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Abide with Me
Katherine is only five years old. Struck dumb with grief at her mother's death, it is down to her father, the heartbroken minister Tyler Caskey, to bring his daughter out of silence. But Tyler is barely surviving himself. Since Lauren's death he struggles to find the right words for his sermons - how can he be a leader to his congregation when he himself is lost?
When Katherine's teacher calls to discuss his daughter's anti-social behaviour, it sparks a chain of events that begins to tear down Tyler's defences. The small-town rumour-mill has much to make of Katherine's odd behaviour, and even more to say about Tyler's relationship with his housekeeper. In Tyler's darkest hour, a startling discovery will test his congregation's humanity - and his own will to endure the kinds of trials that sooner or later test us all.
When Katherine's teacher calls to discuss his daughter's anti-social behaviour, it sparks a chain of events that begins to tear down Tyler's defences. The small-town rumour-mill has much to make of Katherine's odd behaviour, and even more to say about Tyler's relationship with his housekeeper. In Tyler's darkest hour, a startling discovery will test his congregation's humanity - and his own will to endure the kinds of trials that sooner or later test us all.
302 pages, Kindle Edition
First published March 14, 2006
About the author
Elizabeth Strout
52 books18.4k followersElizabeth Strout is the author of several novels, including: Abide with Me, a national bestseller and BookSense pick, and Amy and Isabelle, which won the Los Angeles Times Art Seidenbaum Award for First Fiction and the Chicago Tribune Heartland Prize, and was a finalist for the PEN/Faulkner Award and the Orange Prize in England. In 2009 she was awarded the Pulitzer Prize for her book Olive Kitteridge. Her short stories have been published in a number of magazines, including The New Yorker. She teaches at the Master of Fine Arts program at Queens University of Charlotte.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 2,356 reviews
April 30, 2016
An outstanding and moving portrait of the quiet courage of a minster and his community in rural Maine in the 50’s. This is a time when the Cold War, crass commercialism, and the insights of Freud about hidden sexual motivations were undermining spirituality in the American populace. The Congregational minister, Tyler Caskey, is having trouble inspiring his flock or taking their problems seriously as he is still recovering from the death of his wife one year before. His four-year old daughter Catherine has mostly stopped speaking except to say hateful things like “I hate God” and his other infant daughter has been taken into the care of his bitchy, judgmental mother. Yet his frequent epiphanies of God immanent in nature and the model of courage set by Bonhoeffer’s faith in the face of imprisonment and death by the Nazis keeps him on the path. He comes to rise above all the vicious gossip and petty concerns of his parishioners and church board and tune into the ones who really need his help and as a result reap the help he needs himself. Just when the lack of dramatic action and the pathos of Tyler’s condition begins to weigh you down, certain personal breakthroughs on his part and some in the community stun you with surprise and joy over the resilience of the human heart and the power of love to redeem.
This second Strout novel had a lot more warmth and cohesiveness than the other I read, “Olive Kitteridge”, which features a series of vignettes about a middle-aged curmudgeon. It yielded up a lot of the same pleasures and uplifting tears that I got from the portraits of rural life in the works of Kent Haruf and Marylynne Robinson. Highly recommended and effective in audiobook version.
Abide with me; fast falls the eventide;
The darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide;
When other helpers fail and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, oh, abide with me.
This second Strout novel had a lot more warmth and cohesiveness than the other I read, “Olive Kitteridge”, which features a series of vignettes about a middle-aged curmudgeon. It yielded up a lot of the same pleasures and uplifting tears that I got from the portraits of rural life in the works of Kent Haruf and Marylynne Robinson. Highly recommended and effective in audiobook version.
Abide with me; fast falls the eventide;
The darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide;
When other helpers fail and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, oh, abide with me.
August 20, 2019
LA COSTRUZIONE DI UN ATTIMO
Ho fatto un sogno stanotte: ero andato a trovare Elizabeth e lei mi preparava un caffè, profumato robusto dolce, pura libidine, e intanto mi spiegava che il caffè americano si fa in tanti modi, che quello che conta è la tostatura, e la mano di chi lo prepara - si va dalla risciacquatura di piatti sporchi a quello che lei mi ha offerto (e che io consumo tutte le mattine), pura delizia.
Si è messa a ridere perché ha spiegato che la stessa cosa succede con la scrittura: la lunghezza non è sinonimo di bontà o annacquamento, dipende cosa si usa, come e chi lo usa.
Foto di Wim Wenders.
Io le ho fatto il più ovvio dei complimenti, le ho detto, Elizabeth (detesta essere chiamata Liz), i tuoi romanzi sono come questo caffè.
Anche questo le ha strappato una risata.
Così, ha preso a raccontarmi il suo processo di scrittura.
Mi ha detto che la suggestione non parte mai dalla trama, ma da un dettaglio, da un taglio di luce che cade su una stanza (magari proprio come quello sulla copertina dell’edizione italiana di questo romanzo), da un aspetto di un carattere, di un personaggio…
Sviluppa quel particolare, ne compone altri, mai seguendo la trama, mai partendo dal principio al finale o viceversa, ma collegando le tessere del puzzle che l’hanno ispirata, che l'hanno colpita, mossa, motivata.
E succede anche che le tessere cambino di posto, quella che veniva dopo è improvvisamente anticipata, e viceversa.
Così nascono le sue opere.
Un po’ come infilare la mano in una scatola dove l’occhio non arriva, tastare forme e pezzi che vanno messi in ordine, e con la mano si trova la giusta disposizione senza affidarsi alla vista, senza sapere dove la storia andrà a parare.
Il percorso si sviluppa dopo, quando le tessere sono a posto, quando il loro ordine sembra preciso alla mano.
E succede che un pezzo, una forma rimanga nel suo posto originale e che altre invece vadano avanti e indietro finché non si incastrano come occorre.
Nel modo che poi il suo lettore apprezzerà.
Da sveglio, sono un perseverante mangiapreti, e pensavo che avrei faticato di più con questo romanzo di Strout. Non è stato così.
E d’altra parte, come poteva esserlo: Elizabeth Strout non si dimentica mai del suo lettore, lo prende per mano, lo accompagna, lo conduce fino alla fine – con scrittura solida, puntuale, diretta, ricca di chiaroscuri, sempre rispettosa e attenta alla trama.
Con Strout non si corre certo il rischio d’immedesimazione, abitudine dannosa per un lettore: chi ha voglia di sentirsi uguale a questo reverendo Tyler Caskey, o a Olive Kitteridge, o a Isabelle? Chi vorrebbe vivere per più di un paio di secondi in una comunità chiusa asfissiante conformista conservatrice pettegola sospettosa come quella qui descritta?
E anche l’ambientazione: mica il solito New England tutto foglie gialle rosse e verdi dai panorami mozzafiato, no, qui, il New England è un postaccio, lunghi inverni gelidi e grigi, seguiti da estati altrettanto grigie e malate di caldazza.
Il mio eroe in queste pagine è Katherine, la figlia di cinque anni, che per quasi tutto il romanzo dice solo due parole, precise e magnifiche, “odio dio”.
Epperò, anche personaggi apparentemente respingenti (un reverendo puritano lo è per definizione, secondo me), messi nelle mani di Strout, acquistano tagli di luce alla Hopper, vengono scaldati, resi interessanti, avvincenti, paradigmatici. Un’umanità che preferisco evitare, nelle pagine di Strout diventa appassionante e ‘umana’ al punto che è difficile perderla, staccarsene, metterla via.
Nota a margine: il finale, consolatorio, assolutorio, per me è un po’ un cedimento e una caduta. È la melassa del cui rischio parla Ammaniti rispetto a Amy e Isabelle, la stessa che ho avvertito alla fine di Olive Kitteridge, e che a questo punto temo troverò anche in fondo a I ragazzi Burgess.
Ho fatto un sogno stanotte: ero andato a trovare Elizabeth e lei mi preparava un caffè, profumato robusto dolce, pura libidine, e intanto mi spiegava che il caffè americano si fa in tanti modi, che quello che conta è la tostatura, e la mano di chi lo prepara - si va dalla risciacquatura di piatti sporchi a quello che lei mi ha offerto (e che io consumo tutte le mattine), pura delizia.
Si è messa a ridere perché ha spiegato che la stessa cosa succede con la scrittura: la lunghezza non è sinonimo di bontà o annacquamento, dipende cosa si usa, come e chi lo usa.
Foto di Wim Wenders.
Io le ho fatto il più ovvio dei complimenti, le ho detto, Elizabeth (detesta essere chiamata Liz), i tuoi romanzi sono come questo caffè.
Anche questo le ha strappato una risata.
Così, ha preso a raccontarmi il suo processo di scrittura.
Mi ha detto che la suggestione non parte mai dalla trama, ma da un dettaglio, da un taglio di luce che cade su una stanza (magari proprio come quello sulla copertina dell’edizione italiana di questo romanzo), da un aspetto di un carattere, di un personaggio…
Sviluppa quel particolare, ne compone altri, mai seguendo la trama, mai partendo dal principio al finale o viceversa, ma collegando le tessere del puzzle che l’hanno ispirata, che l'hanno colpita, mossa, motivata.
E succede anche che le tessere cambino di posto, quella che veniva dopo è improvvisamente anticipata, e viceversa.
Così nascono le sue opere.
Un po’ come infilare la mano in una scatola dove l’occhio non arriva, tastare forme e pezzi che vanno messi in ordine, e con la mano si trova la giusta disposizione senza affidarsi alla vista, senza sapere dove la storia andrà a parare.
Il percorso si sviluppa dopo, quando le tessere sono a posto, quando il loro ordine sembra preciso alla mano.
E succede che un pezzo, una forma rimanga nel suo posto originale e che altre invece vadano avanti e indietro finché non si incastrano come occorre.
Nel modo che poi il suo lettore apprezzerà.
Da sveglio, sono un perseverante mangiapreti, e pensavo che avrei faticato di più con questo romanzo di Strout. Non è stato così.
E d’altra parte, come poteva esserlo: Elizabeth Strout non si dimentica mai del suo lettore, lo prende per mano, lo accompagna, lo conduce fino alla fine – con scrittura solida, puntuale, diretta, ricca di chiaroscuri, sempre rispettosa e attenta alla trama.
Con Strout non si corre certo il rischio d’immedesimazione, abitudine dannosa per un lettore: chi ha voglia di sentirsi uguale a questo reverendo Tyler Caskey, o a Olive Kitteridge, o a Isabelle? Chi vorrebbe vivere per più di un paio di secondi in una comunità chiusa asfissiante conformista conservatrice pettegola sospettosa come quella qui descritta?
E anche l’ambientazione: mica il solito New England tutto foglie gialle rosse e verdi dai panorami mozzafiato, no, qui, il New England è un postaccio, lunghi inverni gelidi e grigi, seguiti da estati altrettanto grigie e malate di caldazza.
Il mio eroe in queste pagine è Katherine, la figlia di cinque anni, che per quasi tutto il romanzo dice solo due parole, precise e magnifiche, “odio dio”.
Epperò, anche personaggi apparentemente respingenti (un reverendo puritano lo è per definizione, secondo me), messi nelle mani di Strout, acquistano tagli di luce alla Hopper, vengono scaldati, resi interessanti, avvincenti, paradigmatici. Un’umanità che preferisco evitare, nelle pagine di Strout diventa appassionante e ‘umana’ al punto che è difficile perderla, staccarsene, metterla via.
Nota a margine: il finale, consolatorio, assolutorio, per me è un po’ un cedimento e una caduta. È la melassa del cui rischio parla Ammaniti rispetto a Amy e Isabelle, la stessa che ho avvertito alla fine di Olive Kitteridge, e che a questo punto temo troverò anche in fondo a I ragazzi Burgess.
November 4, 2010
What a lovely book. Strout has a real gift for gentle prose that reveals the characters' thoughts. Utterly believable--when the church women criticize the minister's wife for her slingback shoes and not drying all the dishes, I felt as if I knew these women, their values and their habits. The teacher who turns against her student and the school psychologist who relies on textbook definitions and cannot find compassion for the little girl who just lost her mother are very real, too--but nobody is a cardboard villain, or grand hero.
It's a compelling story, too. Characters are multi-dimensional. The plot wanders, a bit. The main character seems, by turns, naive, wise, brave, clot-headed and endearing. Trying to be a perfect and godly man in a world full of grief, sorrow and imperfection.
I did not think the ending was neat and tidy. It was a resting place in an ongoing story, but a place where we could leave the characters with some hope for a rebuilt little family, a future that included genuine joy.
It's a compelling story, too. Characters are multi-dimensional. The plot wanders, a bit. The main character seems, by turns, naive, wise, brave, clot-headed and endearing. Trying to be a perfect and godly man in a world full of grief, sorrow and imperfection.
I did not think the ending was neat and tidy. It was a resting place in an ongoing story, but a place where we could leave the characters with some hope for a rebuilt little family, a future that included genuine joy.
November 14, 2020
How come I waited so long between Elizabeth Strout books? Sometimes when there’s a wee gap in time between reading a favourite author you can forget just how good they are. Abide with Me was a wonderful experience. I truly loved it.
Strout serves up the usual character based story we are used to, this time it centres around the haplessly agreeable Tyler Casey, a Minister in a Parish of the small fictional country town of West Annett in the late 1950s. Tyler is raising two young girls following the untimely death of his wife. One of his daughters, Katherine, presents enormous challenges with her behaviour and lack of socialisation skills – particularly at school, which brings Tyler into some confronting interactions with her junior school educators. He also needs to navigate the treacherous waters of the pastoral needs of his congregation, his flock of dyed in the wool country folk. In short, poor Tyler has his hands full, and some.
His late father always stressed to him as a young lad to 'always consider the other person first', sound advice to be sure. This is the first of two main themes for me in this piece of work. The question in my mind is, how much do you give to others? How much fuel do you spend considering the needs of others when it comes at the expense of your own needs? Tyler was quite expert at considering the feelings of others, to the point he seemed to be just a ball in a pin-ball machine, rattling around various personalities in the community, with no control of his own needs. He is a lovely man, so gentle and caring and these qualities are genuine. But at what cost? I suppose that’s a decision we all need to make at times, the balance between our own well being and the wants of others. Even the wants of our nearest and dearest.
As his Mother so eloquently put to Tyler ”.....but you are – excuse me – an idiot. If you’re always thinking of the other person first, you don’t have to bother with what you’re feeling, or thinking".
Sometimes I felt like shaking Tyler, at other times I felt like hugging him.
The second major theme for me in this piece is the power of local gossip. The nefarious force of the collective. As well all know, this can happen with any group of people larger than two, any workplace, book club, sporting team – you name it. But it can often be extremely powerful in a small country town like West Annett. This small fictional New England town, full of people who’s lineage goes back to the first white settlers. Strout shows us in no uncertain terms, the sledgehammer impact this can have on others.
This book contains so many other topics to ponder such as religion, politics, family dynamics, raising children, crime, teaching and psychology to name a few. Chuck in the usual gaggle of interesting characters Strout has the ability to create and we end up with a terrific, rich, sad, emotional piece of work.
I did love this quote Tyler kept for reference in his top drawer from Henri Nouwen: ”My whole life I have been complaining that my work was constantly interrupted, until I discovered that my interruptions were my work". How grand is that?
Strout is a colossus.
5 Stars
Strout serves up the usual character based story we are used to, this time it centres around the haplessly agreeable Tyler Casey, a Minister in a Parish of the small fictional country town of West Annett in the late 1950s. Tyler is raising two young girls following the untimely death of his wife. One of his daughters, Katherine, presents enormous challenges with her behaviour and lack of socialisation skills – particularly at school, which brings Tyler into some confronting interactions with her junior school educators. He also needs to navigate the treacherous waters of the pastoral needs of his congregation, his flock of dyed in the wool country folk. In short, poor Tyler has his hands full, and some.
His late father always stressed to him as a young lad to 'always consider the other person first', sound advice to be sure. This is the first of two main themes for me in this piece of work. The question in my mind is, how much do you give to others? How much fuel do you spend considering the needs of others when it comes at the expense of your own needs? Tyler was quite expert at considering the feelings of others, to the point he seemed to be just a ball in a pin-ball machine, rattling around various personalities in the community, with no control of his own needs. He is a lovely man, so gentle and caring and these qualities are genuine. But at what cost? I suppose that’s a decision we all need to make at times, the balance between our own well being and the wants of others. Even the wants of our nearest and dearest.
As his Mother so eloquently put to Tyler ”.....but you are – excuse me – an idiot. If you’re always thinking of the other person first, you don’t have to bother with what you’re feeling, or thinking".
Sometimes I felt like shaking Tyler, at other times I felt like hugging him.
The second major theme for me in this piece is the power of local gossip. The nefarious force of the collective. As well all know, this can happen with any group of people larger than two, any workplace, book club, sporting team – you name it. But it can often be extremely powerful in a small country town like West Annett. This small fictional New England town, full of people who’s lineage goes back to the first white settlers. Strout shows us in no uncertain terms, the sledgehammer impact this can have on others.
This book contains so many other topics to ponder such as religion, politics, family dynamics, raising children, crime, teaching and psychology to name a few. Chuck in the usual gaggle of interesting characters Strout has the ability to create and we end up with a terrific, rich, sad, emotional piece of work.
I did love this quote Tyler kept for reference in his top drawer from Henri Nouwen: ”My whole life I have been complaining that my work was constantly interrupted, until I discovered that my interruptions were my work". How grand is that?
Strout is a colossus.
5 Stars
October 17, 2020
By now, I think everyone on here knows that I believe Elizabeth Strout’s writing is nothing short of outstanding.
Mrs Strout is a master in character development and dialogue and no one can do it like her. Full stop!
And now, I must admit that sometimes I think about Mrs Strout (with all respect, ma’am but I do. Really!). I imagine, for example, Mrs Strout in her sunlit kitchen taking some lovely and steamy chocolate chip cookies from the oven (yes, a sunlit kitchen, weird isn’t it?). I also wonder about the place where Mrs Strout would write her masterpieces. Sometimes I think she’d just go to the porch outside, sit on a bench, listen to the birds, and write. Other times I believe she’d write in a cosy corner of her living room. Sitting on a windowsill in Summer and by the fireplace in Winter.
I can only imagine that Mrs Strout wrote Abide with Me when the weather was nice, the sun was shining and she’d think about all the secrets people keep in their hearts and how it feels like people are much less secretive on bright sunny days. She’d think about people she knew, and also people she has never met. She’d think about pain and love, sorrow and forgiveness. Beliefs and faith.
She’d also think about family and friends, obviously, because, in my mind, that’s the most important thing to Mrs Strout (and also the majority of us, I guess).
In my mind, we’d sit down (I’m a dreamer, I know!) having a nice cup of strong coffee and some of the lovely steaming cookies and we’d obviously talk about Olive Kitteridge and Lucy Barton. And then I’d have to let Mrs Strout know what I loved the most about Abide with Me: its omniscient narrator.
Also, I’d have to tell Mrs Strout how much I loved the way that, all of a sudden, I realised, that there were two threads running through it and I couldn’t turn the pages fast enough. Two worlds were about to collide. And they did. And there were a million broken pieces to pick up afterwards. And also some missing pieces, by the way. Still, life had to go on. And it did. It always does.
In my imagination, and because I have so many good things to say about this novel and Mrs Strout’s work in general we’d talk about her stories for hours and hours and hours...
I don’t even know if this can be considered a review. Some might even think this is just some pretentious crappy thing, and maybe it is. But one thing you all can be sure about: it all came from the heart.
And now, I’ve got to go.
The sun is shining outside.
And the world’s calling me.
And I only got one life.
Here and now.
Mrs Strout is a master in character development and dialogue and no one can do it like her. Full stop!
And now, I must admit that sometimes I think about Mrs Strout (with all respect, ma’am but I do. Really!). I imagine, for example, Mrs Strout in her sunlit kitchen taking some lovely and steamy chocolate chip cookies from the oven (yes, a sunlit kitchen, weird isn’t it?). I also wonder about the place where Mrs Strout would write her masterpieces. Sometimes I think she’d just go to the porch outside, sit on a bench, listen to the birds, and write. Other times I believe she’d write in a cosy corner of her living room. Sitting on a windowsill in Summer and by the fireplace in Winter.
I can only imagine that Mrs Strout wrote Abide with Me when the weather was nice, the sun was shining and she’d think about all the secrets people keep in their hearts and how it feels like people are much less secretive on bright sunny days. She’d think about people she knew, and also people she has never met. She’d think about pain and love, sorrow and forgiveness. Beliefs and faith.
She’d also think about family and friends, obviously, because, in my mind, that’s the most important thing to Mrs Strout (and also the majority of us, I guess).
In my mind, we’d sit down (I’m a dreamer, I know!) having a nice cup of strong coffee and some of the lovely steaming cookies and we’d obviously talk about Olive Kitteridge and Lucy Barton. And then I’d have to let Mrs Strout know what I loved the most about Abide with Me: its omniscient narrator.
Also, I’d have to tell Mrs Strout how much I loved the way that, all of a sudden, I realised, that there were two threads running through it and I couldn’t turn the pages fast enough. Two worlds were about to collide. And they did. And there were a million broken pieces to pick up afterwards. And also some missing pieces, by the way. Still, life had to go on. And it did. It always does.
In my imagination, and because I have so many good things to say about this novel and Mrs Strout’s work in general we’d talk about her stories for hours and hours and hours...
I don’t even know if this can be considered a review. Some might even think this is just some pretentious crappy thing, and maybe it is. But one thing you all can be sure about: it all came from the heart.
And now, I’ve got to go.
The sun is shining outside.
And the world’s calling me.
And I only got one life.
Here and now.
November 26, 2025
Elizabeth Strout’s second novel, ABIDE WITH ME, possesses not the same magical spark that I discovered in OLIVE KITTERIDGE, but it is still a powerful story that displays her prowess as a storyteller and a technician.
Personally, I prefer the seaside community of Crosby, one that many of us have come to know and love through Olive Kitteridge’s eyes. Yet, the town in ABIDE, West Annett, serves as the perfect setting for this bleak, winter tale of a young, widowed minister and his family.
Things are stark in West Annett; the town is held, through most of the story, frozen in time, in the late 1950s. It’s a frugal place filled with white, blue-collar residents, most of whom have never managed to travel out of the state of Maine.
When Tyler Caskey shows up to take the position of the town’s primary minister, his fancy sermons and fresh philosophies confuse a congregation of churchgoers who’d rather suck on their cough drops and gossip at the coffee hour, after the sermon.
The thing is, Tyler is in it. In it to win it. Into it. Filled up with his faith and the Holy Spirit. He is neither evangelist nor sinner; he’s the real deal, the type of minister that most big cities would consider themselves lucky to find.
As the residents of West Annett open themselves up to his somewhat esoteric talks and allow a certain portion of what he says to go over their heads, they continue to struggle with his privileged, Bostonian wife and later his quirky daughter.
And, to me, this is the crux of the story: Who ARE we, really? Are we who we look like? Are we who others perceive us to be?
It's like we have to make things up to keep on going. Pretending we did do this, or didn't do that.
When Reverend Tyler Caskey is thought of as superior, as elitist, as a man who would marry a wealthy gal from Boston, he is fodder for the congregation.
But, what happens to him when they subject him to their smallness and their gossip?
Will they ruin him, or will his faith prevail?
In her mind, she was a faint pencil line on a piece of paper; everyone else was drawn in ink, some--like the minister--with a firm Magic Marker.
Ms. Strout does an excellent job in this novel of juxtaposing base cruelty with redemption. It is a swift journey, from one to the other, and vulnerability seems to be the only way to get there.
I found Tyler Caskey to be a delicious character. I could have read four more books about him. The rest of the cast of characters were okay to me, maybe a little too sparse, like the brown winter backdrop.
The cool part for me was knowing the evolution here, knowing that she was one book away from writing OLIVE KITTERIDGE. Lucky me, it was just around the corner.
Personally, I prefer the seaside community of Crosby, one that many of us have come to know and love through Olive Kitteridge’s eyes. Yet, the town in ABIDE, West Annett, serves as the perfect setting for this bleak, winter tale of a young, widowed minister and his family.
Things are stark in West Annett; the town is held, through most of the story, frozen in time, in the late 1950s. It’s a frugal place filled with white, blue-collar residents, most of whom have never managed to travel out of the state of Maine.
When Tyler Caskey shows up to take the position of the town’s primary minister, his fancy sermons and fresh philosophies confuse a congregation of churchgoers who’d rather suck on their cough drops and gossip at the coffee hour, after the sermon.
The thing is, Tyler is in it. In it to win it. Into it. Filled up with his faith and the Holy Spirit. He is neither evangelist nor sinner; he’s the real deal, the type of minister that most big cities would consider themselves lucky to find.
As the residents of West Annett open themselves up to his somewhat esoteric talks and allow a certain portion of what he says to go over their heads, they continue to struggle with his privileged, Bostonian wife and later his quirky daughter.
And, to me, this is the crux of the story: Who ARE we, really? Are we who we look like? Are we who others perceive us to be?
It's like we have to make things up to keep on going. Pretending we did do this, or didn't do that.
When Reverend Tyler Caskey is thought of as superior, as elitist, as a man who would marry a wealthy gal from Boston, he is fodder for the congregation.
But, what happens to him when they subject him to their smallness and their gossip?
Will they ruin him, or will his faith prevail?
In her mind, she was a faint pencil line on a piece of paper; everyone else was drawn in ink, some--like the minister--with a firm Magic Marker.
Ms. Strout does an excellent job in this novel of juxtaposing base cruelty with redemption. It is a swift journey, from one to the other, and vulnerability seems to be the only way to get there.
I found Tyler Caskey to be a delicious character. I could have read four more books about him. The rest of the cast of characters were okay to me, maybe a little too sparse, like the brown winter backdrop.
The cool part for me was knowing the evolution here, knowing that she was one book away from writing OLIVE KITTERIDGE. Lucky me, it was just around the corner.
August 28, 2024
2.5 This was my least favorite of Strout’s books, not having read The Burgess Boys or her newest. It was slow, which I think is an objective comment, and claustrophobic, which is a subjective one.
Reading and not liking this much actually shed some light on my issue with Meg Nolan’s, Ordinary Human Failings—an objectively good book that also didn’t work for me: I don’t like stories in small communities where people gossip unkindly. This social unity is worthy of a writer’s exploration, even strong enough to become an antagonist, but my body refuses to immerse in collective meanness just the way it did in school, and so it doesn’t make for an absorbing reading experience.
One thing Strout does well is expose the human flaws in everyone, regardless of side. But somehow this one lacked those deep, human cracks found in Strout’s deceptively simple prose that always leave me heartbroken. Instead, I think this was just simple. It lacked intimacy. The New England minister protagonist was likable, flawed, and sympathetic, but I wanted to know his troubled, mute daughter, and I wanted more of their relationship. It was so central and so unsatisfying. I kept turning back, but what I thought was missing just wasn’t there.
The book did bring up one issue that interests me, and feels juicy: to what extent should we have a say in when to end a life? This novel is through a religious lens, which added a layer of complexity to the question that worked for even this non-religious reader. I wish it didn’t come so full-on in the end, but had been titrated more throughout. That I might have loved.
If it weren’t Strout, I may have DNF’d
Reading and not liking this much actually shed some light on my issue with Meg Nolan’s, Ordinary Human Failings—an objectively good book that also didn’t work for me: I don’t like stories in small communities where people gossip unkindly. This social unity is worthy of a writer’s exploration, even strong enough to become an antagonist, but my body refuses to immerse in collective meanness just the way it did in school, and so it doesn’t make for an absorbing reading experience.
One thing Strout does well is expose the human flaws in everyone, regardless of side. But somehow this one lacked those deep, human cracks found in Strout’s deceptively simple prose that always leave me heartbroken. Instead, I think this was just simple. It lacked intimacy. The New England minister protagonist was likable, flawed, and sympathetic, but I wanted to know his troubled, mute daughter, and I wanted more of their relationship. It was so central and so unsatisfying. I kept turning back, but what I thought was missing just wasn’t there.
The book did bring up one issue that interests me, and feels juicy: to what extent should we have a say in when to end a life? This novel is through a religious lens, which added a layer of complexity to the question that worked for even this non-religious reader. I wish it didn’t come so full-on in the end, but had been titrated more throughout. That I might have loved.
If it weren’t Strout, I may have DNF’d
May 24, 2021
“Abide with Me” by Elizabeth Strout
Because of all the positive reviews I was very disappointed I did not enjoy reading this book. I actually struggled reading the whole book almost gave up but was hoping for improvement. My heart went out to Reverend Tyler Caskey suffering a terrible loss, the difficult challenges he faced raising his daughter and his own personal struggles. I just felt Elizabeth Strout did not pull this story together.
Because of all the positive reviews I was very disappointed I did not enjoy reading this book. I actually struggled reading the whole book almost gave up but was hoping for improvement. My heart went out to Reverend Tyler Caskey suffering a terrible loss, the difficult challenges he faced raising his daughter and his own personal struggles. I just felt Elizabeth Strout did not pull this story together.
December 26, 2013
Every novel is about a crisis of faith -- in one's self, one's partner, one's prospects -- but novels about religious leaders often portray crisis in explicitly spiritual terms, and that can be hell. Too often, churchy language forces the rich ambiguity of good fiction to get "left behind." Lately, though, a few novels full of Christian faith have managed to transcend sectarian piety and speak to a large, diverse audience. Each year welcomes another splendid novel into the fold: Gail Godwin's "Evensong," Rachel Basch's "The Passion of Reverend Nash," Marilynne Robinson's "Gilead." And now, from Elizabeth Strout, comes "Abide With Me," a deeply moving story about a Congregational minister stunned by the death of his wife.
As she did in her bestselling debut, "Amy and Isabelle," Strout sets her second novel in a small New England town, whose natural beauty she returns to again and again as this tale unfolds against the background of the Cold War tensions of the 1950s. She concentrates on the gentle comedy and muffled tragedy among people who live and work and pray so close together that every sigh blows against someone else's face. Her hero is Rev. Tyler Caskey, a friendly, thoughtful widower just barely carrying on with the duties of fatherhood and church. Though he tries to hide it, his parishioners' problems look petty through the fog of his grief. Meanwhile, his beloved elder daughter, 5-year-old Katherine, is starting to feel like a cross to bear. In the months following her mother's death, she has stopped speaking, she cries and screams at school, and she wets her bed at night. Her teachers, portrayed in all their perky condescension, begin drawing up plans for psychological treatment; neighbors swap shocking stories of her behavior, their concern stained with self-righteousness.
Largely oblivious to all these maneuvers and blinded to the severity of his daughter's condition by the depth of his sorrow, Tyler remains committed to earnest prayer. He befriends the simple, depressed woman who cleans his house without considering how this friendship might look to his nosy parishioners. Instead of attending to these brewing tensions, he turns for inspiration to the writings of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the Lutheran pastor who resisted the Nazis. But Bonhoeffer's extraordinary example only exacerbates Tyler's sense of inadequacy. "If Bonhoeffer could spend a year in a prison cell," Strout writes, "only to find himself taken naked out into the woods to be hanged, then he, Tyler Caskey, could pay his debts, care for his children, and do his job." It's an entirely reasonable conclusion, except that it demands subjecting himself to the kind of standard he cannot endure. Raised on a strict doctrine of self-sacrifice and consideration for others, Tyler suffers through this dark period entirely unable to ask for assistance or tend to his own needs.
What's most distressing to him is that his sense of God's presence, "the profound and irreducible knowledge that God was right there," now seems beyond his perception. "He hoped these days," Strout writes, "to have a moment of exalted understanding come to him as the 'chance' result of his disciplined prayer, [but] no, Tyler was earthly bound." Strout portrays this spiritual agony with tenderness and a deep respect for the faith that Tyler believes will someday bring him solace. What an extraordinarily delicate position this is for an author of modern literary fiction. One careless move and the whole novel crystallizes into something shiny and doctrinaire -- or, just as bad, dissolves into the pool of sophisticated cynicism about traditional Christian faith.
The story frequently shifts away from Tyler's travails to catch snippets of the conversations swirling around town, in various degrees of concern and outrage, about the minister's withdrawn behavior. I can't recall a more incisive portrayal of the casual cruelty of gossip, but Strout has no interest in making villains. Tyler's critics have their own problems: marriages grown cold and sullen, illnesses that offer no relief but death, crippling anxieties about the future. The organist and her husband, a deacon, have come to blows, each of them deeply resentful of the other's unhappiness. Even the flashback of Tyler's marriage, cut short by a fast-moving cancer, shows a relationship wholly at odds with his idealized memory of it.
Dark as much of this beautiful novel is, there's finally healing here, and, as Tyler should have known, it comes not from strength and self-sufficiency but from accepting the inexplicable love of others. In one beautiful page after another, Strout captures the mysterious combination of hope and sorrow. She sees all these wounded people with heartbreaking clarity, but she has managed to write a story that cradles them in understanding and that, somehow, seems like a foretaste of salvation.
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/...
As she did in her bestselling debut, "Amy and Isabelle," Strout sets her second novel in a small New England town, whose natural beauty she returns to again and again as this tale unfolds against the background of the Cold War tensions of the 1950s. She concentrates on the gentle comedy and muffled tragedy among people who live and work and pray so close together that every sigh blows against someone else's face. Her hero is Rev. Tyler Caskey, a friendly, thoughtful widower just barely carrying on with the duties of fatherhood and church. Though he tries to hide it, his parishioners' problems look petty through the fog of his grief. Meanwhile, his beloved elder daughter, 5-year-old Katherine, is starting to feel like a cross to bear. In the months following her mother's death, she has stopped speaking, she cries and screams at school, and she wets her bed at night. Her teachers, portrayed in all their perky condescension, begin drawing up plans for psychological treatment; neighbors swap shocking stories of her behavior, their concern stained with self-righteousness.
Largely oblivious to all these maneuvers and blinded to the severity of his daughter's condition by the depth of his sorrow, Tyler remains committed to earnest prayer. He befriends the simple, depressed woman who cleans his house without considering how this friendship might look to his nosy parishioners. Instead of attending to these brewing tensions, he turns for inspiration to the writings of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the Lutheran pastor who resisted the Nazis. But Bonhoeffer's extraordinary example only exacerbates Tyler's sense of inadequacy. "If Bonhoeffer could spend a year in a prison cell," Strout writes, "only to find himself taken naked out into the woods to be hanged, then he, Tyler Caskey, could pay his debts, care for his children, and do his job." It's an entirely reasonable conclusion, except that it demands subjecting himself to the kind of standard he cannot endure. Raised on a strict doctrine of self-sacrifice and consideration for others, Tyler suffers through this dark period entirely unable to ask for assistance or tend to his own needs.
What's most distressing to him is that his sense of God's presence, "the profound and irreducible knowledge that God was right there," now seems beyond his perception. "He hoped these days," Strout writes, "to have a moment of exalted understanding come to him as the 'chance' result of his disciplined prayer, [but] no, Tyler was earthly bound." Strout portrays this spiritual agony with tenderness and a deep respect for the faith that Tyler believes will someday bring him solace. What an extraordinarily delicate position this is for an author of modern literary fiction. One careless move and the whole novel crystallizes into something shiny and doctrinaire -- or, just as bad, dissolves into the pool of sophisticated cynicism about traditional Christian faith.
The story frequently shifts away from Tyler's travails to catch snippets of the conversations swirling around town, in various degrees of concern and outrage, about the minister's withdrawn behavior. I can't recall a more incisive portrayal of the casual cruelty of gossip, but Strout has no interest in making villains. Tyler's critics have their own problems: marriages grown cold and sullen, illnesses that offer no relief but death, crippling anxieties about the future. The organist and her husband, a deacon, have come to blows, each of them deeply resentful of the other's unhappiness. Even the flashback of Tyler's marriage, cut short by a fast-moving cancer, shows a relationship wholly at odds with his idealized memory of it.
Dark as much of this beautiful novel is, there's finally healing here, and, as Tyler should have known, it comes not from strength and self-sufficiency but from accepting the inexplicable love of others. In one beautiful page after another, Strout captures the mysterious combination of hope and sorrow. She sees all these wounded people with heartbreaking clarity, but she has managed to write a story that cradles them in understanding and that, somehow, seems like a foretaste of salvation.
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/...
December 21, 2017
Back in the day when Americans built bomb shelters, when the wives of small town ministers were expected to forego red lipstick, and when school administrators hammered every misbehaving child with Freud's new Oedipus theories, thing were not easy. This was not the simple time in our nation's past that TV commercials today portray. Was anything ever simple? I don't think so.
A young, newly widowed father believes in simple things, though. That we should think of others before ourselves. That God is love, pure and simple. And that people are basically good at heart.
Sweet and patient, Reverend Tyler Caskey is in deep grief, however. The wife he so adored has just died in an excruciating condition and out of practicality's sake, his toddler daughter is now staying at his mom's place, well out of his little parish. Most troubling is the violent screaming his five year old is hurling at teachers in kindergarten and her drawings of stiletto high heels stabbing her teacher in the heart.
Tyler cannot escape the burden of hearing his parishioners' lists of heartache and sins. He cannot equate his extremely quiet little girl with the little psychopath that knocks fear into teachers. His only source of relief is in the older lady who has been hired to help out with housework, but when she too unburdens herself of a painful past, things snowball into an ugly mess.
Despite the title - the name of Tyler's favorite hymn - and his sermons, his genuine love for his fellow man, this is not a particularly religious book. But he is the epitome of what a religious man should be. Does he have failings? BIG TIME. And there is a big reveal in here that'll surprise you.
What we find in this story is humbleness - the admittance of how insult and grief wound us. Our confession that we cannot go things alone. And there is also a quiet strength in letting go, in forgiving, and accepting love. We could all use a little of that. Beautiful book.
The hymn?
Abide with me; fast falls the eventide;
The darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide;
When other helpers fail and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, oh, abide with me.
I need Thy presence every passing hour;
What but Thy grace can foil the tempter’s pow’r?
Who, like Thyself, my guide and stay can be?
Through cloud and sunshine, Lord, abide with me.
I fear no foe, with Thee at hand to bless;
Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness;
Where is death’s sting? Where, grave, thy victory?
I triumph still, if Thou abide with me..
A young, newly widowed father believes in simple things, though. That we should think of others before ourselves. That God is love, pure and simple. And that people are basically good at heart.
Sweet and patient, Reverend Tyler Caskey is in deep grief, however. The wife he so adored has just died in an excruciating condition and out of practicality's sake, his toddler daughter is now staying at his mom's place, well out of his little parish. Most troubling is the violent screaming his five year old is hurling at teachers in kindergarten and her drawings of stiletto high heels stabbing her teacher in the heart.
Tyler cannot escape the burden of hearing his parishioners' lists of heartache and sins. He cannot equate his extremely quiet little girl with the little psychopath that knocks fear into teachers. His only source of relief is in the older lady who has been hired to help out with housework, but when she too unburdens herself of a painful past, things snowball into an ugly mess.
Despite the title - the name of Tyler's favorite hymn - and his sermons, his genuine love for his fellow man, this is not a particularly religious book. But he is the epitome of what a religious man should be. Does he have failings? BIG TIME. And there is a big reveal in here that'll surprise you.
What we find in this story is humbleness - the admittance of how insult and grief wound us. Our confession that we cannot go things alone. And there is also a quiet strength in letting go, in forgiving, and accepting love. We could all use a little of that. Beautiful book.
The hymn?
Abide with me; fast falls the eventide;
The darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide;
When other helpers fail and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, oh, abide with me.
I need Thy presence every passing hour;
What but Thy grace can foil the tempter’s pow’r?
Who, like Thyself, my guide and stay can be?
Through cloud and sunshine, Lord, abide with me.
I fear no foe, with Thee at hand to bless;
Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness;
Where is death’s sting? Where, grave, thy victory?
I triumph still, if Thou abide with me..
March 8, 2018
This is my third book by Elizabeth Strout and she is fast becoming one of my go to authors. I know I will be completely immersed in her stories and enjoy every minute spent reading them.
August 2, 2025
3.5
"Lauren Caskey was different from what had been expected. Whatever people expected—she wasn’t it."
When the book opens, it’s with an unusual ‘once upon a time’ introduction as if telling a visitor, perhaps, about the winter of 1959 when a minister lived near the Sabbanock River with his young daughter while his baby daughter was living with his mother.
The narrator says you may find people who remember him, but take their accounts with a grain of salt. What we do know is that the minister, Tyler Caskey, is a widower and his little girl didn’t speak for a long time after her mother died. Her teacher is worried. She doesn’t speak and doesn’t mix.
"He thought of the teacher’s high-pitched voice 'No one plays with her'—and was assaulted by a memory: his sister, Belle, standing on the playground in Shirley Falls, alone."
Anyone who has been there and done that knows exactly how crushing that would feel. Katherine is only five, her mother has died, and her baby sister is living with her grandmother, because nobody expected a man to be able to look after a baby. Tyler finds it hard to believe the teacher doesn't understand that.
But he does note that his mother"had never, by the way, offered to take in little Katherine, too.
No, Katherine was his.
'Cross to bear'—words that shot through his mind now, and made him grimace, for she was not his cross to bear. She was his gift from God."
He admits to himself something is off, and now he has to meet Katherine's teacher, which proves to be awkward.
Later we learn about how he and his wife met, the kind of woman and mother she was, and how the town felt about their arrival. Strout tells us they thought their new minister was just what they wanted, but his wife was some kind of exotic creature.
""Tyler Caskey’s arrival was as surprising as it would have been if a big, vigorous bear had swum up the river and climbed onto the banks. He was a large man, tall and big-boned, and to shake his hand was kind of like taking the hand of a bear in your own. His voice, in keeping with the rest of him, was deep and resonant, and what saved him from being 'too much' was a gentleness of expression that passed frequently over his features, and the way his pale Puritan eyes would twinkle as he thrust his head forward and down slightly, to look the person he was talking to straight in the eye.
. . .
the women of the church, and most of the men, had found him to be uniquely watchable, compelling in a way quite different from his wife, although she was a woman of some pulchritude. Lauren Caskey, it’s true, had ended up becoming a town legend, but she’d certainly been talked about from the very beginning, when she had first shown up to have dinner with the deacons and their wives. "
She certainly was talked about. West Annett, a small town in Maine, doesn't know quite what to make of their minister's gorgeous wife, and when some of his new congregation invite them to a welcome dinner, the ladies are quick to note Lauren’s city style.
"And while her shoes—perfectly lovely things, but with a ‘strap’ over the heel, and still snow on the ground!—were not as big as the rest of her seemed to require, her calves were magnificent and shapely, seen in their nylon stockings as she stepped through the door,. . . "
She brings a potted plant as a hostess gift, which was accepted graciously. The evening goes well, but it’s the post mortem we want to hear.
"The expression on her face was hard to read, people agreed later. Those staring brown eyes, and her full face framed by the strawberry-red hair."
It's a Strout small town with people who are not as simple as they seem nor easy to fool. Tyler tries to be everything to everybody, referring often to Bible passages or advice from his past about always putting other people before himself.
While I feel I understood the various characters, I was never as invested in them as people or their individual histories as I have been in Strout's other stories. Mind you, 'Olive' and 'Lucy' and their extended community are a hard act to follow, although technically, this was written first. Also, I often gloss over the churchy side of things in Strout's other work, but the church is hard to ignore in this one.
I think that's my problem, not the author's, and I'm sure other Strout fans will enjoy this more than I did.
"Lauren Caskey was different from what had been expected. Whatever people expected—she wasn’t it."
When the book opens, it’s with an unusual ‘once upon a time’ introduction as if telling a visitor, perhaps, about the winter of 1959 when a minister lived near the Sabbanock River with his young daughter while his baby daughter was living with his mother.
The narrator says you may find people who remember him, but take their accounts with a grain of salt. What we do know is that the minister, Tyler Caskey, is a widower and his little girl didn’t speak for a long time after her mother died. Her teacher is worried. She doesn’t speak and doesn’t mix.
"He thought of the teacher’s high-pitched voice 'No one plays with her'—and was assaulted by a memory: his sister, Belle, standing on the playground in Shirley Falls, alone."
Anyone who has been there and done that knows exactly how crushing that would feel. Katherine is only five, her mother has died, and her baby sister is living with her grandmother, because nobody expected a man to be able to look after a baby. Tyler finds it hard to believe the teacher doesn't understand that.
But he does note that his mother"had never, by the way, offered to take in little Katherine, too.
No, Katherine was his.
'Cross to bear'—words that shot through his mind now, and made him grimace, for she was not his cross to bear. She was his gift from God."
He admits to himself something is off, and now he has to meet Katherine's teacher, which proves to be awkward.
Later we learn about how he and his wife met, the kind of woman and mother she was, and how the town felt about their arrival. Strout tells us they thought their new minister was just what they wanted, but his wife was some kind of exotic creature.
""Tyler Caskey’s arrival was as surprising as it would have been if a big, vigorous bear had swum up the river and climbed onto the banks. He was a large man, tall and big-boned, and to shake his hand was kind of like taking the hand of a bear in your own. His voice, in keeping with the rest of him, was deep and resonant, and what saved him from being 'too much' was a gentleness of expression that passed frequently over his features, and the way his pale Puritan eyes would twinkle as he thrust his head forward and down slightly, to look the person he was talking to straight in the eye.
. . .
the women of the church, and most of the men, had found him to be uniquely watchable, compelling in a way quite different from his wife, although she was a woman of some pulchritude. Lauren Caskey, it’s true, had ended up becoming a town legend, but she’d certainly been talked about from the very beginning, when she had first shown up to have dinner with the deacons and their wives. "
She certainly was talked about. West Annett, a small town in Maine, doesn't know quite what to make of their minister's gorgeous wife, and when some of his new congregation invite them to a welcome dinner, the ladies are quick to note Lauren’s city style.
"And while her shoes—perfectly lovely things, but with a ‘strap’ over the heel, and still snow on the ground!—were not as big as the rest of her seemed to require, her calves were magnificent and shapely, seen in their nylon stockings as she stepped through the door,. . . "
She brings a potted plant as a hostess gift, which was accepted graciously. The evening goes well, but it’s the post mortem we want to hear.
"The expression on her face was hard to read, people agreed later. Those staring brown eyes, and her full face framed by the strawberry-red hair."
It's a Strout small town with people who are not as simple as they seem nor easy to fool. Tyler tries to be everything to everybody, referring often to Bible passages or advice from his past about always putting other people before himself.
While I feel I understood the various characters, I was never as invested in them as people or their individual histories as I have been in Strout's other stories. Mind you, 'Olive' and 'Lucy' and their extended community are a hard act to follow, although technically, this was written first. Also, I often gloss over the churchy side of things in Strout's other work, but the church is hard to ignore in this one.
I think that's my problem, not the author's, and I'm sure other Strout fans will enjoy this more than I did.
December 5, 2025
"...today ... was lovely in its sunny brightness, the tops of those distant trees a brave and brilliant yellowy-red. Even keeping in mind how this kind of autumn day can be an awful thing, harsh and sharp as broken glass, the sky so blue it could break down the middle, the day was perfectly beautiful, too."
Strout lays the groundwork for her novel Abide with Me with her beautiful prose, creating a sense of place and describing the people of West Annett in 1959. Her characters, shaped by their Puritan heritage and the harsh Maine climate, are complex, nuanced, and real.
Then she slowly slips in notes of disquiet. Lauren has died, Katherine has stopped speaking, Jeannie is living with her grandmother, and Tyler is mired in grief. Something is wrong with Connie, Charlie and Doris are fighting, and rumor and gossip fly. Strout is deliberate with her pacing. I am aware that a lot is going on under the surface in this small town and the tale slowly evolves.
Strout invites me to look closely, think deeply, and dig for my love and compassion for others. As Tyler says, “The question is — how do I live my life? Do I live my life as though it matters? That our relationship to God, to one another, to our ourselves — matters.”
Most of us carry wounds and Strout reminds me that healing is always possible and it's important to help each other along the way.
"No one, to my knowledge, has figured out the secret to love. We love imperfectly . . . . But I think -- I think the ability to receive love is as important as the ability to give it. It's one and the same, really."
Publication 2006
Strout lays the groundwork for her novel Abide with Me with her beautiful prose, creating a sense of place and describing the people of West Annett in 1959. Her characters, shaped by their Puritan heritage and the harsh Maine climate, are complex, nuanced, and real.
Then she slowly slips in notes of disquiet. Lauren has died, Katherine has stopped speaking, Jeannie is living with her grandmother, and Tyler is mired in grief. Something is wrong with Connie, Charlie and Doris are fighting, and rumor and gossip fly. Strout is deliberate with her pacing. I am aware that a lot is going on under the surface in this small town and the tale slowly evolves.
Strout invites me to look closely, think deeply, and dig for my love and compassion for others. As Tyler says, “The question is — how do I live my life? Do I live my life as though it matters? That our relationship to God, to one another, to our ourselves — matters.”
Most of us carry wounds and Strout reminds me that healing is always possible and it's important to help each other along the way.
"No one, to my knowledge, has figured out the secret to love. We love imperfectly . . . . But I think -- I think the ability to receive love is as important as the ability to give it. It's one and the same, really."
Publication 2006
January 26, 2020
Ho letto un anomalo ma bellissimo romanzo di formazione, nel quale a crescere è una comunità di persone, gli abitanti di West Annett, una piccola comunità rurale del Maine, espressione della provincia americana tradizionalista e conservatrice, chiusa ai forestieri, agli ebrei e alle novità quali la moglie del pastore giunta dalla città, una donna sexy, elegante, appariscente e per nulla dedita alle associazioni filantropiche, a fare torte e marmellate, ricami e centrini all’uncinetto e al pettegolezzo che anima i lunghi inverni freddi e nevosi del Maine, nei quali l’unico divertimento è travestirsi da Padri Pellegrini, gli antenati che orgogliosamente vengono evocati. A crescere, in questa e con questa comunità, è il protagonista del romanzo, il pastore, Tyler Caskey, provato dalle intemperie della vita, insieme alla sua dolcissima bimba senza voce. Una crescita che vuol dire accettazione di sé stessi e della contraddittorietà di un’esistenza che, a ciascuno, toglie e dà tanto.
L’inno che dà il titolo al romanzo è una richiesta che ciascuno rivolge agli altri e a Dio, affinchè ciascuno affronti le proprie colpe, il proprio passato e la memoria, insieme alla comunità con la quale convive, dandosi coraggio e conforto l’un l’altro, quali deboli esseri umani, che guardano a un Dio incomprensibile, vicino nelle preghiere ma lontano dalla miseria umana.
Non so cosa dire sul romanzo in sé, se non che è confortevole, caldo, tenero, ricco, poetico. Una perla.
L’inno che dà il titolo al romanzo è una richiesta che ciascuno rivolge agli altri e a Dio, affinchè ciascuno affronti le proprie colpe, il proprio passato e la memoria, insieme alla comunità con la quale convive, dandosi coraggio e conforto l’un l’altro, quali deboli esseri umani, che guardano a un Dio incomprensibile, vicino nelle preghiere ma lontano dalla miseria umana.
Non so cosa dire sul romanzo in sé, se non che è confortevole, caldo, tenero, ricco, poetico. Una perla.
November 14, 2021
Tyler Caskey is a grieving minister in a small Maine town in 1959. He's having a difficult time functioning since the death of his wife. Tyler is the father of two young girls--Katherine who is living with him, and Jeannie who is being cared for at his mother's home. Katherine needs a parent's love and attention, and is acting out in kindergarten. Gossips in the parish talk about Katherine's behavior, and spread false rumors about Tyler.
Tyler feels inadequate when he compares himself to his hero, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the German minister who was executed by the Nazis. Tyler's father told him to "always think of the other man first" as he lived his life. But Tyler now needs help and love from others.
The words of his favorite hymn, "Abide With Me," offer comfort to Tyler, and lines of the hymn are sprinkled throughout the book. As always, Elizabeth Strout's prose is gorgeous and she provides lovely descriptions of nature in northern Maine. There are many flawed people in the congregation, but giving and receiving love starts healing relationships.
"What Tyler longed for was to have The Feeling arrive; when every flicker of light that touched the dipping branches of a weeping willow, every breath of breeze that bent the grass toward the row of apple trees, every shower of yellow ginkgo leaves dropping to the ground with such direct and tender sweetness, would fill the minister with profound and irreducible knowledge that God was right there."
"When other helpers fail and comforts flee . . . O Lord, abide with me."
Tyler feels inadequate when he compares himself to his hero, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the German minister who was executed by the Nazis. Tyler's father told him to "always think of the other man first" as he lived his life. But Tyler now needs help and love from others.
The words of his favorite hymn, "Abide With Me," offer comfort to Tyler, and lines of the hymn are sprinkled throughout the book. As always, Elizabeth Strout's prose is gorgeous and she provides lovely descriptions of nature in northern Maine. There are many flawed people in the congregation, but giving and receiving love starts healing relationships.
"What Tyler longed for was to have The Feeling arrive; when every flicker of light that touched the dipping branches of a weeping willow, every breath of breeze that bent the grass toward the row of apple trees, every shower of yellow ginkgo leaves dropping to the ground with such direct and tender sweetness, would fill the minister with profound and irreducible knowledge that God was right there."
"When other helpers fail and comforts flee . . . O Lord, abide with me."
October 22, 2021
5 Stars 🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟
July 31, 2025
A lovely, sad and subtle book about grief and finding friendship in the most unexpected of places; accepting one another. It’s also about the dangerous effect of gossip in a small sleepy Maine town focusing on Rev Taylor Caskey, his daughter Katharine, and housekeeper Connie Hatch.
The conflict is about Taylor's guilt over his wife Lauren's death, and not-opening up.
Then there is Connie’s secret of having assisted the suicide of former people she took care of, and Katharine's inability to speak after the death of her mother.
The conflict is about Taylor's guilt over his wife Lauren's death, and not-opening up.
Then there is Connie’s secret of having assisted the suicide of former people she took care of, and Katharine's inability to speak after the death of her mother.
May 3, 2020
(4.5) My fourth of Strout’s seven novels, this fell just below Olive, Again for me. Set in West Annett, Maine in 1959, it is the story of Tyler Caskey, a widowed pastor whose five-year-old daughter, Katherine, has gone mute and started acting up in school and at church. Tyler’s mother took in his baby daughter, Jeannie, after Lauren’s death, but even looking after the older girl becomes more than he can handle when his housekeeper, Connie, goes missing, wanted by the police for mysterious incidents from her time working in a care home for the elderly. Though he admires the bold faith of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, mild-mannered Tyler has always been “Reverend Don’t Make Waves.” Everyone wants something from him now – whether absolution, reassurance or a new church organ – and it seems most of his parishioners expect him to fail, or are even perversely hoping for him to fall apart.
As usual, Strout’s characters are painfully real, flawed people, often struggling with damaging obsessions. She tenderly probes the dark places of the community and its minister’s doubts, but finds the light shining through. There was a sexually explicit subplot I thought unnecessary (as in Olive, Again), but that didn’t take away from my overall enjoyment very much. From first line to last word, this was gorgeous. I’ll read the rest of Strout’s work as soon as my library reopens.
A favorite passage:
“His job was to stand in church with his shoulders back and his chin up, and make his congregation understand that being a Christian was not a hobby. Being a Christian was serious stuff. Being a Christian meant asking yourself every step of the way: How can love best be served? His job was to be their leader, their teacher, their example. A small parish, perhaps. Not a small job.”
As usual, Strout’s characters are painfully real, flawed people, often struggling with damaging obsessions. She tenderly probes the dark places of the community and its minister’s doubts, but finds the light shining through. There was a sexually explicit subplot I thought unnecessary (as in Olive, Again), but that didn’t take away from my overall enjoyment very much. From first line to last word, this was gorgeous. I’ll read the rest of Strout’s work as soon as my library reopens.
A favorite passage:
“His job was to stand in church with his shoulders back and his chin up, and make his congregation understand that being a Christian was not a hobby. Being a Christian was serious stuff. Being a Christian meant asking yourself every step of the way: How can love best be served? His job was to be their leader, their teacher, their example. A small parish, perhaps. Not a small job.”
May 23, 2015
On the surface, this should not be an especially interesting book. The topic--a small town pastor's relationship with his congregation in 1950s rural Maine--isn't exactly action-packed. In addition, the pace is fairly slow, most of the important moments take place internally, and very little actually happens.
Yet, I found it completely compelling.
Strout is a master at using details and small metaphors to show us someone's state of mind. And the writing itself is so gorgeous that this novel is rewarding to read just for the pure pleasure of immersing yourself in something so beautiful. That said, I would not recommend this book to anyone who needs a lot of adrenaline in their fiction. This is a hearty stew, not a candy bar.
Yet, I found it completely compelling.
Strout is a master at using details and small metaphors to show us someone's state of mind. And the writing itself is so gorgeous that this novel is rewarding to read just for the pure pleasure of immersing yourself in something so beautiful. That said, I would not recommend this book to anyone who needs a lot of adrenaline in their fiction. This is a hearty stew, not a candy bar.
March 27, 2024
Straordinario talento di narratrice quello di Elisabeth Strout che costruisce intorno alla figura fisicamente imponente, spiritualmente umanissima del pastore Tyler un coro di personaggi a cui viene data voce e dignità di co-protagonisti della vicenda entro la quale si snoda il racconto.
La morte della bella e giovane moglie del pastore, il silenzio terrorizzato in cui si rinchiude la figlioletta, l'angoscia trattenuta che sommerge via via uno sperduto ed eroicamente resistente Tyler sono i temi centrali: vi si innestano, collaterali e indipendenti, le questioni e i drammi degli abitanti di una piccola città del Maine, intorno agli anni Cinquanta, dando vita così al mirabile affresco che prende via via la forma di un autentico capolavoro.
La talentuosa disinvoltura con cui Strout si muove tra presente e passato, tra ciò che è detto (dialoghi superlativi) e ciò che rimane sepolto e appare/dispare tra le pieghe oscure dell'anima merita da sola il Pulitzer che successivamente le è stato assegnato per Olive Kitteridge.
I temi della fede e del dubbio, del dolore e della speranza, della felicità inutilmente cercata nell'ostinazione verso fatui desideri, i difetti e le virtù, la rabbia taciuta e quella messa a nudo, i legami avvinghianti e la rete delle chiacchiere che senza scampo vanno intrappolando la nuda verità del sentire: questo e tanto altro questo e tanto altro si dispiega nella perfezione di un racconto intenso e toccante.
E ultima nell'ordine, ma non per valore, la spirale dolce e terribile che conduce l'avvinto lettore a uno struggente delicatissimo finale.
Riletto il 27/3/2024
La morte della bella e giovane moglie del pastore, il silenzio terrorizzato in cui si rinchiude la figlioletta, l'angoscia trattenuta che sommerge via via uno sperduto ed eroicamente resistente Tyler sono i temi centrali: vi si innestano, collaterali e indipendenti, le questioni e i drammi degli abitanti di una piccola città del Maine, intorno agli anni Cinquanta, dando vita così al mirabile affresco che prende via via la forma di un autentico capolavoro.
La talentuosa disinvoltura con cui Strout si muove tra presente e passato, tra ciò che è detto (dialoghi superlativi) e ciò che rimane sepolto e appare/dispare tra le pieghe oscure dell'anima merita da sola il Pulitzer che successivamente le è stato assegnato per Olive Kitteridge.
I temi della fede e del dubbio, del dolore e della speranza, della felicità inutilmente cercata nell'ostinazione verso fatui desideri, i difetti e le virtù, la rabbia taciuta e quella messa a nudo, i legami avvinghianti e la rete delle chiacchiere che senza scampo vanno intrappolando la nuda verità del sentire: questo e tanto altro questo e tanto altro si dispiega nella perfezione di un racconto intenso e toccante.
E ultima nell'ordine, ma non per valore, la spirale dolce e terribile che conduce l'avvinto lettore a uno struggente delicatissimo finale.
Riletto il 27/3/2024
August 23, 2026
Abide with me! fast falls the eventide;
The darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide!
When other helpers fail and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, oh abide with me. —ABIDE WITH ME
Although, Abide with Me was published by Elizabeth Strout in 2006, somehow it has eluded me until now. And I must say that although this was at times a rough go, it may be my favorite book by Ms. Strout.
This quiet and melancholy novel is set in the 1950s in a small Maine town, West Annett, where the tale is centered on a young Congregational minister who has lost his wife following a prolonged illness, and is struggling with his faith in the midst of all of this tragedy. Tyler Crasky has always believed he had a calling, and loved preaching, and his congregation loved him. But all that changed when his beautiful young wife, Lauren, died leaving him with two little girls and a crisis of faith. Because as Reverend Clasky falters, his congregation turns away from him. His five-year old imaginative and sensitive daughter, Katherine, traumatized by the death of her mother, stops speaking and is displaying anti-social behaviors at school. The telephone call from Katherine’s teacher to report this behavior sets off a chain of events that begins to tear down Tyler’s defenses. His toddler daughter, Jeannie, is with his overbearing mother in upstate Maine, coming each weekend so that the family can be together. As the deep and dark secrets of this small town are slowly revealed, it is realized that these residents are fundamentally flawed and react in destructive ways to this crisis. The melancholy prose powerfully conveys Tyler’s sense of internal confinement and despair.
And then, putting his hands to his face; “I wonder if we are all condemned forever to live outside the grace of God.”
“Anyone who has ever grieved knows that grieving carries with it a tremendous wear and tear to the body itself, never mind the soul. Loss is an assault; a certain exhaustion, as strong as the pull of the moon on the tides, needs to be allowed for eventually.”
This startlingly beautiful novel, Abide With Me, is about love and abandonment, faith and hypocrisy. I also loved the inclusion of the words and beliefs of many philosophers, Catholic saints, and theologians over the years, namely the German theologian, Dietrich Bonhoeffer. And there were also the words and wisdom of Soren Kierkegaard. A literary treasure, indeed.
August 30, 2017
"I wonder if we are all condemned to live outside the grace of God." Reverent Tyler Caskey in Abide with Me.
I have long wanted to read Elizabeth Strout's second novel Abide with Me , ever since I first heard about it. Strout has been one of my favorite authors since Olive Kitteridge was being passed around a group of reading church friends ten years ago. I was lucky to review galleys of My Name is Lucy Barton and Anything is Possible.
Abide by Me drew me in particular because it is about a minister in crisis whose congregation turns on him when he is most vulnerable. It tests the faith of Reverend Tyler Caskey and that of his church in West Annett, MA.
My husband is a retired clergyman and I saw close up the parsonage experience and the blessings and burdens congregations can be to their spiritual leaders. Strout has a wise understanding of human nature, and it is evident in this book.
Set in the late 1950s, the novel begins with Tyler deep in depression two years after his wife died of cancer, caring for his equally depressed oldest daughter while his mother has taken over his youngest daughter to raise.
"Life, he would think. How mysterious and magnificent, such abundance!"
Tyler's wife Lauren had lit the room with joy. He marveled how he had been so lucky to be loved by this woman. They married while he was at seminary. And if she was no stereotype of a pastor's wife, Tyler accepted her for who she was. In fact she was the direct opposite of what people expect a pastor's wife to be: Lauren was fashionable and pretty; she loved to gossip and shop and hated the "grim politeness" of the church women; and she had no interest in prayers or even religion. She said, "my God," and dressed wrong, and could not understand why the country roads had no road signs so people could find their way around. (I felt the same way about the lack of road signs when we were at small town church!)
The church had inherited a shabby farm house and sold the more valuable town parsonage, leaving the isolated and decrepit house for their pastor. I shuddered, how cold a thing to do, and yet how typical. It was 'good enough' for the pastor; after all he got free housing, he should be grateful. I know those 'good enough', hand-me-down, low grade, cheap fulfillment of obligations, always with the excuse that the church has no money, even when the parishioners live far better. A man of God and his wife ought to be humble and unworldly!
When Lauren sees the parsonage she cries. Oh, boy, I got that. I once cried too, seeing a run down, small, badly placed house we were to live in after enjoying nine years in a beautiful, well maintained parsonage in one of the best neighborhoods.
Relegated to the smelly and depressing house, Lauren asks to paint the living room and dining room pink. Then the children came, and she loved them dearly, but she hated the lack of money and ran up big credit bills. She missed television and girl friends and having fun, and became petulant and distant towards Tyler.
Hints are dropped about Lauren's past, how she hated her father who used to bathe her and her friends, and how her mother commented that Lauren was wild and unpredictable and they were happy to see her married. Lauren tells her one confidant that she had many beaus before Tyler.
Lauren did not accept cancer and the inevitable early death, but was angry and lashed out. She never liked the church-funded housekeeper, Connie, and banned her from the house.
Tyler liked Connie's quiet demeanor. After Lauren' death, Connie becomes important to Tyler, who depends on her to keep the house going. He has lost his joy and is just going through the motions. He fails his daughter Katheryn, who stops talking and acts out in school, her hair always knotted and unbrushed. Her teacher actually hates the child. Meanwhile, Tyler's mother is pushing a woman upon him and holds his youngest daughter hostage.
Tyler is humble and determined to be meek and always above personal feelings and bias. Women in the church turn against Tyler, feeling slighted by his lack of attention and safe distance from church politics. Connie turns up missing, accused of theft, and the rumor network starts buzzing that Tyler and Connie were involved. The people turn vicious. And I have experienced what it is like when congregants talk about the pastor behind closed doors, and stare coldly at him in public, feeling righteous, judging and unaware of their own sin in judging.
When Tyler finds Connie, she confesses acts which she has done out of love but which are considered heinous by social and moral law. Tyler has also been struggling with guilt. He forgives Connie. Can he forgive himself?
"They need to go after someone, especially when they sniff weakness under what's supposed to be strong," Tyler is told.
When Tyler reaches the end of his rope and can no longer pretend he is in control, grace comes in unexpected ways.
In the Notes, Strout says she was interested in story, not theology: how does on live life? Does it matter how one lives? "I can only hope that readers will not only be entertained by the stories I tell, but be moved to reckon with their own sense of mystery and awe," Strout ends. "Through the telling of stories and the reading of stories, we have a chance to see something about ourselves and others that maybe we knew, but didn't know we knew. We can wonder for a moment, if, for all our separate histories, we are not more alike than different after all."
And that I what I adore about reading Strout, that connection that she offers with love and sensitivity, the universal human experience of wounded people discovering how to live.
October 9, 2024
This was a hard book to get in to, and usually I am all in with Strout books. Because I am a big Olive Kitteridge fan. But this one, was tough. But, once I did, it was worth it in the end.
There is lots of drama here.
Death. Couple of murders. Rumors and gossip. Betrayal. Sex. Marital infidelity. Lots of secrets.
But let me be clear. Most all of it happens offstage, and what the reader gets is the aftermath. Decent ordinary people dealing with the aftermath of all of what I just mentioned.
This book introduces an intriguing premise. We have a small-town minister who is recently bereaved, raising his eldest daughter on his own.
As the reader, we want to know what happened in the past – what happened to the wife? – what will happen in the future? – how will the little girl survive her grief?
Tyler, the small-town minister seems such a good man. And Katherine, his daughter, so silent so heartbroken. How will they get through all of this?
Eventually, by being patient, (because sometimes it seemed like Strout veered off into passages that didn’t seem to make sense), I began to feel for these characters.
My heart was there for the characters. Strout invited me to look closely and think deeply and forgive and be human.
Because some of those other characters were truly mean-spirited.
And when you get mad at characters, you know you are invested in what is happening within the story.
Tyler says, “The question is – how do I live my life? Do I live my life as though it matters? That our relationship to God, to one another, to ourselves – matters.”
And Tyler has his opportunity to give his best sermon when it matters, which allows the congregation to become their better selves.
One of the things that Strout shares at the end of the book as a note is the following…
“Through the telling of stories and the reading of stories, we have a chance to see something about ourselves and others that maybe we knew, but didn’t know we knew. We can wonder for a moment if, for all our separate histories, we are not more alike than different after all.”
There is lots of drama here.
Death. Couple of murders. Rumors and gossip. Betrayal. Sex. Marital infidelity. Lots of secrets.
But let me be clear. Most all of it happens offstage, and what the reader gets is the aftermath. Decent ordinary people dealing with the aftermath of all of what I just mentioned.
This book introduces an intriguing premise. We have a small-town minister who is recently bereaved, raising his eldest daughter on his own.
As the reader, we want to know what happened in the past – what happened to the wife? – what will happen in the future? – how will the little girl survive her grief?
Tyler, the small-town minister seems such a good man. And Katherine, his daughter, so silent so heartbroken. How will they get through all of this?
Eventually, by being patient, (because sometimes it seemed like Strout veered off into passages that didn’t seem to make sense), I began to feel for these characters.
My heart was there for the characters. Strout invited me to look closely and think deeply and forgive and be human.
Because some of those other characters were truly mean-spirited.
And when you get mad at characters, you know you are invested in what is happening within the story.
Tyler says, “The question is – how do I live my life? Do I live my life as though it matters? That our relationship to God, to one another, to ourselves – matters.”
And Tyler has his opportunity to give his best sermon when it matters, which allows the congregation to become their better selves.
One of the things that Strout shares at the end of the book as a note is the following…
“Through the telling of stories and the reading of stories, we have a chance to see something about ourselves and others that maybe we knew, but didn’t know we knew. We can wonder for a moment if, for all our separate histories, we are not more alike than different after all.”
January 17, 2026
Young pastor Tyler moves to a small town in Maine with his new wife. It is his first congregation, he experiences tragedy, loss, grief. This story demonstrates the pain and damage that gossip and rumor can cause. Tyler definitely had to pick up his cross, he managed to be strong and vulnerable all at the same time. He stayed true to who he was on the inside and kept his faith.
This book resonated with me, Elizabeth Strout is a great writer who can take what seems ordinary and mundane and write it into a meaningful and memorable story.
This book resonated with me, Elizabeth Strout is a great writer who can take what seems ordinary and mundane and write it into a meaningful and memorable story.
December 12, 2024
As another reviewer said, "It takes a powerful writer to render the ordinariness of our lives in such an engaging manner," and that is exactly what Elizabeth Strout does with perfection. I love her writing and including this book, which is a gem, I have read 7 of Strout's 9 books with the remaining 2 waiting for me on hold. Her character development is multi-layered, deep, and believable. This is not an action story with big surprises, or complicated plot , but it is a quiet story which takes place in a small New England town, and is of a young minister who is recovering from the death of his wife leaving him with 2 little girls to raise alone, but with the bigger struggle of dealing with the problems of his congregation. It is a beautifully quiet and thoughtful book. It is a meditation on life, with support by Bonhoeffer and Kierkegaard, which I so appreciated, and the ideas are big ones such as the nature of God, grief, betrayal, forgiveness and redemption, even euthanasia, but Strout's prose is spare and precise, and the story is told in a lovely approachable way so that you can wrestle with the ideas as much or as little as you like. I listened to the audio version and the narration was excellent.
June 20, 2018
I really enjoyed this book. The story was set in Maine not far away from Shirley Falls which is the setting for another book by this author. It centers around Tyler Caskey who is a newly ordained minister and his family. Within the five years since his move to West Annett he and his wife have had two girls and and lost his wife to cancer. His girls are split apart Katherine living with him and Jenny with his mother back in Shirley Falls. Katherine has a hard time socializing in her kindergarten class and the teacher after having a "so called child psychologist " test her, thinks she is "retarded"(mind you this is 1959) and feels she should be in a special school not the school she is in . Of course her father is upset and his response to the teacher is twisted to make her look like the injured party to her friends and husband.
How about when poor Katherine hears in her church class how the Christians who told the truth about themselves were fed to the lions, why would someone say that to a five year old, terrifying the kid? So with the loss of her mother who she was very fond of, her sister in another home and a busy dad do you wonder why she behaves in school as she does?
Of course the congregation gossips about his wife, then when she dies, thinks he's having an affair with his housekeeper Connie who is married. Both he and Connie are guilty of murder, his because he left the meds where his wife could get at them and she died , and Connie by overfeeding the patient so they aspirated. Connie was wrong but she felt that the patient was in such a state that she was helping, but it was still wrong and she confesses and goes to jail. But in Tyler's case it was his wife's choice but he still feels guilty for leaving the meds near her.
He wrestles with his believes and gets so upset that after all the stuff with his daughter and Connie , he literally stands at the pulpet and cries . He expects to be fired but his congregation still wants him and they feel sorry for how they treated him. In the end he makes a decision to stay but changes his home and brings his other daughter home. The ending is beautiful how he has Katherine with him to say goodbye to their old home together.
The story is written so beautifully with the hymn from which the title comes from being the Minister's favorite and how Doris plays it when he loses it on the pulpet. Abide with me.
How about when poor Katherine hears in her church class how the Christians who told the truth about themselves were fed to the lions, why would someone say that to a five year old, terrifying the kid? So with the loss of her mother who she was very fond of, her sister in another home and a busy dad do you wonder why she behaves in school as she does?
Of course the congregation gossips about his wife, then when she dies, thinks he's having an affair with his housekeeper Connie who is married. Both he and Connie are guilty of murder, his because he left the meds where his wife could get at them and she died , and Connie by overfeeding the patient so they aspirated. Connie was wrong but she felt that the patient was in such a state that she was helping, but it was still wrong and she confesses and goes to jail. But in Tyler's case it was his wife's choice but he still feels guilty for leaving the meds near her.
He wrestles with his believes and gets so upset that after all the stuff with his daughter and Connie , he literally stands at the pulpet and cries . He expects to be fired but his congregation still wants him and they feel sorry for how they treated him. In the end he makes a decision to stay but changes his home and brings his other daughter home. The ending is beautiful how he has Katherine with him to say goodbye to their old home together.
The story is written so beautifully with the hymn from which the title comes from being the Minister's favorite and how Doris plays it when he loses it on the pulpet. Abide with me.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
March 18, 2025
This is a gentle and tender tale about a minister and his young daughter, Katherine. Reverend Tyler Caskey, a New England minister, is heartbroken following the death of his wife, and little 5 year old Katherine has shut-down with grief. In this heartfelt story, Elizabeth explores Tyler’s struggles; from trying to hold his own family and church together to dealing with his own personal feelings of grief and trials and tribulations of his faith.
‘For the sake of God, he would do his job. He would pray that this centre of gravity would be where he was. And he was in West Annette. His job was to stand in church with his shoulders back on his chin up, and make his congregation understand that being a Christian was not a hobby… being a Christian asking yourself every step of the way: I can love best be served…’ 🙏🏼
I always know I am in good hands when it comes to reading a Strout book, and this was no exception. This story felt unique and took some unexpected turns. It is told slow, like a Sabbath Sunday, with exquisite detail and a compelling feel to it.
This was a story that challenged many aspects of human life. Everything from child psychology to family dynamics to murderous rumours. Yet, Strout narrates the highs and the lows with grace and love.
“Do not be afraid, for you are deeply loved by God. Be at peace; take heart and be strong.” 🥰
While Tyler is trying to piece his family back together, rumours and gossip spread like wildfire in this small town. And, to that he responds: “ God is not served when you speak with a relish of rumours about those who are per spirit and cannot be defended; God is not served when you ignored the poverty of spirit within yourselves.” - these rumours are set to ruin Tyler and tear his beloved family even further apart. As the small town goes into overdrive, Tyler faces his darkest moments….will his faith come crumbling down with him or give him the strength to carry on?
‘Heaven morning breaks, on earth’s vain shadows flee; In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me.’ 🕊️
🌟🌟🌟🌟
‘For the sake of God, he would do his job. He would pray that this centre of gravity would be where he was. And he was in West Annette. His job was to stand in church with his shoulders back on his chin up, and make his congregation understand that being a Christian was not a hobby… being a Christian asking yourself every step of the way: I can love best be served…’ 🙏🏼
I always know I am in good hands when it comes to reading a Strout book, and this was no exception. This story felt unique and took some unexpected turns. It is told slow, like a Sabbath Sunday, with exquisite detail and a compelling feel to it.
This was a story that challenged many aspects of human life. Everything from child psychology to family dynamics to murderous rumours. Yet, Strout narrates the highs and the lows with grace and love.
“Do not be afraid, for you are deeply loved by God. Be at peace; take heart and be strong.” 🥰
While Tyler is trying to piece his family back together, rumours and gossip spread like wildfire in this small town. And, to that he responds: “ God is not served when you speak with a relish of rumours about those who are per spirit and cannot be defended; God is not served when you ignored the poverty of spirit within yourselves.” - these rumours are set to ruin Tyler and tear his beloved family even further apart. As the small town goes into overdrive, Tyler faces his darkest moments….will his faith come crumbling down with him or give him the strength to carry on?
‘Heaven morning breaks, on earth’s vain shadows flee; In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me.’ 🕊️
🌟🌟🌟🌟
May 30, 2013
It's the late 1950s and Tyler is a small-town minister suffering overwhelming grief and depression after the death of his wife. His older daughter is acting out at school and desperately needs help too. The town's inhabitants are gossipy, judgmental and running out of patience with Tyler. Their lack of compassion and understanding was a bit shocking, but given the mindset of the times it's a little easier to understand. Still, it was difficult at times to read their thoughts and conversations.
Tyler is trying to fulfill his duties and be godly like Dietrich Bonhoeffer, a man Tyler greatly admires. He tries to find consolation and guidance in Bonhoeffer's writings and Scripture verses, both of which he often quotes silently in his thoughts. This was one of my favorite parts of the novel. I could feel Tyler's pain and his deep faith. Abide With Me is his favorite hymn. But he increasingly finds it difficult to continue on in a world that is full of grief, loneliness, and imperfection and he feels a disconnect between his faith and the world he suddenly finds himself in after his wife's death. Eventually, there is a crisis that tests not only Tyler but the townspeople.
This sounds like a sad and depressing read but due to Strout's skill and gentle beautiful prose I found it more contemplative than depressing. Strout writes about the ordinary and elevates it to the extraordinary. The ending is done well and leaves one with hope.
Tyler is trying to fulfill his duties and be godly like Dietrich Bonhoeffer, a man Tyler greatly admires. He tries to find consolation and guidance in Bonhoeffer's writings and Scripture verses, both of which he often quotes silently in his thoughts. This was one of my favorite parts of the novel. I could feel Tyler's pain and his deep faith. Abide With Me is his favorite hymn. But he increasingly finds it difficult to continue on in a world that is full of grief, loneliness, and imperfection and he feels a disconnect between his faith and the world he suddenly finds himself in after his wife's death. Eventually, there is a crisis that tests not only Tyler but the townspeople.
This sounds like a sad and depressing read but due to Strout's skill and gentle beautiful prose I found it more contemplative than depressing. Strout writes about the ordinary and elevates it to the extraordinary. The ending is done well and leaves one with hope.
August 16, 2012
This is a beautiful book. It is a testimony to the enduring power of love. I want to write a review that I believe is worthy of the story and I can't seem to find the words. So, I am just going to encourage you to read it and hope that you enjoy as much as I.
August 15, 2017
Ancora una volta New England, ancora una volta il Maine, ancora una volta nei dintorni di Shirley Falls, la cittadina immaginaria già teatro delle vicende di "Amy e Isabelle".
È come se fosse ovattata questa storia, come se tutto, i suoni, i colori, le parole, fossero attutiti dalla neve che copre come una fredda coperta il paesaggio circostante, da quei fiocchi bianchi come denti di leone che cadevano dal cielo che ammantano le strade di West Annett.
Eppure, questo, è forse il più duro dei tre romanzi di Elizabeth Strout, quello che pur muovendosi attraverso i pensieri di Tyler, un pastore protestante vedovo ancora giovane e padre di due bambine piccole, pensieri che sono filtrati dalla sua fede e che nella scrittura sempre limpida e profonda dell'autrice, una trapunta di stelle nel cielo nel quale si incastonano, esaltandola e illuminandola, le parole dei Salmi e delle Scritture, finisce per essere il più crudele.
Così mentre continua a leggere i suoi sermoni, anziché impararli a memoria come faceva appena arrivato nella piccola comunità puritana e perbenista, sono gli ultimi mesi del 1959, anni in cui il conformismo e la paura del comunismo si fronteggiano in campo aperto, mentre continua a occuparsi di sé e di Katherine, e lascia che la madre si occupi della piccola Jeannie, mentre intorno a lui girano, come in un caleidoscopio in cui i colori e le immagini iniziano a muoversi in maniera sempre più vorticosa, Doris e il nuovo organo da acquistare per la chiesa, Connie il suo passato enigmatico, Charlie e le sue ossessioni sessuali, Allison e le sue torte di mele, l'invadenza della madre e le telefonate della sorella Belle, i continui richiami all'ordine della maestra e del direttore della scuola della bambina e persino le lezioni di psicologia infantile dell'esperta psicologa dell'ultima ora, Tyler inizia ad affondare lentamente nel vuoto della sua solitudine, nei pettegolezzi malevoli del suo gregge e della Società Benefica, nel silenzio di Katherine che esprime il suo dolore e il suo disagio provocato dall'assenza della madre attraverso l'aggressività e il mutismo in cui è piombata, nell'assenza di Lauren che, bella vitale ricca e viziata, e quindi inadeguata, ma proprio per questo unica, si fa ogni giorno più grande fino a diventare voragine. Una solitudine che come neve che scende, si posa, si incrosta e preme come un peso invisibile che opprime l'anima congelandola, che neanche il rifugiarsi nelle parole e nell'esempio degli scritti di Dietrich Bonhoeffer, teologo luterano tedesco che fu imprigionato e impiccato per aver partecipato al complotto per assassinare Hitler, modello di virtù per il reverendo Tyler, riesce in qualche modo ad alleviare o a sciogliere.
Fino al corto circuito, quando Tyler, nonostante tutto fermo e integro nella sua fede interiore perdendo sempre più la capacità di stupirsi e trovare l'incanto nella sua quotidianità, di trovare conforto al suo dolore negli altri e di offrire il proprio, nella famiglia e nella comunità di West Annett, viene messo da Belle e da George Atwood, suo mentore e preside del seminario frequentato in gioventù, di fronte a quelle che secondo me sono le frasi più rappresentative e i punti cruciali dell'intera storia, e con esse davanti al significato della sua esistenza.
Se pensi sempre prima al prossimo, non dovrai preoccuparti di quello che provi tu. Di quello che pensi tu gli dice la sorella in una delle consuete telefonate, mentre George, dal quale si è rifugiato per sfuggire dalla congregazione, alla costernata affermazione di Tyler Credo di non avere un baricentro, sembra non essere affatto turbato dalla sua riflessione; A dire il vero, potrei obiettare che nessuno di noi possiede un baricentro. Siamo continuamente strattonati qua e là da forze in conflitto e resistiamo meglio che possiamo, gli risponde.
Al centro di tutto, quindi, ma anche intorno a tutto e parte di tutto, le relazioni umane, in continuo scambio in cui dare e ricevere, vivere e morire, essere e diventare, comprendere e essere compresi, aiutano a capire che quel baricentro che Tyler va cercando dentro se stesso non può essere solo nella sua incrollabile fede, Vagavo solo come una nuvola cita la Strout tra le sue pagine la bellissima poesia di William Wordsworth, perché la fede senza gli altri, senza la condivisione, è nulla, ma che tutto intorno a lui, solo aprendo il suo cuore, può essere straordinario.
"La gente diventa nervosa quando. Hanno bisogno di prendersela con qualcuno quando fiutano la debolezza sotto la superficie di un uomo che credono forte."
http://youtu.be/AiMqaogEBCU
Vagavo da solo, come una nuvola
(I narcisi)
Vagavo da solo, come una nuvola
che fluttua alta su valli e colline,
quando d'un tratto vidi una folla,
una moltitudine di asfodeli dorati;
accanto al lago, sotto gli alberi,
ondeggiavano danzando nella brezza.
Continui come le stelle che brillano
e scintillano nella Via Lattea,
si stendevano in una linea senza fine
lungo il margine della baia;
diecimila ne vidi, ad un'occhiata,
agitare la testa in una danza gioiosa.
Danzavano le onde lì accanto; ma loro
ne superavano in splendore lo sfavillìo;
un poeta non poteva che esser felice,
in tale gaia compagnia.
Guardavo e guardavo senza ancora sapere
quale ricchezza mi avrebbe donato quella visione.
Poiché spesso, sdraiato sul letto
con l'animo vuoto o pensoso,
li rivedo in un balenìo con quell'occhio interiore
che è la benedizione della solitudine;
e allora il mio cuore si colma di piacere
e danza insieme ai fiori.
(William Wordsworth)
È come se fosse ovattata questa storia, come se tutto, i suoni, i colori, le parole, fossero attutiti dalla neve che copre come una fredda coperta il paesaggio circostante, da quei fiocchi bianchi come denti di leone che cadevano dal cielo che ammantano le strade di West Annett.
Eppure, questo, è forse il più duro dei tre romanzi di Elizabeth Strout, quello che pur muovendosi attraverso i pensieri di Tyler, un pastore protestante vedovo ancora giovane e padre di due bambine piccole, pensieri che sono filtrati dalla sua fede e che nella scrittura sempre limpida e profonda dell'autrice, una trapunta di stelle nel cielo nel quale si incastonano, esaltandola e illuminandola, le parole dei Salmi e delle Scritture, finisce per essere il più crudele.
Così mentre continua a leggere i suoi sermoni, anziché impararli a memoria come faceva appena arrivato nella piccola comunità puritana e perbenista, sono gli ultimi mesi del 1959, anni in cui il conformismo e la paura del comunismo si fronteggiano in campo aperto, mentre continua a occuparsi di sé e di Katherine, e lascia che la madre si occupi della piccola Jeannie, mentre intorno a lui girano, come in un caleidoscopio in cui i colori e le immagini iniziano a muoversi in maniera sempre più vorticosa, Doris e il nuovo organo da acquistare per la chiesa, Connie il suo passato enigmatico, Charlie e le sue ossessioni sessuali, Allison e le sue torte di mele, l'invadenza della madre e le telefonate della sorella Belle, i continui richiami all'ordine della maestra e del direttore della scuola della bambina e persino le lezioni di psicologia infantile dell'esperta psicologa dell'ultima ora, Tyler inizia ad affondare lentamente nel vuoto della sua solitudine, nei pettegolezzi malevoli del suo gregge e della Società Benefica, nel silenzio di Katherine che esprime il suo dolore e il suo disagio provocato dall'assenza della madre attraverso l'aggressività e il mutismo in cui è piombata, nell'assenza di Lauren che, bella vitale ricca e viziata, e quindi inadeguata, ma proprio per questo unica, si fa ogni giorno più grande fino a diventare voragine. Una solitudine che come neve che scende, si posa, si incrosta e preme come un peso invisibile che opprime l'anima congelandola, che neanche il rifugiarsi nelle parole e nell'esempio degli scritti di Dietrich Bonhoeffer, teologo luterano tedesco che fu imprigionato e impiccato per aver partecipato al complotto per assassinare Hitler, modello di virtù per il reverendo Tyler, riesce in qualche modo ad alleviare o a sciogliere.
Fino al corto circuito, quando Tyler, nonostante tutto fermo e integro nella sua fede interiore perdendo sempre più la capacità di stupirsi e trovare l'incanto nella sua quotidianità, di trovare conforto al suo dolore negli altri e di offrire il proprio, nella famiglia e nella comunità di West Annett, viene messo da Belle e da George Atwood, suo mentore e preside del seminario frequentato in gioventù, di fronte a quelle che secondo me sono le frasi più rappresentative e i punti cruciali dell'intera storia, e con esse davanti al significato della sua esistenza.
Se pensi sempre prima al prossimo, non dovrai preoccuparti di quello che provi tu. Di quello che pensi tu gli dice la sorella in una delle consuete telefonate, mentre George, dal quale si è rifugiato per sfuggire dalla congregazione, alla costernata affermazione di Tyler Credo di non avere un baricentro, sembra non essere affatto turbato dalla sua riflessione; A dire il vero, potrei obiettare che nessuno di noi possiede un baricentro. Siamo continuamente strattonati qua e là da forze in conflitto e resistiamo meglio che possiamo, gli risponde.
Al centro di tutto, quindi, ma anche intorno a tutto e parte di tutto, le relazioni umane, in continuo scambio in cui dare e ricevere, vivere e morire, essere e diventare, comprendere e essere compresi, aiutano a capire che quel baricentro che Tyler va cercando dentro se stesso non può essere solo nella sua incrollabile fede, Vagavo solo come una nuvola cita la Strout tra le sue pagine la bellissima poesia di William Wordsworth, perché la fede senza gli altri, senza la condivisione, è nulla, ma che tutto intorno a lui, solo aprendo il suo cuore, può essere straordinario.
"La gente diventa nervosa quando. Hanno bisogno di prendersela con qualcuno quando fiutano la debolezza sotto la superficie di un uomo che credono forte."
http://youtu.be/AiMqaogEBCU
Vagavo da solo, come una nuvola
(I narcisi)
Vagavo da solo, come una nuvola
che fluttua alta su valli e colline,
quando d'un tratto vidi una folla,
una moltitudine di asfodeli dorati;
accanto al lago, sotto gli alberi,
ondeggiavano danzando nella brezza.
Continui come le stelle che brillano
e scintillano nella Via Lattea,
si stendevano in una linea senza fine
lungo il margine della baia;
diecimila ne vidi, ad un'occhiata,
agitare la testa in una danza gioiosa.
Danzavano le onde lì accanto; ma loro
ne superavano in splendore lo sfavillìo;
un poeta non poteva che esser felice,
in tale gaia compagnia.
Guardavo e guardavo senza ancora sapere
quale ricchezza mi avrebbe donato quella visione.
Poiché spesso, sdraiato sul letto
con l'animo vuoto o pensoso,
li rivedo in un balenìo con quell'occhio interiore
che è la benedizione della solitudine;
e allora il mio cuore si colma di piacere
e danza insieme ai fiori.
(William Wordsworth)
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