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The evangelicals are just like us, albeit more homophobic and obsessed with Christ. So concludes Kevin Roose, the author of The Unlikely Disciple, a new memoir which launches this month.

The Unlikely Disciple tells the story of a semester spent at the late Jerry Falwell's ultra-conservative Liberty University. That a college student would choose to spend a semester at Liberty (where dancing and R-rated movies are strictly verboten) is a little odd. That Roose would is downright weird. What makes it so strange is that Roose is about as liberal as they come. Raised by moderate Quaker parents in a liberal college town, mid-way through an English degree at Brown, and a lover of drinking, partying and all other typical college exploits, Roose seems like the last person to be drawn to Falwell's flock.

It does, however, make for a good story, and as an aspiring journalist, Roose couldn't resist the prospect of telling the story of Liberty from the inside. Unsurprisingly, what Roose discovers is rather surprising: Evangelicals are just like everyone else. Except they pray a lot more. And, they generally frown on all forms of homosexuality. To say that sums up Roose's findings, of course, oversimplifies the matter. The book is an important and extremely balanced look at a much maligned and misunderstood segment of America, and Roose does everything he can to humanize the people he writes about. But, as he discovers, humanizing someone isn't always a positive treatment.

In the course of his time at Liberty, Roose sings in the Thomas Road choir, goes evangelizing on spring break in Florida and interviews the late Jerry Falwell (as it happens, a couple of weeks before he died). He prays, is prayed for and joins a male support group called "Every Man's Battle." He goes on dates, plays on the softball team and otherwise immerses himself in Liberty life. After months of this, his findings are refreshing and insightful.

His interactions lead to observations like the following:

Within five minutes of meeting a new hallmate, I've been asked how often I pray, which is not something I'm used to. But after answering enough of these questions, I'm starting to realize that in the evangelical world, prying can be an indicator of compassion. In Liberty's theology there are only two categories of people: believers and nonbelievers, people headed to heaven and people condemned to hell. So Rodrigo's attempt to suss out my faith isn't intended to be obnoxious. He just wants to make sure I'm safe.

Such is the manner in which Roose gives his new friends and peers the benefit of the doubt, singing the praises of the groundedness and congeniality of Liberty's students, and the strong sense of community and inclusiveness he immediately feels among them. He does, however, point out that this feeling would be somewhat tempered were he not white, straight and (more or less) Christian.   And there lies the elephant in the room of the whole project. As much time as Roose spends humanizing the faculty, students and Falwell himself, he can't escape a few very important factors that make Liberty the kind of place that it is. Homophobia is one, which Roose describes as being totally accepted, even encouraged. Outright bigotry is slightly less so, and he gives examples of racists and violent homophobes being ostracized socially, although they receive no official reprimands.

Another is the strict dogma of Falwellian Christianity, which he sums up nicely in one pastor's remarks, “My biggest worry about all of you,” says the Evangelism 101 lecturer, “is that you'll become educated beyond your obedience.” As much as Roose portrays the people he meets and interacts with as loving, kindhearted Christians, there seems to be something fundamentally wrong with a “liberal arts” university that teaches a literal interpretation of the Bible, Noah's Ark, Leviticus, and all, no exceptions.

The Unlikely Disciple is a good read, and an important book for these times. As far apart as the left and right have drifted in the last eight years, books like this are vital to closing the gap. Roose is a fine writer, and at 21 years old, seems to have a bright future ahead of him in investigative journalism. Still, though, the fact remains that as human and endearing as the characters in Roose's book come across, the dogma that they unquestioningly serve still appears as backwards and hypocritical as ever.