Marilynne Robinson's Jack hits close to the bone, maybe even too close. Don't know that one has found one's Della. Don't know that one ever will.
Robinson's a rather cogent thinker for a Christian. But there is the rub. I may well read her other books when I've finished Jack. But ultimately one cannot really enter her mental world. You can dress Christianity up in high-minded, indeed cogent, theology all you...can, even until it's part of your essence, if there is such a thing. But at bottom it's a story for children.