There is a great deal to do with Christianity in this novel, as there was in Gilead, but it is intrinsic to the portrayal of character. It does not matter if the reader is persuaded of ‘the truth of the Scriptures’ any more than Jack. It is enough that they represent a way of talking about persistent questions that affect how we live and feel about our lives, regardless of denomination. This is how good fiction works, and it seems almost a detail to observe that Robinson writes superbly. (‘Jack paused … aware of having fallen into some frail web of intention.’ The book is composed of such apparently casual gems.) But its structure and the conceit of ‘home’ are also brilliantly handled. At one point, semi-facetiously, Jack asks his ‘little sister’ to save his soul. Much later, he suggests that ‘soul … is what you can’t get rid of’, echoing Glory’s early reflection that home is a torment as well as a comfort. ‘Home. What kinder place could there be on earth, and why did it seem to them all like exile?’ I know of no comparable examination of the soul in contemporary literature. Home is a stupendous and profoundly moving novel.

Blackwell Bookshop

Purchase your copy here, 10% off RRP