This is a classic of American literature that I read for my book club. Baldwin is extremely talented, and this is a great, great novel. I don’t think it’s possible fully to appreciate it or even understand it if you aren’t a very religious Christian. This is African American literature of the early 1950s, and the novel is set in the 1930s, so of course, religion is everything.
I grew up in an atheist country, and I feel a huge, gaping hole inside myself and my culture in the place where the characters in Baldwin’s novel have religion. It’s something so central to American culture, and eradicating it isn’t going to lead to a nice place. The characters in the novel suffer but they live. The only character who has no faith and despises Christianity kills himself because there’s nothing for him in the world.
The characters in the novel are Pentecostal, which is obviously extremely different – much more exuberant and outwardly oriented – than Orthodox Christianity. I’m not into it but it’s described so beautifully in the book that it’s impossible not to feel attracted to it.

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