This Pulitzer Prize winning novel by a teacher at the University of Iowa Writer’s Workshop is on the list for our book club discussion for August. Otherwise, I would not have used up all of my stamina and determination to struggle through it to the end but I did so just so I will be able to make some semi intelligent comments about it when we discuss it.
An third generation Iowan preacher of an unspecified denomination (perhaps Congregationalist) born in 1888, now in his late 70’s, provides ethereal and ephemeral advice and food for thought to his preteen son by his 34 year old wife whom he married at age 67. This is in a first person singular rambling long monologue with no chapter divisions. It reads like a boring endless sermon sprinkled with introspective reminiscences, bits of family history, out-of-context Bible quotes, and frontier folklore.
The plot is skimpy and easy to follow and some of the dozen or so characters are interesting. I will acknowledge that the prose is eloquent, as one would expect from a teacher of creative writing, even if dominated by tireless, minute, self-analysis, but it is also humourless and wordy and some of it is inane nonsense: “There was even a bean salad, which to me looked distinctly Presbyterian, so anxiety had overfilled its denominational vessel.”
Once again my take on a book is at odds with the critics praise and I have lost any trust I once had in the choices of the panels of literati who choose novels for major awards. I will await our book club discussion to perhaps discover some redeeming feature that I have completely missed, but I am giving this one no stars.
The Passionate Reader 