It's my turn to do the Read With Us wrap-up and I've been thinking about how best to capture our discussion of Gilead.
We had a wonderful group of 12 participants, and we were fairly evenly split over whether we liked the book, thought it was just okay, or just plain hated it.
Carole asked whether Ames ultimately succeeded in offering his son meaningful guidance through the letter, which drifts through memory, theology, regret, and wonder. The general consensus was that it didn't offer much direct guidance; instead, it felt more self-serving, closer to a memoir or a personal reckoning than a roadmap for a child. Jane suggested that Ames’s son might interpret the letter differently at various stages of his life, and many of us agreed with Dee’s observation that the letter primarily served to “unburden his soul.”
Kym raised thoughtful questions about the novel’s literary style, its epistolary format, lack of traditional chapter breaks, and Ames’s distinctly “reverend-y” voice, and whether these elements enhanced or hindered the reading experience. She also prompted discussion about Jack Boughton, particularly Ames’s lingering distrust of him and how honestly that distrust is portrayed. We talked about the tension this creates and how Ames responds to Jack’s news about his family, as well as whether he would truly have welcomed them to Gilead.
Many of us felt the epistolary format was limiting, largely because we only saw events through Ames’s perspective. Several people noted the absence of dialogue, especially between Ames and Lila, and wondered what kind of relationship they might have actually had. There was also a sense that the novel might have been more compelling if told from a woman’s point of view.
When I asked why the novel resonates so deeply with some readers but feels slow or inaccessible to others, the most common answer was its lack of plot and forward momentum. Some readers found the stream-of-consciousness style frustrating, even describing it as “word vomit” or meandering, with little sense of resolution. While many of us acknowledged Robinson’s beautiful prose, but those moments could also get buried within the narrative. Ames’s voice, in particular, struck some readers as overly sermon-like, which made it harder to connect.
So there you have it. We had a fascinating side discussion about how reading experiences can change over time. Kym, who has read the book three times, found that each reading felt different. We also considered whether the “unprecedented times” we’re living through might make readers less patient with quieter, more introspective novels that lack clear plot or character growth.
As always, I came away grateful for this group. Our Read With Us discussions consistently help me see books in new ways, and participants often raise points I wouldn’t have considered on my own. This was certainly one of those conversations. Thank you to everyone who read along, joined the discussion, and shared your thoughts.
If you attended the Zoom and would like to add your own highlights in the comments, please do; I'd love to hear them. We’ll be announcing our spring selection tomorrow, March 31, so be sure to check back. I can promise it’s quite different from Gilead, with no nuns, and no long-winded reverends!
