The other day I stumbled across this hilarious blog post about all the once-glorious adjectives that book reviewers have over-used to the point where they have lost all meaning. Words like compelling, lyrical, luminous, poignant. I’ve been laughing to myself about this for the past few days; I had it in mind when I did that Zemanta thing, and I was still thinking about it when I picked up Gilead.
I didn’t really feel like reading Gilead, but it’s my book club’s selection for this month and we’re meeting next week. Even if I wasn’t in the middle of a book as riveting as Baudolino (that’s another one: riveting), I still wouldn’t have had much interest in a novel that consists entirely of an old preacher’s deathbed letter to his son. A) how depressing is that? and b) how could anyone possibly sustain such a letter for 250 pages? Um, no thanks. Plus, it got way too much hype. Unfortunately, reverse psychology works really well on me. The more I hear “you have to read this” the less I want to read it. Stupid, I know, but there it is.
Those reviewer words are plastered all over the back of the book like it was a thesaurus. Gilead is: astonishing, breathtaking, dazzling, exceptional, gripping, incandescent, inspired, luminous, lyrical, magnificent, masterly, matchless, perfect, profound, radiant, rapturous, remarkable.
Guess what? The reviewers are right. This book is amazing! I hate to say it, but the prose really is lyrical. I’m halfway through and I don’t want it to end. I think what I love most (so far) is the preacher’s reverence for life, for the things of this world, God’s creation. I am frequently reminded of Jayber Crow, which has a lot in common with Gilead: setting, themes, tone. If you liked Jayber you should definitely read this.
To give you the flavor, here’s my favorite passage:
I have been thinking about existence lately. In fact, I have been so full of admiration for existence that I have hardly been able to enjoy it properly…. I feel sometimes as if I were a child who opens its eyes on the world once and sees amazing things it will never know any names for and then has to close its eyes again. I know this is all mere apparition compared to what awaits us, but it is only lovelier for that. There is a human beauty in it. And I can’t believe that, when we have all been changed and put on incorruptibility, we will forget our fantastic condition of mortality and impermanence, the great bright dream of procreating and perishing that meant the whole world to us. In eternity this world will be Troy, I believe, and all that has passed here will be the epic of the universe, the ballad they sing in the streets. Because I don’t imagine any reality putting this one in the shade entirely, and I think piety forbids me to try.
If that ain’t lyrical I don’t know what is.
9 Comments
I read that article as well - and I’m sorry to say I think I use some of these words in my reviews *laughing*
I didn’t love Gilead - but I am apparently a minority because most of my book friends, like you, loved it. Perhaps it was the time of life when I read it - maybe I should give it another try someday.
I loved Gilead, just loved it. I wasn’t put off by the hype because “depressing” just calls to me, but I’m usually the same way; the more I’m told that I “just have to” read something, or the more copies of a book I sell at work, the more I am repelled by it.
Thanks for your comment about news sources, and I will check them out.
Oh, and hey - I also updated to 2.5! Aren’t you proud of me? (I installed a plugin a few months ago that walks me through backups. I too love WordPress!)
Oh, I saw that article. Winced because I use some of those words myself. At least I’m guaranteed to be more self-conscious about it now.
I really loved Gilead. But the prose was so lovely I actually worried that it was trying to trick me.
I thought ‘Gilead’ was simply everything that all those hyped up adjectives said it was as well. And also like you, I really was not expecting to enjoy it. I don’t know ‘Jayber Crow’ but if it has any of the same qualities then I need to go and find out about it now.
Just a hello from a newbie to The Sunday Salon. Love your blog, especially the books at the bottom.
Boy, this Sunday Salon thing sure is cozy, isn’t it…
Wendy — keep in mind, I haven’t actually finished the book yet. Maybe I’ll hate the ending. :)
Diana — *high five* Congrats on the upgrade!! I think there’s a difference between sad and depressing, though. If I had known that he was writing to a young child I would have read it long ago. I just figured it was going to be along the lines of “neither a borrower nor a lender be,” which would be depressing, but not sad. Sad, I like. I should have payed closer attention to the hype.
Frumious — “I actually worried that it was trying to trick me.” Ha ha, I know what you mean!
Ann — I bet you’d love Jayber Crow. I learned about the book from another blogger, in fact. Let me know if you read it.
J. Kaye — thanks! Each of those books has personal significance to me.
You know, I was put off Gilead too, by the hype and the subject matter. But - if you say so - I might give it another look. But I’ve never hear of Jayber Crow.
How can there be so many books out there I’ve never heard of?? It’s astonishing, amazing, unbelievable, untenable…etc.
Aha! You obviously do not remember my fabulous post about Gilead (and I am offically offended that you don’t file each and every one of my posts away in your head). I ended up quoting from it too, because I couldn’t do it justice, and I couldn’t do it justice because I was trying not to use all those overblown words. Her first novel is really good too–haunting, if you’ll permit me. Have you read Little, Big? That’s my latest.
Ravenous — I know what you mean. I can’t believe I ever thought I was well-read. That was before I discovered the litblogosphere. :P
Inkling — maybe if you had a SEARCH BAR on your blog I’d be able to check these things. I paged through your blog all the way to July 2006 and didn’t find a single word, overblown or otherwise, about Gilead…
I haven’t read Little, Big. Should I?