Housekeeping

Housekeeping – Marilynn Robinson

After the death of their mother, Ruth and Lucille are left with their grandmother in the small town of Fingerbone. FIngerbone is small, insignificant town where everybody knows everybody else and nobody really has any secrets. Ruth and Lucille’s grandmother is rooted to Fingerbone by loss: the death of her husband, and all three of her daughters moving out. Following the death of their grandmother, Ruth and Lucille are raised by two dotty great aunts for an interval before their aunt Sylvie, their mother’s sister, returns to Fingerbone to take care of the girls. Sylvie returns to the small town surrounded by whispers about a mysteriously absent husband and a past full of transitions. Initially, Ruth and Lucille are almost overbearing in their welcoming of Sylvie because they want her to stay. Gradually, their patterns of life gain some semblance of expectation, but Sylvie’s expectations differ drastically from Lucille’s. Ruth watches as their haphazard family falls apart from the inside out, irreversibly altering her notion of what it means to have a home, be a family, and live according to the expectations of others.

“Housekeeping” by Marilynn Robinson tells the story of living outside social norms while existing physically in the midst of social structures, expectations, and interactions. Told from the reticent perspective of Ruth, Robinson constructs a story and cast of characters that challenge the notion of home more by suggestion rather than direct action. The mere fact that Sylvie exists threatens to undermine the pattern of life in Fingerbone, demonstrating how fragile the notion of “home” really is. Through her writing style and characters, Robinson makes observations that are so subtle and accurate that they might go unnoticed by those who are caught up in typical notions of family. Every line seems carefully crafted to express the perspective of people and things that exist on the periphery. Robinson also challenges the dichotomy of home and wilderness, blurring the boundaries of separation so that it no longer seems desirable that they exist in opposition. The woods, the lake, and the train are all essential elements of life in Fingerbone, but Ruth and Sylvie give new meaning to these long-standing structures. Robinson emphasizes how accidental actions and subtle observations can have more power in their lack of intention than any purposeful reaction to deconstructing social norms.

Something about this book just feels right. The characters, though relatable, are not exceptionally remarkable. Same for the setting. The novel in its entirety has an air of understated but incredibly compelling veracity. It was also interesting to read from a social work perspective because I can see how, from the outside, other people would have to step in to reinforce expected behavior, so I appreciated hearing Ruth’s story from her perspective. Give this book a try. It might seem a bit unusual, but if it doesn’t spark some long-buried need for movement/wandering/change/insert preferred word here, then I’m not sure you are human.