Catholic Fiction

reviewed by Marilyn Prever

This 1959 science fiction classic gives a new twist to the familiar post-nuclear war story: it follows the life of an American Catholic monastery from the new Dark Ages after the devastation of World War Three, through the slow re-building of civilization (a span of several thousand years), right up to the point where history begins to repeat itself, humanity having learned nothing from the past. The monastery preserves whatever knowledge survives the “Simplification,” a new Cultural Revolution where books and scientists are burned in the belief that it was Science that was responsible for the war. Blessed Leibowitz is a Jewish convert to Catholicism, a scientist martyr whose cause is being promoted by the monastery six hundred years after his death.

The first section gives the reader that peculiar, \nspecific kind of pleasure that comes from knowing more than the characters in \nthe story know, as when a novice discovers the ruins of a fallout shelter \ncontaining some relics of the beatus, including a note reading “pound \npastrami, can kraut, six bagels–bring home for Emma,” which is duly copied and \nilluminated by the monks. Meanwhile a mysterious figure keeps appearing, a \nWandering Jew named Benjamin, or Lazarus, who is somehow connected with \nLeibowitz.\

As the world pulls itself gradually and painfully out \nof anarchy and barbarism, the good monks try to maintain a precarious balance \nbetween the demands of the Faith and their special vocation to preserve secular \nknowledge with all its dangers of being misused. The reader is treated to a \nseries of good stories and memorable characters. There is throughout the book a \n”pro-life” message that laments the evil of weapons of mass destruction as well \nas the evil of euthanasia to avoid the consequent suffering–an \nauthentic “seamless garment” approach–with the Church proclaiming these \ntruths faithfully to an indifferent or hostile world. There are convincing \ndetails, such as the fallout-damaged “monsters” born after the war being called \n”the Pope’s children” because of the Church’s insistence that anyone born of \nhuman parents is a human being deserving of all rights. Near the end \nwe see the state euthanasia center featuring a large statue that is \nobviously patterned after traditional statues of Christ. The novel’s ending, \nwhich I found deeply moving though theologically problematic, is an \nintriguing surprise that I won’t give away.

The first section gives the reader that peculiar, specific kind of pleasure that comes from knowing more than the characters in the story know, as when a novice discovers the ruins of a fallout shelter containing some relics of the beatus, including a note reading “pound pastrami, can kraut, six bagels–bring home for Emma,” which is duly copied and illuminated by the monks. Meanwhile a mysterious figure keeps appearing, a Wandering Jew named Benjamin, or Lazarus, who is somehow connected with Leibowitz.< As the world pulls itself gradually and painfully out of anarchy and barbarism, the good monks try to maintain a precarious balance between the demands of the Faith and their special vocation to preserve secular knowledge with all its dangers of being misused. The reader is treated to a series of good stories and memorable characters. There is throughout the book a “pro-life” message that laments the evil of weapons of mass destruction as well as the evil of euthanasia to avoid the consequent suffering–an authentic “seamless garment” approach–with the Church proclaiming these truths faithfully to an indifferent or hostile world. There are convincing details, such as the fallout-damaged “monsters” born after the war being called “the Pope’s children” because of the Church’s insistence that anyone born of human parents is a human being deserving of all rights. Near the end we see the state euthanasia center featuring a large statue that is obviously patterned after traditional statues of Christ. The novel’s ending, which I found deeply moving though theologically problematic, is an intriguing surprise that I won’t give away.
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his book helped bring me into the Church. Later on I used it as a home \ncatechetical tool for my older children, reading it to them and stopping to \ndiscuss all the many references to Church teaching and history. The author was a \nconvert, and the book was originally dedicated to Our Lady and St. Clare, though \nthis dedication is missing from some editions. The whole story glows with the \nauthor’s love and appreciation of Catholic tradition. \u003c/font\>\u003cspan\>\u003cfont size\u003d\”3\”\>Sadly enough, he lost his \nfaith during the chaos and confusion after Vatican II. He tried Buddhism \nfor a while but it didn’t satisfy him. Please join me in praying for his \nsoul.
This book helped bring me into the Church. Later on I used it as a home catechetical tool for my older children, reading it to them and stopping to discuss all the many references to Church teaching and history. The author was a convert, and the book was originally dedicated to Our Lady and St. Clare, though this dedication is missing from some editions. The whole story glows with the author’s love and appreciation of Catholic tradition. Sadly enough, he lost his faith during the chaos and confusion after Vatican II. He tried Buddhism for a while but it didn’t satisfy him. Please join me in praying for his soul.