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43 pages 1 hour read

Lydia Millet

A Children's Bible

Fiction | Novel | Adult | Published in 2020

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Themes

Satirizing Society Through Biblical Allegory

Throughout the novel, the most prominent themes of the Bible are used to examine the extravagant follies and hazards of the modern age. Millet hints that humanity’s biblical origin story contains hints of its inevitable end if people fail to learn from science and the past. As the novel’s title suggests, Millet’s biblical allusions are far from subtle, and she uses nine-year-old Jack to explicitly identify many of them. By using such overt references, she asserts that because of the current environmental crisis, the time for subtlety is long over. The narrative likewise implies that the world is entering a quasi-biblical era of climatic and societal upheaval, and that just as in the Bible stories of old, only the virtues of courage, selflessness, and faith can save humanity from its fate.

Foremost among these biblical parallels is the massive storm and flood that strike early in the novel and cause a widespread breakdown of civil order. Within this chaos, the parents indulge in multiple forms of escapism, and Millet uses their ineptitude to indict the environmental negligence of older generations. Jack, who has been given a book of Bible stories for children, relates this devastating storm to the Great Flood that was sent by God to cleanse the world of the wicked. In the context of the novel, Jack takes on the role of Noah by sheltering any animals he can find in the “ark” of the nearby treehouses. However, Millet’s narrative goes far beyond piecemeal references to Bible stories, for she also uses the character of Jack to recast the original Holy Trinity in a new light. In Jack’s new philosophy, God becomes a symbol for nature itself, which has sent this modern flood as a response to humanity’s crimes against the natural world. Other possible parallels occur when the older, affluent characters initiate orgiastic scenes designed to echo Sodom and Gomorrah, the biblical citadels of sin, rape, and rapine that God destroyed in Genesis 19. Accordingly, the parents’ “great house,” where they indulge in drugs and orgies, and the luxury yacht Cobra are cast as modern equivalents of those biblical strongholds of vice. The great house was built by 19th-century “robber barons” whose greed is wanly mirrored by the ecological apathy of the parents who have rented it for their “last hurrah.” Similarly, the yacht Cobra shelters smug tycoons who have built survivalist “compounds” to protect themselves from their own environmental fallout. As David contemptuously points out, “Those are the people who ate the planet” (54).

As Jack explores the New Testament portions of his Bible storybook, he identifies Jesus as “science” because it is “nature” filtered through the mind of man, just as Jesus represents God in human form. Science, used wisely, also allows people to live symbiotically with nature, just as Jesus reconciles humans with God. And just as Jesus can save true believers, Jack suggests that science can save humanity, but only if people believe in it and act accordingly. Thus, Millet implies that the modern age has largely “gone astray” from nature and from the science that sustains it, worshipping instead the false idols of wealth and luxury. However, Millet does not construct a consistent, overarching modernization of the biblical saga, and the many scattered biblical allusions often have no linear timeline. Instead, they function mainly as an aggregate sign of the “second coming” of the Bible’s most turbulent events. Ultimately, Millet suggests that if modern society takes no heed of the many warnings and portents of its ecological doom, all hope for humanity may be lost.

Variable Reactions to Disaster

Lydia Millet’s harsh portrait of the varied human responses to crises implies that humans are much less resilient than animals, who are cast as the innocent victims of climate change. Faced with the massive storm that shatters the complacency of the characters’ decadent summer reunion, the wild animals are ironically far more self-possessed than the panicky adults who have rented the flooding mansion. Soaked by a deluge, terrorized by lightning, and then crowded into treehouses and finally into cars, they remain markedly peaceable. By contrast, the well-heeled but resourceless humans “prepare” for the hurricane by stocking up on nonessentials such as liquor, and when the storm hits, the renters descend into hysteria, forcing their children to take point in the haphazard problem-solving that ensues. Eventually, the adults huddle listlessly by the fire, some in a state of shock, others in a fog of drug-induced apathy, taking refuge in alcohol, marijuana, cocaine, Ecstasy, and eventually, a sexual free-for-all.

By contrast, the renters’ children, like the local animals, have largely kept their common sense and respond to the unfolding crises with much more acumen. With youthful ingenuity, they improvise shelters for themselves and their rescued animals and learn to navigate the floodwaters in a canoe to go on supply runs. After the storm passes, they rescue Burl from the swamp, and their ingenuity is further highlighted as they use his help to organize a small-scale exodus to a nearby farm on higher ground. Significantly, Burl and his friends present a sharp contrast to the parents’ ineptitude, for they wield a diversity of practical skills and adapt quickly to this new, postdiluvian state of affairs. Faced with inevitable hardship, they find ways to tend crops, treat wounds, and even play schoolteacher to the children with makeshift classes on biology, art, poetry, and history. In short, they establish a stopgap civilization in the face of the chaos. Knowledgeable, altruistic, hardworking, and almost childlike in their modesty and openheartedness, Burl and his friends rise above the current crisis and become the group’s guardian angels, taking on the duties of a surrogate government as well as the parental roles that the parents themselves have long since abandoned.

Despite including these positive portrayals, Millet does not shy away from depicting the darkest aspects of human behavior in a crisis, and this more cynical outlook can be found in the emergence of the lawless band of looters that invades the farm as the national state of emergency worsens. Angry, sadistic, and unstable, the armed thieves torture the trail angels for access to the farm’s provisions, threatening to kill hostages if the others do not obey their demands. Notably, Burl and the trail angels continue to demonstrate a higher quality of adulthood than the parents by facing this new threat with their usual stoical calm. Thus, A Children’s Bible explores the gamut of human responses to stress and catastrophe. The most effective responses prove to be those of the children or the young at heart, like Burl and his companions, and this pattern underscores the author’s message that the younger generation may yet redeem their species by bearing the beacon of hope.

Generational Conflict and Social Responsibility

The Bible’s allegorical sagas abound with familial conflict, and Millet pointedly reproduces this dynamic in A Children’s Bible as well. Because Jesus stated that his claims of divinity would be the cause of many familial divisions, Jack interprets Jesus as a “symbol” for environmental science; thus, the narrative implies that it is only the belief in environmental science that can save humankind. In Millet’s novel, the crux of the teen characters’ rage against their parents centers on the older generation’s indifference to the environment and to their children’s salvation. As Evie asserts, “Once we let them do everything for us—assumed they would. […] Still later we found out that they hadn’t done everything at all. They’d left out the important part. And it was known as the future” (171). The shallowness of her parents’ priorities was first impressed on her at the age of seven, when she saw protestors in the street and her parents brushed off her questions so as not to be late for reservation at a trendy restaurant. At this point, Evie’s refusal to hold hands with them marks her broader refusal to be guided by their willful blindness and selfish values.

Evie’s fellow teens at the “great house” are unanimous in their disgust for their parents, who are cast as the Judases in Millet’s quasi-biblical parable. Their contempt for them has only increased during the summer getaway, when they have been forced to watch their parents at play—a spectacle analogous to the fiddling of Nero while Rome burns. The parents’ reckless disregard for their children’s future manifests in their breezy inattention during the vacation and its catastrophic aftermath, when they send teens up to repair the house’s crumbling roof during a wind and lightning storm and forget about their younger children for days at a time. To be sure, the children mostly welcome this inattention, which allows them to carry out passive-aggressive “punitive measures,” such as drooling in their parents’ drinks and contaminating their food. Their contempt is such that most of them try to conceal their parents’ identities from the other children throughout the long summer: an easier task than it sounds, since their parents are well accustomed to keeping them at arm’s length. Even the super-rich “yacht kids,” who pay regular obeisance to their parents, show signs of a generational rift and describe their obsequious behavior as maintaining “diplomatic relations”: a calculated investment in an uncertain future that perhaps only the rich will live to see.

For Evie, the most bitter pill to swallow is that her parents are both well-educated liberals; her mother is a feminist studies professor, and her father is an upscale artist whose salacious sculptural works eroticize left-wing causes. Evie feels that their intellectual background makes them too well-informed to be able to justify their indifference toward the environment. Late in the novel, when Evie and Jack finally confront them about their inaction on global warming, the parents feebly respond, “We don’t have that much power” (193), prompting the gentle, big-hearted Jack to finally become as disillusioned as his sister and pronounce, “You’re my father. But you’re a liar” (201). Earlier, Jack equated science with Jesus, on the basis that a belief in science can be the savior of humanity. However, Millet’s subtext implies that the belief in Jesus tore families apart because some people would be saved while others would not. The novel also suggests that the difference with global warming is that science can only save humanity if everyone believes in it and acts as one.

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