Marilynne Robinson’s third novel, Home, won this year’s Orange Prize for fiction after a unanimous decision by the judges.

I have already reviewed this book.

It is a novel that runs in parallel (but independent from) the Pulitzer prize winning Gilead. It tells the story of how Rev. Boughton’s prodigal son Jack returns, soon after his daughter Glory, to live with them in Gilead. It unveils for us the sensitive pain of a family getting to know each other and love each other and forgive each other. But it tells us so much more as well.

Then the screen door closed and there was Jack, coming through the porch, looking dishevled and yet a little pleased with himself. He was in his undershirt, having made his shirt into a bundle of some kind which he set on the table and opened. “Mushrooms!” he said. “Morels” Right where they always were!” Sand and leaf mold and that musky smell.
“Where were they?”
“In a remote area, my dear. Far from the haunts of men.”
“Honestly! I’m your sister! Your only friend in the world!”
“Sorry. No dice. Just look at these beauties. We eat mushrooms tonight, Glory!”
“What is that?” their father called. “What are we talking about?”
Glory said, “Go show Papa. He loves morels.”
“I think I’d better clean up a little.”
“You don’t have to clean up. Just go show him.”
So Jack carried the bundle into his father’s room and spread it open on the old man’s lap. “Ah,” his father said. “Ah yes. You’ve been out foraging.” He drew a deep breath and laughed. “‘See the smell of my son is as the smell of a field which Jehovah hath blessed.’ Morels. Dan and Teddy used to bring me these. And blackberries, and walnuts. And they’d bring in the walleye and catfish. And pheasants. They were always off in the fields, down by the river. With the girls it was always flowers. So long ago.”

Go get it and read it on holiday.

Your Correspondent, Still sorta thinks every special thing has to be a surprise