Two Books

Eek. Late post. I'd give an excuse and talk about how grueling finals week was and how tiring 4 1/2 hours of driving to an orientation and 4 1/2 hours driving back was, but I'll spare you.

At first glance

The two most recent books I've read are Home by Marilynne Robinson and Go Tell It On the Mountain by James Baldwin. The former is about a middle-class white family in a sleepy Iowa town. The latter is about a working-class black family in Harlem. At first glance, the two books seem to have absolutely nothing to do with each other. The plot, the structure, the subject matter, the style, one is from a female perspective the other is from a male perspective--everything about the two books seem worlds apart. But the incredible thing is, I started making all kinds of crazy connections between them. And not just peripheral things, but things that made me almost wonder if it were God's will that I read these two books in succession in order to glean some overarching truth from them both.

Minister's children and the Christian tradition
Both books involve main characters whose lives are steeped in a Christian background. In Home, the main character Glory Boughton is the daughter of a Presbyterian minister. Everything, even the problems that her family encounters, in some way is always connected to her father's vocation. And the way that Glory, and her father especially, responds to others is rooted in the Christian tradition and the minister's burden. John of Go Tell It On the Mountain is the son of a Pentecostal minister. Likewise, John begins the story explaining the expectations that are placed upon him because of his father's vocation, and the story is framed by and culminates in a vivid religious experience.

The prodigal son

In both stories, biblical imagery and allusions are abundant, especially the story of the prodigal son. In both novels, there is a ne'er-do-well son whose actions profoundly affect the fathers and produce conflicting emotions in their family dynamics--in both cases it is seen by the main character that at times their father loves the ne'er-do-well more. In Home, it's Glory's brother Jack. In Go Tell it On the Mountain, it's John's brother Roy.

Criticism yet respect and praise

Criticisms of their respective Christian traditions can be found in both books. Home and Go Tell it on the Mountain refer to the hypocrisy, superficiality, and over-concern with appearance found in their families and religious communities. However, neither criticizes unfairly or with disrespect. Though the critique may be biting, its purpose is not to discredit Christianity or organized religion. Critique doesn't overpower the other themes of the novels, and both authors, through their characters, show an ultimate reverence for faith.

Race and the turbulence of the era

Though both books were written in different decades, (Go Tell It on the Mountain was published in 1953, Home in 2008) the settings of both of them are in the 50s. Both stories subtly examine race relations in America. Home takes place in a setting removed from the protests turned violent by waterhoses and dogs in Montgomery and the "Stand in the Schoolhouse" door at the University of Alabama--events which the characters of Home only witness through their newly acquired TV sets. But conversations reveal that Gilead, the sleepy Iowa town, was founded on the ideals of radical abolitionism long ago and that Jack (the ne'er-do-well) is personally affected by racial conflict. Like Home, neither are race relations in Go Tell It On the Mountain a central theme, but the realities of racial conflict and injustice, from some characters' beginnings in the Deep South to their eventual migration to New York, shape their lives.

Overarching truth?

Something that I was reminded of through reading these books was the universality of literature. Though, as I mentioned earlier, these novels seemed worlds apart, they had some very core elements in common. Part of the reason why I was impressed and moved by these books was because, aside from the exquisite writing, of their relevance and timelessness. Another thing is that like these novels, I too at times critique the tradition I've been raised in and the faith that I'm still a part of. But critique does not have to equal disrespect. And the last thing is that both of these authors wrote liberally and explicitly from, if not a Christian worldview, (Baldwin later became disillusioned with church life), their Christian upbringings and shared the vividness, serenity, and authenticity of their faith and traditions with a general audience. Both won accolades and recognition for it. Apostolics can and should do the same.