Marilynne RobinsonResenhas

Housekeeping is one of the most lyrical and gorgeously written novels I've read. Forty years ago when the book first came out, I read it as a tale of a vagabond woman, or the virtues of wandering, but the tragedy and grief is stronger in my appreciation of the story now. Evocative of the Northern Idaho countryside and Lake Pend Oreille, the location is as much a character as are the orphaned sisters, Ruth and Lucille. Their Aunt Sylvie makes this a story of transience as much as about keeping a house or a soul in place. One of my top favorites.

There is a balm in Gilead
To make the wounded whole;
There is a balm in Gilead
To heal the sin-sick soul.

After twenty years of estrangement and exile, Jack Boughton returns to his childhood home in Gilead, Iowa. Jack’s widowed father, a retired Presbyterian minister, is in failing health. Jack’s sister, Glory, the youngest of the eight Boughton siblings, has returned to the family home after a failed relationship. As the siblings care for their father’s needs, their kindred wounds and vulnerabilities form them into a unit apart.

Jack, and to a lesser extent Glory and their father, first appeared in Gilead in relation to his namesake, the Congregational minister John Ames. Home gives readers a different perspective on the fraught relationship between Jack and Reverend Ames.

I could point to Jack’s story as an explanation for why I am not a Calvinist. Reverend Boughton has worried about the state of Jack’s soul for his son’s entire life, and he holds out hope that Jack will accept God’s grace. He doesn’t see that Jack’s problem isn’t unbelief, but belief. Jack believes he is a reprobate and not one of God’s elect. He is unable to see himself as worthy of his family’s love. There isn’t a balm in Gilead for Jack Boughton.

Recommended by Beth Boyce. Wonderful..

I've read two out of the four Gilead novels. The last one I read, Jack, I didn't like nearly as much as Gilead. So I thought I would try this earlier novel of Robinson's to see if it was her early writing that I liked. This book was more engaging than Jack was but still not up to the standards of Gilead.

The novel's main character is Ruth. She and her sister Lucille were brought to the small town of Fingerbone, on the edge of a largish lake, by their mother. She dropped them off at her mother's house, who wasn't home at the time, and then drove off. A few hours later she drove her car into the lake in what was probably suicide. The lake had also claimed the life of the girls' grandfather when the train on which he was crew went off the bridge across the lake with no survivors. The grandmother looked after the girls up until her death. Then two maiden great-aunts came to take over looking after them. They were completely unused to children and were consumed with nervousness. They contacted the girls' Aunt Sylvie who had been living a nomadic life around the western United States. When she finally turned up the great-aunts lost no time in fleeing the house and the children and the town. At first, Sylvie seemed like a much better choice but as the weeks and months went by, she proved that she had no aptitude for living in one place or looking after two young children. Ruth was quite taken with Sylvie but Lucille finally had enough and went to live with one of her teachers. Ruth and Sylvie kept living in the house but in no sense of the word did they "keep house". When Ruth started skipping school and spending more time with Sylvie, sometimes on the lake in a borrowed rowboat, it was obvious that the end of their living in Fingerbone was coming near. And so, one day, they hopped on a train and took off.

This was quite a sad book what with the child abandonment and failure to provide the necessities of life by all the adults in Ruth's life. Also, the men just seemed to have dropped out of existence which does happen but certainly impacts how children grow up.

I have to say that there were some wonderful passages in this book. Robinson is a fine writer, maybe even a gifted writer, but she will never be a favourite for me.½

I previously read Marilynne Robinson's four Gilead novels, and only now this Housekeeping, written 25 years earlier, and that may be the wrong order. I definitely recognized the very controlled, refined writing style; Robinson is a first-class craftswoman who writes heavily charged sentences in a misleadingly poetic upmake. And I also recognized the emphasis on sensorial introspection: just as in the Gilead novels, the main character (here Ruth Foster) constantly alternates between registering her own sensory experiences and reflecting on what that does to her, and on the things she struggles with. Here Robinson approaches what the 19th century naturalists and symbolists did, by focusing on the threat posed by the environment in which this story takes place: the remote, chilly village of Fingerbone (the name alone), on a large lake in Idaho, connected with the outside world by a railway bridge that runs over the water. The tone is set right from the start: Ruth tells how her grandfather died when a train derailed on the bridge, ended up in the lake and was never recovered (and neither the bodies of the passengers within). And less than 20 pages later we read how her own mother committed suicide by driving her car off a cliff into the lake. The 'gothic flavor' of this novel is also emphasized further on, including in an unparalleled nocturnal scene in which the house is half flooded; darkness and obscurity clearly are recurring themes in Robinson.
But the main body of this novel describes how Ruth, together with her sister Lucille, subsequently came under the care of her aunt Sylvie, a confused, chaotic and very dreamy character. Robinson writes quite emphatically: “it was the beginning of Sylvie's housekeeping”, and in doing so she immediately provides us with a key to reading this novel. After all, it is not only about the struggle to keep the house (literally), but also about keeping it 'in order', and by extension also one's own life. Looking back on it, you notice that all the characters in this novel struggle with this: getting a grip on their own lives, curbing the inherent chaos of life and steering it in the right direction, and what you have to give up and sacrifice in doing so, and whether such an orderly life is actually the right choice. And all that aggravated by the struggle with loss, grief, isolation and loneliness, especially as a woman or a girl.
In other words, through Ruth Foster's coming-of-age story, Robinson opens up a reflection on what this life is all about and whether it makes sense to control it. To be clear: she does not give simple, obvious answers, but above all - through Ruth - asks the right questions. And thus there is a link with the Gilead novels, which essentially deal with the same theme, but with a clear, more religious - read Calvinist - slant, in which the question of good and evil, damnation and grace are more central. I think that Robinson definitely shows even more mastery in some of those Gilead novels, both stylistically and substantively, but with this 'Housekeeping' she already showed that her novels are among the best of what has been written in recent decades, worldwide.½

Reason read: botm 3/2024, Reading 1001. This is a novel about family, family secrets, passing generations, forgiveness, and death. I read the first book set in Gilead and this is the second book. The characters are Glory and her prodigal brother Jack. The Reverend Robert Boughton is old and dying. Glory has come home to take care of her dad and Jack has returned hoping to mend fences with himself and his family.

I enjoyed this book as much as I enjoyed Gilead and I've read Housekeeping. I want to read Lila and Jack. I find the stories good because they're about family not that I think the authors Christian values are perfect because I don't think they are but I also think that would make for good discussions.

This book won the Orange Prize of what is now the Women's Prize. 2009

This was upsetting on many levels. Stories about women who aren't mothers but do have children are the most devastating things on the face of the planet. I also can't help but think about Ada or Ardor re: Lucille, Lucette who wanted more and more and then is left/leaves. And of course, the red hair. When Ruth is left overnight outside in the dark will haunt me for the rest of my life.

Ook dit was weer een taaie brok. Ik schreef eerder al dat Marilynne Robinson het haar lezers niet gemakkelijk maakt: haar thematieken (essentieel het goede en kwade in de mens, en hoe we daar als individu mee omgaan) zijn bijzonder zwaar op de hand, en haar meticuleuze, superieure schrijfstijl vergt voortdurende concentratie. Ook in dit vierde deel van de Gilead-serie blijft ze op bekend terrein: net als in het tweede deel (Home) staat opnieuw Jack centraal, het zwarte schaap van de Boughton-familie. En op zich leren we niet veel nieuws: uit Home wisten we al dat Jack een dronkaard en een dief is, die zich maar al te zeer bewust is van zijn ‘slechtheid’, en we wisten van zijn problematische relatie met de zwarte Della Miles. Maar in dit deel graaft Robinson nog veel dieper in zijn ‘verdoemde’ ziel. Het doet bijna pijn om geconfronteerd te worden met Jack’s voortdurende gepieker, zijn permanente onzekerheid, en zijn ziekelijk minderwaardigheidsgevoel. Robinson maakt tastbaar hoe mensen in de marge van de maatschappij telkens taxeren hoe ze door anderen (die er beter voor staan) scheef bekeken worden, en hoe machteloos ze zijn om zichzelf uit het moeras te trekken. Bijzonder bij Jack is dat hij uit die situatie een eigen levensfilosofie heeft ontwikkeld, namelijk om zo weinig mogelijk schade aan te richten. Vergeefs uiteraard.
En dan is er die romance tussen Jack en Della waar het hier om draait, een romance waar we het fundament niet helemaal goed van kunnen peilen, maar die zich zo delicaat en aandoenlijk ontwikkelt, dat je er wel door gegrepen moet worden. Het lijkt niet meer dan een zoveelste Romeo en Julia-verhaal, gedoemd al beide protagonisten zijn door hun achtergrond en door de heersende wetten (met onder andere een verrassend ontnuchterende kijk op de morele stugheid van de zwarte gemeenschap). Wat me in de dialogen tussen Jack en Della vooral opviel was hoe dikwijls het over licht en donker gaat, misschien een hier wel erg voor de hand liggende metafoor maar dan wel één die het dilemma van dit koppel treffend samenvat. Uiteindelijk snijdt Robinson in dit deel vooral de vraag aan of Jack gered kan worden door Della, of nog, of iemand die verdoemd is gered kan worden door de liefde, een vraag die eerder al bij Dostojewski centraal stond (vooral in Misdaad en Straf). Inderdaad, Robinson meet zich met de allergrootsten en ze blijft daarbij overeind. Dat zegt genoeg.½

This is a quietly devastating book - written in a very low key way, but very precise and very moving. The adult children returning home struggle to work out how to live together and with their aging father. Its awkward and difficult for everyone, but the family love means they have to try.½

Finely written, poetic and in some ways very sad, though not without touches of humour and light. I enjoyed it, but perhaps not quite as much as some of Robinson's later books.

This follow up to Gilead is as wonderful as a book could be.

Reading this book was a real chore. The writing seemed to be good, but it never took my mind anywhere. No plot to speak of. Characters that were just strange and unconnected. A very different, morbid, sad tale. Gilead was a much better read. It is amazing how different a reaction you can have to a writer's work from one book to another.

A very well written book that many would rate a five star. The in depth character study of family, faith, and a lost soul of a prodigal son that wants to come home. Excellent writing that I can identify.
Still... I was lost at times with the observations and conversations of the characters. Nothing really grasped me with a true interest, so I was left with wanting to finish and move on to the next book. More three stars for me personally, so I leave it as an orphan in between at four stars.

I certainly won't detract from my praise for Marilynne Robinson (see my review of Home), but I had a bit more trouble with this third part of the Gilead series. Once again Robinson changes the perspective, now to Lila, the young wife of the much older reverend John Ames. As an orphan she has had a quite poor and eventful childhood, living the life of a vagabond, ending up in a marginal gang, and even in a brothel. The atmosphere in this novel is strongly reminiscent of John Steinbeck, with even explicit references to the Depression and Dust Bowl period (i.e. the 1930s) that is so powerfully drawn in Grapes of Wrath.

During her lonely wanderings, Lila by chance ends up in Gilead, Iowa, and thus inevitably comes into contact with Reverend John Ames, who had lost his wife and child a long while ago and seemed exhausted. Ames and Lila seem like two extremes: he a thoughtful, struggling intellectual, she a rude and bruised orphan girl. Yet a moving dynamic arises between the two; the way they interact is so careful, thoughtful, and tactful that it almost physically hurts to follow. Quite unexpectedly, for both of them, they even get married. Surprising also for the reader, because we constantly see Lila deliberating whether she should move on or not. Even when she becomes pregnant by Ames those doubts remain, and the great thing is that Ames appears to be all too aware of them.

Especially in the second half of the book, Lila continues to muse about her turbulent past, about the dramatic events in it, and about the main characters of that period, especially her surrogate mother Doll. That past continues to pull at her persistently, especially because of the knife she received from Doll, with which the latter had stabbed to death a man who might have been Lila's father. The Calvinist religious-moral framework in which Robinson places her stories obviously plays an important role in all this. From that light, you can see Lila as a kind of Mary Magdalene, who is carefully guided by Ames to the right path, but who also has a moral compass that is so strong that, eventually, she can appreciate the uniqueness of what is happening between them. From Lila's point of view, there is the constant threat of damnation, a pull to evil even, that she actively struggles with. And with that Robinson brings us to territory that is pretty familiar to her.

Once again: this third Gilead part also plays at a very high level in terms of literature, and in terms of content, the sketch of Lila's gradual redemption is particularly existentially relevant. But I did have some difficulty with the structure of this novel: the accumulation of constant flashbacks and streams of consciousness make this book very difficult to read. In 'Home' you still had the sublime dialogues between the protagonists to keep the story bearable, and that is much more lacking here, especially in the second half of the book. Hence my slightly lower rating. But that does not detract from the fact that Robinson with Lila has created a character that, in terms of psychological and existential depth, can compete with the most striking of Greek or Shakespearean tragedies.½

In Genesis the recurring sin is grievous harm to one’s brother.
Reading Genesis by Marilynne Robinson

I have loved Marilynne Robinson’s novels and have read Gilead three times (twice for book clubs). When my husband was in seminary–fifty years ago–I audited a half dozen classes in theology and Biblical studies. I thought I was up to tackling Reading Genesis.

I remember co-teaching a Sunday evening bible study for junior high teens. I remember my husband explaining that the Bible is full of imperfect people who do bad things but are used by God for the good. And I found this message in Robinson’s exploration.

Robinson argues that the Judeo-Christian tradition was remarkably different from the Babylonian and Egyptian. And she shows that the messages of the stories in Genesis shows a providential history of mercy instead of justice, of using the bad for the good, and demonstrating that the humanity is failable and yet God can use them for righteousness. The covenant, she states, “is not contingent upon human virtue,” for God can work through fallible beings. Thank goodness, because the people in Genesis are certainly not virtuous.

Robinson calls it the “economics of grace,” God forgiving our debts. Even when we don’t forgive our debtors, although it is what we are called to do, along with doing justice and loving mercy.

The Book of Genesis is framed by two stories of remarkable forgiveness, of Cain by the Lord, and of his ten brothers by Joseph.
from Reading Genesis by Marilynne Robinson

This is not an easy book to read. Its message is not for everyone. Robinson prefers the term providential history to predetermination but her Calvinist faith is central to her exploration. It is a book that needs studying and discussion to fully integrate its message.

Thanks to the publisher for a free book.

I love Marilynne Robinson, but I did not love Housekeeping. It may have been the audiobook narrator, but I found it very difficult to connect with anything about the story or characters. The one hope I had - the romanticism of Sylvie and the home she shared with the girls - was dashed long before the end of the novel. If I didn’t love Gilead so much I’d likely avoid Robinson in the future.

Nothing much happens, and yet everything of significance happens, in this classic. While I felt it dragged at times, there is no denying the exceptional writing (almost a master class) in this novel. If you're a writer, get this book. If you're a reader, get this book.

Pastoral, for both the discussions about faith, God, and the Bible, and for its meandering reflective style. With one old man looking back on his life and recording his history so his very young son will have something of his father after the old man's death, the letters go back to the old man's grandfather and father, not fully chronologically, but woven into the old man's reflections of what he observes in the moment and of his own life. Thus the book is almost like four stories woven into one but truly woven, because they merge into one another and are never wholly separate. It's a slow-paced novel, so you need to be in the right mindset, but well written and very reflective. Iowa and Kansas, going back to the early 1900s (and earlier, I believe).

I've heard great things about this book from people whose taste I respect, so I was surprised to find myself just not that into it. To be honest my opinion might have been tainted by the fact that I listened to the audiobook and really hated the reader, who instead of letting the prose speak for itself felt compelled to impose a weird intonation on it so that it sounded most of the time like she was reading step-by-step instructions instead of a novel. That prose was indeed lovely, but the story and characters didn't draw me in -- I never felt like I couldn't wait until I had time to continue reading.

This book has been on my "to be read" list forever. I'd heard it was good, the sort of thing one must read, but that didn't prepare me for the quiet goodness of the book, the way it wormed itself into my mind with the story of a good man, trying to do good things.
In a time when all we seem to see around us is rampant self-interest and greed, it's nice to wallow a little in a well-written narrative about a man who tried to do the right things, based on his creed. It's encouraging. Maybe we humans aren't always so bad after all.
The writing is inviting and I'm looking up more books by this author.
Like a warm cup of tea....

I listened to this book. I don't know if it was the narrator's delivery or the writing style but I found in very slow-moving. I think that Robinson's work doesn't lend itself to audio very well.

This is a continuation of Robinson's Gilead novels. Those people who have read Gilead will remember Jack as the prodigal son who returns toward the end of the book. This book fills in the intervening years. Jack has spent time in jail and is mostly dependent on his brother, a successful doctor in St. Louis. One day he encounters a young black woman who is about to get soaked in a sudden downpour. Jack is in possession of an umbrella (which he stole) and so he offers it and himself to get the young woman home. Della is a teacher and from a well-known family. Her father is a preacher just like Jack's father. Perhaps that gives them some common ground but really, two more dsparate people could hardly be found. Nevertheless they fall in love and are discussing marriage. Except this is the 1950s and it is illegal for blacks and whites to marry. Della's family try to convince her to change her mind but she sees something in Jack that she won't give up on. So, it is up to Jack himself to protect her. He leaves St. Louis for Chicago without telling Della where he is going.

I found it hard to understand Della. Robinson uses the first person from Jack's point of view to tell the story so we never really get inside Della's head. I think I would have liked the book better if the viewpoint had been reversed.½

Tja, wat moet ik hier over zeggen? Kortweg dat ik niet snap dat Marilynne Robinson de Nobelprijs voor Literatuur nog niet heeft gehad. Als het voor een hermetisch schrijver als Jon Fosse kan, waarom dan niet voor haar? Want dat mag wel duidelijk zijn: Robinson is niet voor iedereen. Om te beginnen is er de intensiteit van haar romans, en zeker ook deze: als je er aan begint, dan is het alsof je als reiziger gedwongen wordt op een al redelijk voortdenderende trein te springen; ze veronderstelt dat je gewoon mee bent met het verhaal, en als dat niet is (en dat is het bijna per definitie niet) dan zal je het onderweg wel kunnen bijeen puzzelen. Dat was zo bij de eerste Gilead-roman (gewoon Gilead), en ook bij deze tweede: die start als Jack Boughton, het zwarte schaap van de familie, na 20 jaar terugkeert naar zijn ouderlijk huis, waar alleen zijn vader, de oude, aftakelende dominee Robert Boughton, nog leeft en waar recentelijk ook zijn jongste zus Glory weer is ingetrokken (al blijft het lang onduidelijk waarom). Die intensiteit ligt ook aan Robinson’s thema’s: die zijn zwaar op de hand, existentieel, diep psychologisch. In dit geval draait het vooral rond schuld en boete, vergeving en genade, en voorbestemde verdoemenis. Want vooral Jack heeft behoorlijk wat op zijn kerfstok. En onvermijdelijk bij Robinson bevinden we ons in het calvinistisch universum, nog zoiets dat de lectuur niet echt lichter maakt. Vooral de discussies tussen Boughton en zijn buurman John Ames, die andere oude dominee die we kennen uit Gilead 1, vergen toch wel wat theologische en filosofische bagage.
Waarom dan toch die voor mij zo redelijk hoge score van 4 sterren? Wel, omdat dit het knapste verloren zoon-verhaal is dat ik ooit las: niet de simpele variant van de feestelijke terugkeer, alles vergeven en gedaan, neen, deze terugkeer gaat gepaard met een sediment van zeer gevarieerde gevoelens die voortdurend uitgediept, op de proef gesteld en gelaagder worden naarmate het verhaal vordert. Tweedens, omdat de psychologische tekening door Robinson via dialogen, introspectie en minimalistische observatie getuigen van een enorme mensenkennis, en een empathisch gevoel voor een oneindige complexiteit van de menselijke huishouding. Vooral de omgang tussen Jack en Glory is van een bijna ondragelijke sensitiviteit.
En derdens, omdat dit boek ook over ‘thuis’ gaat en wat dat betekent voor door het leven verwonde mensen, zowel in positieve als in negatieve zin. In dit thema zit ook de ambigue positie van de oude Boughton, wiens oprechte vreugde over de terugkeer van zijn probleemkind(eren) zeker sympathie wekt, maar die ook afstoot door zijn patriarchale karakter, de vaderfiguur die gewild en/of ongewild het leven van zijn kinderen op ongezonde wijze beheerst. Als vader van 4 was het regelmatig ook voor mij slikken.
Genoeg argumenten? Ja, zeker? En dan heb ik het nog niet eens over de trefzekere stijl en de afgewogen compositie. Neen, alstublieft Stockholm, ze is nu (bijna) 80, wacht er niet te lang meer mee.

I loved Housekeeping. My dad died when I was young. I grew up Christian, in Iowa, child of Kansans. I thought this would be a slam dunk for me, but maybe I'm too close in, and have spent too much time wondering what my dad would say to me, etc.

Marilynne Robinson is such a great writer! Even though I am a big fan, I had never read this, her first novel. Well, now another book read off my shelves and a 5 star read.

This book seems to be about the power of family, and about identifying as a quirky outsider. Two sisters, whose life has been shaped by tragedy, are cared for by an aunt, whose history is as a vagrant, and whose lifestyle is in huge contrast to their small Idaho town.

As others have said this is a well-written novel. Set in a small town called Fingerbone, the novel has a timelessness and isolation that suits it. Nothing appears to happen in the outside world, few outsiders arrive in Fingerbone. Ruth and Lucille are left by their mother with their grandmother in Fingerbone and she looks after them well enough for a while. Later their aunt Sylvie moves in. She is an unusual character, once a drifter and at first the children worry that she will leave. From being inseparable, the two girls grow up and diverge. Lucille begins to look outwards, while Ruth isolates herself even more. Descriptive and heady, this was a good read.