It’s been nearly four years since I read Dawn, the first book in the Xenogenesis series by Octavia Butler. I didn’t want to dive into Adulthood Rites without a quick refresher, so I reread Dawn first. Unsurprisingly, it was just as excellent the second time around.
Adulthood Rites expands on the philosophical questions raised in the first book. Is humanity worth saving despite their penchant for self-destruction? Is the genetic survival of a species worth fighting for when the alternative is just a different kind of life? And all the way back to classic debate of nature versus nurture: how much of human behavior is predetermined at the genetic level?
If the central conflict of Dawn was whether humans can make peace with their alien rescuers/conquerors to have another chance at life on Earth, the main question in Adulthood Rites is whether life on Earth is worth it if humanity is deprived of the ability to reproduce.
The Oankali were willing to let even the most rebellious humans have a chance at rebuilding Earth – but they stop short of allowing them to have children. Humans can procreate through the five-way merging of Oankali and humans of all genders, but they cannot reproduce with sex alone. Those unable to accept this become Resistors, ultimately devolving into animalistic violence and brutish behavior over their unnaturally long lives.
The main character is the son of Lilith, the protagonist of Dawn. As half-oankali and half-human, he has a unique perspective. When he’s kidnapped from his birth family and sold to a Resistor village, he’s forced to experience the pain of the humans firsthand. And… he’s pretty sympathetic to them. With his unique background and experiences, he strives to find a compromise acceptable to aliens and humans.
As with every time I pick up an Octavia Butler book, the prose feels timeless. If you told me this book released last year, I wouldn’t be surprised. But 35 years ago! It’s incredible. Butler also strikes a delicate balance between concept-driven and character-driven science fiction. I’m often turned off of older SF when it’s clear the author just wants to explore a cool idea and doesn’t care about little things like emotional investment or character development. This book pulls off both rather well, despite occasionally sacrificing one for the other (often due to the time skips that keep the story moving quickly).
I didn’t love the idea that procreation was one of the central things giving life purpose. I get why the Resistors are (rightfully) pissed at the Oankali, but the language the various characters use to frame their argument always points to having children as life’s end goal. They still have the right to their own bodily autonomy even if they can find other meaning in life!
Overall this was a highly enjoyable sequel. The Xenogenesis trilogy continues to be fascinating and has the feel of a timeless classic.
