I prefer to read books by dead guys. This is not only true for theology, but for literature as well. I’m way out of my element in writing about literature but, in my tiny experience, contemporary literature is too quirky and/or perverted.
But in the last year or so I have read two books written in my lifetime that have vastly exceeded the expectations I have of my generation. Extraordinary excellence and no debauchery. Both of these books were written by women. I’m not sure what that indicates.
So here’s two books that I recommend wholeheartedly and without reservation.
Gilead by Marilynne Robinson.
Pilgrim at Tinker Creek by Annie Dillard. (ht: Lady in Waiting)