Children of God: A Novel by Mary Doria Russell

Mary Doria Russell's debut novel, The Sparrow, took us on a journey to a distant planet and into the center of the human soul. A critically acclaimed bestseller, The Sparrow was chosen as one of Entertainment Weekly's Ten Best Books of the Year, a finalist for the Book-of-the-Month Club's First Fiction Prize and the winner of the James M. Tiptree Memorial Award. Now, in Children of God, Russell further establishes herself as one of the most innovative, entertaining and philosophically provocative novelists writing today. The only member of the original mission to the planet Rakhat to return to Earth, Father Emilio Sandoz has barely begun to recover from his ordeal when the So-ciety of Jesus calls upon him for help in preparing for another mission to Alpha Centauri. Despite his objections and fear, he cannot escape his past or the future. Old friends, new discoveries and difficult questions await Emilio as he struggles for inner peace and understanding in a moral universe whose boundaries now extend beyond the solar system and whose future lies with children born in a faraway place. Strikingly original, richly plotted, replete with memorable characters and filled with humanity and humor, Children of God is an unforgettable and uplifting novel that is a potent successor to The Sparrow and a startlingly imaginative adventure for newcomers to Mary Doria Russell's special literary magic. Editorial Reviews Children of God is the sequel to Mary Doria Russell's 1996 The Sparrow, which saw a Jesuit mission to the planet Rakhat end in disaster. The sole survivor of that mission, a priest named Emilio Sandoz, returned a beaten and broken man, having suffered rape and mutilation at the hands of enigmatic aliens. Now the Jesuits want to go back to Rakhat, and they want Sandoz aboard the new mission. But Sandoz has renounced his priesthood and even found a measure of happiness with his new wife and stepdaughter. Meanwhile, on Rakhat, contact with the humans has thrown the local culture into turmoil, precipitating a war between Rakhat's two sentient races. As forces conspire to send Emilio back to Rakhat--and toward a possible reconciliation with God--the planet verges on genocidal destruction. Children of God is a more polished novel than The Sparrow, and the story is equally compelling. From Publishers Weekly Russell follows her speculative first novel, The Sparrow, with a sequel that will please even readers new to her interplanetary missionaries. Having returned from a disastrous, 21st-century expedition to the planet Rakhat, Jesuit Father Emilio Sandoz, the sole survivor of the mission, faces public rage over the order's part in the war between the gentle Runa and the predatory Jana'ata?fury more than matched by the priest's own self-hatred and religious disillusionment. In the sequel, he is forced to return to Rakhat with a new expedition more interested in profits than prophets. When they discover the planet in turmoil and the Runa precariously in power, the temptation to interfere is more than they can withstand. As in her first book, Russell uses the entertaining plot to explore sociological, spiritual, religious, scientific and historical questions. Misunderstandings between cultures and people are at the heart of her story. It is, however, the complex figure of Father Sandoz around which a diverse interplanetary cast orbits, and it is the intelligent, emotional and very personal feud between Father Sandoz and his God that provides energy for both books. 50,000 first printing; BOMC selection; audio rights to Random House Audio; author tour. Copyright 1998 Reed Business Information, Inc. From Library Journal Believing himself the sole survivor of a disastrous Jesuit mission to the planet Rakhat, Emilio Sandoz struggles to repair his broken body and ravaged spirit. Fate?or God's will?takes a hand in his life, however, demanding more from a man who has already given his all. Firmly grounded in science yet informed and illuminated by an inherent spirituality, this sequel to Russell's highly praised The Sparrow (Villard, 1996) examines the problem of faith under fire with insight and clarity. Powerful prose and memorable characters make this a prime purchase for all sf and speculative fiction collections. Copyright 1998 Reed Business Information, Inc. From Booklist The hero of Russell's acclaimed first novel The Sparrow (1996), Father Emilio Sandoz, eventually recovers enough from his mauling on the planet Rakhat to have both the Jesuit father general and the pope pressuring him to return. So he quits the Jesuits. The father general then enlists his nephew, a high-ranking member of the Camorra (the Neapolitan Mafia), as a further persuader: Sandoz returns to Rakhat. Meanwhile, things on Rakhat are changing because Sandoz's erstwhile ruling-caste torturer has risen to power and some of the servant (and cattle) caste have been rebelliously influenced by the sole member of Sandoz's original party still on Rakhat. Russell offers plenty of plot, fascinating secondary characters, and the religious, cultural, and linguistic imagination that distinguished The Sparrow, but she lacks the literary skill to make first-rate fiction. She rises quite high when describing the growing love between Sandoz and the abandoned wife of the man who will shanghai him back into space, but she cannot bring much life to Rakhat and its kangaroo-like people. Maybe less is more in serious science fiction; Stanislaw Lem's much shorter Eden (1989) shows how good--indeed, superb--a novel about a first-contact predicament like that in Russell's books can be. Ray Olson From Kirkus Reviews Sequel to The Sparrow (1996), Russell's account of a 21st- century Jesuit-led expedition to planet Rakhat with its two intelligent, kangaroo-like alien races, the carnivorous Jana'ata and their prey, the enslaved Runa. Broken, beset by terrible nightmares, Emilio Sandoz--the expedition's sole survivor--has returned to Earth, where he rejects the Jesuits and the priesthood and falls in love with Gina Giuliani and her four-year-old daughter Celestina. Still, for a variety of reasons the Jesuits (as well as the Pope) pressure Sandoz toward agreeing to return to Rakhat. But even when Sandoz discovers that another expedition member, Sofia Mendes, also survived, he refuses to go. On Rakhat, meanwhile, changes continue. The merchant Supaari, who broke Sandoz and sold him, rejects the Jana'ata lifestyle and takes his supposedly deformed daughter into the forest. Jana'ata poet Hlavin Kitheri, who bought Sandoz in order to rape him, slaughters all his relatives, blames Supaari, and tries to build a society based on ability, not inherited rank. Sofia Mendes, hiding in the forest with the Runa she incited to rebel, gives birth to Isaac, an autistic child with an uncanny musical talent, and supplies the Runa with advanced technology so that they can continue the revolt against their Jana'ata overlords. On Earth, Sandoz is shanghaied aboard the Jesuits' new ship (thanks to relativistic effects, he will never see Gina again), which arrives at Rakhat just in time to prevent the extermination of the Jana'ata by the Sofia-led Runa. Finally, Sandoz will return to Earth, free at last of his nightmares, to meet the daughter he never knew he had. A brutal and deliberate tale, its characters rather too forgiving to be wholly human, that will challenge and sometimes shred the reader's preconceptions. (First printing of 50,000; Book- of-the-Month selection; author tour) -- Copyright ®1998, Kirkus Associates, LP. All rights reserved. Review ...a tragic, haunting parable about moral justice that miraculously avoids all of the usual clichés and even subverts some of them. Here, for a change, is a sequel that counts. -- Entertainment Weekly, Tom De Haven Russell succeeds in painting an alien culture with remarkably detailed verisimilitude. -- The New York Times Book Review, Jim Gladstone From the Inside Flap ussell's debut novel, The Sparrow, took us on a journey to a distant planet and into the center of the human soul. A critically acclaimed bestseller, The Sparrow was chosen as one of Entertainment Weekly's Ten Best Books of the Year, a finalist for the Book-of-the-Month Club's First Fiction Prize and the winner of the James M. Tiptree Memorial Award. Now, in Children of God, Russell further establishes herself as one of the most innovative, entertaining and philosophically provocative novelists writing today. The only member of the original mission to the planet Rakhat to return to Earth, Father Emilio Sandoz has barely begun to recover from his ordeal when the So-ciety of Jesus calls upon him for help in preparing for another mission to Alpha Centauri. Despite his objections and fear, he cannot escape his past or the future. Old friends, new discoveries and difficult questions await Emilio as he struggles for inner peace and understanding in a moral universe whose boundaries From the Back Cover Praise for The Sparrow A startling, engrossing and moral work of fiction. --Colleen McCullough, The New York Times Book Review The Sparrow tackles a difficult subject with grace and intelligence. --Alix Madrigal, San Francisco Chronicle Important novels leave deep cracks in our beliefs, our prejudices, and our blinders. The Sparrow is one of them. --Tom De Haven, Entertainment Weekly Out of this world. --Alan Cheuse, All Things Considered, National Public Radio Russell, a first-time novelist, shows herself to be a skillful storyteller who subtly and expertly builds suspense . . . nothing short of a minor miracle. --Leslie Miller, USA Today About the Author Trained as a paleoanthropologist and the author of scientific articles on subjects ranging from bone biology to cannibalism, Mary Doria Russell received her B.A. in cultural anthropology from the University of Illinois, her M.A. in social anthropology from Northeastern Univer-sity and her doctorate in biological anthropology from the University of Michigan. She lives in Cleveland, Ohio, with her husband and their son and is at work on her third novel. A Selection of the Book-of-the-Month Club Excerpt. ® Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Prelude Sweating and nauseated, father Emilio Sandoz sat on the edge of his bed with his head in what was left of his hands. Many things had turned out to be more difficult than he'd expected. Losing his mind, for example. Or dying. How can I still be alive? he wondered, not so much with philosophical curiosity as with profound irritation at the physical stamina and sheer bad luck that had conspired to keep him breathing, when all he'd wanted was death. Something's got to go, he whispered, alone in the night. My sanity or my soul . . . He stood and began to pace, wrecked hands tucked under his armpits to keep the fingers from being jarred as he moved. Unable to drive nightmare images away in the darkness, he touched the lights on with an elbow so he could see clearly the real things in front of him: a bed, linens tangled and sweat-soaked; a wooden chair; a small, plain chest of drawers. Five steps, turn, five steps back. Almost the exact size of the cell on Rakhat-- There was a knock at the door and he heard Brother Edward Behr, whose bedroom was nearby and who was always alert for these midnight walks. Are you all right, Father? Edward asked quietly. Am I all right? Sandoz wanted to cry. Jesus! I'm scared and I'm crippled and everybody I ever loved is dead-- But what Edward Behr heard as he stood in the hallway just beyond Sandoz's door was, I'm fine, Ed. Just restless. Everything's fine. Brother Edward sighed, unsurprised. He had cared for Emilio Sandoz, night and day, for almost a year. Tended his ruined body, prayed for him, watching appalled and frightened as the priest fought his way back from utter helplessness to a fragile self-respect. So, even as Edward padded down the hall to check on Sandoz tonight, he suspected that this would be the soft-voiced reply to a pointless question. It's not over, you know, Brother Edward had warned a few days earlier, when Emilio had at long last spoken the unspeakable. You don't get over something like that all at once. And Emilio had agreed that this was true. Returning to his own bed, Edward punched up the pillow and slid under the covers, listening as the pacing resumed. It's one thing to know the truth, he thought. To live with it is altogether something else. In the room directly beneath sandoz's, the father general of the Society of Jesus had also heard the sudden, gasping cry that announced an arrival of the incubus who ruled Emilio's nights. Unlike Brother Edward, Vincenzo Giuliani no longer rose to offer Sandoz unwelcomed help, but he could see in memory the initial look of bewildered terror, the silent struggle to regain control. For months, while presiding over the Society's inquiry into the failure of the first Jesuit mission to Rakhat, Vincenzo Giuliani had been certain that if Emilio Sandoz were brought to speak of what had happened on that alien world, the matter could be resolved and Emilio would find some peace. The Father General was both administrator and priest; he had believed it was necessary--for the Society of Jesus and for Sandoz himself--to face facts. And so, by methods direct and indirect, by means gentle and brutal, both alone and aided by others, he had taken Emilio Sandoz to the moment when truth could free him. Sandoz had fought them every step of the way: no priest, no matter how desperate, wishes to undermine another's faith. But Vincenzo Giuliani had been serenely confident that he could analyze error and correct it, understand failure and forgive it, hear sin and absolve it. What he had been unprepared for was innocence. Do you know what I thought, just before I was used the first time? I am in God's hands, Emilio had said, when his resistance finally shattered on a golden August afternoon. I loved God and I trusted in His love. Amusing, isn't it. I laid down all my defenses. I had nothing between me and what happened but the love of God. And I was raped. I was naked before God and I was raped. What is it in humans that makes us so eager to believe ill of one another? Giuliani asked himself that night. What makes us so hungry for it? Failed idealism, he suspected. We disappoint ourselves and then look around for other failures to convince ourselves: it's not just me. Emilio Sandoz was not sinless; indeed, he held himself guilty of a great deal, and yet . . . If I was led by God to love God, step by step, as it seemed, if I accept that the beauty and the rapture were real and true, then the rest of it was God's will too and that, gentlemen, is cause for bitterness, Sandoz had told them. But if I am simply a deluded ape who took a lot of old folktales far too seriously, then I brought all this on myself and my companions. The problem with atheism, I find, under these circumstances, is that I have no one to despise but myself. If, however, I choose to believe that God is vicious, then at least I have the solace of hating God. If Sandoz is deluded, thought Vincenzo Giuliani as the pacing above him went on and on, what am I? And if he is not, what is God? Chapter One Naples September 2060 Celestina Giuliani learned the word slander at her cousin's baptism. That is what she remembered about the party, mostly, aside from the man who cried. The church was nice, and she liked the singing, but the baby got to wear Celestina's dress, which wasn't fair. No one had asked Celestina's permission, even though she wasn't supposed to take things without asking. Mamma explained that all the Giuliani babies wore this dress when they were baptized and pointed out the hem where Celestina's name was embroidered. See, cara? There is your name and your papa's and Auntie Carmella's and your cousins'--Roberto, Anamaria, Stefano. Now it's the new baby's turn. Celestina was not in a mood to be reasoned with. That baby looks like Grandpa in a bride dress, she decided grumpily. Bored with the ceremony, Celestina began to swing her arms, head down, watching her skirt swirl from side to side for a while, sneaking a look now and then at the man with the machines on his hands, standing by himself in the corner. He's a priest--like Grandpa Giuliani's American cousin Don Vincenzo, Mamma had explained to her before they left for the church that morning. He's been sick a long time, and his hands don't work very well, so he uses machines to help his fingers move. Don't stare, carissima. Celestina didn't stare. She did, however, peek fairly often. The man wasn't paying attention to the baby like everyone else and one time when she peeked, he saw her. The machines were scary, but the man wasn't. Most grown-ups smiled with their faces but their eyes told you they wanted you to go and play. The man with the machines didn't smile, but his eyes did. The baby fussed and fussed, and then Celestina smelled the caca. Mamma! she cried, horrified. That baby-- Hush, cara! her mother whispered loudly, and all the grown-ups laughed, even Don Vincenzo, who wore a long black dress like the man with the machines and was pouring water on the baby. Finally, it was over and they all left the dark church and walked out into the sunshine. But Mamma, the baby went! Celestina insisted, as they came down the stairs and waited for the chauffeur to bring the car around. Right in my dress! It'll be all dirty! Celestina, her mother reproved, you yourself once did such things! The baby wears diapers, just as you did. Celestina's mouth dropped open. All around her, grown-ups were laughing, except for the man with the machines, who stopped next to her and dropped to her level, his face a mirror of her own stunned outrage. This is slander! she cried, repeating what he had whispered to her. A monstrous calumny! he confirmed indignantly, standing again, and if Celestina did not understand any of the words, she knew that he was taking her side against the grown-ups who were laughing. They all went to Auntie Carmella's house after that. Celestina ate biscotti and got Uncle Paolo to push her on the swing and had soda, which was a treat because it wouldn't make her bones strong, so she could only have it at parties. She considered playing with her cousins, but no one was her age, and Anamaria always wanted to be the mamma and Celestina had to be the baby, and that was boring. So she tried dancing in the middle of the kitchen until Gramma told her she was pretty and Mamma told her to go visit the guinea pigs. When she got cranky, Mamma took her to the back bedroom, and sat with her, humming for a while. Celestina was almost asleep when her mother reached for a tissue and blew her nose. Mamma? Why didn't Papa come today? He was busy, cara, Gina Giuliani told her daughter. Go to sleep. The good-byes woke her: cousins and aunts and uncles and grandparents and family friends, calling out ciaos and buona fortunas to the new baby and his parents. Celestina got up and took herself to the potty, which reminded her of slander, and then moved toward the loggia, wondering if she would get to take some balloons home. Stefano was making a fuss, yelling and crying. I know, I know, Auntie Carmella was saying. It's hard to say good-bye to everyone after such a nice time, but the party's ending now. Uncle Paolo simply scooped Stefano up, smiling but brooking no nonsense. Amused by the tantrum and indulgent, none of the adults noticed Celestina standing in the doorway. Her mother was helping Auntie Carmella clear up the dishes. Her grandparents were out in the yard saying good-bye to the guests. Everyone else was paying attention to Stefano, screaming and struggling manfully, but helpless in the arms of his father, who carried him off, apologi...