Despite seeing A Canticle for Leibowitz pop up in science fiction literary environs for quite some time, I had always resisted picking it up because the premise didn't interest me much. Frankly, the Catholic slant turned me off.
But as I worked to refine my Hugo and Nebula reading list I kept Canticle on it time and time again. I could never bring myself to totally remove it, recognizing that it is highly regarded as a classic post-apocalyptic work and being favorable to that particular sub-genre over most others, so it has remained.
A pre-Christmas trip to the used book store yielded a lightly used and dirt cheap copy, so I tucked it in my pile and brought it home. Oddly, Canticle drifted to the top of the pile, and when I reached for my next book to read over the holidays I decided to go ahead and get it out of the way.
The book is well written, engaging and is tinged with some intelligent humor along the way. I could almost imagine some of the more light-hearted passages being acted out by somber Monty Python members. But the deeper story of Leibowitz slowly unfolds, and the backstory concerning the mythical Flame Deluge is finally revealed in a way the modern reader can understand.
The religious undertones aren't as distracting as I'd imagined they'd be. And in fact, the context of the story makes sense to lead the action forward even as Dom Paulo led the blue-headed goat to Benjamin. As a Catholic convert, Miller writes what he knows, and he both knows and writes it well. The story is somewhat believable, despite the fantastical premise.
In the initial section, "Fiat Homo" (let there be man), we are introduced to Brother Francis, the discoverer of an important piece of Memorabilia from our own time period and Benjamin, the Old Jew. We are also witness to the canonization of Saint Leibowitz, a 20th century technician, who, after the Flame Deluge attempted to preserve 20th century technological documents for the benefit of future generations. He was martyred for his efforts.
We then move into the meat of the book, "Fiat Lux" (let there be light) which takes place in the 32nd century, and which to me seems to have influenced, or at least prefaced, David Robbins' Endworld series of post-apocalyptic novels.
One of the more halting moments is when A Brother Reader (character) reads from the ancient text describing the apocalyptic event, the Flame Deluge, and finally gives us an explanation for how Miller's world changed:
"And the prince smote the cities of his enemies with the new fire, and for three more days and nights did his great catapults and metal birds rain wrath upon them. Over each city a sun appeared and was brighter than the sun of heaven, and immediately that city withered and melted as wax under the torch, and the people thereof did stop in the streets and their skins smoked and they became as fagots thrown on the coals. And when the fury of the sun had faded, the city was in flames; and a great thunder came out of the sky, like the great battering-ram PIK-A-DON, to crush it utterly. Poisonous fumes fell over the land, and the land was aglow by night with the afterfire and the curse of the afterfire which caused a scurf on the skin and made the hair to fall and the blood to die in the veins.
"And a great stink went up from the Earth, even unto Heaven. Like unto Sodom and Gomorrah was the Earth and the ruins thereof, even in the land of that certain prince, for his enemies did not withhold their vengeance, sending fire in turn to engulf his cities as their own. The stink of the carnage was exceedingly offensive to the Lord, Who spoke unto the prince Name, saying: 'WHAT BURNT OFFERING IS THIS THAT YOU HAVE PREPARED BEFORE ME? WHAT IS THIS SAVOR THAT ARISES FROM THE PLACE OF HOLOCAUST? HAVE YOU MADE ME A HOLOCAUST OF SHEEP OR GOATS, OR OFFERED A CALF UNTO GOD?'
"But the prince answered him not, and God said: 'YOU HAVE MADE ME A HOLOCAUST OF MY SONS.'"
But later, as Thon Taddeo, a secular scholar who is a guest of the Albertian Order of St. Leibowitz to study the Blessed Memorabilia, in a charged speech before the monks, prophesied: "A century from now, men will fly through the air in mechanical birds. Metal carriages will race along roads of man-made stone.There will be buildings of thirty stories, ships that go under the sea, machines to perform all works."
And as he implored the monks to share their knowledge he said: "Ignorance is king. Many would not profit by his abdication. Many enrich themselves by means of his dark monarchy." The Thon recognized, unlike the monks, that the sole purpose of preserving those works of knowledge was not to give them a reason to continue preserving them, that the knowledge needed to see the light of day to be beneficial to the world. Their value lay in being shared, not preserved.
The final part of the novel is entitled ""Fiat Voluntas Tua" (Let Thy Will Be Done) and it begins "There were spaceships again in that century..." The century in question is the 38th. Man has dragged himself out of the dark and dusty interim between apocalypse and technological rebirth. In the first two parts I was moderately enthused, liking the story because of its depiction of a post-apocalyptic landscape and the portrayal of those who would live in that time. But the final part of the book is quite a surprising change of scenery, though somewhat foreshadowed by Thon Taddeo's predictions in the previous part.
Again, Miller interjects some humor, describing the spacemen of the future (from the viewpoint of intelligent entities from Arcturus) as "fuzzy impossibilities" who are "impassioned after-dinner speechmakers." Could Douglas Adams have been inspired by language such as: "...they felt (and not for the first time) that such a race go forth to conquer the stars. To conquer them several times, if need be, and certainly to make speeches about the conquest."
I found myself amazed that Miller takes us from a wasted world, destroyed by nuclear holocaust, and then drops us back into the future timestream just as humanity is poised on the cusp of destroying itself again, in the same manner, having learned nothing from history, as humanity is chronically prone to do.
As the book closes out, the Albertian Order of St. Leibowitz is striking out to colonize the stars and to preserve the Memorabilia beyond the confines of earth, to take it out of reach of the hands that would destroy everything under the sun. And the lesson to be taken from Canticle is that God does not privilege mankind with the ability to commit omnicide. While I am not a catholic, my faith gives me a similar perspective regarding Scripture, that mankind may be able to utterly destroy civilization, but through Providence a remnant will survive and preserve Inspiration.
God alone reserves the ability to end the time of man in the universe.
I had read that some people consider Canticle as one of the best works in the genre, and I was skeptical as I began reading. After finishing the book I had to release my skepticism. And while I wouldn't claim it as my own favorite in the genre, I would have to say that it is probably in my top five. That ranking might be a good topic for a future post.
A Canticle for Leibowitz was written by Walter M. Miller, Jr. And first published completely in 1959. Its origins are in short stories published in The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction. It received the Hugo Award for best novel in 1960. You can find it in a fine used bookstore near you. I do believe it's still in print if you feel determined to buy it new.
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