Son of a Preacher Man

So I kind of took a week off last week. I know! I know, it’s bad. But you guys, there’s just so. much. television. And work. And dinners to attend, bars to frequent, friends to visit. And iPhone Tetris. Oh sweet Lord, the iPhone Tetris. Truth be told, my 2011 hasn’t gone well so far in terms of distractions from the printed word. On the upside, I haven’t bought any books either (hey, every cloud has a silver lining).

But I’m determined to get back on the wagon after a series of defeats (though I maintain that Too Big To Fail was, well, too big). This week’s read comes highly recommended from a friend/coworker, whose suggestions always stand out to me since she tolerates more or less nonstop book and TV chatter from my side of the cube farm. (Think about it–can you imagine sitting next to me all day?) Gilead, by Marilynne Robinson, is something of a reflection on life, written in the voice of an aging rural preacher who is hoping to bequeath his knowledge of this world and the next to his son before he dies (the father, not the son).

I have anticipatory angst over this book, since it won both the Pulitzer and the National Book Award in 2005. Which is to say that if I don’t like it, I’m probably an uncultured idiot (something I’ve refused to accept despite bountiful evidence). So, wish me luck–at the very least with avoiding the remote control this week.

One thought on “Son of a Preacher Man”

  1. No pressure. I'm an uncultured idiot for not LOVING that one book where the guy seems crazy and talks to himself and goes for a long trip with a friend where they don't speak the language. Staggering heartbreak or something. Hated it. Is it because I went to a state school?!

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