Published in 1993, this is by Octavia E. Butler (1947-2006). My version was narrated by Lynne Thigpen, who has a truly beautiful voice.

I was reading it purely because Haley Larsen was reading it. It's dystopian fiction, and to be honest, it came a little too hard on the heels of The Road by Cormac McCarthy. I didn't need anything quite so depressing at this point in time...

Our starting point is the year 2024 (31 years in the future when it was written, remember). Our protagonist, Lauren Oya Olamina, is then 15. We end in 2027.

The first chapter takes us back a few years in a dream. There's much that's recognizable. It's definitely not the environment of The Road. There's a family and a community; there's washing and a clothesline.

But there's lots that's not quite right as well. The day has been "hot, as usual". There's a "neighbourhood wall" that's massive and looming, "more threatening than protective". There are fewer city lights than there used to be: "Lights, progress, growth," says Lauren's stepmother, "all those things we're too hot and too poor to bother with anymore... Kids today have no idea what a blaze of light cities used to be -- and not that long ago."

We're in Robledo, California, and we soon learn that much has changed for the worse since that childhood moment: Everyone who can do so lives in a walled community, because you can't rely on the police for protection, but the walls increasingly don't offer security any more, so the inhabitants are constantly having to defend their stuff against robbers and fire-raisers; outside the walls, people circulate only in groups, and armed; there are places where you can buy things, but everyone tries to be as self-sufficient as possible, because jobs are scarce, and money is tight; roaming the streets are plenty of people with nothing at all -- and therefore nothing to lose; it's not unusual to encounter packs of feral dogs, or corpses, or people drugged out on substances, or driven mad by suffering.

It's pretty brutal, in other words.



Marlene Allen argues that the future we see in Parable of the Sower is in some ways classic science fiction, and is in other ways unique, "because the situation is not caused by a catastrophic event like nuclear war, an invasion by alien beings, or hostile takeover by robots or cyborgs. Rather, the devastation of both the Earth itself and human social and economic structures occurs because of humanity's inactivity, its refusal to deal with many social, economic, and environmental issues that plague our contemporary world."

In an essay written in 2000, Butler describes an encounter with a student who asked her whether she really believed that the future she wrote about -- "a near future of increasing drug addiction and illiteracy, marked by the popularity of prisons and the unpopularity of public schools, the vast and growing gap between the rich and everyone else, and the whole nasty family of problems brought on by global warming" -- was really going to eventuate. She replied: "I didn't make up the problems. All I did was look around at the problems we're neglecting now and give them about 30 years to grow into full-fledged disasters."

Part of Lauren's diary reads: "I have watched as convenience, profit, and inertia excused greater and more dangerous environmental degradation. I have watched education become more of a privilege of the rich than the basic necessity that it must be if civilized society is to survive. I have watched poverty, hunger, and disease become inevitable for more and more people."

It's truly startling to see how much closer we are to Butler's dystopian vision now...

***

But to continue the story...

Lauren, who is old for her age, and has been educated by her parents, has determined that she is going to survive. She is both practical and philosophical. She gets her emergency kit together, and learns essential skills. When the time comes for her to leave -- as she knows it will -- then she'll be ready. And as her father's old Christian certainties don't seem to answer any more, she also thinks herself up a belief system, which she calls Earthseed. More on that below.


"God is Power -- ... And yet, God is Pliable -- Trickster, Teacher, Chaos, Clay"

For a while the Olaminas exist as a family, behind their wall. A glimmer of hope emerges in the shape of Olivar, a town that has been taken over by the multinational KSF. Lauren's neighbours are tempted by the security and employment on offer. But it's a trap, the old trap of debt-slavery: "Anyone KSF hired would have a hard time living on the salary offered... The new hires would be in debt to the company. That's an old company-town trick -- get people into debt, hang onto them, and work them harder." (In fact, as the book progresses, it's ever more evident that slavery -- actual, unvarnished, no-holds-barred slavery -- is already back.)

Lauren's family resist the syren call of Olivar. But they're overtaken by other kinds of disaster. A family member breaks out, tries to live differently, and is killed, horribly; Dad, a Baptist pastor, disappears; finally, an onslaught on their community by fire-raisers intent on destruction and pillage leaves all the residents dead or in flight. By the time she heads north, Lauren has lost all her family.

It gives you a little shudder to realize that Altadena, Butler's California hometown, and her inspiration for Robledo, was turned to ashes by the wildfires in January last year: "As videos went viral of people fleeing Los Angeles, saving only what they could carry in their hands, many noted how uncanny it was that Butler’s Altadena had been lost to the flames, just as Robledo burns in her book."

The rest of the story is about the journey. There are threats everywhere, and it gets very tense, but by teaming up with other vulnerable people, Lauren starts to form a group. Their aim is to help each other survive, and by the end, despite many trials, they're setting up a community loosely based around Lauren's Earthseed ideas.


"God exists to be shaped. God is Change"

***

I found the book horribly fascinating, and will definitely read the sequel. But enjoyable it is not...

It's sobering to realize that in these circumstances, I would NOT survive. I have none of the necessary credentials; I have neither the physical nor the mental resilience. I would, for sure, be looking for ways to duck out, like the wife of the man whose painful journey we follow in The Road. Hell, I don't even have the physical and mental resilience for what I'm facing at the moment, and find my mind circling around ways to duck out of even that.

Like many in the reading group, I wondered a bit about Lauren. There's nothing wrong with her determination to survive. But she's a bit scary in her single-mindedness, and for one so young, she's terribly didactic. She's kind, and fair, but there's definitely something of the cult leader about her... And the relationship with Taylor Franklin Bankole, who's about 40 years older...? As a group, we weren't quite sure what to make of that.

We were also perplexed by Lauren's "hyperempathy" (a condition that stems from her birth mother's drug use, and manifests itself as an ability to feel others' pain, often in a highly debilitating fashion). We all wondered what, exactly, this characteristic added to the story.


"A victim of God may... become a shaper of God"

***

Two very interesting things emerged from this read, however. The first concerns that religion that Lauren has thought up -- which has, it seems, become an actual religion...

Scattered throughout Parable of the Sower are Lauren's aphorisms. They're also set out here (which is where I'm quoting from below). There are three tenets:

1. God is Change.
2. Shape God.
3. The Destiny of Earthseed is to take root among the stars.

This first book (in what was originally meant to be a trilogy) mainly deals with the first two of these ideas.

And the idea that "God is Change" is meant literally:

"The God of Earthseed is not a person. The God of Earthseed does not love us or hate us or watch over us or know us at all. The God of Earthseed just is...

God is Power --
Infinite,
Irresistible,
Inexorable,
Indifferent.

"The one irresistible force in the universe is Change. Everything in the universe Changes...

All that you touch
You Change.
All that you Change
Changes you.
The only lasting truth
Is Change.
God
Is Change.

"... Everyone knows on an intellectual level that Change is inevitable. But many people don’t feel it on an emotional level. And so they create gods, supernatural authority figures, to stand between them and Change... Earthseed deals with ongoing reality, not with supernatural authority figures.

God
Is both creative and destructive,
Demanding and yielding,
Sculptor and clay.
God is Infinite Potential:
God is Change.



"The God of Earthseed is wildly dynamic. It is faceless, implacable, and sometimes terrifying. But it is also malleable.

God is Change.
Beware:
God exists to shape
And to be shaped.

"This is not a very comforting religion. Change can be frightening. Earthseed empowers us to Shape God when we can and surrender to God when we cannot."

***

It is indeed a very cold belief system... I had the same feeling about Spinoza's philosophy...

And Butler herself said as much, when asked for her opinion about the movement that had taken Earthseed up as an actual spiritual practice: "The ideas... were 'not comforting enough,' she said, to provide solace during times of distress -- key features of most religions. She specified that a God who 'was change' wouldn’t provide something to look toward in a scary future."

But in this instance, says interviewer Syrus Marcus Ware, she actually turned out to be wrong. Writing in 2017, he comments: "Since Butler’s passing... more and more have turned to Earthseed as a way to find a sense of purpose and safety. These people are building intentional communities modelled after Acorn, the first such community in Parable of the Sower... They root their work in kindness, ... [as] Butler states, 'Kindness eases Change.'"

And it's not the first time, says John Halstead, that a religion has sprung up on the basis of a work of fiction...

Ebony Gibson interrogates the origins of the thought Butler injected into Earthseed. She was interested in Buddhism (which also has lots to say about change and impermanence); and there are also references to West African spirituality: "Lauren’s middle name is taken from Oya, an Orisha, or a spiritual entity in the Yoruba religion Ifa, and Butler describes Lauren’s namesake as 'unpredictable, intelligent, and dangerous'. Lauren is all of these things... In Ifa, Orisha are prayed to (among other reasons) for support in something you seek or want to improve in areas such as career, family, or personal growth. Some priests and practitioners will warn you: do not pray to Oya unless you are prepared for her swift, unpredictable, and possibly destructive action. In other words, do not call upon Oya unless you are ready for all that must be destroyed to create significant change."



***

That both Butler and Lauren are Black is not insignificant. Allen notes that Butler sees time as a cycle (Ralph Ellison used the word boomerang), especially for African Americans and other minorities: "This conception of time and history reflects an Afrocentric notion that the pains of racism and sexism of the past are ever-present and continue to affect the psyche of African Americans today."

Allen continues: "Butler depicts her futuristic United States as the ultimate manifestation of the African American notion of history as a repetitive cycle. However, her visit of the future in her novels is not completely despairing or dystopian, for Butler uses the story of Lauren Olamina and her founding of Earthseed as a parable for her readers, an example of how human beings might avoid the consequences of the boomeranging of history by adopting the aesthetics of change and adaptability... [But to fulfil their destiny] Lauren and the members of Earthseed must first face and then triumph over the painful history of American slavery." Several of the members of Lauren's little band have had first-hand experience of slavery.

As our reading group leader pointed out, Butler was a forerunner in the multi-genre movement known as Afrofuturism (a term first coined by cultural critic Mark Dery in 1994). Frustrated by the absence of Black characters in science fiction, Butler decided to change that dynamic: "I never bought into my invisibility or non-existence as a Black person. As a female and as an African American, I wrote myself into the world. I wrote myself into the present, the future, and the past."

Kymberli Corprue explains the motivation here: "Afrofuturist creators, like Octavia Butler, center Black characters in future worlds, placing Black hands and Black minds at the forefront of rebuilding a society that has crumbled as a consequence of racial division, greed, and violence... Speculating about a future in which Black people exist, thrive, lead, and survive is not just an exercise in creativity. It is a radical act that asserts the presence of Black people hundreds of years into the future. Afrofuturism provides a framework for this type of radical speculation."


"Shape Chaos -- Shape God"

This is certainly the context in which to view the ending of Parable of the Sower. In many ways, it's bleak. The convoy has come to rest on some land that belongs to the Bankole family. They've decided to stay together, and Lauren is breaking out the packets of seeds she has been carrying with her all this time.

But it's all very fragile, and they're surrounded by hostile forces. Bankole warns Lauren that bad as things are, society hasn't hit rock bottom yet, and says frankly: "I don't think we have a hope in hell of succeeding here."

Nevertheless, they continue. After a collective act of remembrance to honour their dead, they plant oak trees; they eat together, and decide to call the place Acorn. The book closes with the actual parable of the sower, as relayed in Luke's gospel. Which reassures us that though much seed is lost, the grains that succeed yield a hundred times more than the amount sown.

In that conversation with the student, Butler doesn't counsel despair. There's no single answer, she tells him; there's no magic bullet: "Instead there are thousands of answers -- at least. You can be one of them if you choose to be." He later misquotes her as saying there is no solution. Which Butler found frustrating "because the one thing that I and my main characters never do when contemplating the future is give up hope. In fact, the very act of trying to look ahead to discern the possibilities and offer warnings is in itself an act of hope."

It's a pretty hard, grim kind of hope that we get at the end of Parable of the Sower. And I don't feel hope is my friend at the moment. "Hope deferred makes the heart sick," as it says in Proverbs.

But Butler holds out hope, if you can only seize it.