And so image-sensitive liberal, urbane, ironic culturati are going to want to prove their complex open-heartedness by indifferently swooning over her book. Robinson currently represents everything that liberal, urbane, ironic culturati are now derided for smugly disdaining. She is quietly, gently militant about her Christianity. More likely, however, Robinson will be condescendingly deflated with inflated prattle about her radiance, her poetry, her seeming goodness, etc. Here, at last, is a novel written out of passion that will-or should-arouse strong passions. Sorry to be so categorical, but here is a novel that has not been carefully crafted to extend the broadest possible appeal. That is, if you read Robinson with the seriousness and intelligence she deserves. Lacking such faith, you’re probably not going to like it much, either. But unless you are a believing Christian with strong fundamentalist leanings, you cannot truly understand Gilead. You can appreciate and admire Marilynne Robinson’s beautifully evoked novel if you don’t share her religious values: You can even be moved by it. Eliot once argued that you could not fully understand Dante unless you were a believing Catholic.
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