2 of 2

Robinson does manage to wax philosophical through Glory's perspective at times, and at one point in the novel, Glory thinks about "how the soul could be put at ease, restored. At home. But the soul finds its own home if it ever has a home at all." Robinson is putting forth her definition of home here, and her theories about the connection between home and the soul prompt many of the questions this novel bears.

The Boughton household fails to be home the way Robinson defines it. It is not a refuge for the soul for either Glory or Jack; it is too full of memory to be completely restful or forgiving. Glory says it is inhabited by a "palpable darkness." And yet both children claim it, in a sense, as an incredibly meaningful place. Jack gravitates toward the Boughton home even though he feels he does not belong to it, while Glory clings to this home even though she can picture no darker future for herself than settling into a life there again. It both is and isn't what Robinson says home should be. And she leaves it at that.

Robinson raises similar questions about family. Try as they might, the Boughtons cannot seem to keep from hurting each other. "She wished it mattered more that the three of them loved one another. Or mattered less, since guilt and disappointment seemed to batten on love." No matter what they do, no matter how many overtures of goodwill they make to each other, the family members are powerless to make anything right among themselves. Glory and Jack manage to grow closer throughout the novel, but complete restoration is beyond them. And yet every little thing they say to each other and do for each other is undeniably crucial. Are humans powerful or powerless to meet each other's needs?

Robinson gently tears apart everything that Glory, and the reader, hold dear. "What does home mean?" she makes her characters ask. Of what worth is family? Where do we actually belong? Can we ever belong anywhere?

Home is not a reiteration of the "everything is meaningless" chant. As hard as it is to read about a family suffering together and largely because of each other, the purposefulness of Robinson's writing and story pushes the reader to keep at it. But human brokenness and insufficiency are the focus of the novel, and Robinson sees them everywhere.

Home does not afford the reader the same restful pleasure Gilead did. Human misery and humanity's inability to fix itself provide so much of the impetus for this novel that the reader is pained by it as well. But Robinson touches on intrinsic parts of human experience so skillfully that her newest novel, and the thought it provokes afterwards, are well worth the effort.

Casey Rath is an editorial intern at Where magazine in San Francisco.

Copyright © 2008 Christianity Today. Click for reprint information.

Home can be purchased at Amazon.com and other book retailers. Books & Culture also reviewed Home.

Christianity Today has other book reviews on a section of our website.

first page |  2 of 2

share this page

November (Web-only) 2008, Vol. 52