![]() “Read this,” I’d say, “and it might give you a clue.”īut if my inquisitive friend were not so much interested in religious matters as in the possibilities of fiction or in my own opinion as to what describes a great writer of fiction, I would hand him or her the two novels at once. “Read this,” I’d say, “and it will give you a pretty good idea.”Īnd had I a religious friend, a co-religionist friend, who asked, “Can you tell me please what’s wrong with us, not the obvious corruptions of the gospel that any sophomore skeptic can point out, but the fundamental sicknesses that live so close to the core of our faith that one has to wonder if they’re not essential to the faith itself?” I might recommend Robinson’s latest novel Home. ![]() Had I an atheist friend who asked, “Can you tell me please what this religion business is all about, not as some metaphysical hypothesis or historical phenomenon, but what it really means to be religious?” I might hand him or her a copy of Marilynne Robinson’s novel Gilead. The two great European narcotics, alcohol and Christianity. ![]() A few days later the younger son gathered all he had and traveled to a distant country, and there he squandered his property in dissolute living. ![]()
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