I don't think I've ever read a novel with such a sympathetic portrayal of Christian religious faith at its centre (admittedly, this might in part be due to my reading habits). And what makes The Book of Strange New Things really impressive is that it does that through the creation of a genuinely realistically flawed character, the missionary Peter - the same is true of Peter's wife, Bea, although for most of the time we meet her only through her written messages as transmitted across space and via Peter's thoughts and memories of her - and while exploring the associated big questions about the nature of humanity, love, and our relationships with other people and with ourselves in a story that makes you want to find out what happens next.
The oddly self-contained staff members at USIC's base and the initially affectless-seeming indigenous (alien) people of Oasis are equally mysterious - on the surface perfectly suited to their roles (uncomplaining worker, unquestioningly welcome convert), yet with that very nature creating doubt and a sense of possible threat. Can they really be as they seem? At the same time, Peter's distancing from himself - the sense of identity lost or maybe subsumed in his various settings - and from Bea, as well as from the increasingly apocalyptic news (which he registers with a convincing mutedness) from home, plays out like both an existential fact and a struggle for what might, perhaps, be his own humanity or even soul, in something close to the most understated way imaginable (at least, given the alien planet setting).
What is the voice that he hears when in moments of need? To what extent are the two sets of inhabitants on the planet metaphors for aspects of human nature, society or possibility? Should the ending be read as hopeful (I think so)?
The oddly self-contained staff members at USIC's base and the initially affectless-seeming indigenous (alien) people of Oasis are equally mysterious - on the surface perfectly suited to their roles (uncomplaining worker, unquestioningly welcome convert), yet with that very nature creating doubt and a sense of possible threat. Can they really be as they seem? At the same time, Peter's distancing from himself - the sense of identity lost or maybe subsumed in his various settings - and from Bea, as well as from the increasingly apocalyptic news (which he registers with a convincing mutedness) from home, plays out like both an existential fact and a struggle for what might, perhaps, be his own humanity or even soul, in something close to the most understated way imaginable (at least, given the alien planet setting).
What is the voice that he hears when in moments of need? To what extent are the two sets of inhabitants on the planet metaphors for aspects of human nature, society or possibility? Should the ending be read as hopeful (I think so)?
