Keillor’s ‘Pilgrims’: witty woe in self-deprecation

By Vick Mickunas, Contributing Writer 5:28 PM Friday, September 18, 2009

“Pilgrims — a Wobegon Romance” by Garrison Keillor (Viking, 297 pages, $25.95)

Garrison Keillor dreamed up his public radio show, “A Prairie Home Companion,” 35 years ago. At the center of this enduring entertainment is the imaginary town of Lake Wobegon, Minn.

Such a busy fellow — he writes for radio and newspapers, and he has written a pile of books. The newest one is “Pilgrims — a Wobegon Romance.” This is Keillor’s first Lake Wobegon book set outside of Minnesota, and he has made himself into a character for this one. This imaginary Gary Keillor inhabits the pages along with his own fictional creations. He hosts a radio show. You know the one.

In “Pilgrims,” Gary Keillor pays a visit to his hometown, the fictional Lake Wobegon, to give a speech to the Thanatopsis Women’s Club. Via a series of ridiculous misunderstandings he gets stuck footing the bill for a dozen residents of the town to fly off to Rome, Italy, to honor a Lake Wobegonian, a WWII hero buried there. Gary Keillor tags along.

He describes things in his novels that he would never dare to mention on the radio. In “Pilgrims” some of his funniest bits are pure self-deprecation. If you are a fan of his radio show, you know that he loves any excuse to sing. His bio on the cover flap of “Pilgrims” extolls his singing ability. Have you ever heard him sing?

On the flight over “a woman recognized Mr. Keillor and chose that moment to tell him that she used to listen to his radio show. She emphasized the ‘used to’ as if it were some odd aberration like being addicted to butterscotch. ‘I have one word of advice for you,’ she said. ‘Don’t sing. Someone should have told you this years ago. You’re not a singer. Don’t sing.’ ”

Therein lies the charm of the book; as Gary Keillor lurks about the periphery of this tale, observing these Minnesotans getting their first taste of Italy, they are not remotely impressed by the big radio star. Keillor’s self-mocking humor is simply delightful throughout “Pilgrims.”

Here’s another example: “Four million people, tuning in to hear Mr. Keillor’s quiet monotone murmuring on about the weather and gardening and how he threw a tomato at his sister. Unbelievable. How empty people’s lives must be. But of course on any given day there are millions in nursing homes, unable to reach the OFF knob — millions more in correctional institutions where a cruel warden might force entire cell blocks to endure two hours of folksy chuckles.”

“She’d heard his radio show a few times, while running errands on Saturday, twisted the radio dial and there he was, murmuring away, telling stories about a gloomy small town she didn’t recognize at all, full of righteous yokels addicted to tuna hot dish. Oh well.”

“Pilgrims” showcases Keillor’s remarkable humor while incorporating elements of intrigue, angst and that requisite small-town conservatism. It becomes a morality fable with a couple of slick twists and some old-fashioned suspense. Keillor’s radio fans should love this one.

Contact book reviewer Vick Mickunas at vick@vickmickunas.com.

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