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A Canticle for Leibowitz

Jun11

The current Faith ‘n Fiction Roundtable book is A Canticle for Leibowitz by Walter Miller, Jr. I read the book a few years ago and honestly didn’t feel like a re-read. So this post is what I wrote back then, edited to include some discussion points that came up as the other people in the group read the book.

I thought the book was . . . interesting. In some ways, the ideas were fascinating. The plot was somewhat outdated; published in 1959, the book posits a world decimated by nuclear war in which culture and literacy are preserved only by a small group of Catholic monks. And even the monks don’t understand half of what they’re preserving. The barbarians have taken over the world, and only a few isolated outposts of civilization remain. Near the end of the book, euthanasia is a major issue, and that section was startlingly relevant to contemporary culture.

Some questions brought up in this novel:

Is it possible for an entire culture to be destroyed or lost and then revived or regained?

Long ago, during the last age of reason, certain proud thinkers had claimed that valid knowledge was indestructible–that ideas were deathless and truth immortal. But that was true in only the subtlest sense, the abbot thought, and not superficially true at all. There was objective meaning in the world, to be sure: the nonmoral logos or design of the Creator; but such meanings were God’s and not Man’s, until they found an imperfect incarnation, a dark reflection, within the mind and speech and culture of a given human society, which might ascribe values to the meanings so that they became valid in a human sense within the culture. For Man was a culture-bearer as well as a soul bearer, but his cultures were not immortal and they could die with a race or an age, and then human reflections of meaning and human portrayals of truth receded, and truth and meaning resided, unseen, only in the objective logos of Nature and the ineffable Logos of God. Truth could be crucified; but soon, perhaps, a resurrection.

Is there meaning in suffering? Particularly, why do children suffer?

“I cannot understand a God who is pleased by my baby’s hurting!”
The priest winced. “No, no! It is not the pain that is pleasing to God, child. It is the soul’s endurance in faith and hope and love in spite of bodily afflictions that pleases Heaven. Pain is like negative temptation. God is not pleased by temptations that afflict the flesh; He is pleased when the soul rises above the temptation and says, ‘Go Satan.’ It’s the same with pain, which is often a temptation to despair, anger, loss of faith –”
“Save your breath, Father. I’m not complaining. The baby is. But the baby doesn’t understand your sermon. She can hurt, though. She can hurt, but she can’t understand.”

Maybe this book isn’t outdated at all. Maybe the barbarians are at the gates. Maybe we are danger of destroying ourselves and our culture either with our nuclear weapons or with our gene-tampering technologies or in some other way that I can’t foresee. Perhaps we are becoming so illiterate and TV-obsessed that the treasures of Western culture and of Christianity may only be preserved in isolated communities and homes. Or maybe the sky isn’t falling. It’s worth thinking about.

Several of the characters in A Canticle for Leibowitz seem to carry deep symbolic meaning but I’m not really sure what that meaning is. There’s a Mad Poet, who is either a prophet or a fool. And Benjamin the Old Jew of the Mountain who lives out in the desert alone, waiting for the Messiah, or waiting for something, is intriguing, but I can’t exactly tell you what his character is supposed to signify either. Some of my fellow readers thought he was Lazarus, and others thought he was drawn from the legend of the Wandering Jew. Then at the end of the novel there’s an old “tumater woman” with two heads. Is she significant or just odd? (The other FnF roundtable readers struggled with the meaning of the two-headed tumater woman, too.) My guess is that all these ambiguous characters are thrown in to hint at meaning, maybe to tease the reader. After all, the question that runs through the entire novel is that of whether life has any meaning at all. I think the novelist intends us to keep asking.

I did a little research and read that not only did Mr. Miller renounce his Catholicism later in life after the publication of A Canticle for Leibowitz, he also suffered from depression and finally committed suicide. It’s a sad ending, and it contradicts the hope inherent in A Canticle for Leibowitz. But the book also indicates that men are inconsistent at best.

More discussion at the following blogs participating in this round of Faith ‘n Fiction Roundtable:

  • Book Addiction
  • Book Hooked Blog
  • Books and Movies
  • Crazy-for-Books.com
  • Ignorant Historian
  • Linus’s Blanket
  • My Friend Amy
  • Roving Reads
  • The 3 Rs Blog // Reading, ‘Riting, and Randomness
  • Tina’s Book Reviews
  • Victorious Café
  • Word Lily

    • Certain Women by Madeleine L’Engle

    Feb26

    A couple of years ago I started on a Madeleine L’Engle Project. My goal was to read or re-read all of Ms. L’Engle’s books in the order in which they were published. I didn’t get all that far, but I did re-read some favorites and post about them here at Semicolon. Then, I became distracted by other projects, and I haven’t read anything by Madeleine L’Engle in a while.

    So, I am pleased the my participation in the Faith and Fiction Roundtable impelled me to read Certain Women again, one of Ms. L’Engle’s later novels. It’s the story of famous stage actor David Wheaton who is dying of cancer, attended by the wife of his old age, Alice, and by his daughter, Emma, who is also an actress. Alice is actually David Wheaton’s ninth and final wife, and he has nine children, the products of eight previous failed marriages. David Wheaton has always wanted to play the role of King David from the Bible, but the opportunity never came. As Wheaton reviews his life, he and his complicated family see the analogies between the life of David Wheaton, actor, and the life of David, sweet singer and King of Israel.

    In the hands of another writer, this book would probably have been about David Wheaton, a man who married many wives and whose life experiences bore a certain resemblance to those of King David, with the similarities being left to the reader to discover. L’Engle chose to highlight the analogies by having Emma’s husband, a playwright, spend most of the novel attempting to write a play, specifically a vehicle for Wheaton to star as King David. By the opening of the novel, the play is a failed attempt that never was completed, and David Wheaton is much too old and sick to play the part of David anyway. But as the novel progresses the characters review scenes that were written about David and his many wives: Michal, Ahinoam, Abigail, Maacah, Bathsheba, Abishag, and others. And Wheaton and his family discuss the similarities between the Wheaton family and King David’s family and the differences. Somehow the Biblical stories give the characters insight into their own family dynamic and help them to reconcile with God and with each other.

    I thought the first time I read the book, and I remembered again as I re-read, that this novel in particular, of all Madeleine L’Engle’s novels, has a certain soap opera quality to it. (Madeleine L’Engle’s husband was an actor and a long time character on the daytime drama, All My Children.) The characters move in and out of one another’s lives like soap opera characters, and there’s a lot of adultery, divorce, re-marriage, and other family drama (nothing terribly explicit or offensive). However, L’Engle’s people are more complicated and have more depth to them than the average soap opera witch or ingenue. The story this time around reminded me of Marilynne Robinson’s Gilead in its portrayal of an old man preparing to die, reminiscing about his life, and trying to understand the decisions he’s made and their ongoing effect on his family members. Gilead is probably, almost certainly, the better written book, but somehow Madeleine L’Engle’s books always speak to me.

    In this reading I was impressed by the importance of forgiveness for both the sinner and the one sinned against:

    “He said that it was only after David lusted after Bathsheba, caused Uriah’s death, only after he had failed utterly with Tamar and Amnon and Absalom, only after he was fleeing his enemies, fleeing his holy city of Jerusalem, that he truly became a king.”

    “Parents always fail their children. If we’d had children, we’d have failed ours. That’s simply how it is, and the kids have to get along as best they can. My parents were who they were. Dave is Dave.”

    “Emma closed her eyes. There was a terrible empty space where Etienne and Adair should have been. ‘What is forgiveness?’
    Chantal’s long fingers gripped the steering wheel. ‘It’s not forgetting. That’s repression, not forgiveness.’
    Emma looked over at her sister.
    ‘Remembering,’ Chantal said, ‘but not hurting anymore.'”

    What is your definition of forgiveness? And how do you forgive someone who is either absent or unrepentant?

    Jesus said of the prostitute who washed his feet, “Therefore, I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven–for she loved much. But he who has been forgiven little loves little.” Perhaps only those who know that they have sinned greatly can understand and experience the depth of God’s grace, mercy, and love.

    Other participants in today’s discussion of Certain Women:
    My Friend Amy: Certain Women, The Women in David’s Life
    Heather at Book Addiction.
    Book Hooked Blog.
    Sheila at Book Journey
    Jennifer at Crazy for Books
    Carrie at Books and Movies
    Ronnica at The Ignorant Historian
    Thomas at My Random Thoughts
    The 3r’s Blog: Reading, ‘Riting, and Randomness
    Word Lily
    Tina’s Book Reviews

    Projects, New and Old: January 2011

    Jan29

    My Bible Reading Project is going pretty well. I’ve read through Genesis, on track to finish Mark this weekend, and several of the Psalms. I also read Galatians, mostly aloud to the urchins, but I can’t say I was very successful in explaining the distinction between keeping the Law for the law’s sake and keeping it out of gratitude for what Christ has done. The urchins stared at me blankly for the most part as I engaged in this lesson in theology for their benefit. Ah, well, push on.

    I want to take my old Bible and do this project with it: Blank Bible Project. I can see how this would be really useful—and a way of passing down a legacy to at least one of my children. More detailed instructions on making a blank Bible.

    I read Certain Women by Madeleine L’Engle for the Faith N Fiction Roundtable, and I found Ms. L’Engle’s work as satisfying and thoughtful as ever. Come here, or to one of the other participants’ blogs, in February for more discussion of the book and its implications.

    Poetry Project: The poems are posting on Fridays for Poetry Friday, and I’m enjoying them, even though we are in the Romantic period right now. I think I’m becoming an anti-Romantic poetry reader.

    Newbery Project: I read and reviewed the Newbery Award winner, Moon Over Manifest, this month. I liked it a lot.

    Operation Clean House is going nowhere. I haven’t even attempted to put together an Exercise and Diet Project. If anyone know of a way to exercise without actual physical labor being involved, please let me know.

    In February, I really want to do more posts for Texas Tuesday and Read Aloud Thursday (to link to Amy’s blog, Hope Is the Word). I also would like to continue my Africa Reading Project, which has gotten off to a good start this year with several posts in January.