For years, a worn paperback copy of Marilynne Robinson’s 1980 novel, “Housekeeping,” sat on my shelf, patiently waiting to be read. One day, I finally picked it up, and in what felt like no time at all, I turned the final page. The book’s plain yet profound language, the dignity of its characters, the simplicity of its narrative interwoven with threads of spiritual transcendence— “Housekeeping” reshaped my understanding of my place in the world. This transformative experience is not unique; even former President Barack Obama has spoken about the profound influence of Robinson’s work on his own perspectives.
Robinson, a long-time instructor at the esteemed Iowa Writers’ Workshop, recently offered readers a new nonfiction book, “Reading Genesis,” published the following month after this interview. This work stands as a literary exploration of the Old Testament’s first book, a writer’s insightful appreciation for the enduring power of ancient texts. Like much of Robinson’s writing, “Reading Genesis” delves into themes of kindness, community, and the inherent human struggle to articulate the ineffable. In this interview, Robinson offers a glimpse into her thoughts on these themes and more. “An argument that I make in the book,” Robinson shares, with a hint of playful defiance against prevailing contemporary attitudes, “is that God is patient, loves human beings, suspends judgment and is not inclined toward punitive behaviors.”
To begin, it seems fair to say that goodness is a recurring theme in your writing.
I believe that’s accurate.
Observing the current state of our nation, goodness, grace, and mercy appear to be in short supply. Does this reality alter your perspective on your work, perhaps lending it a greater sense of urgency or presenting new challenges?
Indeed, I must express my surprise, even shock and disillusionment, at the direction this country has taken in the past decade or so. The vulgarity and lack of compassion that have permeated public discourse, coupled with a certain meanness and reluctance to contribute to the common good, are deeply troubling. A stinginess, both intellectual and economic, has taken root, which I find appalling and fundamentally contrary to my understanding of goodness.
What actions might we take to address this?
We need to fundamentally re-examine some basic principles. Genesis offers significant insights into how religious individuals understand the nature of God. I believe it has been misinterpreted in various ways. The notion that people can invoke “God,” often in conjunction with something as incongruous as “guns,” and believe they have claimed a righteous position is a grave distortion of the very essence of religion.
Could you share your experience with participating in church services through streaming?
Certainly, the streamed services offer a good choir and a thoughtful sermon. The familiar environment provides a sense of reassurance. However, there’s something inherent in the act of physically going to church, the effort involved, that signifies a profound commitment to the meaning of the experience. It’s a modest discipline, really. Watching the service on a computer is simply too convenient.
You’ve reached the age of 80, haven’t you?
Yes, I am 80. Time is indeed passing.
Has your experience of church evolved as you’ve grown older?
It’s often observed that congregations are largely composed of older individuals, and I believe this is partly due to the compounding mysteries of existence. There are always more questions.
You mean you’re not finding definitive answers? [Laughs.] No.
That’s what I’m counting on!
No, my perspective is that questions themselves are beautiful. You simply contemplate life more deeply—its brevity, its complexity, and the incredible richness that arises both by chance and intention. Youth possesses a unique wonder: the illusion of immortality. Later, you realize there is a finite span. The deadline approaches. This realization shapes your understanding of life, lending it a dramatic arc that is difficult to grasp when your body doesn’t yet convey this truth.
Could you elaborate on this arc?
One recurring thought is: what have you created that will endure beyond your lifetime? Enabling others is perhaps the most attainable form of immortality. Also, I confess, I sometimes reflect on what I’ve missed. By nature and choice, I am a reclusive person, yet there have been many fascinating individuals I could have known.
Are you referring to missed opportunities to connect with specific people, or is this a more general reflection?
I’m speaking quite specifically.
Would you be willing to share—
No. I won’t disclose names.
I don’t intend to—well, perhaps I do intend to challenge you slightly. Have at it.
The idea that we possess more freedom than we perceive—I consider this in light of the increased scrutiny surrounding artists’ choices, their representations, their language, and their stance toward their subjects. Do you believe we have more leeway than we tend to think?
Much of our freedom is curtailed by the assumption that it is curtailed. I hear people say, “I wouldn’t dare say that. Someone might object.” This is how tyranny functions. Throughout my life, artists and writers have presented themselves as challenging bourgeois expectations—the stereotypical image of the black turtleneck. Yet now, facing potential challenges to certain expectations, they act as if they must be intimidated, as if they must conform their behavior. If, for the first time in my life, there is actual risk in being contrarian, then embrace that risk! That’s the very essence of it!
It certainly requires a degree of courage.
So? Who decided we should lack courage? It appalls me to think that people might not expect courage from themselves.
You mentioned moral deficits within the country. Yet, in our daily lives, we encounter so much goodness. Why does this seem absent from our collective social consciousness?
That’s a profoundly insightful question. I share concerns about the nation, while simultaneously recognizing how much I personally benefit from daily kindness, honesty, and consideration. Negative experiences are rare, and one hopes to offer positive interactions to others. However, a notion has permeated the country that suggesting people are inherently good is naive. It’s as if cynicism is now mandatory, despite the fact that, as you point out, many of us have ample reason to be optimistic. It’s a mannerism, a pose. Perhaps it’s more prevalent among the privileged than among those who genuinely grapple with issues of justice and mercy. It’s disheartening to consider that a great civilization could falter due to a passing trend, yet at times, it feels as though this is occurring.
This cynicism isn’t entirely without basis, though.
It’s crucial to distinguish between skepticism and cynicism. Cynicism is a dead end. Skepticism is always warranted.
Robinson with Barack Obama with the National Humanities Medal around her neck.
President Barack Obama awards Marilynne Robinson the National Humanities Medal in 2013, acknowledging her ‘gift’ to literature, a topic explored in her New York Times interview.
What message might you include in a letter to him today?
“Say something to cheer me up.” He possesses a remarkable optimism about the American people. After years of disheartening events, I’d be interested to hear his current perspective. I know he would likely affirm that the people are ultimately wise and inherently good.
What is the most recent film you watched?
Goodness, I can’t recall. Oh, wait! I attempted to watch “Barbie,” but it stopped playing midway through. I didn’t resolve the technical issue.
What were your impressions of the portion you saw?
It wasn’t really intended for my demographic, let’s just say that. If pink itself were a toxin, I believe that was the effect it had on me.
Are there still fundamental theological questions that occupy your thoughts? Or, more simply, what doubts do you harbor?
My enduring theological question concerns reconciling the world’s cruelty with the concept of God’s omnipotence. I simply accept that this is a mystery I won’t comprehend in this lifetime.
I believe you should indeed write that letter to Obama tomorrow.
Perhaps I should. Perhaps I should. He has gone gray, you know.
Don’t be condescending.
I don’t believe I’ve ever been guilty of that in our interactions.
This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity from two conversations.
