64 pages • 2-hour read
Ron RindoA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Content Warning: This section of the guide includes discussion of death, child death, and illness.
In Ron Rindo’s Life, and Death, and Giants, faith is an ongoing effort for Hannah Fisher, who keeps trying to understand how God can be both loving and capable of destruction. The book traces her journey of losing and then regaining her faith, highlighting how her simple devotion erodes as loss overtakes her life. Initially, Hannah sees each blow as a divine test, but repeated tragedy pushes her toward anger and questions about forgiveness. Her path over the course of the novel illustrated the novel’s assertion that a rebuilt faith grows out of doubt and grief instead of calm certainty.
As the story begins, Hannah notes that throughout her life, she has relied on the Amish model of steady endurance and faith. During her 30-hour labor with her first child Caleb, she thinks of Amish martyrs burned at the stake, and when Caleb dies in her arms, she decides that her sorrow means her “faith had not been large enough” (14). This way of thinking places the onus on her, and she subsequently sees every challenge as a test of her faith, from Josiah’s infertility to the church and community’s shunning of her daughter Rachel. Hannah obeys this decree even as it wounds her, putting her faith in God and the church’s interpretation of God’s law above her instinct to protect her child. This structure steadies her until accumulated tragedy overwhelms it, causing her to doubt her faith and her God.
After Rachel and her grandson Jasper die, Hannah experiences a crisis of faith and looks for answers outside of the Amish community. She turns to her mother’s hidden book of Emily Dickinson’s poems. The book offers language for and validation of doubts that she also feels but cannot speak of inside her community. One line about life becoming heaven—“Except for its marauding Hand” (165)—matches her fear that God might also prey on those who trust Him. Marginal notes from her mother contribute to the spiritual connection she finds to this new text, showing her that other women in her family carried the same spiritual turmoil. This shifts Hannah’s perspective on her own doubt; she begins to see it less as a personal failure and more as a shared inheritance.
Hannah’s turmoil peaks when she receives her father’s confession that he sexually abused her sister Meg and her daughter Rachel. Hannah cannot forgive him, a choice that breaks from the Amish ideal of instant forgiveness; she compares her inability to forgive with the Amish community’s forgiveness after the West Nickel Mines shooting, but the horror of his actions makes the idea of forgiveness impossible to her. She leaves Josiah and moves in with Thomas, seeking safety and space from community expectations that have become impossible to meet. When she later returns to her home and marriage, she does not reclaim her earlier certainty. Instead, she arrives at a faith that rests alongside her emotions and her grief, a faith that she sees as stronger as a result of her doubt.
Ron Rindo’s novel uses Gabriel Fisher’s gigantism to show how modern life isolates and exploits people with rare gifts by turning their bodies and talents into spectacle and community property. Gabriel moves from a well-known local figure to a global celebrity as the wrestler Anakim, the Amish Giant, and each step isolates him further from his family, his community, and his own identity. With his story, the novel examines fame as a force that consumes what makes someone unique and leaves the person behind it isolated and lonely.
This pattern begins in childhood, when Gabriel’s size draws constant local attention. In T-ball, opposing coaches shift their infielders to the outfield to keep their players safe, which changes the nature of ordinary play and acts as a metaphor for the distance that is already growing between Gabriel and his peers. When seven-year-old Gabriel hits a line drive that breaks another boy’s hand, parents revolt and call him the “Antichrist,” pressing for his removal. Their fear marks the moment when his gift becomes something viewed as dangerous, and it lays the groundwork for his early isolation.
As he moves into organized sports, coaches and scouts push him further into public view, commodifying his body for their success and tying Gabriel’s worth to athletic performance. High school and college football turn him into a prospect measured by statistics and wins. Reporters and recruiters surround the Fisher farm, disrupting his quiet world. They reframe Gabriel’s own sense of worth to the point that, when a severe knee injury ends his football future, Gabriel tells Thomas, “I feel like a failure” (186). This confession shows how thoroughly he has tied his identity to physical power. Losing his leg hurts him physically, but it also shatters his identity, leaving him with a hollowed-out sense of self.
His shift into professional wrestling as Anakim the Amish Giant completes this exploitation, commodifying both his origins and his injury. A promoter treats the amputation as a feature to fold into “the act,” and his wrestling costume turns his Amish background into a prop. This persona, crafted for entertainment, replaces the gentle, quiet child who cared for animals with a superficial and performative version of him. Near the end of his life, Gabriel regrets abandoning his life and identity for celebrity, pulling the novel’s critique into focus: a society that celebrates extraordinary traits often ends up isolating and exploiting the people who possess them.
In Life, and Death, and Giants, Ron Rindo follows characters caught between the protection of communal obligation and the pull of personal freedom. The book contrasts the collective identity of the Amish community with the individualism of the “English” society, showing how each choice toward or away from a group reshapes a life. Rachel, Hannah, and Gabriel reveal how difficult this balance becomes when loyalty to community clashes with private conviction.
Rachel’s story offers an early example of the tension between community and the individual. When Rachel refuses to name the father of her first child, she chooses personal integrity over public confession, placing her individual convictions over the community’s rules. The church responds with a punishment that “requires absolute social and spiritual isolation” (31), the Amish practice of streng meidung, or strict shunning, illustrating how the community reacts when someone breaks from its social mores. The decision cuts her off from her family and leaves her to face childbirth and survival alone, but Rachel stands firm in her beliefs, building a new, independent life.
This tension is also apparent in Hannah’s internal conflict, which grows out of her roles as an obedient church member and mother. The community’s shunning of Rachel traps Hannah between the demands of the church and her love for her daughter. Like her daughter, Hannah breaks from community edict, sneaking across the river every night to see Rachel, and Josiah eventually warns her that “no one can know” (37). Her quiet rebellion expands into public defiance after she learns what her father did to Rachel. She leaves Josiah and the Amish world to live with Thomas, choosing a path that gives her room to recover from grief, stepping away from the community to acknowledge her private, individual experience.
Gabriel’s journey also reflects this tension as the novel charts his shift from Amish communal life into the English world’s intense focus on individual talent. His choice to play football during Rumspringa marks his first move toward a culture that praises individualism. Opportunities for college, fame, and money follow. Yet the freedom he gains leads to exploitation, and the fame isolates him from the Amish way of life. Late in the novel, he tells Hannah he misses “The quiet. The animals. The solitude” (276), showing that this freedom came at the cost of the peace he left behind. With his example, the message of Rachel and Hannah’s journeys, that the individual’s needs take precedence over community obligation, is complicated; instead, the novel presents this tension as a difficult, ongoing struggle rather than a choice with easy answers.



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