Gilead

Gilead is written in epistolary—or letter—format. The book reads, however, more like a series of journal entries, and later John does refer to his letter as “this very journal” (128). This stylistic approach gives the reader total access to John’s private thoughts and feelings. The reader sees everything through his perspective. John often addresses his son directly, which makes the reader feel as if they are the “you” John is speaking to, creating even greater intimacy.

Most of John’s reminiscences and reflections are set apart in the text by extra space white space and occasionally a ruled line for a harder break; there are no chapter divisions. By removing chapters, Robinson changes the reader’s focus from looking for traditional story progression to slowing us to John’s pace and allowing us to engage with his fluidity of thought. John remarks, “I do try to write the way I think” (29). While they may not initially seem connected, each of John’s stories is linked by associations and themes that he begins building from the start of the book. For instance, the staticky seashell sound of a baseball game on the radio during a lonely time makes him compare confession to baseball, reminds him of lines of a poem he wrote using a conch shell as a symbol, causes him to reflect on the word “susurrus,” and leads to a memory of him and his grandfather attending a baseball game (44-46). John’s observations move back and forth in time, from his own childhood up to the present. Like puzzle pieces, seemingly small, anecdotal incidents build into an in-depth picture of John and his beliefs, while teaching his son—and the reader—how to live a good life.

John writes in a warm, conversational, gently self-deprecating tone, even mocking himself in an aside as he describes Edward’s pomposity, “(Only listen to me!)” (26). He has a gentle sense of humor, describing his mother’s home health care book as “a good deal more particular than Leviticus” (17). John’s voice is often bittersweet; he is painfully aware of his advanced age and nearness to death, which makes him take even greater joy in the singular human beauty of the world, commenting, “I have lived my life on the prairie and a line of oak trees can still astonish me” (57). The inexorable approach of death is a major theme in Gilead, as John, who passionately loves his life, tries to accept his end yet poignantly longs to see his son grow up.

We know that John is well educated (having attended seminary) and widely read (most of his money went to purchasing books). John constantly quotes scripture, knows that the etymology of the word “blessing” differs in Greek and Hebrew from the English (39), and is even familiar with (and fond of) the writings of the German atheist philosopher Ludwig Feuerbach. John is a wordsmith who is very conscious of word choice and meaning; for instance, he refuses to use “just” as an adverb to indicate excess and glories in using elevated vocabulary like “misericordia” and “bodacious.” John’s care in writing indicates his scholarly and meticulous nature.

Writing is important to John; it has kept him busy during his dark times and served as a “balm for loneliness” (18). John makes multiple references to the boxes of sermons that he wrote out word for word across decades. The sermons are his “whole life’s work” (18), and he wryly estimates the collection would add up to 225 books, putting him “up there with Augustine and Calvin for quantity” (19). John tentatively suggests that his son may like to read his sermons—or that John may just burn them. The motif of burning things–letters, books, shirts, churches—will develop as the story progresses.

John makes fatherly suggestions to his son about the privileges of entering the ministry which range from conferring a blessing to seeing the incandescent aspect of life (44), but he thinks wistfully that probably his son won’t follow the family vocation, with no father to pass it on to him when John is dead. In this section, John begins describing his father’s conflicted relationship with his grandfather, which will inform the novel’s central themes of father-son relationships, disappointment and forgiveness, and the continuation of family legacies.