Afterword

In literature as well as life, the idea of home or homecoming is pivotal—a token, ultimately, of humanity’s insatiable longing for things enduring and ultimate. Home’s primal sense is embedded in one’s birthplace: A primary locus for ancient veneration of the genius loci was, after all, the personal domicile. But in broadly religious terms, “home” defines as well one’s final destination and destiny. That sense becomes pervasive and gripping throughout Marilynne Robinson’s novels—as well as in Stowe’s Uncle Tom’s Cabin, T. S. Eliot’s Four Quartets, and Frost’s “The Death of the Hired Man.” For Christians, “home” carries unmistakable overtones of giftedness, of sacramental grace—even, at times, when homecoming proves anguishing. Overall, American literary tradition manifests an enduring yet variegated fascination with spirits of place, often identified with those unfathomable, unmappable tokens of mysterious presence that we either discover within or attribute to certain sties more than others.