The Sparrow

An excellent speculative novel about a Jesuit-led mission to make contact with life on another planet. Less a sci-fi adventure than a moving exploration of faith, doubt, love, and humanity, Russell creates wonderful characters and subtly builds a world of the "future" (published in 1996, much of the story is set in 2019 so was kind of fun to read now). I understand people's doubts about it because of the sci-fi label, but it's less about aliens, space, and future tech than about the timeless human need to seek and to know and to connect.

4.5 stars

A vastly different first contact novel, Russell’s book is intelligent, feminine, and moving. While other first contact novels might focus on technology, science, and action, Russell focuses on relationships, religion, and inner conflict. It’s a graceful examination of faith, the search for God and the attempt to understand a God who allows tragedy. It’s also an adept science fiction tale, tackling interstellar travel, time dilation, and a fully realized and original alien culture.

The plot follows Father Emilio Sandoz a Jesuit priest, who we learn in Chapter one, is the sole survivor of a manned mission to an inhabited planet orbiting Alpha Centauri. The story carefully alternates between three timeframes, before the mission, the show more aftermath of Sandoz’s return to Earth, and the first contact itself. Russell slowly exposes bits and pieces of the first contact, creating intrigue and anticipation, until it’s fully revealed in the final third.

In the first third of the novel, Mary Doria Russell’s writing exhibits a strong grasp of religion, European culture, and history. There is so much character backstory, she almost lost me. However, the quality of the writing and the hints of interplanetary exploration pulled me through. Ultimately, the intricate investment in character development pays off.

Without revealing too much, I’ll say that the first contact portion was imaginative and unique. Russell considers aspects of alien culture rarely addressed, such as their commerce, music, and multiple languages, but more importantly their relationships and social structures. While there’s enough similarities to humanity to mirror our own failings; the planet, its ecosystem, and its intelligent inhabitants feel genuinely alien. I'll also drop a warning that the conclusion includes some violent and horrific events that are not for the faint of heart.

A tragic and powerful tale of exploration, of both interstellar first contact and the internal search for meaning. 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

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

The Sparrow is among my favorite books, but my only comment here is a reply of sorts to China Mieville's objection that the book is dominated by a "fear of anal sex." Indeed—spoiler alert—I think you can say that one of the characters is broken and terrified of it. But insofar as the anal sex in question is rape—worse, but I won't go into details—I'm not inclined to call the book homophobic. I don't think that, if Sofia Mendez, had ended up where Emilio Sandoz was, and suffered similar brutalization and distress, we'd be saying the book was characterized by a "fear of vaginal sex."

As for the book being sadistic, no, it's not. It's emphatically not a Catholic novel. It's quite explicitly a Holocaust novel. Everyone suffers and show more almost everyone dies. God is everywhere present, loving and active, and then nowhere. It asks: What does that mean? show less