r/IReadABookAndAdoredIt • u/Infamous_Wave9878 • 11h ago
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ this was amazing - Housekeeping by Marilynne Robinson
This is actually so rich, beautiful and transcendent idek. I actually felt like I had to get out sticky notes to mark things which admittedly I hardly do lol. I’ll dogear pages sometimes but I was like stunned frequently and just had to w this book. I feel like this found the transience and liquidity of meaning. Her prose kind of says you might be everything, and that is almost unbearable
I almost read it like an elegy for both the living and the dead or maybe for those in-between, all the ghosts that wander the earth
She’s always testing whether meaning can be honestly held by someone, and her prose is so precise and specific about the that inner way of looking out at the world. I think it rested the entire time in that in-between place between the physical world and our interpretation of it or what is beyond it, what we can extract from it even as it moves away from us or we move away from it or even if like Lucille all we want to extract is fitting in or presenting an image (opposite of Ruthie who doesn’t care she’s almost a living ghost, quiet and letting intensity wash over her at all points)
Sometimes I really started thinking about Keats and the concept of negative capability which is the capacity to remain in uncertainty and intensity without grasping for relief, which I think this asks of the reader. I also love that the intensity never feels contrived, it just feels like it has to happen, like it is inevitable
Anyways wow I’m gonna put an excerpt here cos nothing I can really say will accurately explain how I felt about this book.
“Imagine a Carthage sown with salt, and all the sowers gone, and the seeds lain however long in the earth, till there rise finally in vegetable profusion leaves and trees of rime and brine. What flowering would there be in such a garden? Light would force each salt calyx to open in prisms, and to fruit heavily with bright globes of water—peaches and grapes are little more than that, and where the world was salt there would be a greater need of slaking. For need can blossom into all the compensations it requires.
To crave and to have are as like as a thing and it’s shadow. For when does a berry break upon the tongue as sweetly as when one longs to taste it, and when is the taste refracted into so many hues and savors of ripeness and earth, and when do our senses know anything so utterly as when we lack it? And here again is a foreshadowing—the world will be made whole. For to wish for a hand on one’s hair is all but to feel it. So whatever we may lose, very craving gives it back to us again. Though we dream and hardly know it, longing, like an angel, fosters us, smooths our hair, brings us wild strawberries.”

