The Sparrow

I’m culturally Catholic, I love sci-fi, and I have a PhD in medieval religious history, so I can assert that I was a well-suited candidate to read this book. It looked like it would fill the perfect intersection of all the stuff I love… which might have set my expectations too high.
I’m of two minds about this book.

On the one hand, I admire its lofty ambitions. It deals with first contact, theology, space travel, and such. Its double structure, with the past and the present intertwined, is compelling. The experience of reading is imbued with this sense of tragedy and irony because you DO have a sense of what happened, but not exactly HOW it happened. When I reached the 150 page-mark, I really couldn’t stop myself from reading the show more book even though my eyes were aching.

You can tell that the author was trained as an anthropologist. The glimpses into Runa and Jana’ata societies were really interesting. I was riveted whenever the story was told through the point of view of Supaari. The little details inserted here and there (like how he was offended that Sandoz would try to offer him gifts directly, or how he described Askama as being ugly as white water) gave off this sense of a different culture. The evolutionary imprint on social structures also made a lot of sense (ie how an intelligent predatory species would have evolved alongside an intelligent herd, herbivore one). I would have kept on reading more and more about Rakhat. (I’d add that the stuff about the Church rang very true. The Catholic Church can be depicted in all sorts of silly ways that take themselves seriously. Mary Doria Russell has clearly done her research AND spent time in that world.)

On the other hand, there were many things that didn’t work for me. I’m ready to suspend disbelief when reading fiction, but I did find it a stretch that a team of friends would be privately sent to a newly-discovered planet without the notice of the international community. Sure, Elon Musk is trying to send people on Mars. Sure, the resources of the Catholic Church – material and intellectual – cannot be underestimated. Still, it was all a little too neat and easy for me.

I’ve read reviews which pointed out that the book lacks imagination as it mostly references twentieth-century culture. It’s true that, reading the book in 2021, some things didn’t age as well (including the description of what is probably just sending an email), and it was hard to see the difference between future 2019 and 2060. For me, what lacked imagination – probably a testimony of the time we live in and my own sensitivities – was the composition of the group. There’s a lot of Iranian and Chinese engineers out there. Catholicism is surviving these days because of communities out in Africa, Asia, and Latin America. It was strange to me that the characters in the novel – aside from the aliens – were mostly from “Western” countries.

Ultimately, I think that whether or not some people will like it will come down to the core of the book: the spiritual struggle of Fr. Emilio Sandoz. What meaning will readers draw from his narrative, his suffering, his long crawl back to confession, acceptance, and redemption? Will they be moved? Will they be left indifferent? I didn't buy the whole thing myself. Perhaps I was biased because I read the interview with the author at the end? In any case, I found that the obsession with sex, clerical celibacy, whether or not people would do it/fall in love, having kids, and the disgrace which Emilio Sandoz endured, reflected the kind of feelings a former Catholic would try to work out.

The author mentioned in her interview that she wrote The Sparrow partly as a response to the anniversary of Christopher Columbus’ travels to the Americas. I’m not sure that this was the author’s purpose, but I felt a little vindicated that the Stella Maris’ crew – even though they were lovely people with lovely intentions – had to reckon with the fact that you can’t expect to be a stranger in a strange land without wreaking some havoc and losing much in the process.

All in all, a worthy read, but not a book I'd recommend to everyone. You really have to care about questions such as God's hand in our lives to grapple with it. show less

This is perhaps the most disturbing book I've ever enjoyed. Russell painstakingly doles out the events of the Rakhat mission in an excruciatingly anticipatory, yet frequently surprising, way. It's like watching a train wreck in slow motion, just knowing that the engine is about to explode, only to witness the caboose explode instead. Followed by the engine. Knowing from the beginning that Emilio is the only survivor of the mission just adds critical mass.

The first two thirds of this story made me think of [b:A Canticle for Leibowitz|164154|A Canticle for Leibowitz|Walter M. Miller Jr.|http://d.gr-assets.com/books/1329408540s/164154.jpg|250975], with its sense of purpose in authority and tradition despite the lack of candor and clarity show more about that purpose. However, as I neared the end I found myself thinking more about [b:A Prayer for Owen Meany|4473|A Prayer for Owen Meany|John Irving|http://d.gr-assets.com/books/1260470010s/4473.jpg|1734019] and the opaque assurance of a presumed reason for present tragedy. I'm always a bit confounded by stories of people who have faith that there's something to have faith in, even though they don't know what that is. (I would be remiss not to also draw a link to Shepherd Book's dying exhortation to Mal in Serenity, "I don't care what you believe. Just believe in it.")

From a character perspective, I was most surprised by Voelker. Emilio was stretched as far as he could go, but ultimately he proves to be (at least somewhat) elastic. Voelker simply breaks. show less

The Society of Jesus sends a mission of priests and laypeople to Rakhat, a planet discovered by hearing broadcasts of their music across space. One part of the story is set in 2019-2020, where Father Emilio Sandoz is traveling the world, performing his duties as a linguist. He meets Sofia Mendez, an indentured consultant assigned to transfer his methodology into an artificial intelligence program. The other part of the story is set in 2059-2060, where it is obvious that something has gone terribly wrong during the mission. In a remote location in Italy, the Jesuits are inquiring into what happened.

The two strands of the storyline are brilliantly woven together by the author, providing the reader partial glimpses of key elements of the show more story, and spurring the reader’s interest to continue reading to find out the larger picture. It certainly kept my interest as I set aside everything I was reading to concentrate on this book. It is a wonderful example of a complex story with well-developed interesting characters and thought-provoking material.

It is a creative mix of space opera, historical references, and religious allusions. Father Emilio Sandoz represents extremes of religious thinking. He is portrayed as both a prospective saint and a debauched sinner at various points in the narrative. He believes his mission was divinely ordained but suffers a severe crisis of faith.

The author does not provide answers but examines theological questions through Emilio’s travails. The reader’s own perspective will heavily influence the assessment of the storyline. It defies a unilateral explanation. Just when I thought I had it figured out, something new is inserted that muddies the waters, and I am fairly certain this is intentional on Russell’s part. The reader may experience dissonance from the blending of two very different interpretations of the mission.

It should be no surprise that this book becomes very dark and disturbing. It is apparent from the start that Emilio has suffered horrible disfigurations and is in a fragile mental state from whatever happened on Rakhat. The narrative arc takes the form of a gradual revealing of the crew’s experiences. The disturbing parts form only a small portion of the full story, thankfully. The mood is lightened periodically through humorous interactions among the crew members – their camaraderie is skillfully written.

There are surely parallels between this mission to a planet and the Jesuit missions of earlier centuries. I am not going to try to parse them, but they are referenced. I appreciated the linguistic details of the languages spoken on the planet, their ideas about balance, and the sociological and biological analyses that the author has formulated into a coherent and believable planetary whole. I found it absolutely brilliant. show less

Jesuits in space! I am so glad I decided to revisit this speculative/Sci-Fi classic. Extraterrestrial life is discovered on a nearby galaxy and the “Society of Jesus” organizes an expedition to visit the planet. It is no surprise, that is does not go as planned. There is so much to chew on, in this novel, which touches on the struggles of religious faith, family dynamics and the dangers of colonization. It is also populated with engaging characters, that you will not soon forget. This was my introduction to MDR and it made me an instant convert. I may visit the sequel Children of God at some point too.

Such a good book, in so many dimensions. The characters are fully fleshed out, and if the expedition crew of the Stella Maris is almost too good to be true, that both deepens the theme and makes the characters that much more lovable and engaging. The science, particularly the biology and anthropology, is well thought out (or in the case of the physics, at least plausible to this nonscientist). The suspense is drawn out carefully over 500 pages, keeping the narrative compelling, for the most part. (I did get a little impatient at times in the middle.)

I suspect people of a religious faith might respond rather differently to the ending than I, an unbeliever, did. We’re left with no better resolution than the Book of Job, Deus vult, so I show more am very curious to read the sequel, to see where Russell can take this narrative, or rather these existential questions, from here.

The author’s afterword to the 20th anniversary edition concludes:

“In science, all sensibly phrased questions are at least potentially answerable, while answers to the questions of faith are, by their very definition, unknowable. With The Sparrow, I hoped to show that both kinds of questions are worth asking, and worth thinking deeply about.”

And at that I think she’s succeeded. show less

I hated this book when I read it, and evidently still feel passionate enough 13 years later to tell you why, even though clearly I am in the minority.

Near-future science fiction stands or falls on the believability of its extrapolation. Here the technology that the Jesuits can command (in secret!) is completely out of the realm of possibility for the time period and was in 1997.

In addition, I found the Jesuits completely unbelievable. I've met a number of people who like this book who went to Jesuit schools in the 1960s and 70s. So, I suspect that it is a fairly accurate portrait of Jesuits at that time period. However, the Jesuits in this book would have been in seminary in the 1990s, not the 1960s. They would have been influenced show more (either positively or negatively) by the Berrigans, Liberation theology, Archbishop Romero and contemporary ideas about missions. Instead they are re-enacting the worst mistakes for the Jesuits in North America in the 1600s (chronicled in the Jesuit Relations for anyone who wants to investigate some of Russell's sources), completely unaffected by anything that happened in the church post-Vatican II, It's ludicrous.

Then there are the heaps and heaps of slashy hurt-comfort doled out to Emilio. I know fan fiction writers who would blush to have written something like this.

Obviously a lot of people like the book for whatever reasons. So I can't say don't read it. However, if you are a connoisseur of near-future sf and know anything about the Catholic Church from 1970 to the election of Pope Benedict, I think you will be extremely disappointed. show less

When an authentically alien transmission originating from somewhere near Alpha Centauri is discovered by a passionate young astronomer, it sets in motion a chain of events that will result in the first intergalactic mission to contact another sentient race. The transmission is a strange and beautiful song which allows a Jesuit priest with extensive linguistic experience to begin working on the alien language.

This priest, Emilio Sandoz, will be the beating heart at the center of this nascent mission which is ultimately sponsored by the Jesuits. Although the mission will suffer many setbacks it also seems oddly blessed, and it is Father Sandoz's unbridled faith in the Lord's will that encourages his teammates to continue.

The narrative is show more split between two timelines, one which moves chronologically through the events of the mission, and another which examines the mission's aftermath. Father Sandoz is the only surviving member of the mission that makes it back Earth. By the time he returns, half dead from traumatic injury, mutilated, and practically non verbal, he is universally reviled as reports of his catastrophic mission have preceded him.

The order of Jesuits takes control of his care, nursing him back to health and interrogating him about the events of the expedition. What exactly happened to the team of scientists who set out with such high hopes of contacting an alien society? And what happened to Father Sandoz, a brilliant linguist and near religious mystic who was found working in an alien brothel and was witnessed murdering a child?

This is a fascinating speculative novel about a joint religious/scientific expedition to another world. Themes of faith, doubt, and the will of God are heavily examined as well as the problem of evil. The haunting plot does a brilliant job of raising complex moral questions without providing pat and unconvincing answers. Instead, the author lets the reader see the characters reckoning with the senseless cruelty of life and grappling with the relentless urge to seek answers and construct meaning from tragedy. The result is a book which is both intellectually thought-provoking and emotionally impactful. show less