The Sparrow, a review:
My main issue with this book is it assumes the colonialist white savior mindset which approves of the missionaries’ morals as pure, and suggests that God’s inexplicable betrayal was the only reason Sandoz fucked up so badly. The book implies that were it not for God choosing to torment Sandoz, the alien mission would have gone smoothly. But that is soooo not the case.
First- the alien anthropology in this book is too shallow. The book and the missionaries themselves assume they know everything about the Runa. Apparently, the Runa are just naturally less intelligent and can’t be interacted with as humanity’s equals. But that’s exactly the wrong perspective to approach/describe/create a foreign culture. You cannot establish a hierarchy of dumb/intelligent, primitive/civilized, etc— anything which assumes the superiority of one group over the other. They’re merely different, is all, neither is better or smarter or more moral than the other. You must approach with humility, with the intent to learn, not with the assumption that they are the ignorant ones who must be taught. Because they’re the ones with the knowledge of their world’s moral and social intricacies, not you.
The vapidity of the alien worldbuilding made more sense when I learned that Russell wrote this book because she was asking herself… “What if Columbus had good intentions? What if… Europeans’ rape, pillage, murder and destruction of indigenous Americans in 1492 was good, actually??”
It was never actually about aliens. If you posit that the Runa represent the indigenous peoples of Latin America- part of a long literary tradition of equating POC with animals- the racism reveals itself. The aliens aren’t a real culture. They are a convenient symbol for indigenous people, for the questions Russell is asking herself. Russell is not actually seriously thinking about the indigenous peoples’ perspective. She’s just concerned with the missionaries. The indigenous Americans are not human to her.
Russell is clearly trying to say *something* with race in the book. Emilio is Spanish and Taino, he’s descended from the colonizer and the colonized both. He’s coming to Rakhat fully cognizant of the moral and historical implications of doing so, and he genuinely believes he can overcome that past. It’s also notable that Sofia, whose people were ousted from their homeland by the Spanish, is the crew member who resists the Jana’ata most forcefully.
But again it doesn’t work, in fact it comes across as extremely insensitive because Russell is writing from the wrong perspective. She doesn’t actually understand or empathize with colonized peoples because she still agrees with the missionaries’ goals. She fails to understand that imposing one’s own worldview, one’s own principles, on another person can be an act of violence in and of itself. So, eventually, Sofia’s rebellion just comes across as white savior-ism.
But! Despite everything I just listed, I liked this book. A lot. First, I really appreciated Russell’s writing style. It’s simple but full of clarity, and in intense moments it becomes astonishingly lyrical and poetic. I will not forget the sentence “I stood naked before God, and I was raped” for a long long time.
Secondly, the central question of the book is so fascinating. What if the principles you live by, your personal creed that saved your life and enriches your spirit and has let you do so much good, the essence of all the goodness in your soul— what if that beautiful life-saving morality became the weapon which causes unbelievable pain and destruction, for both yourself and others? What if your moral truth is wrong? What a terrifying possibility to confront. What an impossible truth to swallow. Especially when a messianic figure must ask himself that question— what are the answers except nihilism or madness?
In this way the reader’s faith is also tested. Will their belief sustain itself under this question?
Unfortunately that central question is weakened by the fact that Emilio is not approaching with pure intentions. Because Christianity and Catholicism and missionaries have an objective in mind— conversion— which inevitably corrupts their interactions with the aliens.
At the end of the book, the Father General posits that Emilio’s suffering has brought him even closer to God— that God may be that wisdom gained from disillusionment after unimaginable trials of pain. After all of one’s beliefs and morals have been stripped away, God is what is left. (The Aeschylus quote summarizes it better than I did.) That conclusion would be so much more convincing, though, if Sandoz’ mistakes hadn’t been so obvious. But because, again, Russell is writing from the wrong perspective, the Father General’s conclusion rings hollow.
The actual, accidental moral the story presents is: Please learn more about indigenous cultures and societies before forcing your own beliefs upon them. Never assume you know better than they do, refrain from action until you’ve learned as much as you can, and accept the knowledge you are given.
Also— if that is who God truly is, then why should we worship him? What is so good about God that justifies Emilio’s unimaginable suffering? There’s a frightening and deeply sinister and almost insane logic in Christianity, based on their idea of Heaven, that the end justifies all the means. (Rather than a reward for a virtuous life, it seems that the idea of Heaven became the Catholic Church’s justification of inequality and a tool to keep peasants and colonized peoples complacent.) Regardless of that digression— I disagree. There’s nothing inherently beautiful about suffering, and any faith which believes that such suffering is necessary to achieve divinity is really just desperately trying to rationalize that suffering. To say, It was worth it, because Heaven awaits. But sometimes pain is just pain. It doesn’t bring you closer or further away from God. It just is. Perhaps God lies in that realization, that acceptance, that resignation? Or is the Father General correct, and there is something in that divinity that really does justify all of Emilio’s pain?
But— even still— The Sparrow was a great first read. Wanting to know what happened, what caused Emilio’s downfall, and my mounting slithering horror as I approached closer and closer to the truth— genuinely impactful, genuinely memorable. And I really loved Emilio as a character, both before and after the mission. Russell’s writing made me feel so much compassion for him.
The flaws of this book are the same flaws inherent to Christianity and Catholicism, which is an impressively incisive achievement even if it wasn’t intentional. I don’t regret reading this book, and I will be thinking about it long after I post this review.
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