The Death of Adam: Essays on Modern Thought

How pretentious of me to think that I should defend someone as brilliant as Marilynne Robinson. Having sat under her masterful teaching at the University of Iowa, I can say with utter certitude that these negative reviews are not only wrong, they're downright pigheaded in their oblivion to Marilynne's topic and methods. Poor Mr. Conover of San Francisco seems never to have read anything other than the first chapter. And this deliberate blindness is matched perhaps only by his positively Martian ignorace of the existence of supply-side economists. The reviewer who recommends less Calvin and more Prozac obviously has never developed a taste for thoughtful writing, and thus sees obtuseness in a prose that only a century ago would have seemed deliberately humane and overtly accessible. The pleasure of Marilynne's prose and thought is comparable perhaps only to the self-indulgence of chocolate. But this analogy fails when one considers the content--it's mostly a warning against priggish self-indulgence, a sharp reminder that we will only understand the problems of our time after we've recognised and owned up to our contributions to them. Marilynne is without doubt one of the few great mavericks of our time. If you read her even with the slight generosity you might show a common garden slug, you'll find yourself flat on your back, reeling from a solid wallop of sanity and--dare I say it?--human goodness.

I was perusing the bargain table in a bookstore when this title leapt out at me. I boughtit (for the price what had I to lose?) and 24 hours later I had finished. Stunned, I think is the word. It is hard to believe, for one thing, that this is an actually a collection of essays. Such collections tend to be like your grandma's attic: a little bit of this, a little bit of that; connected only by the owners' (author's) singularity. This book, though the chapters are all on different subjects, describes a single argument, and each of the chapters -- er-- essays, increase the self-disclosure.The author does admit to some deception (p. 174) in the table of contents, a subterfuge to cover where she is going, but it seems necessary. The book's aim is to subvert a world view, that of her readers. To do so requires an ambush. She has to get you with her, moving in her direction before you notice how far she had lead you away from the beaten track. The first essay is the most conventional and reads a bit like Allan Bloom's "Closing of the American Mind" (whose conclusion she probably resonates with, while doubting he goes far enough; and whose methods she probably thinks are complete and utter poppycock). The last are very personal and subjective. She asks (and answers) disquieting questions. Why do we constantly go to prepackaged idea about our history when the original documents are readily available? Why is it that what passes for scholarship gives us opinions instead of knowledge? When we are drowning in information, why is public discourse so impoverished?For the answers to these questions, she goes back to the 19th century and beyond. How did we get into this fix? What were things like before? Is our plight necessary? She avoids conspiracies theories at the price of making her readers responsiblie for what they know. Without obedience, there is no faith. If you're just looking for information, you won't find it here. If you want, instead to be a person who is reponsible for what they know, this book is for you.

Robinson brings her formidable command of English together with an immense accumulation of knowledge to tackle the beliefs and assumptions and philosophies that dehumanize us, reducing Man and Nature alike to raw materials ripe for exploitation. She argues forcefully and convincingly for a return to compassion and morality, and, incidentally, to thorough, competent scholarship. The overarching goal of this far-reaching collection of essays is to assert that creation is indeed Good, that men and women are precious and beautiful in and of themselves. It's a brilliant work, full of hope.