62 pages • 2 hours read
Mark LawrenceA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
The book referred to in the title of the novel is the one Livira writes throughout the story, which she wrote into “works of non-fiction, and boring ones at that, book whose authors she felt would be scandalised and outraged rather than wounded by it” (301). It is also the book that Evar brought into the Mechanism with him when he was lost and later rediscovers after his fight with the Escape. It represents the connection between the two of them, and it also highlights The Transformative Power of Fiction, illustrating the ability that stories have to create a bridge between people.
For Livira, the book is a literal and metaphorical record of her memories, dreams, and self-expression. She begins writing it to make sense of her world, filling pages upon pages with fragments of her imagination and experiences. For her, the act of writing fiction becomes an form of rebellion and agency, giving her control in a world that constantly attempts to silence or confine her. She also uses the book to rewrite her own life with Evar, giving them more time together than they had in reality.
Because of the unique nature of the library, Livira’s book also becomes a circular object in time, weaving past, present, and future into a single narrative. It already contains adventures between Livira and an adult Evar by the time he brings it into the Mechanism with him as a child. This circularity shows fiction’s ability to shape the identity of its writer and those who encounter it. For Evar, the book provides solace and purpose and creates an emotional connection to Livira even before their fated meeting.
Finally, as the title suggests, when the library burns toward the novel’s end, this book is the only one that refuses to be destroyed. When Livira and Malar become the Assistant and the Soldier, she speaks with him about it, but when she asserts that the book “can’t burn” because “it exists in the future” (546), Malar corrects her and states, “It can burn […] But the future would burn with it” (546). Thus, Livira’s book survives physically but is also metaphorically indestructible because its impact has already transformed those who encountered it.
The word “sabber” is a term in the language of the wolf-like canith people that means “enemy,” and both the canith and the humans use this term to refer to each other. As such, the word becomes a symbol of The Dangers of Xenophobia, for its use transforms both groups into faceless enemies, absolving each group from the necessity of understanding or empathizing with the other. Instead, their mutual prejudice becomes a ready-made justification for conflict, and this dynamic is designed to mirror real-world situations in which groups use derogatory or reductionist labels to demonize foreign or unfamiliar communities, thereby reducing individuals within them to a monolithic “enemy” without regard for their humanity.
Through this lens, Mark Lawrence demonstrates the fact that xenophobia operates cyclically, fueled by the language used to define the other. Notably, none of the characters are immune to this issue of perception. For Clovis and many others, “sabber” is more than a name; it is a rallying cry for vengeance and a justification for continued aggression. Both Livira and Evar also use the term to describe the attackers that killed their respective peoples in their pasts, so it takes each of them that much longer to realize the truth of their respective identities. Evar especially embodies the paradox of the label, for although he is a “sabber” from the humans’ perspective, he is also easily the most empathetic character in the novel. When Livira is confronted with the discrepancy between her prejudices against canith versus the reality of Evar’s identity as her friend and ally, she must reconstruct her understanding of the world.
In The Book That Wouldn’t Burn, fire becomes symbolic of Jaspeth’s influence in the library and explores The Political Impact of Censorship. The library itself is described as a compromise between the brothers, and fire is Jaspeth’s side of the equilibrium because he and his followers believe that destroying the library is essential to breaking free of the past’s constraints. Fire is paradoxically both temporary and eternal; while it ravages parts of the library, it never wholly consumes it. As Yute says, “The library is always burning” (465). Flames regularly ignite, die down, and reignite, mirroring the cycles of civilization and memory. The assistants continue to restock the library after the destruction subsides, but the flames always return. The fire therefore becomes a double-edged sword: It is an agent of chaos and censorship, silencing countless stories and ideas, but it also offers a chance for renewal. This duality reflects the novel’s implicit focus on the question of whether knowledge is inherently good or whether selective forgetting is a necessary part of meaningful progress.