marilynne robinson

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Where the love really is at Christmas


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I bought this little wooden nativity scene this year. One day I am going to make one, but till then. So, it was my last day of work for 2016 yesterday. I feel quite chuffed with myself that in the last few weeks I gave myself a hasty crash course in Adobe InDesign (there was

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For reasons that are hidden from us


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Here’s a little more of Lila by Marilynne Robinson. Unlike Gilead, this is really the only place in the book where you get one of John Ames’s written musings, in answer to one of Lila’s questions. I miss those. There is perhaps nothing all that novel here for a contemplative person who has lived and reflected their way

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Things that make us hang our head


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Marilynne Robinson can be just so melancholically beautiful. Here’s another couple of sentences from Lila I have flagged: She saw him standing in the parlour with his beautiful old head bowed down on his beautiful old chest. She thought, He sure better be praying. And then she thought, Praying looks just like grief. Like shame. Like

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The strangeness of faces


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I started reading Lila, by Marilynne Robinson, on Saturday night (which was bad, as before I knew it it was 11.30 pm, and I had many places to be on Sunday). So much that could be quoted, but I liked this little section, from Lila’s bewildered musing on reading of the likenesses of the faces

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