For much of American history, the invocation of God remained an essential block of the country's foundation despite the separation of church and state. Marilynne Robinson recognized this thread and brought to life familial and religious relations in her Pulitzer-winning "Gilead." The simple, beautiful story of an aging preacher in middle America was complete. Robinson, however, now returns with a sequel, "Home."
This novel concerns the same period of time in the small town of Gilead. The failing Reverend Boughton continues to pray for the return of his prodigal son, Jack. His dearest friend and the protagonist of "Gilead," Reverend Ames, is still suspicious of Jack, unable to trust the man who stole for no reason and made trouble as a child. Jack is a point of contention in their friendship; he is, in fact, a challenge for all who know him.
"Gilead" was from the viewpoint of Ames, who, knowing he is going to die, writes a treatise to his son; "Home" is told in the voice of Glory, the youngest of the eight Boughtons.
In the more recent story, Glory has returned home. Her retreat to the town of her childhood is prompted by a failed, lengthy engagement. She moves in with her father to care for him as he declines. When Jack joins her in their father's house after 20 years absence, she attempts to connect with him. Jack is full of secrets, beloved by his father and a concern to all. Glory and Jack build a careful relationship as the book progresses. The foundation is tenuous, built upon small confidences and a shared exclusion from life as it was anticipated.
Ames' first person narrative was exquisite in "Gilead." Through his voice, Robinson brought forth beautiful, simple moments from the daily life of an Iowan minister. The reader assumed a comfortable residence within Ames' head watching his son chase the cat and sifting through old memories that tell the story of his pious heritage.
"Home" is concerned with the events that directly involve Glory, giving the story a similarly singular perspective. However, Robinson is less adroit in third person. The more intimate details provided about Jack's return to Gilead in "Home" verge on superfluous in the face of the faultlessness of the prequel.
The use of the third person provides little entrance into Glory's loneliness, which is profound and worth understanding. Though her re-acquaintance with Jack supplies the possibility of insight into Glory, the reader only develops half thoughts about both brother and sister.
Robinson employs a number of stylistic ticks, attributing them to particular characters throughout the text. These draw the reader up short and lend very little to the characters' developments.
I found myself rather annoyed by a number of the protagonists. Many who were intriguing in "Gilead" were disappointing in "Home." Old Boughton possesses excessive forgiveness for his wayward son and only polite acknowledgement of the good his other children perform. Ames is featured peripherally and his importance is negligible unless the prequel has been read. And Ames' wife, who I was entranced by in "Gilead," only surfaces to taunt the reader with her own mysteries.
Jack is not unlikeable, but it was difficult for me to grasp why he was valued above the seven other Boughtons. He is admittedly the worst of the lot. I can certainly understand his family's unconditional love for him as a brother and son, but the isolating loneliness of his nature hardly warranted the receipt of more love. This is clearly an unsettled question for Jack. The Boughtons' profound reliance upon religious faith does not explain his elevated status.
While "Home" is not a disappointing novel in and of itself, the existence of its predecessor ultimately undermines its strengths. The affecting simplicity is lost in the sequel, and no new questions are answered.