I love books with an "innocent eye" as the narrator. Hamilton explores universal truths. Ruth was such a likable character, stuck in poor, hopeless surroundings. The book shows that people's moral compass can point to truth no matter their surroundings. I'd like to think that's true in real life.

Favorite quote: “We're only passers-by, and all you can do is love what you have in your life. A person has to fight the meanness that sometimes comes with you when you're born, sometimes grows if you aren't in lucky surroundings. It's our challenge to fend it off, leave it behind us choking and gasping for breath in the mud. It's our task to seek out something with truth for us, no matter if there is a hundred-mile obstacle course in the way, or a ramshackle old farmhouse that binds and binds.”
― Jane Hamilton, The Book of Ruth

The Book of Ruth, by Jane Hamilton, is the story of a girl growing up on the Illinois-Wisconsin border, born into a world that simply doesn’t love her. It is a study on the culture of the American boonies, on the failed education system, and of a flawed family, as Ruth struggles for hope. It raises the question- how does one prevail over ignorance, when ignorance is the only world to know, when it is an essential part of one’s identity?

In the beginning of the book, when Ruth is a young girl, we see a flame, a fire, as her thirst for knowledge and passion for life cause rebellion against her mother, May, who stands over her children, determined to keep them on a leash in the dark. The reader is not given many gifts in this dark, disturbing book, nothing much to cling on to as Ruth’s life turns from childhood passion to a numbness as a teenager, and then utter blindness and pain as an adult, but there are two significant characters that the author inserted into the book, to indicate that there is a lucid message behind all of the chaos and confusion that Ruth undertakes. These characters are her Aunt Sid- a choir director living in a university town in southern Illinois- and Ruth’s brother, Matthew, who somehow makes it out of the small, suffocating town, to become a successful scientist at an ivy league school, estranging himself from his family- “‘It is always strange, going home, facing people and a place with which I have nothing in common. I won’t bore you with the difficulties of my childhood, but to be honest my main preoccupation was trying to figure out who was worse, my mother or my sister’” (318).

In this book, it is so easy to get swept up into the world of Ruth, her violent marriage, her failed goals and dreams, her depression and repression, and not see anything else outside of it. That is where the true meaning of this book comes in. Despite its unusual format- it is not often that I read books where the situation gets continually worse for the main character, never better- I felt I learned a tremendous amount from this book, about the way that ignorance is bred, and the way that some people hurt themselves for their entire lives. The two self-aware characters in this book, Matthew and Aunt Sid, act as a reminder to the reader- be thankful for your life. These are small characters, remember, compared to the vast struggle of Ruth and her mother, but are the sliver of light. The fact that it is only a sliver is another tool the author uses here to create palpable emotion and draw the reader head-first into a world many wouldn’t dare choose to travel to, to make the reader crave for that light, and become aware of their own craving.

I had to read this book in college (for a sociology class), and we had to write a paper where we personally identified with one of the characters in the book. I remember sitting with two of my friends, laughing hysterically, while we tried to figure out how to identify with these characters- they are either horribly evil or tragically victimized (there was no in-between). In the end, we all made up stories about abusive mothers or repressed memories. I would love to find that paper and read it now.

This is the story of a white trash girl named Ruth, her white trash mother and her white trash boyfriend/husband with bad teeth. It was very difficult to make it through this book because I didn't like any of the characters--they were stagnant and annoying throughout. Ruth had great potential but never realized any of it. A bad story was made even worse when about 4/5 of the way through, there was suddenly a horrific and bloody scene that took about 4 pages of graphic descriptions. I was caught completely off-guard because the rest of the book had been so boring. I guess I had kept reading thinking that something had to happen eventually to make the book worthwhile, but what finally did happen was awful. I would have been OK with it all if Ruth had changed for the better or pulled herself together because of the event, but she chose to stay ignorant. I know this is a popular author and book, but I really did not enjoy it at all.

Social status, financial class and intelligence have nothing to do with the ability for someone to choose evil and cruelty just as kindness and compassion are not traits only for those who are lucky.

Ruth was not lucky and she believed all of the negative things that others, including her mother and brother. She managed to find love in Ruby and was able to see his qualities. He brought her joy in her otherwise dismal life. He gave her a child who brought the family together for a short time. There were times where she had sympathy for her mother and a yearning to connect with her. Her aunt, Miss Finch, Daisy and Justy were beams of light that gave her the drive and motivation to carry on. Her moving forward wasn’t efficient or to the standards that many of the readers who have given less than positive reviews, but it was what she believed she was capable of. It wasn’t until Ruby nearly killed her that she became free to live. Free of him, her mother and the toxic life that they were leading and that she likely would never have escaped.

This was not the most uplifting read and not one that I would highly recommend to everyone. It is slow moving and depressing with slight glimmers of hope that life would improve for Ruth and her family. It was not until the very last three pages that this story came full circle for me that I truly understood Ruth and had a deep appreciation for this story and its characters.

“We’re only passers-by, and all that you can do is love what is in your life. A person has to fight the meanness that sometimes comes with you when you’re born, sometimes grows if you aren’t in lucky surroundings. Its our challenge to fend it off, leave it behind us choking and gasping for breath in the mud. Its our task to seek out something with truth for us, no matter if there is a hundred-mile obstacle course in the way, or a ramshackle old farmhouse that binds and binds. The Bible is right on one’s score: it doesn’t do one bit to render evil for evil.”

What I appreciate most about this story is to have compassion for others, no matter how hardened they may be, how out of the ordinary in intelligence or social standing they may be. It is not our place to judge anyone, but it is our own personal duty to take responsibility for our destiny in life. Life aint always prudy, but you have to make the best of it.

A perfect example of the importance of titles. I've read much of Hamilton's work, but always avoided this one, because I thought it was going to be Biblical. A desperate rainy day stop at the little free library had me grab this, and I'm glad I did. An interesting look into a convoluted family.

Očekuješ sve vreme neku tragediju, ali ne očekuješ zaista da se desi to što se desilo na kraju. Takođe, kotrljam očima na lažni moral i 'white trash' negativne komentare, jer zamislite, beli ljudi više ne smeju da imaju težak život i probleme, a ne smeju ni da budu loše osobe kada ih snađe nešto loše. Sve u svemu, jedna veoma iskrena, emotivna i lepo napisana knjiga.

Eh. I just read another depressing book that seemed to torture its protagonist for the sake of the plot and I guess I wasn't in the mood. But then again, less than 10 pages into the book, there's our narrator saying she's sorry for Hitler because he must have had something compelling him to be an evil monster who committed genocide on a horrific scale I suppose.* I guess I should have realized then that this book would be a wasted effort - I wasn't going to like this book, nor would I sympathize with Ruby because the poor man had something compelling him into being a monster. Like May, his tormentor - the book up until then was mostly Ruth blaming her mother, setting her up to be the cause for Ruby's mental break.

Actually I care nothing for Ruby, because beyond broad swatches it seemed like I didn't know him at all. Just before he gets into an accident she says that she knows he's into drugs and that's probably why he stops to gaze at the texture of asphalt in the middle of a busy road? Like what the fuck Ruth? Maybe that was relevant earlier when May was having palpitations at the thought of leaving her grandchild with this man? But no, Ruth was lying to herself about him and while that is relevant for what happens, it also means that as a reader I have no idea about the guy.

* His crimes are not mentioned, because then Ruth will look wrong and she wouldn't have cause to sound snippy that the teacher didn't find her thoughts valid.

The Ruth who tells her own story here, is an unsophisticated, underappreciated, plain girl in a dysfunctional family in small-town Illinois, a place misnamed Honey Creek.

Bullied at school and put in "dumb classes", she comes home to an oversized and harsh mother who worships her math genius younger brother. Their father took tail and left their two-bedroom bungalow and chicken farm and moved to Texas. "It wasn't until I was ten that I realized our family must be the ones with the wrung-out hearts, and that other people's faces shone with a sadness for us. I was ten when my father climbed into the Ford one morning, in the dark. I heard his black boots crunch on the gravel. He was too scared to start ther engine so he rolled down the driveway with his foot on the clutch. Goodbye to Illinois, he probably said to himself, because he had lived up here near Honey Creek all his life."

We soon learn of the mother May's domineering, drinking, and belittling behavior and understand why dad left. May latches on to Ruth's brother Matt's academic stardom through high school, but he, too, escapes her clutches with an Ivy League scholarship and a disappearing act. That leaves May and Ruth, both unhappy with their lives, behind to battle it out. May refuses to reconcile with her alienated unmarried sister-- Aunt Sid to Ruth-- who is a choirmaster in DeKalb, but Ruth forms a bond with her aunt and they correspond. Aunt Sid tries to lift up Ruth and encourage her dreams and growth.

May works at the local dry cleaners, Trim 'N; Tidy, and Ruth finds work there, too, after graduating. Soon, their lives fall intio a routine. May becomes best friends with Dee Dee (with an invalid husband who soon dies) and Ruth gets closer to her daughter, Daisy (a pretty and "fast" girl more worldly-wise than Ruth). They participate in the business bowling league, and with uncanny skill, Ruth shines for the first time as "Queen of Tower Lanes."

On a midnight adventure with Daisy at a local lake, Ruth meets Ruby (Ruben) and, with Daisy's coaching of the awkward, unemployeed but likable Ruby, Ruth begins falling for him. May makes it clear that there must not be a baby until she is married, so Ruth holds Ruby off until they tie the knot several months later in a simple ceremony, with Matt giving Ruth away and Aunt Sid in attendence. Economically strapped, the young couple lives with May, despite the expected tensions.

The next year, Ruth and Ruby attend clinic childbirth classes ($25) surrounded by 10 other middle-class couples. "I felt their eyes piercing through the holes in my shoes and the tears in my socks." When they gave their occupations as "spotter" at the dry cleaners and can collector, "I could tell people were laughing at us, or commenting, 'Oh brother', under theire breaths. We were right back in grade school again, saying the wrong answer, sounding dumb... I knew we were poor and strange against the people in our class. Sometimes I felt sorry for our baby. I didn't want it to see the world, if it was going to find out about our oddness. I talked down to it in my stomach. I told it not to worry, we'd hide it away, we wouldn't let other children taunt it. We'd chase bullies out of the yartdcand throw stoines after them."

Ruth gives birth to son, Justin, and for a few glorious months, is able to be home with part-time working Ruby and her child and enjoy motherhood. And the grandchild brings out a softer side of May, who tries to control the household but also gladly babysits. The following year, new strains in their homelife develop, though they begin attending church more regularly. Ruth is captivated by some of the Biblical phrases expounded by the pastor, but reserves her belief in Jesus and most Bible stories. The story builds slowly to its crisis point; a chance to move out is offered to Ruth and Ruby but, before that can happen, their world collapses.

I got a lot out of this book and was able to like the cast of characters since, although they were mostly flawed, Jane Hamilton gave them either a sympathetic backstory or enough charm and goodwill to partially redeem them. The gritty realism of their simple, unfulfilled lives is balanced with poetic moments and deep insights into character shared by Ruth. Living a raw existence, May, Ruth, and Ruby try to hold on to those few moments of hope and joy (mostly out-of-reach), when they can find something to celebrate. In between, unfortunately, they smoke and drink too much.

Some reviewers see Ruth and her family as "white trash," but I don't. While existing at the losing end of the stick, they all work hard to support themselves with as much dignity as possible, hold strong moral values, and do their best to support each other with their limited resources. What meaness and pain they feel, they direct at themselves or other family members. They don't blame society or try to cheat others, yet keep an eye open for any opportunity to better their sad lot in life.

The book starts out with some laugh-out-loud moments, but changes fast. the story shows what love , kindness and understanding can do for a person and what can happen if there is complaining, bitterness, and constant harping can do. A good book for life's lessons.

Here's what I'm learning about myself:

I despise po' country lit written by women.

Is that terrible? Does that make me a bad feminist?

In Country? Hated it. All these poor white trash stories about kids growin' up harder n' poorer than those other kids over there, wearing ugly clothes, and having lots of scrap metal in the yard...

...yeah I just can't deal.

Because these stories never GO anywhere. It just sounds like a lot of whining through the front, middle, and back of life.

As if whining was courage. As if living poor every day was compelling courage.

Look. Being poor is rough. I've been poor. It sucked.

But a story has to DO something. It can't be day after day, year after year of going from being a confused and misunderstood backwoods girl with some small un-nurtured bit of promise to a confused backwoods teen with slightly less promise, to a ridiculous backwoods woman who is no smarter, no more interesting, and no more relavant than anyone else living in a valley made of dirt.

Look: populations need stories. John Steinbeck, for crissakes, wrote these people. Wrote them well, too.

But this? This plodding journey through an embarrassingly hideous life?

John Kennedy Toole did it in The Neon Bible. He was 16 when he wrote that, and even his sad naif protagonist had a few meaningful and well-turned revelations to make it all worthwhile.

But I got halfway through the story when I realized it wasn't GOING anywhere. The protagonist was just going to get more and more tedious. Less and less interesting. More and more annoying. Good lord was her voice annoying.

Yes, yes, very well-done. The writer's replicated the annoying voice to a T. Y'know there's ways to make that voice less grating without robbing it of authenticity.

What authenticity anyway? Is the girl supposed to be a half-wit? Or is she really sort of normal but painfully shy and socially awkward because of her place in society?

Sadly, I cannot tell. Because I think I'm supposed to sympathize with her, but in looking at her all I can think is "Yeah, I'd call her a half-wit too, dammit. Then I'd slap her."

And, Lord, if one more person in the story offers up a half-wit grin as a means to express innocent and misplaced pleasure I'm going to smack that grin right off their face. Author! A new device! Please!

This was my first Jane Hamilton novel, as well as her own debut, which garnered the prestigious PEN/Hemingway award and dazzled me throughout. Guessing at her influences, I would liken her bittersweet story-telling ease to that of Betty Smith, but it crackles with a shocking intensity reminiscent of Flannery O’Connor.

I’m a sucker for brilliant opening lines, and this one delivers.

What it begins with, I know finally, is the kernel of meanness in people’s hearts. I don’t know exactly how or why it gets inside us; that’s one of the mysteries I haven’t solved yet. I always tried to close my eyes and believe that angels, invisible in their gossamer dresses, were keeping their loving vigil. I learned, slowly, that if you don’t look at the world with perfect vision, you’re bound to get yourself cooked.

I appreciate an author that respects the reader and dives right into the story without introduction, letting the authentic characters speak for themselves. You know what I mean…the “confuse the hell out of me and let me sort it out from there” first chapter. I had the same feeling with Barbara Kingsolver’s The Poisonwood Bible, and that is high praise. From the first page to the last, there is a perfect natural progression as the drama unfolds at just the right pace. I went from having only the vaguest impressions of the principal players – Ruth, May, Ruby, Justy, Daisy, Aunt Sid – to feeling as though I’d known them forever. Hamilton does that so well, the reading experience is like unwrapping a gift.

Although sadness is prevalent in this book, it’s so elegantly counter-balanced by humor and lightness and ordinary grace that it felt to me like a celebration of life and all of its beautiful and damaged moments. Exceptional.