A brilliant, classic Sci-fi novel by the underestimated James Blish in which a Jesuit priest/biologist is sent to an alien planet as part of a crew to determine whether it can be exploited. The reptilian Lithians seem to be living in a paradise, one without religion, literature, or politics. One of the earliest and finest explorations of faith and science in science fiction.

Although some authors would probably hate me for saying this, I really wish that every book would come with a big “nutrition facts” label on its spine or back cover. It would list the book’s genre, the number of times (if any) swear words were used, the number of sexual imagery and/or dialogue occurrences, the frequency of violence, positive/neutral/negative themes, alcohol use, positive/neutral/negative role models, etc. I think such facts would help all consumers make more well-informed decisions about their book consumption. Such a label would be far more helpful than an “explicit content,” “parental advisory,” “R,” “PG-13,” “PG,” or “G” rating. Such a label would have been very helpful for me as I decided whether I should review A Case of Conscience by James Blish. It would have looked something like this:

Had I read such a label on NetGalley, where I originally heard about the book (a new edition was recently published), I would not have chosen to review it, purely because of the genre. As it was, I read it anyway, and found some things that I really enjoyed. The things that I didn’t like were, for the most part, attributable more to the genre than the specific author or book.

For one, the world building was awesome. The first part of the book takes place on a planet called Lithia, in an age when interstellar travel is no big deal and Earth’s government sends scouts to planets when they’re discovered to determine if arrangements can be made with the indigenous species for travel, trade, etc. The planet is inhabited by a sentient reptilian species that is wholly peaceful, and wholly without organized religion or even any concept of good or bad. One of the Earthian scouts is both a biologist and a Jesuit priest, and he is both fascinated and repulsed by the Lithians.

Almost the whole first half of the book is a discussion, between him and the three other scouts of various backgrounds, of the morality of the different recommendations each of them plans to make for those arrangements …with the ultimate decision (or lack thereof) having no real bearing on most of the rest of the book. The second half is what happens when they come back to Earth, divided, carrying a Lithian egg from which hatches Egtverchi, a being that throws humans into a frenzy, living as they are in underground shelters all throughout Earth and scared as they are of the creature.

The advantage of literary sci-fi is that any book written in that genre can take pages and pages to describe the world in which it takes place. Conversely, the disadvantage of the genre is that it can take pages and pages to describe that world. It’s fun to use one’s imagination to envision these worlds, but I need the plot in the books I read to move faster than this one did, and indeed than most literary sci-fis, or books written in the 1950’s, do. Those of you enjoy such long-windedness will enjoy this book, both for the world-building and the religious discussion.

But mentioning plot brings me to the main reason I didn’t like this book, and that was that its plot, slow as it was, was ambiguous and inconclusive. It didn’t lead toward an ending that resolved the moral dilemma of the main character, the Jesuit priest. It stopped right before such an ending could have taken place. I hated that.

So, were I to rate Case of Conscience on my 1-to-10-stars scale, I would give it a solid 5…or 4. For its genre and when it was written, it’s a pioneering example of good, hard sci-fi. It did, in fact, win a Hugo award for that reason. But it just wasn’t my cup of tea.

Note: In the absence of nutrition facts labels for books, I recommend going to Compass Book Ratings, CommonSenseMedia, and Book Smugglers. All three, along with the product reviews you might find on Amazon, can sometimes give you an idea of the moral content of a book, if the book you’re looking for has been reviewed by them. The last one, Book Smugglers, reviews primarily sci-fi and fantasy, thoroughly and eloquently, and their moral perspective, since it tends to be opposite of mine, helps me to gauge whether such books would be appropriate for me.

Disclaimer: I received a free e-copy of A Case of Conscience from NetGalley in exchange for my review. All opinions stated herein are purely my own.

Father Ruiz-Sanchez, a biologist and Jesuit priest, is one of four scientists on a mission to evaluate whether the distant planet Lithia should be open to human contact. Lithia’s native inhabitants are an advanced, moral reptilian kangaroo-shaped species. The entire planet lives in peace, with no concept of greed or lust, with one common language, but also no art, literature, or religion. Ruiz-Sanchez spends most of his stay in his lab, but when his physicist colleague gets sick, he leaves to send a message to the other two scientists on Lithia, and subsequently befriends a Lithian, who invites him to dinner. What Ruiz-Sanchez learns that night will forever affect his understanding of the Lithians, and his evaluation of the planet.

A Case of Conscience won the Hugo Award in 1959, and for being one of the first serious attempts to address conflicts between science and faith in science fiction, the book ages surprisingly well. In fact, Blish compellingly melds technical science with philosophy and the human condition, posing subtle questions about good and evil through character decisions and story. According to the introduction by Greg Bear, Blish was himself an agnostic, which provides an interesting context for the thoughtful gracious religious Ruiz-Sanchez and his atheist physicist colleague Cleaver, an overtly bigoted man with plans of exploiting Lithia with technology.

The pacing is overall quite fast, and a large plot point can sneak up and pass you by if you’re not paying attention. However, the pace is at the expense of character. In fact, there are a few execution specifics I wish were handled differently, but they do not detract from the big ideas of the novel. There is a surprising amount of action (especially in Part II) that draws you toward an ambiguous conclusion which I find rather brilliant. Each scientist interprets the world and events in drastically different ways, and despite Ruiz-Sanchez being the protagonist, I do not think we are supposed to identify with his viewpoint, at least not entirely. Unique and thought-provoking!

A must-read for fans of first-rate philosophical science fiction!

A Case of Conscience is a science fiction book about four humans who go to the planet, Lithia, to evaluate it. The Lithians have a utopian society. In fact, their society is so great that it leads one of the humans, Father Ruiz-Sanchez, to believe that it was created by "the Adversary" (the Devil). Upon the humans returning to Earth, one of the Lithians gives them his own child to raise.

Spoilers ahead (because I can't discuss what I hated about this book without discussing what happened)...










The Lithian Earthling, Egtverchi, becomes a popular public figure with his own television show. Unfortunately, he causes a lot of problems by inciting public disobedience and violence.

I would have liked this book better if it were more science fiction and less religious theology. Actually, sound religious theology would have been okay. My biggest problem with this book is that actions of the characters didn't match their personalities. One of the characters, Cleaver, is a physicist. He is smart, very scientific. However, he thought it would be great to use Lithia as a bomb producing world. He also goes on to destroy the Lithians main mode of communication upon his return to Lithia. Father Ruiz-Sanchez is a Jesuit priest and a scientist/man of medicine who believes in creationism. Ruiz-Sanchez argued that Lithia was too perfect and that Lithians were the evolved ideal form that humans aspired to be and therefore they must be the Devil's creation seemed ridiculous to me (God=creationism, Devil=evolution). Again, I have a lot of trouble believing that someone who is a scientist would believe in creationism dogma.

There were other parts of this book that made no sense to me. For example, there was a description of how Egtverchi attended a party thrown in his honor. At the party, guests were given train rides, but the descriptions of the train rides were bizarre. For the most part, guests were extremely disturbed by the train rides ... but yeah, let's have parties where we upset our guests ... and partygoers who must have heard about the train rides previously who are still willing to go on them, even though they know that the train rides are going to be awful.

The character of Egtverchi represented the lost and displaced. This is evidenced not only in his background (being a Lithian raised on Earth), but also in the people to whom he appealed on his television show. At first, his character revealed the ugliness in society (he tore through rooms and exposed some of the shadiness of public figures), but then he became the ugliness by telling his viewers to reject being a part of society in a violent manner. Interestingly, he became ugly after he became accepted (he had a loyal following).

I did not care for the writing style of this book because it read like a religious theology book. I cannot recommend this book to anyone.

Disclaimer: I received a preview e-copy of this book from NetGalley in exchange for my honest review. This book was published January 24, 2017.

A great thank you to James Blish and Open Road for the opportunity to read this book and offer an unbiased review.

In the distant future a science team explores the planet Lithia. The team includes the Jesuit priest, Ruiz-Sanchez. They must determine whether the planet is appropriate for Earth's habitation. The team is divided. No member is as decisive in his judgement as Ruiz-Sanchez, however. The planet seems just too good to be true.

Once back on Earth with prime samples, investigation continues. To celebrate one exceptional specimen, a countess throws a party. I couldn't help but sing,"there's no earthly way of knowing which direction we are going..." It was spot-on Wonka.
As this life form grows in popularity, Ruiz-Sanchez continues to see the seed of evil-"half-naked, commanding money, fathering lies, poisoning discourse, compounding grief, corrupting children, killing love, building armies". It seems a bit excessive. It's like saying freedom of speech is the devil's work. Now I agree violent riots and calls to arms breed death and destruction , which could be viewed as demonic tools. We've all seen this lately with the way people have been acting after the elections. There is nothing that makes sense about that. Basically we have to know when to draw the line-peaceful demonstration or tear gas?

Thank you, Blish, for an obviously timeless story. This has given me a lot to process tonight.

First published in 1958; published ditigally by Open Road Media on January 24, 2017

Set in 2049, A Case of Conscience begins with four humans on the planet Lithia. Ruiz-Sanchez is a biologist and a Jesuit priest. Cleaver is a physicist. Agronski is a geologist and Michelis is chemist. They are members of the Lithian Review Commission, tasked with deciding whether Lithia would be a suitable port of call for Earth. Each commission member arrives at a conclusion by a different process of reasoning, although the "reasoning" employed by Cleaver, and particularly by Ruiz-Sanchez, is shaky. Cleaver believes Lithia would be ideal for the development of weapons while Ruiz-Sanchez thinks the planet is literally a satanic creation. Since Ruiz-Sanchez has arrived at a conclusion that is consistent with Manichaeaism, a religious philosophy discredited by his church, Ruiz-Sanchez expects to be excommunicated. He nonetheless casts his vote on that basis and the Commission returns home. The humans take with them a gift from the Lithians -- an egg that will hatch in flight, giving birth to Egtverchi.

The second half of the novel takes place on Earth, where Egtverchi proves adept at exposing human hypocrisy and, in his words, "breeding dissension." Given his own television show, he urges viewers to be mad as hell and not take it anymore, a message that suits his "audience of borderline madmen," as one person characterizes it, or in Ruiz-Sanchez' view, "those who feel cut off, emotionally and intellectually, from our society and its dominant cultural traditions." In other words, they feel alienated, and they identify with the alien who goads them. Egtverchi wants his followers to become wrenches in the cogs, to tear up their identity cards and abandon the cities.

Long before "worldbuilding" became a science fiction buzzword, James Blish carefully created a truly alien world (described in scientific detail in an appendix). Houses are made of ceramic pottery, each one unique. A tree that emits radio waves is the basis for long distance communications. Lithians have no politics, no nations, no media, no celebrations, no religion. The Lithians' science departs credibly from Earth's, in part because it is based on the unique characteristics of the planet Lithia. Blish managed to give the aliens (who resemble tall reptilian kangaroos) a genuinely alien culture as well as a unique means of reproduction and (for lack of a better term) childhood development. It is, in fact, the gestation process, and its apparent confirmation that intelligent creatures are the result of evolution, that convinces Ruiz-Sanchez of Lithia's satanic nature.

The future Earth that Blish imagined is a product of his time. Most people live underground, in bomb shelters the size of cities. The "Shelter economy" that developed eventually produced widespread rioting, which prompted the United Nations to create a true world government. That should have ended the threat of nuclear war and obviated the need for a Shelter economy, but the Shelter economy still prevails, although members of the ruling class live comfortable, decadent lives. Egtverchi is seen as a threat to the continued existence of the class division that serves the leaders so well.

Egtverchi's televised call for civil unrest seems like small potatoes in the day of 24-hour cable pundits, the wackiest of whom urge their wacky followers to do all sorts of wacky things. Yet Egtverchi's message resonates with those whose lives are spent in service of the Shelter economy, meeting labor quotas, never leaving their underground bunkers. To the extent that the Shelter economy is seen as quasi-communism (a frequent theme of 1950s science fiction), Egtverchi points the way to individualism.

A Case of Conscience is notable as one of the first science fiction novels to consider the core beliefs of Christianity in a universe where humans are not the only sentient species. It raises theological questions that are echoed in The Sparrow and some of Philip K. Dick's novels. A Case of Conscience relies heavily on Catholic dogma, and much of that dogma feels dated -- not that the religion has changed, but the world has. Ruiz-Sanchez' belief that if God did not create the Lithians, Satan must have done so (because only Satan would replace divine creation with evolution) seems a little silly (and the silliness of dogma may have been Blish's point), but Ruiz-Sanchez' sincere spiritual debate, the angst he feels while wrestling with spiritual issues, makes him a sympathetic character.

Several other issues of conscience are at play in the novel that make it worth a reader's time. One faction on Earth wants to develop Lithia for the dubious benefit of Earth in a way that will surely harm the Lithians. What, if anything, to do about Egtverchi's rabble rousing poses another dilemma. As a priest, Ruiz-Sanchez must decide whether to carry out the Pope's wishes despite his fear that the Pope's reasoning is flawed, a fear that forces him to confront the heresy that the doctrine of papal infallibility might itself be flawed. All of these issues are interesting, as is the world that Blish creates. If for no other reason, A Case of Conscience deserves to be read by a modern audience for Blish's lush prose.

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