[UberDarkLord]

Well I finished the first story (of three) and was so underwhelmed with the book I decided to postpone reading the other parts.
My main gripes with this supposed 'classic':
- while the proze was excellent, the story was dragging and overall a just too meagre, even for a hundred pages. I found myself profoundly uncaring and detached most of the time from the main character.
- the whole post-apocalyptic resurgence of the Catholic Church really bothered me. Supposedly religion would flower after such a global lethal event, I concur with that, but imho there are far better candidates than the Catholic Church. I think generally Miller went to far in his Medieval setting thing, and was either to lazy or not disposed to making up a more believable post-apocalyptic world.

Maybe it is that the book is fifty years (or more) old, but I certainly don't think its a classic. In the meantime post-apocalyptic fiction has so done. Maybe I have to read the two other stories, but considered the first one is widely considered the best, I for the time being leave it at this.

[LordBalthazar]

I remember perusing my mother's book collection as a kid and coming across an edition of A Canticle for Leibowitz. Given the title, and the fact that mom was a minister, I assumed the book to be religious in nature and, thus, of no particular interest to me with my preference for scifi. Fast forward some thirty years later and I come across this same novel in my science fiction book of the month club. Science fiction? Really? Not at all my mother's cup of tea and yet, even though she doesn't recall reading it now, she does remember it being an excellent book.

Mom was right. It's a beautifully written book with a subtlety of humor that reminded me of the first time I read Jane Eyre in high school - a novel whose humor took me completely, and delightfully, off-guard. In much the same way, A Canticle for Leibowitz turned out to be a surprisingly rewarding read. Like most of you, the first story was my favorite. The richness of the language and the characters, Brother Francis in particular, had me totally immersed. In fact, I enjoyed the first part so much and was so shocked by our protagonist's death, that the second part of the book was a bit of a letdown for me. In retrospect, it was as well written and possessed of the same darkly humorous touches as the first (ie. Mad Bear's disquieting show of mercy for the horses used to draw and quarter his prisoners), but I suppose I was still missing the characters from the first story. I preferred the third story over the second (but, again, not as much as the first) simply because I felt the characters were a little fuller and the situation a little more grounded in the here and now. And, speaking to that, with the recent sabre rattlings by North Korea and Iran, and reports that terrorists are actively seeking out the technology and know-how that will allow them to build their own nuclear weapons - yes, I think A Canticle for Leibowitz is as relevant today as it was when it was first published. Given the development of world events over the past 5 years, I'd say even more so.

[Eventine]

I won't pretend I understood all of what happened. The book would require several re-readings for that to be the case, maybe even in conjunction with a 'study guide' and/or dictionary - the level of biblical and religious imagery is at times complex, and the use of Latin throughout is emotive but obviously a mystery unless you understand the language.


I finished this up last night and had a similar feeling. I think if I'd been raised Catholic it probably would've made the book a very different read as well.

I found the third section quite eery - it was disconcerting to see mankind falling into the same pattern of apocalypse even after knowing the damage it did the first time around. A challenging novel, and one I think I would've found more rewarding if I had more to bring to the table.

[Fung Koo]

I recently read this book upon suggestion from a clerk at my local bookstore.

I have to admit, reading the synopsis I thought what I was about to read would be a bit dated, old, and fuddy-duddy. However, this was an extremely well written and conceived post-apocalyptic world which retains an enormous (albeit differently directed) amount of relevance.

In this thread people have mentioned the buzzards/vultures as a constant, and when I was reading this there was an article in the paper that the vultures are officially on the endangered species list. That, more than anything, presents anachronistic qualities in this book.

I was also disappointed that Brother Francis disappeared, but once I figured out what the time-scale of the novel was, and saw that each set of characters was as well crafted as the previous crowd, the tensions of the culture Miller was drawing became clear. Ultimately, this is a novel about how and what we communicate both between ourselves and through our technology. In the third part, the scenes involving the '50's imagined fax/email machine are particularly telling.

To me, the mysticism about technology is Miller's main point. That humanity fears what it does not understand (particularly when paired with power structures) is evident throughout, and the way that Brother Francis is completely ignorant about his transistor map elucidates that point.

On to the second book, and the mirror of the arms build up/space race in the competition between the monk and scientist for electricity plays its part. The fact that the scientist remarks on how a leap of intelligence/faith made by the monk to create controlled electricity again shows the mysticism surrounding technology. The political intrigue that bubbles behind the technological discoveries again pointing out the power structures.

The third element, in the end, is all about communication. The technologies are mastered, the power games are in play (as they always have been), and humanity again plays around with deceiving each other.

So, I argue that Miller is trying to yell at us, and loudly, to communicate!

Anyone have any thoughts on the issue?

Otherwise, I think the pilgrim/Lazarus character is mostly a narrative device to keep the three stories tied together, but also to serve as a representation of the author... watching and waiting, observing humanity at it again. The ever present eye of the critic (unlike the poet who is the other side of the argument -- ever present, but dispensable and in the way, a nuisance, to every power-bent organization, while simultaneously a pawn in the forces of propaganda. the poet questions and satirizes, but in the end its all a joke to him.)

I would be interested to read more of people's thoughts on how Grimes/Rachel might tie into this. Is she just an innocent child doomed by the power structures around her? What does she have to do with the communication theme? Or is she simply there to forgive us all for our arrogance?

Definitely a thinker of a book.