In the far future of our world changed by climate, an empire is on its last legs. An ark is being constructed so that members of the empire can start anew in a greener, more abundant place. Cyrus, who just inherited a portion of the realm from his dead father, must meet the emperor’s wool quota or lose his chance to be aboard the ship. Meanwhile, three children whose parents have disappeared on the water must fend for themselves as they journey into the mountains to find the kin that left them two years ago. There, they must learn the lessons of the land after the sea fails them. Back in the last port of the empire, their mother, along with other recently captured slaves, works to escape so she can reunite with her family.
The Ancients is a proper slow burn for the kind of story it is telling. From the get-go, it’s clear the story is a parable. It might be a turn-off for some folks, but considering that’s exactly what I was looking for, I was sucked in. Larison’s prose is sparse, with moments of lushness. It creates a mood that grounds the reader within the world of The Ancients. This works really well with the story split into three and then some perspectives. The children see the world as it is, and how they have to. They have some lessons they learned from their parents, forced to grow up as they search for the members of their clan that left years prior. The mother, captured and enslaved, has to learn a new way of life that is removed from the sea that her heart belongs to. And Cyrus, well, he’s caught up in a civilizational project that is trying to survive a collapse. The book carefully weaves together the various perspectives with pictographs denoting the point of view character. However, it also highlights the change in perspective through the use of language, specifically the reasons why people do the things that they do.
One of my favorite aspects of the novel is how it weaves the various worldviews into the narrative. The kids and the people they belong to have respect for the world, even as it changes in front of them. They recognize the animals and the geography as having their own place in the world and lessons to be taught to humans. There is a pragmatic reverence for these things as they are powerful but generous if cared for properly. The spirituality around the people’s relationship with them is pragmatic, respectful (at times), and reserved.
On the other hand, Cyrus’ life is filled with religion. Though they worship the sun, it has a very clear relationship with Christianity smashed together with a hint of capitalism. It preaches the use of abundance and taming the land to provide for the emperor as he is the direct descendant of the Sun’s favored child. Every decision Cyrus makes is to maximize his yield of sheep’s wool. The reasoning is because the emperor said so, and it’s bolstered by the religious teachings. There is no respect for the sheep, the managers, the herders, or the land that is used to cultivate the wool. It’s an arbitrary increase in quota. Even the way Cyrus talks about it feels pious and intangible. It’s a waste of abundance if he cannot provide for the emperor.
The themes are loud and worn on the sleeves of this book, but I found them charming because of how they are displayed. The contrast makes them interesting, and the practicality of observing the lands and the changes that come. The future is not promised, but change is always just a day away. Learn to adapt to the changes, and you might find a way to survive and find gratitude. However, on the opposite side of the coin, the sun god feels distant and disconnected. The reasons for the civilizational project and the building of an ark are vague and clearly an exercise in power. The focus on wasting abundance as the stick with which one prods civilization forward is easily shown for what it is: abundance for me, not for thee. No one really has a plan, even some of the characters who seem to have something up their sleeves are left to panic when the shit begins to hit the fan. It’s very in your face, and that comes with faults and charms.
As the book came to a close, and I was left to ruminate on it, I concluded I enjoyed the book as an exercise and somewhat enjoyed it as a story. It doesn’t make life easy for the children or the various other members of the folks learning to adapt to the changes around them, and god knows they pay for some poor choices on their part. While they were given reasonable explanations as to why some of those choices occurred, there were times when I felt I could see the gear turning in the background that slowly wound the characters’ stories closer and closer together. But I also can’t help but sympathize with the larger themes of adaptability and practical relationships to the land. It’s depicted in an interesting way that makes it easy to resonate with the plight of the children and the folks outside the city walls. The Ancients is a very specific kind of story for people who want to gaze unto the distant future with a bit of trepidation.
Rating: The Ancients – A good starting point for grounded post-apocalyptic fiction.
-Alex
An ARC of this book was provided to me by the publisher in exchange for an honest review. The thoughts on this book are my own.