She is a small child, perhaps three. She is told to sit on the back steps as a punishment for whining. And so she does, until an older woman comes along and takes her into the woods, and to a home not far away. The woman’s name is Doll; the little girl’s name is Lila. Doll becomes the closest thing to what Lila will remember as a mother. Eventually they leave the house in the woods and become part of a great wave of migrant workers in the 1920s, moving from place to place in the United States, going wherever the work is.
This
is the story of Lila,
the latest novel by Marilynne Robinson and the third of her Gilead trilogy,
following Gilead
(2004) and Home
(2008). It’s a remarkable work, traveling the mind of a woman from where she is
to where she’s come from.
Like
all "Interior" biographies, nothing happens chronologically. Lila recalls her life
in bits and snatches, stories and events, and the people with whom she traveled
and grew up with. The references to living and working in St. Louis, for
example, happen in seemingly random fashion; while we know it was a bad
experience, only gradually do we learn what the experience actually was.
That
is representative of the novel as a whole. The streams of Lila’s life unfold in
eddies and ponds, eventually fusing into a whole river of memory. This is all
coming together because, despite the decades difference in their ages, she has
married John Ames, the local pastor in Gilead, whom she meets when she takes
shelter from a storm in his church, and she is carrying his child.
Marilynne Robinson |
It’s
not only the substance of her memory and life that’s important, but also how
she tells the story. She’s had some schooling, once for almost an entire school
year when she and Doll stayed in one place for several months. But she thinks
differently, and sees differently, and only rarely does she share those
differences. Because of what her life has been, she is always prepared to
leave, and she knows that once her husband dies, she will likely leave with
their child. This image of loss and potential loss, loss with its implied
rootlessness, is a shadow throughout the novel.
Lila
is rather amazed at the goodness and grace John Ames extends to her, and it is
through that grace that she finds the ability to extend grace herself, to
others as well as herself.
Christianity Today has named Lila the 2015
Book of the Year for fiction, and the novel is one of five finalists for
the National
Book Critics Circle Award for fiction.
And
with good reason. It’s a wonderful story.
Photograph by Ken Kistler via Public
Domain Pictures. Used with permission.
2 comments:
I agree.
I just finished Home -- I haven't read the last one [I check out books from the library when they become available].
She's an amazing writer. Home made my heart ache for all of the characters, but what a remarkable ending.
Lila's on my list...
I listened to it and was totally in awe of Robinson's story telling and knowledge of the human condition.
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