A Canticle for Leibowitz Paperback – May 9, 2006

Avant-Garde Politician: Leaders for a New Epoch

It may be strange for a professor and policy advisor to reread this book after having done so soon after its first publication in 1959, 55 years ago. But in the meantime humanity has moved deeper into a new epoch in which it has constantly increasing capabilities to destroy itself, thanks to instruments supplied by science and technology, such as mutated viruses likely to be producible in "kitchen laboratories" by mass-killing fanatic "true believers," or accidentally by scientists seeking to heal cancer.
These developments pose harshly the fundamental issue at the core of this book by Miller, which is also at the core of my recent book: what is the likelihood of humanity terminating, or at least seriously damaging itself with the tools for doing so increasingly supplied, paradoxically, by human scientific and technological ingenuity?
Miller puts this fateful question most starkly on pages 183-185, which make the point that even if the vast majority of scientists will be careful not to produce humanity-killing instruments and the vast majority of leaders will not use such instruments even if available, there will always be some scientists and rulers who will produce and use them. And then "madness was upon mankind" with dire consequences (p. 185).
Miller was relatively optimistic, because he describes a historic cycle in which humanity does not destroy itself completely. Instead science and technology based civilization is destroyed. But some knowledge is preserved in oases till humanity again achieves the ability to nearly destroy itself and does so again, and so on - somewhat on line with classical stoic belief in an eternal cycle of conflagration of the world and its recreation.
To move to emerging reality, the fateful question whether humanity is on the way to eliminate or at least seriously damage itself with the tools that it increasingly produces becomes more and more acute. My own answer is that there is a growing likelihood that indeed humanity will destroy itself or at least its civilization unless a decisive global regime lead by a new type of avant-garde politicians will take stern countermeasures. Thus, inter alias, limiting world-wide the development and availability of very dangerous science and technology knowledge; and restraining, and if necessary destroying dangerous "prophets" and leaders.
Miller's social science fiction does not consider such a possibility, making rather the case than some fatal flaw in human nature, metaphorically on line with "original sin" without the possibility of grace, makes it unavoidable that our species cannot maintain for long a high technology civilization which provides self-destruction knowledge the use of which is unavoidable. It is impossible to prove this view wrong, but neither can it be proven correct, this being a matter for a contingent future. But the very feasibility of human self-destruction thanks to its scientific-technological creativity should be a main concern for humanity and especially scientists and political leaders, as well as policy thinkers. It is at the center of my recent book.
Therefore I reread Miller's work and recommend it for careful pondering by the relatively few who shape the future of humanity as a whole. And therefore I add this review to the many but different ones already published.
Professor Yehezkel Dror
The Hebrew University of Jerusalem

Originally published in 1959, the late Walter Miller's A Canticle for Leibowitz is one of the most profound, unsettling, haunting, effective, and brilliant novels I have ever read. It's a scifi cult classic, and with good reason. I think I agree with Time magazine's initial assessment of the book as "Extraordinary...Chillingly effective."

I should probably call my father and apologize to him, for he has been telling me for years that I really need to read this book.

He was right.

A Canticle for Leibowitz is a post-apocalyptic novel set in the future and tracing the events of the human race primarily through the lens of a monastic community in the deserts of western North America called The Albertian Order of Saint Leibowitz. The book consists of three movements dealing with three different periods of time: the 26th century, the year 3174 A.D., and the year 3781 A.D.

The first period deals with the resulting dark ages of ignorance, savagery, and brutality following nuclear holocaust (the "flame deluge" in Miller's memorable terminology). The Order of Leibowitz is a monastic community determined to preserve "the memorabilia," or the remains of the past society of men. The second movement finds the order dealing with an increase in scientific knowledge, the beginning emergence of the human race out of the long darkness of its own ignorance, and the reconstruction of the basic contours of society. It is, however, a time also of great strife and war. The final movement finds the human race in a state of great technological advancement but plagued by the old, consistent malady of man's moral, societal, and ethical corruption.

In truth, the common thread throughout each epoch, and, in my opinion, the primary concern of Miller's novel, is precisely the problem of original sin and man's refusal to recognize that all political and social attempts at reestablishing Eden on the earth inevitably dissipate into barbarism and, ultimately, self-destruction.

Miller was a tail-gunner in WWII, and he knew well the ravages of war. He participated in the bombing and destruction of a famous monastery in Italy, an event that had a dramatic impact on his life and, obviously, his writing. He converted to Catholicism (a point that must be grasped if the novel is to be understood) but later lived in adultery, became extremely reclusive, and, finally, died at his own hand in 1996.

Miller understood theology very, very well, and the book is marked by both theological depth and, at times, density. Some readers may find the copious Latin references burdensome, but they are quite germane to the story and helpful in creating mood and context.

Miller is thoroughly Augustinian in his view of the sinfulness of man. More than once the abbots of the Leibowitzian order pontificate on the disastrous effects of both the Fall of Man and man's refusal to see and understand the radical implications of that Fall. This aspect of the novel reaches its apex in the concluding thoughts of Abbot Zerchi during the second nuclear holocaust as he lay dying.

"The trouble with the world is me...Thee me Adam Man we. No `worldly evil' except that which is introduced into the world by Man - me thee Adam us - with a little help from the father of lies....'Me us Adam, but Christ, Man me; Me us Adam, but Christ, Man me,' he said aloud." (330)

In truth, Miller's handling of harmatology, soteriology, and theophany in this novel are quite impressive. Along the way, the novel also offers powerful reflections on war, technology, and euthanasia (particularly in part 3).

In many ways, it's harder to describe an overwhelming book than a lesser one, and I find that I'm experiencing that even now. So perhaps I should simply end with this: A Canticle for Leibowitz is everything a great book should be. It is thought-provoking, psychologically and emotionally engaging, challenging in the various dilemmas it offers the reader, memorable in its descriptive force, and, ultimately, expressive of the grand verities of the gospel.

This is undoubtedly one of the greatest novels I've ever read, and I intend to read it again.

A great, great read.

Highly recommended.

As a huge fan of post-apocalyptic fiction (well, fiction for now at least), I was looking forward to this novel, the name of which I've seen mentioned alongside the best Philip K. Dick books, Cormac McCarthy's "The Road," and others. That club is likely beyond the reach of Miller's fine novel, but that's not really the book's fault (or the author's). As quick a read as it was, when it felt a little slow, I reminded myself what the world was like in autumn 1959, when it was first published. Through that lens, this book shines quite a bit brighter.

Keeping track of the warring factions is a bit of a slog, perhaps moreso because their action is mostly tangential to the story. The reader is rewarded most when Miller focuses on the abbey devoted to the titular Leibowitz (which is, granted, for most of the book). He has created a harrowing but believable post-apocalyptic western US. I'm not Catholic, but I assume the author was. That isn't a criticism--I think I'd have appreciated the book more if I'd had more insight into the church. Certainly a facility with the Latin of the church will add shades of color to your enjoyment.

This is one of the great books of the twentieth century. Why? It was one of the first (after Alas Babylon by Pat Frank) post apocalyptic science fiction novels. It addresses science, spirituality, human frailty and redemption without ever sounding as pompous as this review is sounding. It has an unusual ending and addresses mutations, preconceptions about mutations. It is impossible to predict the ending. So I'm a fan.