Last month, Oscar-nominated actor Ethan Hawke stopped by an empty Kaufmann Concert Hall to record a dramatic reading of Marilynne Robinson’s Pulitzer Prize-winning novel Gilead. Hawke then sat down to talk to us about why Gilead feels particularly timely right now, the power of reading literature aloud, acting during the pandemic, and more.
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What’s it like being back at the 92nd Street Y?
I think like everybody, I’m missing the 92nd Street Y. I’m missing being able to sit in this auditorium full of people and share stories and read literature. I came today to read Marilynne Robinson’s Gilead, which is strangely appropriate in the way it manages to honestly address this country’s relationship to pandemics, race, and history.
You’re a writer, an actor, and a reader of literature in your own life. What does doing a recorded reading mean to you in those contexts? And what do you hope the listener takes away?
As somebody who’s been acting since I was 13 years old, I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about this. In its purest form, it’s simply a celebration of writing. You read something and you want to share it with people. If you’re playing Hamlet, or whatever, you’re reciting these lines for people to give them a reason to pay attention to something that’s beautiful – to draw them to it. So it’s something that I really love to do. And there’s something about the experience of having a book read to you – I’m more intimate with the book than I am when I’m alone with it. It’s different than being with it in the solitary landscape of your mind. So the actor in me just loves it. The literature comes alive.
This book, Gilead, has always been deeply moving to me. There’s something about Marilynne Robinson’s writing – you leave the book feeling grateful for being alive. She makes the experience of being human seem like it might have some value – and so often it doesn’t feel that way. She has no agenda with the reader, she’s not trying to be smart or clever. She’s peeling some fake stuff away from life so that you can see what life really is. I had the great fortune once of watching her read, and watching her do a Q&A – the kind of thing she would normally be doing here. It was as near to a religious experience as I can claim to have had. I mean, it’s what you want church to be – an opening up of yourself, and a marriage with other people. You don’t feel alone. She was a very powerful person. The world feels so rocky right now that it’s nice to have access to her sense of peace – to be able touch it, like a stone.
Is there anything new that you’ve discovered in reading the book – or any book that you frequently turn to – in this context?
Sometimes when someone has an amazing reputation in literature, there’s a spell that’s cast, and the work becomes erudite in your mind – intellectual. And there’s nothing like that in Marilynne Robinson’s writing at all. It’s absolutely, utterly straightforward. I think I’ve grown to respect her so much that I’ve imbued her with this otherworldly intelligence. And it’s not that she isn’t ferociously intelligent – but like with all my favorite writers, she makes you feel smart. Marilynne Robinson makes you feel, “Yes, that is exactly how I feel, well said, and now I know I am capable of experiencing that depth of thought.” That’s a wonderful feeling to give people. You carry it with you into your life.
There’s a level of forgiveness in Gilead – we don’t know what to do with forgiveness right now as a culture, and it’s really hampering our country and our behavior. There’s a Tower of Babel aspect to the internet that’s taken hold in my lifetime – there’s no voice that’s louder than another. You listen to the president babble on, you listen to this or that person babble all the time, and you’re not sure who to listen to. I can put it simply: listen to Marilynne Robinson. That’s who you should listen to.
Do you bring something from playing the roles of the preacher in First Reformed or even John Brown in The Good Lord Bird to your reading of Gilead?
When I first read this book I don’t think I really knew who John Brown was. I’ve just spent the last two years adapting James McBride’s The Good Lord Bird and playing John Brown – so the character of the grandfather, in this book, a person who rode with John Brown, a spiritual brother of sorts, feels very alive in my imagination right now. When I did First Reformed, I thought that Paul Schrader was giving voice to something that a lot of us were feeling. This feeling of, “What is happening to the planet? What is happening to democracy? What is happening, for lack of a better word, to love?” I’d like to think that Reverend Toller, my character in First Reformed, would love Gilead. There’s a lot of Thomas Merton in Marilynne Robinson’s writing, and Thomas Merton was Reverend Toller’s hero. And there’s a lot of John Brown in Reverend Toller, too.
Does doing the work of an actor right now feel different than it did before?
It’s clearly different. One of the fascinating things to me reading this book right now is that the narrator talks about living through the Spanish influenza, and having to lead services with a mask on, and people sitting as far apart from one another as they could. The first time I read this book, I don’t even remember clocking that. This time it gives me the chills. I’m like, “We really need to read more!” Because this stuff has happened before. We act as if it’s new, but our grandparents have gone through this before.
One of the great mysteries of life is that every time something horrible happens, it has the inverse effect of creating compassion and gratitude inside you. Utterly mysterious. I’ve never felt so grateful for a job. I’ve been in here, at the 92nd Street Y, many times. I knew I thought it was cool that this place existed – but I never thought to be grateful. I saw Kurt Vonnegut and Sam Shepard here. I’ve had some wildly memorable evenings of my life here, but I didn’t think to be grateful. This moment breeds a gratitude in you. I feel, after having spent a day with Marilynne Robinson’s writing, how much I wish for us to be able to make time for literature in our lives. How we live through times of peace prepares us for times of crisis. Literature is there to help us. It’s beyond entertainment. It is entertaining as hell, but it also makes you feel fed.
Ethan Hawke’s recording of Gilead will be available for a limited time from October 19, through Thursday, October 29.
Join him for a conversation with John Lahr on Tuesday, October 21.