A Canticle for Leibowitz by Walter M. Miller Jr. – review

Walter M. Miller Jr.’s A Canticle for Leibowitz was one of the first books I picked up when starting my personal quest to catch up and immerse myself in Science Fiction, as I had always known my Science Fiction knowledge was was severely lacking compared to how much I had read in Fantasy.  A Canticle for Leibowitz is widely considered a classic (which admittedly means absolutely nothing in many instances), but more importantly came highly recommended by opinions I trust. I have found through my reading that the critique and practice of canonization in regards to Science Fiction novels seems much more aptly bestowed in comparison to Fantasy where it seems numerous titles are labeled with accolades that are at the very least questionable, and oftentimes preposterous.

How can a great and wise civilization have destroyed itself so completely? Perhaps by being materially great and materially wise and nothing else.

A Canticle for Leibowitz was written in 1959, and it should be noted that its original form was that of 3 novellas.  It takes place in a post-apocalyptic Earth setting, predicated by a nuclear holocaust (referred to as the Flame Deluge) that Miller suggests occured in the 60’s of the same century. The novel is told in 3 segments, each taking place further into the future than the prior, with the first “Fiat Homo”several hundred years in our future (however, from a technological sense, it more parallels our Dark Ages). After the holocaust the majority of survivors blamed people who possessed specialized knowledge, or any learned knowledge at all.  In a momentous fervent movement fed by admittedly questionable common sense and a tremendous amount of spite, they practiced what is basically a reenactment of the Spanish Inquisition (with equal zeal if not the supposed spiritual cause), hunting down and executing scientists, engineers, etc., that the luddite populace blamed for the fall of civilization and for their personal plights. This movement is called “The Great Simplification.” In all three segments, the Church is the resident to monks–men of antiquary, who live monastic lives preserving memorized knowledge to duplicate them in a time when such actions are more tolerable to the population. I will briefly touch on the contents of the 3 segments, then touch on the novel as a whole.

In “Fiat Homo” (I always wondered when those Latin courses would serve a purpose:  “Let there be man”) we meet one such monk, Brother Francis Gerard, a faint-hearted man who, as part of his vocation, is in the desert (Utah) fasting for 40 days at Lent. He will meet an old man, who may be an apparition, a rare traveling pilgrim, or perhaps Leibowitz himself? After practicing his aim in rock-throwing at Francis, the old man helps him unlock the hiding place of a former bomb shelter dating back to the pre-holocaust days that will contain manuals and documents that belong to Leibowitz, a man for whom Brother Francis’s abbey is dedicated, who is close (if not exactly impending) to being canonized as a Saint. The dated evidence Francis finds proves to be instrumental in ending some lingering doubts of Leibowitz’s nomination for Sainthood. Leibowitz was man from the time of the Flame Deluge, and one of those executed in the aforementioned aftermath, and revered by the abbey for his dedication to knowledge. This first section is lighter in tone to the subsequent segments, and offers some moments of ironic comedy, such as Francis visiting the Papal Seat of power, New Rome, and the first appearance of what is the only recurring character between any of the segments, the aforementioned old man, who, because of his constant “presence,” is the most intriguing character in the novel for me–and in SF, for that matter (more on him later).

The second segment, “Fiat Lux” (“Let there be light,” which is related to the original novella title “And the Light is Risen”) picks up several hundred years after the end of “Fiat Homo.” Here we see the beginning of scientific curiosity in some segments of society; we will see the first rudimentary lamp made. We see the first steps of science, the pursuit of it becoming more important and taking more precedence to some groups than other ideals. We meet a man who is noted as somewhat of a prodigy as a thinker, Thon Taddeo, in a time that a schism is caused by an Empire desiring expansion and autonomy from the Church, and a single superpower is born, Texarkana (damn Texans). I really like the dialogue in this section between Taddeo and the presiding Abbot of the Monastery of the time, Dom Paulo, concerning society/religion/science. Again we see the old man dismissing perhaps the most enlightened man of the time (Taddeo)–“it’s still not him”–as he gives a lecture to the abbey, a telling statement. We also are introduced to a one-eyed Poet who’s an extremely thoughtful character whose verbal confrontation with Taddeo offers some of the most thoughtful dialogue in a novel rich in such passages.

The final segment, entitled “Fiat Voluntas Tua” (“Thy will be done”) takes place several hundred years after “Fiat Lux,” and civilization has now passed the levels of technology that surpassed the period before the Flame Deluge. Continuing the prevailing theme that history does repeat itself, the world is a volatile place full of political tension, and war seems imminent. This chapter touches on many subjects such as euthanasia, suicide, and the value of life. The abbot of the time, Father Zerchi, prepares for the end of the world, and while doing so tries to save a single life and has a philosophical discussion with a member of a organization who “humanely kill” those that infected with radiation at mercy camps.  The monks picket these camps with signs proclaiming a Dante inspired warning:

“Abandon Every Hope Ye Who Enter Here”

Zerchi takes steps to ensure the Church’s survival and that of the documents found by Bacon in the first segment. We also see a very intriguing and rather brilliant instance at the end of the novel of the only female character in the novel (which was puzzling to me as I read the novel), and Zerchi’s and perhaps mankind’s final understanding and realization.

My impression of A Canticle for Leibowitz is one of profound admiration. A well-written social commentary examining religion and knowledge, the effects it has on mortality concerning both each individual and society as a whole. All 3 segments were separate yet extremely enjoyable due to the ways Miller connected them, while often making the well-known point that some knowledge is lost over time and the myths that sometimes we take for religious canon are incomplete and skewed from the original versions. The novel is not dense and should be very accessible for readers who may avoid Sci-fi novels because they fear dense passages and overly exhaustive uses of description regarding technological issues.  At the same time, the statements and symbolism in the dialogue are profound, especially if you’re gifted with a small amount knowledge regarding Latin, and have some knowledge of passages from literature (the Bible, mostly). The choice of even the name of Leibowitz as being the Saint is a nice stroke. The old man I was referring to is obviously a reference to the Wandering Jew, who in Christian mythology is told by Jesus “go on forever till I return.” The character is absolutely a stroke of genius. The novel probably is the best mix of accesibility on the surface and incredible peripheral symbolic meaning, often characterized by a couple of words in Latin, or choice biblical scripture.

Reading up on Miller, I found that he is man who has always struggled with his own faith, and in 1997 he commited suicide. I knew this before I read the novel, and that’s why a line ending a chapter in “Fiat Lux” struck me:

Those who stayed behind had the easier part. Theirs was but to wait for the end and pray that it would not come.

A Canticle for Leibowitz is an incredible legacy, and well deserving of the the words commonly associated with it, like “classic” and “timeless.” It is a rare novel in that it seems almost impossible not to enjoy, and it lives up to its reputation as a masterpiece of speculative fiction.  I would recommend it to all who have taste that any value can be attributed to. It’s a true classic not of science fiction, but of speculative fiction, and can in my opinion be appreciated by astute fans of any subgenre.