Sometimes we are surprised and taken aback by a novel. Even when we have been told to expect something marvelous, we cannot be prepared for the depths to which it will take us and return us again. Such a one is The Sparrow. Mary Doria Russell tackles the hard questions, the cosmic questions, the ones that have tortured man since his inception. She presents us with Job, Cain, and Christ, and without ever flinching from the moral dilemma that is man’s lot, she presents them to us without imposing her own views upon us. She never pretends to have all the answers and she paints characters who realize they do not have them either, but find them worth searching for.

I have allowed this book to languish on my bookshelf for years because I am not a fan of fantasy or sci-fi. I had been told it was more than that, but I could never convince myself to put aside the prejudice and just begin the journey. My loss. Whatever you may think of these genres in general, believe me when I say this book transcends that narrow of a classification and opens up vistas as broad as the space in which these people travel.

This book about a trip into space is oddly not fantastic or unbelievable. And, this book about a Jesuit priest, and God himself, is oddly not religious. Or, only religious in the sense that it is about something larger than life, larger than our lives.

Emilio Sandoz is a brilliant protagonist. He makes you smile, cry, praise and curse creation. You know there is sorrow ahead of you, because the opening chapters reveal enough to tell you that, but the why and how are so important, the characters so rich, that the sorrow still hits you like a sledge-hammer slammed into your chest.

Russell is a masterful storyteller and weaver of language. The questions she raises are not new to you, but within the context of her story you find that they are the most important questions you have ever encountered. For what can be more elemental than understanding God and man? If you can understand God, perhaps you could understand yourself, or vise versa.

How many of us have witnessed, or even endured this:
Edward Behr had seen this kind of thing before--the body punished for what the soul could not encompass. Sometimes it was headache, as with Emilio. Sometimes excruciating back pain, or chronic stomach trouble. You saw it in alcoholics, often, drinking to dull the sensitivity, to mute the hurt. So many people buried the soul’s pain in their bodies, Edward thought. Even priests who, one would have thought, might have known better.

Or this:

She waited to see if he had more but when he fell silent, she decided to take a shot in the dark. “You know what’s the most terrifying thing about admitting that you’re in love?” she asked him. “You are just naked. You put yourself in harm’s way and you lay down all your defenses. No clothes, no weapons. Nowhere to hide. Completely vulnerable. The only thing that makes it tolerable is to believe the other person loves you back and that you can trust him not to hurt you.”

So, what makes this book a cut above, for me, is that Russell understands her subject so well. She sees into the soul of each of us and digs up the pieces that we share in common, the ones we try to hide because we are afraid to show them. She takes what is so basically human and then she elevates it to another plane and makes it a greater love and a greater search...a search for something greater...a search for God himself.

”It is the human condition to ask questions like Anne’s last night and to receive no plain answers,” he said. “Perhaps this is because we can’t understand the answers, because we are incapable of knowing God’s ways and God’s thoughts. We are, after all, only very clever tailless primates, doing the best we can, but limited. Perhaps we must all own up to being agnostic, unable to know the unknowable.”
tEmilio’s head came up and he looked at Marc, his face very still. Marc noted this and smiled, but continued. “The Jewish sages also tell us that God dances when His children defeat Him in argument, when they stand on their feet and use their minds. So questions like Anne’s are worth asking. To ask them is a very fine kind of human behavior. If we keep demanding that God yield up His answers, perhaps someday we will understand them. And then we will be something more than clever apes, and we shall dance with God.”

I could go on for some time, picking quotes and expounding on all the things this novel dredged to the surface for me. But, alas, this review is already too long and cumbersome. My advice, indeed my plea, is read this one for yourself. Russell is inviting you to form your own opinion.

“Does the master watch the sparrow’s fall or just let it all play out?” (from the song “Kingdom Come” by Mark Erelli). For the longest time I had no idea what the title of this novel had to do with its subject matter – a near-future Jesuit mission to the two alien species on a distant planet. It’s not until about five pages from the end that Russell makes the connection plain by quoting Matthew 10:29: “Not one sparrow can fall to the ground without your Father knowing it.” A priest replies, “But the sparrow still falls.” And that’s what this entire engrossing, troubling novel is about: the possibility of believing in God, and doing good works in His name, when suffering seems to be the only result.

We know from the first pages, set in Italy in 2059, that this interplanetary mission was an utter disaster. Everyone died apart from priest and linguist Emilio Sandoz, who returned to Earth a physically and psychologically broken man. When found on Rakhat by a follow-up party, Emilio was a prostitute in an alien brothel, and was witnessed murdering a child. These are facts it is impossible to forget as we explore the history of the mission through alternating chapters: one strand giving Emilio’s confession before a panel of Church officials and tracing his rehabilitation; and the other filling in the intervening years from about 2019, when music was heard coming from another planet.

You’ll have to have some patience: the craft doesn’t leave Earth until the one-third point, and they don’t make contact with the alien species until nearly halfway through. Readers of hard sci-fi may be disappointed by the minimal world-building and the slightly vague descriptions of the two species encountered on Rakhat. But for someone like me who struggles with sci-fi at the best of times, this is just right: these new beings are just different enough from humans for Russell to make fascinating points about gender roles, commerce and art, but not so peculiar that you have trouble believing in their existence. All of the crew members are wonderful, distinctive characters, and the novel leaves you with so much to think about: unrequited love, destiny, faith, despair, and the meaning to be found in life. I would particularly recommend this to readers of Dark Eden and The Book of Strange New Things.

Favorite lines:

(Anne, the doctor on the mission, who’s around 60) “In reality, without the compensation of children, she’d clung to the illusion of relative youth with the artificial extension of middle age. It was okay to be old, as long as she didn’t look it.”

“‘My goodness,’ Anne sighed, ‘what a fall. We thought we were the center of the universe and now look! Just another bunch of sentients.’”

Father Marc Robichaux, during a funeral ceremony on Rakhat: “It is the human condition to ask questions … and to receive no plain answers. Perhaps this is because we can’t understand the answers, because we are incapable of knowing God’s ways and God’s thoughts. We are, after all, only very clever tailless primates, doing the best we can, but limited.”

An astronomer hears a transmission of music from Alpha Centauri in 2019. This sets off an expedition to Rackhat by a group of Jesuit priests and their friends. The scientific group travels to Rakhat to learn about the alien culture, not to proselytize. A second story thread is set in 2060 involving the Jesuit linguist, Father Emilio Sandoz, who has returned to Earth as the only survivor. He is physically and emotionally broken, and questions his faith in God. The book alternates between the interactions of the explorers with the Rakhat natives, and Sandoz telling his story back on Earth.

The name of the book comes from the Gospel of Matthew 10:29: "Not one sparrow can fall to the ground without your Father knowing it." But God does not intervene and there are some tragic events on Rackhat. "The Sparrow" is much more than a science fiction story. It's about anthropology, linguistics, good and evil, the nature of God, and faith. The cast of characters from Earth are likable, intelligent, and have a sense of humor. They misunderstand the structure of the society on Rakhat which leads to problems. "The Sparrow" is a fascinating story, and is highly recommended.

It was well done, with beautiful prose. Interesting dual storyline style. I understand other reviewers' complaints about realism and incompatible biologies, microflora, etc., but I think the story is, at heart, a parable. There is sophisticated play with words throughout the book which adds to the depth of meaning. In one of the later hearings, she writes "Sometimes they were dealing with a Spaniard... Or Mephistopheles... Most often, it was Dr. Emilio Sandoz, linguist, scholar..." The passage ends with the final devastating revelation about Jana'ata manipulation of Runa breeding, leading off with "It was Mephistopheles who laughed." Brilliant.

For me, the sour notes surround the pacing at the end of the book and the theme of rape. The deaths of D.W. and Anne seemed too important to be disposed of so quickly, both in story line and in page numbers. Their deaths should have echoed through the mission longer. I think the horror of their having been "poached" would have further set up the shock of the storyline, of discovering the Jana'ata are predators of the Runa population. The adventures of the first day in the city were similarly undigested; it would seem that Marc should have shared his vision of Runa being ceremonially slain and discussion would have started them wondering.

Ahoy there me mateys!  This be the sixteenth book in me Ports for Plunder - 19 Books in 2019 list.  I found this book in the 2016 treasure haul from Maine and then never read it.  That's why it made this year's 19 in 2019 list.  And in a weird coincidence, it happens to be a book that's being read as part of a Sci-Fi Month read-along.  Talk about good timing!  I ended up reading the whole thing at once but will be following the weekly discussions surrounding this book on Goodreads.

Basically this book is about a group of eight humans sent by Jesuits to make first contact with aliens on another planet.  Four are Jesuit priests and four are civilians.  The prologue states "They went ad majorem Dei gloriam: for the greater glory of God. They meant no harm."  So how were the humans going to screw this up?  I thought the concept of Jesuits going for scientific pursuits was kinda awesome.  Ye know very early that the trip was a disaster but through the course of the book ye find out the reasons why.

The book has multiple POVs and two timelines.  There is the present timeline (2059) where ye meet with the sole survivor.  There is the history of how contact was made (beginning 2019!) and what happened on the other planet, Rakhat.  And there be snippets of the lives of the travelers before they went to space woven in both timelines.  But most of the focus in both timelines be on the survivor Father Emilio.

This book was beautifully written and highly engaging.  I particularly enjoyed the found family aspects of the group who goes to Rakhat.  The best character by far was Father Emilio himself.  I loved pretty much everything about him.  I hated his suffering in the present and I loved the juxtaposition of his personality before the mission.  There were four other very strong characters that I loved.  Sophie and D.W. were the two other humans on Rakhat who felt the most real and I loved their personalities.  In the present there were two men John and Edward who helped Father Emilio in his struggles.  I loved how caring and compassionate they were.  The other characters were developed to a lesser extent but I thought all of the characterization was well done.

I actually really enjoyed the planet Rakhat and the descriptions of life there.  I loved how life evolved on the planet.  I thought the first contact scene was different and excellent.  The languages on the planet and how they worked were cool even if I didn't quite understand all the ramifications.  How the planet was described made me want to visit and see all the flora and fauna.  I thought the politics of the world were set up well.  Also I was surprised at how the alien music turned out.

There were several downsides in this book which immensely lessened me overall enjoyment.  First were the rather rushed endings of both the time on Rakhat and with the Jesuit investigation back on Earth.  Though the set-ups for the each timeline were immersive and extensive, the resolutions were compressed into 50 pages and personally unsatisfying.  There is a massive theme of rape in this book that was distasteful in the extreme.  It was gratuitous and superfluous.  I believe it could have been written out altogether without changing the message.  And lastly how the investigation was carried out was demeaning and harsh towards Emilio and for no real purpose.  It felt like he was tortured by both the ruling aliens and then the ruling Jesuits.  The ending in particular was both horrifying in how the trauma was dismissed and annoyingly ambivalent about what happens to Emilio next.  Moreover I felt it was fundamentally dishonest about the healing process with regards to PTSD.

The issues I had with the ending took this from a five star read to just an okay read.  Though I do have to say that the experience so far with the read-along has enriched me enjoyment of the book and I am glad that stars aligned for the timing of experiencing this book.  Arrrr!

Side note: Only three books left in the 19 in 2019!  Also Sci-Fi Month is hosted by Matey Lisa of Dear Geek Place and Matey Imyril of One More.  Check out their blog links for more info and join the fun!

Beni bu kitaba yazarının kadın olması ve kapağındaki resim çekti. İsminden de bir çıkarım yapılamayacağından kitabın bilim kurgu ağırlıklı olmasını beklemiyorsunuz, arka kapak yazısını okuyana dek.

Arka kapak ya da ön söz tadında yazılan yazı ise beni tamamen cezbeden kısım oldu. Böyle olduğu halde kitabın tamamına yayılan ve kurgunun en önemli kısmını oluşturan bilim kurgu benim için yine de bir yan anlatı olarak kaldı.

Benim için bu kitap tamamen inanç, Tanrı'yı aramak, Tanrı'yı bulmak ya da bulduğunu sanmak, O'nu kaybetmek, sonra yine aramak için kendinde güç bulmaya çalışmak konuları etrafında şekillendi. Ve dolayısıyla çok ama çok etkilendim. Elimden bırakamadığım, bir seferde 2-3 bölüm okuduğum ve tabii ki altını çizecek ve bu çizilenlerin üstüne düşünülecek çok şey bulduğum bir okuma oldu. Uzun süre de unutmam gibi geliyor.

Bilim kurgu sevenleri de çok memnun edeceği kesin tabii bu arada. Yazarın antropolojik bilgisi kendini her aşamada gösteriyor.

  Rakhat'tan gelen sinyallerin alındığı senenin 2019 oluşu ve Rakhat yolculuğunun 2020-2021'de başlaması tam da o senelerde olduğumuz için çok keyifli bir detaydı kendi adıma. Ve gerçekte bu dönemde uzaylılardan sinyal almaktansa -ki belki de almadığımız daha iyi oluyordur- hastalıklar, savaşlar ve pandemi gibi 'dünyevi' şeylerle uğraştığımız seneler olduğu gerçeği de insanı düşündürüyor. "Rakhat'a göre birkaç yüz yıl ilerideyiz ama refah olarak neredeyiz?" sorusunu sorduruyor. Bundan başka gayet basitçe ama anlaşılır ifade edilen izafiyet, dünyada ve yolculuk sırasında/Rakhat'ta geçen yılların böylece kolayca anlaşılması, ve tabii en çok bir başka uygarlıkla karşılaşıldığında tanışmanın dilbilimin incelikleri üzerinden yapılmış olması... Bütün bu detaylar ve Rakhat'ı iyice tanımamızı sağlayan diğer anatomik, kültürel, ekonomik ve tabii her şeyin seyrini değiştiren nüfus politikası detaylarının hiçbiri es geçilmemiş. Es geçilmediği gibi kurguya da başarıyla yedirilmiş, dolayısıyla tüm bunlar didaktik ve okurken insanı sıkacak bir öğe olmaktan çıkmış.  

Russell'ın kitaba neden Serçe ismini verdiği en son sayfalarda anlaşılıyor. Bu bence çok güzel ve merakı üst düzeyde tutan bir faktördü. "Tamam ama neden Serçe? Bu gelen sinyalle mi alakalı acaba?" diye çok sordum kendime. Tabii cevap bambaşka ama çok tatmin edici (ve çok vurucu) idi.

Özellikle teoloji ile ilgisi olan ve Gülün Adı tadında bir okuma arayanlara şiddetle tavsiye ederim.

"Tanrım, inanıyorum, inançsızlığımda bana yardım et."

This is the third SF story I've read where a Jesuit priest goes on an expedition to another planet and suffers a spiritual crisis as a result. It's almost becoming a sub-genre. I don't want to call Emilio a whiner or anything - obviously, what happens to him is truly horrible. But, much as I hate to say it, his tragedy seemed lightweight compared to the other two, and I felt disappointed. I was expecting something a little more cosmic in scale.

Of the three stories, the one I found most effective was Arthur C. Clarke's classic short, The Star. They set course for a supernova remnant and find a half-melted planet on the outskirts of what used to be its solar system. There's a deeply buried time-capsule planted by the alien civilization which was destroyed by the explosion. The aliens evidently had plenty of warning, but no chance to escape. This was all they could do. The priest spends a lot of time looking at the records and artifacts, and is greatly moved by them.

They also let the humans get a precise fix on the date of the explosion, which was previously just guessed to within a few centuries. The Jesuit does the calculations, and makes a horrifying discovery. The light from the supernova would have arrived on Earth in 1 A.D. At the end of the story, he is wringing his hands. How could God have destroyed this innocent alien race, just to provide a beacon to shine over Bethlehem?

OK, I found that suitably impressive. And, even though it's poorly written, James Blish's A Case of Conscience is also grandiose enough to justify the SF setting, rather than making it a historical novel set in the colonial era. There's this planet populated by a race of lizard-like aliens. At first, they seem harmless enough. They're kind, peaceful and very civilized. But, if you're prepared to accept the author's loopy theology, the mere fact that they have this perfect society without any belief in God is an affront to the teachings of the Church. Then the aliens also provide living proof of the correctness of evolution, since their young visibly recapitulate all the evolutionary stages after they've hatched. Thus (and I must admit that the details of the argument were a little obscure to me), it follows that the whole planet was created by Satan in order to tempt mankind. There is an apocalyptic showdown, the details of which I shan't reveal, but, even if the book is crap, at least it's crap on a motorcycle.

So, two hard acts to follow. At one point, I wondered if Mary Doria Russell was trying to update the Blish formula, and produce a better-packaged version of it. That might be worth doing. The closer I got to the ending, the harder I found it to see what the payoff could be, and when I got there it thought it was dismayingly prosaic. Did we need to go to Alpha Centauri for this?

Well... I don't want to knock the book too hard. I liked the main characters, even if they were sometimes just too damn nice to be credible, and it was a page-turner. The linguistics and anthropology were well done, and it was uplifting at times. I didn't think it lived up to the advance billing. But I enjoyed it enough that I'll probably read the sequel, which I'm told is better. Stay tuned.

________________________________________

PS This is incredibly geeky, and I know it has nothing to do with the actual story, but I need to share my thought. The asteroid accelerates at 1 g for a year, reaching about 0.93 of the speed of light, or so she claims. Then it decelerates by the same amount for another year, to slow down. To get back home, same procedure again.

Now... whatever can its power source be? Even if you had an anti-matter drive working with perfect efficiency at turning matter into kinetic energy, you'd still use up most of the asteroid as fuel, with all sorts of structural implications. Remember that structural stability was important. And how would you store that quantity of anti-matter? Recall that this is being done a few decades into the future.

Look, she started it. This is what's wrong with an SF scenario. If it had been a historical novel set in e.g. the sixteenth century Amazon rain forest, you wouldn't have to worry about my silly objections. It's bad enough keeping track of the theology, without getting involved in physics too.

________________________________________

PPS And continuing my geeky thought: if the engines are powerful enough to accelerate the asteroid at 1 g, it follows that they could lift it against Earth's gravity. Wow. Those are some engines. I estimate their thrust at around 2 Supermen or 0.8 Powerpuff Girl (say, Buttercup when she's feeling a bit wussy). And we're going to have invented them within the next ten years.

Sorry, sorry, sorry... all totally below the belt, I know. But I'm still blaming her for starting this. She tries to give it a hard-science gloss, but she didn't use enough undercoat.

Beklentileri karşılayacak bir kitap kesinlikle. Cizvit rahipleri uzaya, yeni keşfedilen bir dünyaya göndermek özgün bir fikir. Yazarın mesleki bilgisinin yansıdığını görebiliyorsunuz. Bilim kurgu meraklıları kadar insan ve din hakkında bir şeyler okumak isteyenleri de çekebilir.

'Babanızın haberi olmadan, tek bir serçe bile yere düşemez.' (Matthew 10:29)

7/10

Irritating. Irritating prose, irritating philosophizing, intensely irritating structure, and SUPREMELY irritating characters. Honestly, a more annoying set of self-satisfied "witty" bourgeois assholes you will not find.

Ben de herkes gibi bu romana bir bilim-kurgu eseri olarak başladım ama bir Kaf dağı hikayesi olarak bitirdim. Benim böyle hikayelerden alegoriler, distopyalar çıkarma huyum vardır zaten. Oysa ki uyarılmıştım daha önce, alegorik roman diye bir şey yoktur, alegorik okur vardır. Ama ben böyleyim işte. Lisede de matematik dersinde en çok türev almaktan hoşlanırdım.

Hani böyle cizvit papazlarını uzaya göndermek ilk başta eğlenceli, Philip K. Dick romanlarındaki gibi kurgubilimsel bir parodi olarak düşünülebilir ama hiç de değil. Tam tersine ciddi, hatta asık suratlı bir eserle karşı karşıyaydım.

İşin bilim kısmının güdük kalması da benim işime geldi doğrusu. Başkaları bunu eleştirebilir ama benim için işin teknik ya da bilim kısmı kararındaydı. Stanislaw Lem'in romanlarını da benzer durumundan dolayı sevmişimdir zaten. Ben galiba bilimkurgu değil, bilimkurgu elbisesi giymiş eserler okuduğumu düşünüyorum ya da sanıyorum.

Romanın böyle klasik giriş-gelişme-sonuç çizgiselliğinden uzak olması da ilgimi çeken başka bir konu. Böyle bir sondan, bir baştan işleniyor, yavaş yavaş ortaya, sürece, ya da merkeze doğru geliyoruz. Yani hikayenin gelişme bölümünü merak ediyorsunuz.

Yine malum, uzaydan sesler duyuyoruz, Rakhat adlı gezegenden sanki birileri şarkı söylüyor. Ama galiba uzaydaki şarkıcı kimsenin umurunda değil. Bahane sadece. Başlangıçta cizvitlerin uzayı misyona dönüştürme arzuları olduğu düşünülebilir ama sonradan öyle olmadığı anlaşılabilir. Sanırım papazlar kalplerindeki şüpheleri yok etmek istiyorlar ve Tanrılarının izinde yolculuğa çıkmışlar. Ama Anka Kuşu onların yollarını gözlüyordur. Emilio Sandoz kırk yıl sonra mürettebattan geriye dönen tek kişi. Ama pek sağlıklı değil galiba. Dindar birine yakışmayacak derecede aksi ve ağzı bozuk birine dönüşmüş.

Hani böyle uzaylılar var mı geyiğine ben de dayanamadım katıldım, roman nedeniyle. Uzaylıların varlığını tartışmaya bile gerek yok, biz varız ya... Bizim varlığımız da küçük bir timal sonucunda gerçekleşmiş zaten. Hem bizim dışımızda varlıklar var olsa bile onların romandaki bir köylü toplumu olma olasılığı daha yüksek. Böyle patates ile yeni tanışan ve kocaman dikiş makineleri olan uzaylılar

The Society of Jesus sends a mission of priests and laypeople to Rakhat, a planet discovered by hearing broadcasts of their music across space. One part of the story is set in 2019-2020, where Father Emilio Sandoz is traveling the world, performing his duties as a linguist. He meets Sofia Mendez, an indentured consultant assigned to transfer his methodology into an artificial intelligence program. The other part of the story is set in 2059-2060, where it is obvious that something has gone terribly wrong during the mission. In a remote location in Italy, the Jesuits are inquiring into what happened.

The two strands of the storyline are brilliantly woven together by the author, providing the reader partial glimpses of key elements of the story, and spurring the reader’s interest to continue reading to find out the larger picture. It certainly kept my interest as I set aside everything I was reading to concentrate on this book. It is a wonderful example of a complex story with well-developed interesting characters and thought-provoking material.

It is a creative mix of space opera, historical references, and religious allusions. Father Emilio Sandoz represents extremes of religious thinking. He is portrayed as both a prospective saint and a debauched sinner at various points in the narrative. He believes his mission was divinely ordained but suffers a severe crisis of faith.

The author does not provide answers but examines theological questions through Emilio’s travails. The reader’s own perspective will heavily influence the assessment of the storyline. It defies a unilateral explanation. Just when I thought I had it figured out, something new is inserted that muddies the waters, and I am fairly certain this is intentional on Russell’s part. The reader may experience dissonance from the blending of two very different interpretations of the mission.

It should be no surprise that this book becomes very dark and disturbing. It is apparent from the start that Emilio has suffered horrible disfigurations and is in a fragile mental state from whatever happened on Rakhat. The narrative arc takes the form of a gradual revealing of the crew’s experiences. The disturbing parts form only a small portion of the full story, thankfully. The mood is lightened periodically through humorous interactions among the crew members – their camaraderie is skillfully written.

There are surely parallels between this mission to a planet and the Jesuit missions of earlier centuries. I am not going to try to parse them, but they are referenced. I appreciated the linguistic details of the languages spoken on the planet, their ideas about balance, and the sociological and biological analyses that the author has formulated into a coherent and believable planetary whole. I found it absolutely brilliant.

This book received considerable critical acclaim; I have no idea why. It is, quite frankly, the most idiotic story of an attempt at first contact that I have ever read. I found myself cheering whenever the aliens killed off one of the characters; in one glorious paragraph, three died all at once.