The main character of Gilead is John Ames, who is a seventy-six year old preacher that lives in a small midwestern town. He has serious heart problems and his doctors tell him that he is nearing the end of his life. His heart could fail at any time. He has spent most of his life unmarried and alone, but in his old age he married a younger woman and they now have a seven year old son. The entire book is a letter from John Ames to his son, a letter to be read when his son grows up.
For the last few years I've been reading terabytes of disaffected writing about how this world is fucked up and stupid, other people are fucked up and stupid, you yourself are fucked up and stupid and hopeless, and life is nasty, brutish and short etc etc
All those things might be true, but it's nice to read a book with a different perspective. President Obama has said several times that Gilead is one of his favorite books, which fits with what I know of his philosophy and personality. The main character is a kind, morally decent, intelligent person who tries to see the best in people. He wants to appreciate every remaining moment of life he has left. It's a hopeful book, and it's a book that makes you want to be good to other people. It makes cynicism look small and weak and unintelligent.
In my mind I think about Robinson's novels as being similar to Terrence Malick's movies. They both give me a feeling of awe about reality and this world we live in, the depths of human beings. And they are both very, very beautifully made.
This is an excerpt, which will hopefully express what I mean:
"They say an infant can’t see when it is as young as your sister was, but she opened her eyes, and she looked at me. She was such a little bit of a thing. But while I was holding her, she opened her eyes. I know she didn’t really study my face. Memory can make a thing seem to have been much more than it was. But I know she did look right into my eyes. That is something. And I’m glad I knew it at the time, because now, in my present situation, now that I am about to leave this world, I realize there is nothing more astonishing than a human face. It has something to do with incarnation. You feel your obligation to a child when you have seen it and held it. Any human face is a claim on you, because you can’t help but understand the singularity of it, the courage and loneliness of it. But this is truest of the face of an infant. I consider that to be one kind of vision, as mystical as any." (excerpt) (excerpt)
