A Canticle for Leibowitz: A must-read for any true SF fan

A Canticle for Leibowitz by Walter M. Miller Jr

It’s the Dark Ages again. A 20^th century nuclear war spawned a “Flame Deluge” which destroyed human civilization’s infrastructure and technology, killed most of the people, and created genetic mutations in many of the rest. Then there was a backlash against the educated people of the world who were seen as the creators of both the ideas that started the war, and the weapons that were used to fight it. They were persecuted and killed and all knowledge was burned up. After this “Simplification,” people took pride in being illiterate and the only institution that seemed to come through intact was the Roman Catholic Church, just as it did during humanity’s first Dark Ages.

Walter M. Miller Jr’s A Canticle for Leibowitz is divided into three parts, which were originally published as three separate stories. In the first story, “Fiat Homo,” which takes place 600 years after The Simplification, we find a cloister of monks who are applying to New Rome to have their martyred patron, an ex-electrical engineer named Isaac Edward Leibowitz, sainted. Leibowitz’s monks have been collecting, preserving, and copying fragments of the Earth’s previous civilization. As keepers of pre-Deluge history, they attempt to piece together knowledge and history, without knowing for certain what they’re looking at. One day, while maintaining a vigil of silence in the desert around the abbey, Brother Francis stumbles upon the entrance to Leibowitz’s fallout shelter containing precious relics, such as a circuitry blueprint and a deli shopping list. These relics cause quite a stir in the abbey.

“Fiat Lux” begins 600 years later. Genetic mutations caused by the fallout are still affecting mammalian DNA, and the monks of St. Leibowitz occasionally wonder whether there really ever was an advanced civilization on Earth, but progress is gradually being made. This is especially true in the abbey of St. Leibowitz where the monks are safe from the tribal wars that are common in surrounding Texarkana. Their studies of the fragments they’ve been collecting have prepared them to ignite a new renaissance.

Another 600 years pass. In “Fiat Voluntas Tua,” humans, though still affected by “genetic festering,” have reached the pinnacle of civilization and culture, progressing beyond what had been experienced before the nuclear war in the 20^th century. But there’s been a cold war going on for 50 years between the two world superpowers and they both have nuclear weapons. At the abbey of St. Leibowitz, the monks wonder if humans are destined to repeat the cycle and, as keepers of the world’s knowledge, what is the abbey’s responsibility to humankind?

Are we doomed to do it again and again and again? Have we no choice but to play the Phoenix in an unending sequence of rise and fall? …. Are we doomed to it, Lord, chained to the pendulum of our own mad clockwork, helpless to halt its swing? This time, it will swing us clean to oblivion… Back then, in the Saint Leibowitz’ time, maybe they didn’t know what would happen… They had not yet seen a billion corpses. They had not seen the still-born, the monstrous, the dehumanized, the blind. They had not yet seen the madness and the murder and the blotting out of reason. Then they did it, and then they saw it… Only a race of madmen could do it again.

Obviously, the main theme of A Canticle for Leibowitz is the repetitive cycle of human history and the role of our advancing knowledge and technology in our own destruction. This provides the reader with plenty to think on, but Miller also addresses issues that the Roman Catholic Church has tackled during its history, such as its role in state politics and its insistence that euthanasia is a sin. While the novel is meant to be a serious consideration of these ideas, and while its predictions and warnings are frightening, A Canticle for Leibowitz still manages to be amusing and agreeably quirky all the way through. Though there’s a powerful and unforgettable message here, it is the irreverent, eccentric humor that makes it so enjoyable to read.

A Canticle for Leibowitz is a classic piece of post-apocalyptic science fiction that had mass cross-genre appeal when it was published in 1960, won the Hugo award in 1961, and has never been out of print. Thus, it’s a must-read for any true SF fan. I recently tried the audio version which was just released by Blackstone Audio and narrated by Tom Weiner. Audio readers, even if you’ve read A Canticle for Leibowitz before, you won’t want to miss Blackstone Audio’s first-rate production of this imaginative, chilling, and humorous novel.

~Kat Hooper

A Canticle for Leibowitz is a book that defies standard categorization. I suppose it has enough future-world, post-apocalyptic concepts that it falls in the science fiction realm, but it’s not your basic laser beam and alien fare. This story goes much deeper.

A Canticle for Leibowitz is made up of three stories that span thousands of years. Each story focuses on a distinct time period, looking progressively further into a post-apocalyptic future. The setting is the same abbey in the American West, founded to protect and preserve the learnings of the pre-apocalyptic society. Specifically, they’ve developed a myth around a martyred scientist named Leibowitz.

The first story revolves around Brother Francis who accidentally discovers certain original papers created by Leibowitz, including the blue prints for a technological device. The second story centers on a new technological awakening where future theorists come in contact with ancient (modern) technology. The sequence comes full circle in the third story as our future world is faced again with mutual mass destruction.

Miller wrote A Canticle for Leibowitz in the late ’50s when World War II and the atomic bomb were still visible in the world’s rearview mirror and the cold war threat was very much a reality. Much of Miller’s discourse is on the cyclical nature of cultures and societies, the interconnections between religion and science, as well as death and politics. It’s clear that much of the evocative emotion stems from Miller’s time in the military and a youth grown up during a World War.

The story is at times light and humorous but threaded with a very heavy and serious undertone throughout.

The root story I found very interesting — how this future-world’s archaeology is our modern world’s past. I felt that the first two segments of the book were strongest and was only saddened that each couldn’t have more ink themselves. In reflecting upon the discoveries of their past, and their promises of hope for the future, Miller writes:

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… Truth could be crucified, but soon, perhaps a resurrection.

The development of religion, while always founded in Christianity, morphs over the course of the story and we see a mythology grow over time. A Canticle for Leibowitz is successful on many levels… as simply an intriguing story with attractive characters, and as literature built upon a foundation of religion and war. It’s solid story telling at its best, with heart, emotion and intelligence layered on top of the tale from start to finish.

~Jason Golomb

(Update: July 20, 2015.  I have revised and expanded this review after extensive feedback and discussion with readers.)

This 1959 Hugo-winning SF classic from Walter M. Miller is certainly an odd fish in the genre. A Canticle for Leibowitz’s s central character is the Order of Saint Leibowitz that survives after the nuclear holocaust (the Flame Deluge), and the story spans over a thousand years as humanity seems determined to repeat its mistakes and destroy itself over and over, with the help of science and technology, while this small group of monks strives to preserve ancient knowledge amid the collapse of civilization.

Many readers consider this book a powerful cautionary tale warning against nuclear conflict and the dangers of science. It is certainly well-written, and there are many light-hearted moments in the monks’ lives that belie the serious moral themes of the story.

The first part of the book, “Fiat Homo” (Let There Be Man), is the best in my opinion: the story of the small abbey in the American Southwest desert dedicated to Isaac Leibowitz, an engineer who secretly preserved books and knowledge and was martyred in the backlash against science following the Flame Deluge. Young novice Brother Francis discovers an ancient fallout shelter that contains many relics that may have belonged to Leibowitz himself.

This discovery causes an uproar as it may interfere with the canonization process of Leibowitz, and results in New Rome sending investigators to examine the relics, and eventually Brother Francis himself is sent to convey these relics to New Rome and present them to the Pope. He encounters a number of setbacks along the way, but manages to make it to New Rome. He learns something of the power structure of the Church, and is tasked with returning to retrieve something that was taken by thieves, but again things don’t work out as planned. The ending of this story is both tragic and ironic.

The second part, “Fiat Lux” (Let There Be Light), takes place over five centuries later, as the Albertian Order of Saint Leibowitz continues to preserve the various pre-Deluge documents, although they are poorly understood. In the 32nd century, mankind is just starting to rediscover scientific knowledge, and the story revolves around Thon Taddeo, a secular scholar who is intensely interested in the relics and other knowledge preserved by the abbey of St. Leibowitz. He asks the abbey to pass the Memorabilia to his care in the city-state of Texarkana, which is ruled by the ambitious Hannegan. The abbey refuses, insisting that Taddeo come to study them.

Reluctantly he agrees to come and meets Brother Kornhoer, who has independently developed a treadmill-powered electrical generator to power a lamp. This is one of the funniest images, of a group of sweating monks pumping away at the generator to provide enough electrical light for Thon Taddeo to study documents in the library. The clash in attitudes between the knowledge-hungry Taddeo and the innocent scientific experiments of the monks forms the main part of the narrative, but the remainder features all the political scheming of Hannegan to dominate the surrounding city-states by playing them against each other. These political machinations were tedious and distracted from the story of Taddeo and the monks.

The third part, “Fiat Voluntas Tua” (Let Thy Will Be Done), I disliked intensely and it negatively affected my view of the whole book. We move forward six centuries and mankind has again developed advanced technology including spaceships, colonies on other planets, and nuclear weapons. The world is dominated by two superpowers, the Asian Coalition and the Atlantic Confederacy, who have been locked in a cold war for many decades. This time our main characters are abbot Dom Zerchi, who recommends to New Rome that the Church put into motion a secret plan to send a group of priests into space to carry on the mission of the Church in case the world is destroyed again by nuclear conflict, and Brother Joshua, the man tapped to lead this mission.

As tensions rise, a limited nuclear exchange occurs, producing thousands of fallout victims. Many of these are taken into the abbey of Dom Zerchi, who has a heated debate on euthanasia with a secular doctor treating the refugees, who insists that it is more merciful to administer death to those suffering from fatal dosages, while Dom Zerchi refuses to go along with this, insisting that lives are sacred even when there is no hope, regardless of the physical suffering. His attitude really upset me, since I strongly sympathize with the doctor’s position and can’t understand the religious arguments against euthanasia.

The three sections of the novel each mirror separate stages of our own history, with “Fiat Homo” showing the Church preserving knowledge even as society falls into chaos and savagery. In “Fiat Lux” we see the rebirth of knowledge and culture, and in “Fiat Voluntas Tua” we see developments akin to our current world, highlighting our infatuation with material wealth and technology, along with a decline in spiritual belief. A Canticle of Leibowitz certainly is a skillful depiction of the cyclical nature of history, as humanity grows in knowledge and technology, only to overreach itself and destroy what has been so carefully built up.

However, despite the undeniably ingenious structure of the stories and skillful writing, I strongly disagreed with the ideas and conclusions of the author. First of all, it’s hard for me to see the Catholic Church as the last protector and repository of science and knowledge as secular society crumbles around it. It’s ironic that the book lovingly describes the noble efforts of these selfless monks to preserve civilization for millenia, but is that the role played by the Church in Europe over the last dozen centuries?

When I first posted my initial review of A Canticle for Leibowitz, I got a spirited response with a lot of dissenting opinions, specifically that I did not understand the Catholic Church’s role in the history of Europe, and I’ll be the first to admit that I am fairly ignorant in that area. While I have since been informed that the Church and monasteries preserved many kinds of knowledge for centuries during the Dark Ages, I wonder at what point that role diminished, since universities (both religious and secular) have taken over that role over the past few centuries. Is the author suggesting the Church has always been firmly on the side of wisdom and intellectual freedom, whereas science and technology have done more harm than good? What about the Church’s treatment of Galileo and Copernicus, not to mention the atrocities committed by the Church’s during the Crusades and Inquisition?

Another important point raised by other readers was that I should make a distinction between the Catholic Church and Christianity in general, since even if the Church may claim to be the only legitimate church of Christ, Protestants pursue their faith in a different way, without all the sacraments, Eucharist, confessionals, and a Pope dictating what people should believe. I am an atheist without any attraction to religion, but I would be far more receptive to the Protestant belief in a direct relationship with God than having to go through some intermediary in order to be baptized and avoid burning in the fires of Hell.

So for me this book is marred by what I view as its anti-science, pro-religious agenda. It’s still not clear to me whether the author is promoting Catholicism. Or was he contrasting individual belief with organized religion? The various monks in A Canticle for Leibowitz are depicted in a very sympathetic light, while secular governments and politicians are shown as power-hungry and destined to bring mankind to destruction amid nuclear holocaust. Does that mean we should abandon secular government in favor of religious rule? Would anyone in their right mind want either the Roman Catholic Church or any of the Islamic states to have control of world affairs? I’d rather be dead and gone before that comes to pass.

That’s what makes this book so confounding. Miller seems to have a very dark and despairing view of mankind’s inability to avoid destroying itself, which was a very topical subject when it was written during the Cold War, but grafting on this story of Catholic monks valiantly protecting the flame of knowledge in a post-apocalyptic future just didn’t work for me at all.

I can agree with Miller that science always presents the dangers of wielding powers that can destroy us, but it is up to us (not a divine being who, even if it does exist, seems to be indifferent to our sordid affairs after that initial burst of creation) to harness science to positive use. Whether our current materialism is due to a lack of spirituality is certainly a valid debate, but for me I seek beauty in the natural world, and find much to admire in human endeavors, not the least of which are literature and art, and much to despise as well. But I choose not to seek betterment through religion. I like the approaches of Stephen Hawking and Albert Einstein, who both have found a form of spirituality in their observations of our incredible universe and the quantum world, which inspires an awe in me that could be viewed as spiritual.

There are an infinite number of future outcomes for global civilization, but the events of A Canticle for Leibowitz do not strike me as plausible. I would highly recommend Edgar Pangborn‘s Davy as a counter-argument to this viewpoint. Neal Stephenson’s Anathem is also a very different take on this, with learned monks surviving many millennia into the future preserving knowledge, but with the twist of mostly being dedicated to science and mathematics rather than religion. In fact, I see an extremely interesting discussion arising from a comparison of A Canticle for Leibowitz and Anathem, but this would require that I try again to read Anathem to write a comparison review. Anyone care to take on that challenge?

I wonder if the current religions of the world can take a leading role in bringing greater peace and prosperity in the coming centuries and millennia? I don’t think so personally, but the majority of the human race still claims belief in organized religions, so they may hold out greater optimism. In my opinion, science and technology are only as beneficial as those who control them, so responsibility for their use lies completely in our hands. Considering that we have managed to survive for almost 70 years since the atomic bombings of WWII, we’ve done remarkably well despite the warnings of a generation of SF writers.

Our current world faces a host of problems, including environmental destruction, overpopulation, climate change, and continued religious conflicts, but we have certainly avoided the most egregious scenarios imagined by writers after WWII. That doesn’t negate the warning of A Canticle for Leibowitz, but it suggests that our future path will be different and perhaps better.

~Stuart Starosta