The Sparrow

Author: Mary Doria Russell

Publisher: Ballantine Books (1997)

Binding: Paperback, 448 pages

One of these days, I'm going to repay Catherine for the books she's helped me discover. I can only imagine what it would take -- perhaps singlehandedly discovering a lost treasure trove of 19th century British novels? See, I'm supposed to be the scifi lover in this relationship. I'm the one who knows about the "good stuff" like Solitaire and warns her away from the terribly pulpy dreck that hangs out in the Star Trek and Warhammer sections. She's supposed to know about Jane Eyre and Middlemarch and the classics.

But lo and behold, in the past couple of months it's been Catherine who's discovered the choice science fiction. First it was The Eyre Affair, and now The Sparrow. If things keep going this way, I'll have to apprentice myself to her and give up my CyberPunkGeek(tm) badge. Still, I'm not complaining. If all the stuff she finds is as good as The Sparrow, the sacrifice will be well worth it.

The fact that it's Marry Doria Russell's first novel makes it even more impressive. It's complex, thoughtful, and at times soul-achingly sad. In 2017, Earth begins receiving transmissions from Alpha Centauri, our next-door neighbor in celestial terms. Otherworldly singing, reminiscent of tribal music or choral hymns, drifts in on radio waves at regular intervals. The message is clear: intelligent life is out there, and it's not just communicating with prime numbers and test messages. It's sending art. The international scramble that results is predictable, but it's the Jesuits who scramble the first mission to the planet in secret -- missions to new worlds have always been their forte, after all.

The story unfolds in two parallel tracks. One follows the lives of the crew members, both Jesuits and secular experts, in the years and months leading up to the mission. There's optimism and hope and glorious potential soaked into ever word. Not only is it first contact with an artistic alien civilization, a fellow intelligent species in the universe, it's a theological first -- a mission to discover and understand the souls of a truly alien life form.

There's a dark cloud hanging over it all, though, because the book's parallel storyline makes the mission's fate clear. Forty years after the its launch, there is only one survivor: Father Emelio Sandoz, a gifted linguist who climbed from the slums of the third world to become a priest. Tortured, Body broken and soul shredded, we meet him sequestered in 2060 Florence by the Jesuits. The mission to the world of Rakhat went horribly wrong, and the world knows it -- he was found mad in an alien brothel by a subsequent UN contact team and sent back to Earth in disgrace. Now blood is in the water and the Jesuits are determined to find out the full truth.

While the first hundred pages or so show the strain of introducing two full sets of characters in a pair of linked plots, Russell's excellent writing pulls it through. There's always something going on inside her characters, the dialogue is excellent and the science is clear without being dumbed-down. The story of what happened to the Rakhat team is teased out like a mystery, and by the time the book found its legs, I was sucked in. I needed to find out what had gone wrong, what had turned a brilliant and increasingly joyful priest into a guilt-wracked shadow.

First contact stories have always been a scifi staple. They give hard science writers a chance to speculate on all the nitty gritty fun stuff an alien civilization has to offer, from biology to religion to social structures to alternate evolutionary paths. The sub genre is also one of the most thoughtful scifi has to offer, full of moral and ethical quandaries and parallels to Europe's discovery of The New World. Orson Scott Card, in his Speaker for the Dead series, dealt with some of the same themes. Mary Doria Russell's writing, though, leaves Card's in the dust.

Without preaching, without grandstanding, without Heinleinesque soliloquies, Russell embraces tremendously complex human questions. What is it to live in a world where God cannot be trusted to end pain? What are the limits of love, devotion, and sacrifice to a God who can't be touched? How can we live when belief seems like a cruel joke and atheism is the punch line? As one character says, "Not one sparrow can fall without God's notice. But the sparrow has still fallen." There are no simple solutions offered; The Sparrow is a story of the struggle to understand, the struggle to cope, and the struggle to explain the questions to accusers seeking tidy answers.

The book is an excellent interpretation of classic first-contact themes, ones that've been explored by numerous other writers. It has the enthusiastic science, the unfolding discovery of alien customs, the looming danger of tragic misunderstandings. It's Russell's excellent writing and philosophical depth that set the book apart, though. The themes she's willing to tackle, the complexity and honesty of each character she writes for... the book's rough edges fade for me and I'm left convinced it's one of the best in the genre -- it's just good literature. An addendum includes an interview with the author, discussing her own experiences and the book's genesis. There's even a collection of discussion questions for groups interested in exploring the issues it raises.

Do you like scifi? Do you like meaty character-driven writing? Are you a biped? Yes, I thought so. Go out. Get it now. I'm off to pick up its sequel, Children of God, first chance I get.