Marilynne Robinson has a new book out. It's called Gilead. The New York Times Book Review calls it "demanding, grave and lucid." (Read their review here.)
I read Marilynne Robinson's first novel, Housekeeping about 10 years ago. I remember that I liked it a lot. But what was it about? ... an aunt, a couple of orphans maybe? I think the aunt comes to live with her nieces (or is it nephews?) after their parents die. Or something like that. And then my mind goes blank.
This is no slam on Robinson. I clearly, clearly, remember reading Anna Karenina when I was 16. My favorite English teacher recommended that I read it specifically, and it made a big impression on me. I loved the opening sentence: "All happy families are the same, but every unhappy family is unhappy in it's own way." But beyond that? Of course, I remember that Anna has an affair with Vronksy, and then she throws herself onto the railroad tracks in despair. But can I remember anything more insightful than this Cliff's Notes-like synopsis? I cannot.
This disturbs me. As I grow older, I find more and more that I can't remember details and subtle insights of all the books I've read. Sure I can remember some things ... I can remember specific lines like "Blow, winds, blow and crack your cheeks!" from King Lear. I can remember the spooky owl from the children's book Mrs Frisby and the Rats of NIMH, the poignancy of him foretelling the death of the tree where he lives. I can remember the love that Henri, a soldier in Napoleon's army, has for Villanelle, the Venetian casino dealer of Jeannette Winterson's The Passion. (But even that isn't quite so: I remember the love story, but I had to look up Villanelle's name and I initially misspelled Henri.)
If I can't remember books, does that mean I've lost their insights? I think I have lost some part of them. Partly for that reason, there are some books I read over and over again. To Kill a Mockingbird, for instance, is a book I try to read every year. And every year I get more out of it: I understand an allusion I didn't get previously, or certain parts of it mean more to me as I get older.
When it comes down to it, though, I think I do derive benefit from books even when I later lose track of their details. They affect me at the time that I read them. Here's a good analogy: I don't remember what I had for breakfast the first time I ran a 5K race, but I have no doubt it helped me all the same.
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2 comments:
" She was strapped in the back seat of her own life." A line by Tim O'Brien which I had the fun to review with him.
Don't fret re the memory, at 64, I can't remember the main points of books I read a month ago. See how much more you have to look forward to forgetting ?? But I sure enjoy the moments when I am reading and there are no quizzes. Maybe we only remember the 5 % which really hits deep chords. Or maybe we have full lives and all the images are fighting for memory space.
JC
Yes, it's true. The older we become, the more we forget. But then, the more we have to remember, also. No matter how much we might forget, we still remember life's golden moments--the magic times. That's what counts, anyway. It's good to let some of the rest go. Don't worry about it.
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