Life, and Death, and Giants: A Novel

This book grabbed a hold of me in the prologue and continued its hold until the very end. I read the last few chapters with tears streaming from my eyes. A beautiful story of a giant baby boy born to an unwed Amish mother. This boy, Gabriel, was a true gift from God. I believe his stature as a true giant symbolized the strength his mother was made of and the faith she had. This is a book I will cherish forever.

This book has been sitting on my TBR for a while, and I’m so glad I finally picked it up. Life and Death and Giants was such a touching story, full of struggle, grief, and the complicated messiness of life, but somehow still incredibly warm and hopeful. A beautiful, heartfelt read that reminded me why I love books that can break your heart a little while still leaving you feeling warmed by the end.

Ron Rindo really sucks. I mean, imagine having the audacity to craft a story this moving, this layered, this achingly beautiful—and then using it as an emotional wrecking ball to repeatedly smash your readers. That’s exactly what happened to me while reading Life, Death, and Giants. First, he gently eased me in with an intriguing premise, then made me care (rookie mistake on my part), and finally proceeded to rip out my heart, stomp on it, hand it back, and then do it all over again just for fun.



Cruel. Unnecessary. Brilliant.

The story follows Gabriel Fisher, who is not just a “big baby” but basically a miracle wrapped in diapers—born an orphan at eighteen pounds and twenty-seven inches long. Gabriel grows into a boy who walks early, talks to animals, and radiates this gentle, larger-than-life energy that makes you want to simultaneously hug him and protect him from everything. But of course, life doesn’t play fair.
After the tragic death of his older brother, he’s taken in by strict Amish grandparents who believe the best solution is to hide him from the world like he’s a misplaced barn beam. Spoiler: you can’t exactly tuck away someone who’s nearly eight feet tall.

Inevitably, Gabriel gets spotted—this time by a football coach who sees more than just his size. From there, the story expands into something that’s not just about football or fame, but about faith, family, grief, love, and those small, everyday miracles that knock the wind out of you. It’s a book about how one person—one impossibly large, impossibly good-hearted person—can transform the lives of everyone they meet. Including, apparently, mine.

Reading Life, Death, and Giants feels like meeting a family you never knew existed and instantly becoming attached. You laugh with them, ache with them, and ultimately, grieve with them. There were moments so tender and so gutting that I had to stop and remind myself this is fiction and Ron Rindo isn’t actually sitting across the room laughing at my tears. (Although I wouldn’t put it past him.)

If you’re looking for a story that is startling, sad, amusing, and invigorating all at once—look no further. Just prepare yourself for the emotional hangover, because this is not a book you shake off easily. My advice: have tissues, chocolate, and maybe a good therapist on speed dial. And when you’re done, come find me so we can commiserate about how much Ron Rindo sucks for being this good.
Highly recommended. Against my better judgment.

Many thanks to NetGalley and St. Martin’s Press for this review copy!

Overall, we liked the book. We thought the story telling style was unique and interesting, but did not allow the reader to get to know the character that the book was centered around. We thought that the story was interesting, but there were elements that weighed it down which made it difficult for the reader to stay interested.

Life, and Death, and Giants felt like sitting through a sermon I didn’t sign up for. Gabriel Fisher is born different in every possible way. He grows up in a strict religious environment where his size, his abilities, and his entire existence are treated as something meant to serve a higher purpose. The story follows his life and the people around him as he gets pulled further into that expectation. I clocked what this book was doing almost immediately. Josiah reads like a direct stand-in for Jesus. Gabriel is the chosen one meant to endure trials. The farm, animals, and lessons all mirror Bible stories blatently. If you’ve read the Bible, then you will recognize what is happening right away. I was rolling my eyes through most of this book. Every time I started to settle into the story, another heavy-handed religious reference would pull me right back out. The religious overtone never lets the characters exist on their own. They feel like vehicles for a religious message instead of actual people. Gabriel especially never felt real to me. He felt like an idea that the author was trying to prove. I wanted to feel something for him. I wanted to care about his life and the impact he had on others. Instead, I felt like I was being told what he represented at every turn. The audiobook cast did what they could. Having multiple narrators added some variety and helped separate perspectives. It wasn’t enough to make me enjoy the experience. This might work for you if you are deeply into Christian or Mormon-inspired fiction. That audience will probably connect with what this book is trying to do. I am not that audience. I needed this to feel like a story. It felt like a Sunday Church lesson plan.