Lamentablemente, la presencia de jesuítas, no siempre mejora un libro y a veces hasta lo empeora. Un truño de cabo a rabo con pretendidas ínfulas de dilema religioso que no llevan a nada y un futuro distópico que ya era viejuno cuando se escribió el libro. ¡Huíd insensatos!

While there is a lot to like in this theological science fiction novel from the late 1950s, I ultimately found it a bit of a slog. Blish starts us off on Lithia, a far-off planet inhabited by very large sentient lizard-like creatures that have a perfectly moral, crime-free society and yet no religion at all. The scientists from Earth that have been sent to review the planet for future exploration include biologist / Jesuit priest Ramon Ruiz-Sanchez. He is fascinated by the biology and sociology of this new world but has a break in his admiration for the planet when he is struck by the belief that the planet was created by Satan as a lure for humanity to turn away from the grace of God. I think. Honestly, the theological parts lost me a bit (sorry, Seminary friends!). When the men get ready to go back to Earth, one of the Lithians that Ruiz-Sanchez has befriended gives him a baby Lithian in a jar to raise on Earth. As this Lithian grows up severed from the moral compass of his home planet, he absorbs all the weird energy of an Earth that has retreated to an elaborate series of underground bunkers in fear of nuclear war, a decadent society of ultra-rich folks, and a growing number of viscerally discontented workers. Things come to a head when the young Lithian uses his charismatic popularity to call his discontented followers into an open rebellion against the government, ultimately leading to a rather neat solution to Father Ruiz-Sanchez's dilemma (and impending excommunication).

The best parts of this book are definitely the descriptions of Lithia and the extremely detailed exploration of the unique biology of the planet. The worst parts are the cringingly racist and sexist descriptions of the Asian scientist who helps raise the baby Lithian, and the Trump / Q-like influence of the Lithian on this future Earth (I just didn't have the energy for that -- ymmv). In between are the religious factors, which may or may not be your jam depending on how philosophical, theological, or Catholic you are. And if you know what Manichaeism is without having to look it up.

Similar to [title: The Sparrow] in the sense that it focuses on questions of human versus alien morality, but with a less satisfying end and less involved journey to get there.

1959 Hugo winner.
My SECOND DNF. I gave up around 45% of the book, right after the first part ends. Mind you, I hated DNF-ing any book. I'm that stubborn. I persevere and skim and any other possible thing just to finish a book because I hope I can find something that is able to bring back my interest to it. My first DNF all my life was Heller's "Catch-22". This, is the second. In an ironic way, this book is awesome because it has enough power to force me to quit.

But A Case of Conscience is just too busy with itself, with its own head, to make me as reader care at all. I don't care about the Lithians. About the humans. About the protagonist, even. I don't care about the world or the universe it's trying to establish. I don't care about the story or the plot if there is any at all. It's stretched thinner than a slice of ham. Reading this, especially the first half part of the book, feels like going to a date with a know-it-all mansplaining dude who spends the whole night out talking about how awesome his thoughts and ideas are, showing off about how smart he is without even stopping for half a second to see whether or not his date is engaged or amused.

One of my most nightmare-ish reading experiences.
I MAY be trying to visit the remaining latter half of the novel later, but who knows how many years that 'later' could take.

Politics and religion, two of my least favourite things.

There are two parts to this book, the first, set on a paradise planet, a garden of Eden rich in resources and a peaceful race of inhabitants with no concept of good or evil, deals with questions like....

Do you open a planet to human contact ?
Do you plunder said paradise planet of resources so you can make bigger bombs?
Do you open a planet to human contact when the planet in question has no concept of good or evil?
Does a planet with no concept of good or evil actually constitute a living hell for humanity?

The second part is utterly bonkers. One of the aliens from the paradise planet is raised on earth, becomes a celebrity with it's own tv show and almost brings about the total collapse of humanity.

The whole thing ends with an exorcism of an entire planet and now I'm going to have a cup of hot sweet tea and maybe a biscuit.

A solid and interesting first half is seriously weakened by a disjointed second half whose flow makes little sense, and whose ending leaves much to be desired. This is easier to understand when you learn that "A Case of Conscience" was originally a novella expanded into a novel later on. The first half of the book, the much stronger half, stands on its own as a interesting look at how three vastly different perspectives can interpret evidence that contradicts all existing presuppositions. The second half drags into theological debate and the inconsistencies inherent in Catholic dogma set over top a vague background of social unrest about inequality. While several of this book's weak points can be attributed to the age of the book (62 years at the time this review was written), they cannot all be explained away by mere circumstance of time.

The first half of the book sees 4 scientists sent to observe and study an alien world to determine if it is fit for human development and/or colonization. 3 of the scientists all reach different conclusions with vastly different implications, while the fourth listens to be swayed to one side. The debate does drag a bit as it is written very much in the style of a lot of science fiction writing from the 1950s and 1960s: long speeches from "men of intellect" who will break down their every argument into small bits so that even the most inexperienced reader can understand the ultimate conclusions. While that may be helpful for developing the arguments in the book, it does get burdensome to read page after page of philosophical/ethical/theological debate with little break for story or character development through action.

The arguments made are at least interesting to see discussed. While ultimately, Father Ruiz-Sanchez's theological argument becomes the focus of the remainder of the book, Michaelis's argument is the far more interesting one to myself and I suspect most modern readers. His arguments remain relevant today to discussions of de-colonial attitudes and efforts, examinations of the role of force in development and cultural/technological advancement, and the insistence on Western views of "progress" being the only valid measure of civilization.

The geologist Cleaver's ultimate argument reflects many of the attitudes prevalent in the Cold War era in which Blish wrote the novel. The ideas of an arms race remains his most steadfast conviction, even against a people who have no concept of war or weapons. As well, in an era in which many of the European colonies were gaining independence, Cleaver revives old colonial tropes and attitudes, much to the horror of most (I would hope) modern readers. While his arguments remain quite unpersuasive today, they serve as an excellent examination of the danger of colonial attitudes should mankind ever take to the stars for the purposes of expansion.

The second half of the book attempts to do some world building for the far off future of 2050, but it remains vague and unconvincing as a dystopian vision. The idea of social inequity is attempted to be presented as a major brewing crisis, but it never feels like a real danger until the moment is has to erupt to move the plot along. The provocateur of this social unrest comes across as entirely unbelievable at being a charismatic messiah to the masses, instead seeming aloof and entitled/condescending. His being of another world is used to reflect a mirror back onto human society, but it doesn't have the contrast that I think Blish hoped for.

Perhaps it is simply that this book comes from another era with themes and styles that aren't evergreen, but I do find this book to be the weakest of the Hugo Best Novel winners I have read so far.

The only channel we had for a large chunk of my childhood was CBC, so my siblings and I would watch Star Trek episodes which our relatives with cable had recorded for us. This meant that most of my childhood love of Star Trek was built on the movies, the 15ish episodes we had (including some that we only had half of but I'd still watch them), and the novelizations written by James Blish. Blish wrote each episode (except for the Mudd ones) into a short story, and was usually fairly faithful to the source material, although sometimes he would significantly part ways with it. One such example was his version of Wolf in the Fold of which, when I finally watched it years later, I was surprised to find that the antagonist is not revealed to be a literal demon who shows the crew visions of his home, Hell. This change makes a lot more sense now that I've read other works by Blish.

I didn't read any of Blish's non Trek work until I was an adult, when I discovered that he had was similar to Philip K. Dick in several significant ways, both have a great interest in questions of religion, existence, and God, both have a prolific amount of books, and both had, to put it kindly, inconsistent writing abilities.

A Case of Conscience was one I read because it won the Hugo, although it also intersected briefly with my obsession with Jesuit in Space stories, of which there are a handful. I had thought I read the entire book, but I'm pretty sure I never finished the second half.

A Case of Conscience was originally published as a novella in 1953, and then again as a novel about 5 years later, now with a second novella completing the story. I think it's best to approach them separately first.

The first part is a really impressive novella and one I'm very fond of. Father Ramon Ruiz-Sanchez has gone to Lithia with a team of scientists to assess how Earth should approach the Lithians. Cleaver, one of the scientists, wants to exploit the planet for resources for weapons manufacturing, and to enslave the Lithians. The other two scientists offer their positions, and then Ruiz-Sanchez goes last revealing that he believes Lithia is a creation of the Devil in order to lead people away from God by showing a prelapsarian people independent of a God. He wants maximum quarantine in order to avoid allowing the trap to be sprung. It's a fascinating novella with rich world building that does not force any conclusions on the reader.

The second part is really weird. The scientists arrive back on Earth, a dystopian underground society, and bring a Lithian egg with them. The Lithian becomes a major celebrity with his own news show, and soon rebels, intellectuals and children all star writing to him. He reveals during this that children generally hate their parents and sometimes murder them. He talked a five year old out of murdering their parents, but will let one sometime to see what happens. He eventually starts a rebellion which he seems mildly interested in. Meanwhile Ruiz-Sanchez is tried in Roman for treason and is instructed by the Pope to exorcise Lithia, and Cleaver returns to Lithia and immediately starts strip mining it. Spoiler Ruiz-Sanchez then exorcizes Lithia at the same moment that Cleaver's mining goes wrong, meaning that when Lithia vanishes the reader is left to decide who destroyed it.

So, um, this is the only book I've ever read where someone exorcizes a planet out of existence; I guess it should get points for that.

The second half of this has a ton of ideas, some interesting and some bizarre, and then shoves them into a short novella and calls it a day. Blish wrote a lot and he wrote quickly and it often led his work to suffer. Here I still think he should have just left it as a novella. There are a lot of problems the second half brings to the story beyond the rushed ending. If he needed to write a followup, I wonder if he should have made it more like the first one and made it mostly a conversation; maybe a novella of Ruiz-Sanchez's trial for Manicheanism would have worked better.

Overall, it's an interesting first half and a messy second half. Luckily, the first half works well without the second, although curiosity may get the best of you.