Gilead Prompt #1

In literature, there are many ways to develop a character and an equal number of methods to convey the defining characteristics to the reader. There is direct characterization, with physical descriptions and conversations and actions implemented with the purpose to flesh out a character. There is also indirect characterization, what other characters say or think about them, how they treat other characters, etc. Sometimes, a tool authors use to describe a character, is through their relationship with another character. This method not only sheds light on the characters but can also reveal key thematic and plot elements – something that is very true in Marilynne Robinson’s “Gilead”. The main character and narrator, Congregationalist minister John Ames’s relationship with his son, the person he is writing the letter to which is how the book is written, explains much about John and also what is to come later on in the story. This method of characterization is implemented from the beginning with John Ames announcing up front, “You reached up and put your fingers on my lips and gave me that look I never saw on any other face besides your mother’s. It’s a kind of furious pride, very passionate and stern. I’m always a little surprised to find my eyebrows unsinged after I’ve suffered one of those looks. I will miss them,” (3). Within these lines the author has revealed much about the characters and the course of the story. We learn that this is a letter, a retrospective, a dying man’s letter to his son. We learn that John Ames is an introspective man, thoughtful, caring and emotional. With this passage following the recounting of his son firing questions at him, we learn that he is a teacher and mentor to his son as all parents are, and that this extended letter is a continuation of that advice, an ideal that will occur again and again.

              Further on in the novel, more and more of the characters are exposed through description of the father and son’s relationship. On page 19, John Ames writes, “There was more to it, of course. For me writing has always felt like praying, even when I wasn’t writing prayers, as I was often enough. You feel that you are with someone. I feel that I am with you now, whatever that can mean, considering that you’re only a little fellow and when you’re a man you might find these letters of no interest,” (19). His uncertainty of the future, or what his child will grow to be and think, hints at somewhat of a distance between the two characters a slight disconnect. This is enhanced by Ames’s reference to his feeling of closeness to his son while writing, noting that it does not make logical sense. It reflects on the observer position that Ames takes throughout the book, a closeness but never fully there, a constant partial-detachment. Like an outsider looking in trying to derive meaning from what he sees. Similar description comes on page 29, “I’m sorry you are alone. You are a serious child, with not much occasion to giggle, or to connive. You are shy of other children. I see you standing up on your swing, watching some boys about your age out in the road,” (29-30). Again we are introduced to Ames as an observer, watching the actions of his son and discovering what he can from them; and within his dying account, releasing all these observations, thoughts and discoveries back to his son. Along the lines of this form of characterization is when John is lamenting over his inability to leave his wife and child with anything of value or substance, noting, “And still it shames me to think that I will leave you and your mother so naked to the world – dear Lord, I think, spare them that blessing,” (31). Once again, indirectly through subtle inferences we learn more of Ames’s stance and where he is coming from and also where the letter is going to go. He doesn’t have anything to leave behind for his wife and child and so he is leaving them this, this letter, these words; and thus the rest of the book with include the things he wants to leave behind with them, the things he wants them to retain after he is gone.

              Throughout the first half of the book, countless passages begin with the words “I wish”, they are then followed by some hope he has for his family or wish for the world or thought to be heard. It seems as though Ames is laying out his hopes and his dreams to his son, leaving them and this world with a final prayer in the form of a letter. Along with his dreams, Ames hopes to leave his knowledge, his fatherly wisdom with his son. As on page 39 he writes, “You can love a bad book for its haplessness or pomposity or gall, if you have that starveling appetite for things human, which I devoutly hope you will never have. “The full south loatheth an honeycomb; but to the hungry soul every bitter thing is sweet.” There are pleasures to be found where you would never look for them. That’s a bit of fatherly wisdom, but it’s also the Lord’s truth, and a thing I know from my own long experience,” (39). John Ames is sentimental, and wishes to leave behind some part of his with his son. This, as occurs many times throughout the beginning of the novel, is the passing of knowledge and experience from father and son. Its continued reoccurrence also hints that it might be the heart and soul of the letter, all things we wants to say and pass on to his son, and having gotten to know John Ames much more thoughts as such will be shared as the novel progresses. The characterization continues in this way, and many others – painting an expansive and all-encompassing depiction of the characters involved and where the story is headed.