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3.79 AVERAGE
3.79 AVERAGE
Going to be thinking about this one for a while. Very stressful but worth it.
adventurous
dark
sad
tense
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Plot
Strong character development:
No
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
Complicated
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Complicated
I really dug this. There's an ambivalence the teens here carry for their intellectually insufferable parents, who seemingly chose to have kids because that's simply what good people do. Yet, while the parents perhaps invest in their offspring by way of impressive extracurriculars (sports, lessons, tutors, etc), they aren't exactly invested in who they are and why.
The parents comment on the injustices of the world, but what are they really doing to make a better world? The youths spot this as the greatest injustice because it covers everything. The parents don't see climate change as their fault because what could they have done? The kids see climate change as absolutely as their fault because who else could have done something?
The biblical parallels are a fun and curious momentum, to bring home the scale of destruction and how we're talking about potential collapse and extinction, not just bad policies to argue over. The world can change for the worse quicker than you think. Building a better one takes time, sure, but it at least takes something.
The dialogue is so casual that it almost reads apathetic, and there may be some truth to that. The kids know they don't want to be their parents, especially after they biffed planning for a society-shifting hurricane, but they aren't necessarily sure what their utopia would look like. And that's part of it. You want to believe the kids will figure it out before adulthood. But who's to say the parents didn't want the same thing when they were young?
It's a lively commentary on generation gaps without really getting too far into the weeds. You get who's who in their dual-level of hierarchy, and you know what you want for the world around them—oftentimes it's because it's what you want from ours. Every generation blames the generation before. What matters is that every generation doesn't scoff at the generation that comes after.
The parents comment on the injustices of the world, but what are they really doing to make a better world? The youths spot this as the greatest injustice because it covers everything. The parents don't see climate change as their fault because what could they have done? The kids see climate change as absolutely as their fault because who else could have done something?
The biblical parallels are a fun and curious momentum, to bring home the scale of destruction and how we're talking about potential collapse and extinction, not just bad policies to argue over. The world can change for the worse quicker than you think. Building a better one takes time, sure, but it at least takes something.
The dialogue is so casual that it almost reads apathetic, and there may be some truth to that. The kids know they don't want to be their parents, especially after they biffed planning for a society-shifting hurricane, but they aren't necessarily sure what their utopia would look like. And that's part of it. You want to believe the kids will figure it out before adulthood. But who's to say the parents didn't want the same thing when they were young?
It's a lively commentary on generation gaps without really getting too far into the weeds. You get who's who in their dual-level of hierarchy, and you know what you want for the world around them—oftentimes it's because it's what you want from ours. Every generation blames the generation before. What matters is that every generation doesn't scoff at the generation that comes after.
adventurous
dark
funny
mysterious
sad
tense
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
No
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
No
“they liked to drink: it was their hobby, or—said one of us—maybe a form of worship. they drank wine and beer and whiskey and gin. also tequila, rum, and vodka. at midday they called it the hair of the dog. it seemed to keep them contented. or going, at least. in the evenings they assembled to eat food and drink more. dinner was the only meal we had to attend, and even that we resented. they sat us down and talked about nothing. they aimed their conversation like a dull gray beam. it hit us and lulled us into a stupor. what they said was so boring it filled us with frustration, and after more minutes, rage. didn’t they know there were urgent subjects? questions that needed to be asked? if one of us said something serious, they dismissed it. mayIpleasebeexcused. later the talk grew louder. freed of our influence, some of them emitted sudden, harsh barks”
i read this as it is it was the bookstore i work at featured book of the month, i dont think i would have picked this up on my own volition. dystopian is not my preferred genre but i do think this short book had a lot to say about absent parents, the current climate crisis, religion and just overall children.
i didn’t love the ambiguous nature of the apocalypse and i really did want to know more about what was happening outside of these kids bubble. it is clearly supposed to be surreal and just focus on the kids as an collective but like i needed to know what was happening.
dark
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
N/A
Strong character development:
No
Loveable characters:
No
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Interesting premise, but with a problem common to books with a lot of minor characters: it's hard to keep them straight. There's also a sense of detachment and lack of empathy, perhaps a consequence of the teen narrator.
adventurous
challenging
dark
hopeful
mysterious
tense
fast-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
No
Loveable characters:
No
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
Eh. Pretty sad. Creepy tone. Better than most apocalyptic novels. I liked the interesting parent / child dynamic, but the fact that Jack was going to die..... nope.
A Children's Bible is a darkly comic apocalyptic coming-of-age biblical allegory about the climate crisis. That's an intriguing mix of genres, and Millet captures the spirit of our times well: characters salves the chaos with consumerism, younger generations scorn and resent the passivity of their elders, and wealthy white suburbanites are indignant that the police didn't show up to arrest the wannabe warlord who took their children hostage. It's everything going on right now, writ large.
That said, the allegory at the center of the story ultimately rang hollow to me. The narrator Eve's 9-year-old brother Jack is given a children's Bible and begins to notice similarities between the Bible stories and the characters' current situation. This leads him to develop a theory that the Trinity are symbols: God is nature, and Jesus is science, since he will only save you if you believe in him. (Late in the novel, Eve finishes this alternate trinity by suggesting that, though this idea gets barely any development.)
This is in-character for a bright 9-year-old who's had no religious education, but the novel itself never really develops Jack's childish analogy into anything more mature or nuanced - the final page hammers it home with zero subtlety. So we're left with the equivalent of the yard sign that probably stands in front of all these character's homes: "In this house we believe in science." But belief in science doesn't protect against the greed and inequality that led to the crisis in the first place, and it doesn't create the altruism or love or sense of meaning needed to survive it. (It's notable that Mattie, the who gives the kids ad hoc science lessons, gets a positive portrayal, while Darla, who tries to teach Jack and his friend Shel "humanities," is treated as a well-meaning but clueless hippie.) The novel is often clever, occasionally poignant, and finally very bleak, but it doesn't quite manage to be profound.
Also, a warning: If you're sensitive to torture scenes, there are a couple of nasty ones that occur while the kids are staying on the farm, though it's pretty obvious when they're about to happen if you want to skip ahead.
That said, the allegory at the center of the story ultimately rang hollow to me. The narrator Eve's 9-year-old brother Jack is given a children's Bible and begins to notice similarities between the Bible stories and the characters' current situation. This leads him to develop a theory that the Trinity are symbols: God is nature, and Jesus is science, since he will only save you if you believe in him. (Late in the novel, Eve finishes this alternate trinity by suggesting that
Spoiler
the Holy Spirit is artThis is in-character for a bright 9-year-old who's had no religious education, but the novel itself never really develops Jack's childish analogy into anything more mature or nuanced - the final page hammers it home with zero subtlety. So we're left with the equivalent of the yard sign that probably stands in front of all these character's homes: "In this house we believe in science." But belief in science doesn't protect against the greed and inequality that led to the crisis in the first place, and it doesn't create the altruism or love or sense of meaning needed to survive it. (It's notable that Mattie, the
Spoiler
Christ figureAlso, a warning: If you're sensitive to torture scenes, there are a couple of nasty ones that occur while the kids are staying on the farm, though it's pretty obvious when they're about to happen if you want to skip ahead.