisation of this liberal thought in the 18th century, and an intellectualisation that single mindedly focused on the useful and forgot about things like charity and love, that paved the way for, firstly, a brutal capitalism and then the backlash of theoretical Marxism.