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I found this to be a rambling, self indulgent, disjointed, and very dull account of a small town pastor’s life with a nebulous mish mash of Christian tropes. While the pastor professes to love his young son, there is ironically little accounting of the son, and the exercise is largely self centered. The story is largely without plot until the latter third when Jack Broughton’s story is told, but I am not sure what major relevance that has to his son in the future. There is sympathy one feels towards a dying father, and the prose has a lyrical quality at times, but I can’t recommend it.