I am the son of a preacher, so, forgive me if I tend to view books and stories in the context of man’s struggle for salvation. Part of my concept of salvation includes the battle to recognize one’s true self, both our darker and better natures, and the fight to repel the former while giving rein to the latter. This seems to be one of life’s universal truths, a common experience shared by all in the human journey. Hundreds of world religions and denominations share this concept and thousands of secular writers have penned books on it.

In one of my favorites on the subject, Steinbeck’s [East of Eden], the principal characters discuss the story of Cain and Abel from the fourth chapter of Genesis. After Cain slays Abel, God tells him that sin is at his door and that he must deal with it. But how the passage is translated from the Hebrew, whether God commands Cain to master sin or whether he presents Cain with a choice, can change the meaning drastically. From [East of Eden]:

“Now, there are many millions in their sects and churches who feel the order, ‘Do thou,’ and throw their weight into obedience. And there are millions more who feel predestination in ‘Thou shalt.’ Nothing they may do can interfere with what will be. But ‘Thou mayest’! Why, that makes a man great, that gives him stature with the gods, for in his weakness and his filth and his murder of his brother he has still the great choice. He can choose his course and fight it through and win.”

James Baldwin’s [Go Tell It on the Mountain] takes up this same discussion. John Grimes, an adolescent at the crossroads of manhood, opens the book examining his life. His very family name, Grimes, suggests the mark of sin and, as he shares his mind, we see the turmoil in his spirit, tempted by the base things of the world while struggling for the pure. His father, Gabriel, a preacher and a deacon harboring a murky pas, rules the household with fear and violence. His terminally tired mother, Elizabeth, appears to have even forgotten John’s birthday, marching through her oppressive daily routine. The battle for John’s life and soul plays out over the course of one day and one gathering at their church. As the assembly worships, Gabriel and Elizabeth and John’s Aunt Florence, a woman whose lost her faith, all offer prayers to God, examining the course of their lives. Each of them agonize over the choices they’ve made, the opportunities they faced to either act with their better nature or give in to their selfish side.

Too often people saddle religion and faith with unfair sentiments, ones which leave the blame at God’s door rather than ours. Oh, for a dime for all the folks who’ve told me they can’t truck with organized religion. Who do you think ‘organized’ religion, anyway? We don’t seem to have the same problem with any other activity organized by humans. I mean, most of us go to jobs and join clubs and participate in political organizations on some level. But we rarely hear complaints about organized employment or organized politics. No, the trouble is always us, the fallible human. Baldwin, along with Steinbeck, correctly identifies the human element of faith, showing it to be a conscious and deliberate choice, one which we don’t always live up to. But the idea of “Thou mayest,” that we may make better choices and live better lives, that’s where hope lives.

Bottom Line: A beautiful morality tale examining the lives of one family and the struggle against one’s darker nature. ( )

Brilliantly structured story of migration and a young man's journey into his soul. ( )

loved it, a very spiritual experience reading this ( )

I am already grateful that I embarked on trying to read as many of the books as I can on the "1001 book you must read" list. The very first I read, James Baldwin's Go Tell It on the Mountain was a rich, rewarding experience. Religion, race, relations: these topics of the book gave plenty for me to wonder about.

I have been immersed in my Judaism related readings in the last few years that barely had a chance to read from other traditions. Baldwin's description of being saved by Jesus, of being born again, of living through extensive trance, of having visions as full body experiences helped me to understand what adult Christian conversion might mean. Without having the intention or call to follow that path this is as close as I can get to live it through myself. The 30 page description of the main character's, the 14 year old John's, first transcendental experience is a masterpiece in itself.

I will never be able to know from the inside what it means to be black, or what it meant to be black in the first half of the last century. But Baldwin's approach created an environment, where I could place myself in their shoes. I have a deeper appreciation of the hardships millions went through and a stronger anger about racism; be it personal or institutional, millions had to face. Through showing not just John's life in Harlem, but the origins of his extensive family's (growing up in rural areas decades earlier) I gained a more comprehensive picture of the African-American experience. Yes, I learned about Harlem renaissance, Jim Crow laws, slavery, desegregation efforts, but up till now these belonged to the history section of my limited mind, that likes to label and categorize knowledge. Baldwin's characters made them personal; these are no longer abstract truths for me, but more about people I could care for.

This leads me to the third area: relations. Partnerships, filial duties, marriages, preacher-flock these are just some of the relationships Baldwin shows us masterfully. I appreciated the tight style of the writing. There is not a single superfluous adjective. Descriptions of scenery, every day objects, and places is kept to a minimal. These seem unnecessary when you are telling the story of inner actions. The chronicle is exclusively about the people, their motivations, and in John's case, internal monologues.

Thank you Baldwin for reminding me what good books are about: exposing yourself to new experiences, worlds, lives that you personally will never be able to live.

James Baldwin’s semi-autobiographical novel, set primarily in 1930s Harlem, depicts John’s spiritual struggle, and it is John’s thoughts, expressed by an omniscient third-person narrator, that frame the novel. In the middle section, we step inside the prayers of John’s aunt, his father, and his mother. We learn what circumstances led them to behave as they do and why John’s father is so cold.

Although Go Tell It on the Mountain is sometimes pigeon-holed as an African-American novel, the central themes are universal—family relationships, struggles against the evil within, learning to forgive ourselves and each other, and accepting both God’s grace and the consequences of our actions. The spiritual life as depicted by Baldwin is messy, but it’s the way of truth.

This is a profoundly moving novel, one that will stay with me. It’s short, but not a book I would recommend zipping through. There’s so much going on in each character’s words, in the Biblical references, in the way the various character’s motives are revealed, that this book is meant to be savored.

Complete review at my blog. ( )