I finished Octavia Butler's Parable of the Talents a couple of weeks ago.
More precisely, I finished the graphic novel adaptation by Damian Duffy, John Jennings, and David Brame, which is how I also read Parable of the Sower and Kindred -- yes, I'm a comics nerd.
So let's do a quick review of it -- really, of both the Parable books.
These novels are set in the US right around now. Given that they were written a couple of decades ago, they're uncomfortably right in some ways, although they put the lie to the common meme that we are living in the darkest timeline -- Butler posits one that is markedly worse in degree, if not always in kind.
It's a world where civil society has been gradually fracturing: not just red state vs blue state (which is only marginally a concern), more one where the poor are getting even poorer, with echoes of Great Depression Oklahoma. Outside the gated communities of the wealthy (who are somewhat deliberately ignorant of how bad it's getting out there), mass violence is getting downright common, with the small enclaves of the have-nots getting regularly raided and burned down.
Our primary protagonist is Lauren Oya Olamina. The one tiny bit of actual science fiction here is that, due to side-effects of the previous generation's medical procedures, Olamina was born a "sharer" -- she has an extreme and barely-controllable form of empathy, such that she feels intensely the joys and pains of anyone she can see.
The first book, Parable of the Sower, is the story of Olamina's upbringing -- raised in a somewhat healthy but moderately poor community, which is shattered by mob violence in her youth. She winds up out on the road (those strong Great Depression vibes), before eventually founding a small intentional community up north.
Along the way, she winds up becoming essentially a religious leader, founding the Earthseed. I confess, I adore Earthseed as a religion -- it speaks to me in many of the ways that classic Buddhism does. Its main tenet is literally that "God is Change": the world is ever-changing, that is the nature of the world, and we need to work with it. (Its other main tenet is that humanity must spread to the stars; I'll admit that Elon Musk has somewhat ruined that bit for me.)
Book two, Parable of the Talents, opens with Olamina in 2032, now just barely adult, leading the community of Acorn as it slowly grows, adopting new families. (Most of whom are fleeing violence elsewhere.) She has married the much-older (but generally good) man who owned the land, and things are good for a while -- but they can't entirely escape the growing darkness outside.
The second half of Talents winds up even darker than Sower, as the growing Christo-Fascism that has swept the US finally comes for them, killing some of the members of Acorn and enslaving others. (Olamina, like Butler, is black, and slavery is a common trope through her work.) The story winds up focusing on her very-literal fight for freedom, and her long search for the daughter who was ripped away from her.
Talents is narrated by that daughter, many years later, and suffice it to say her own feelings are complicated as hell. It's unambiguous from the outset that they don't get a straightforward happy ending together -- the reasons why are threaded through the book, an example of how parents can't count on a loving relationship with their children, despite their best intentions.
The story, overall, is brutal. It's an honest but harsh look at societal breakdown -- a bit of how that happens, but mostly just what it feels like on the ground as your world crumbles around you.
It's not entirely bleak, but it's a hard lesson on the necessity of the important things like family, community, mutual support and having some reason to carry on.
Olamina isn't presented as a model to simply emulate -- that's the brilliance of having her life narrated by her daughter Asha, whose dislike for her mother is quite visceral. That, in turn, is moderated by the fact that the book is mostly Olamina's own diary entries, interspersed with short passages from The Book of Earthseed -- as a result, you get a running counterpoint of Olamina's internal story with the way that it looks to her estranged daughter many years later.
The graphic novel treatment suits the story. It's not at all pretty -- the art is sharp, angular, a bit rough in a way that feels authentically Black (at least to my poorly-educated eye), but always expressive as all hell.
I suspect the text in there is at least somewhat abridged (graphic novel adaptations usually are), but I'm genuinely unsure: this is a pretty text-heavy GN, and not a quick read. I spent a couple of weeks on it, a bit at a time -- it's intense stuff, and not something I wanted to read at a sitting.
In summary, this is just about the furthest thing one can get from brain candy. It's a hard book, and is really not at all fun, but it's a rewarding read, the sort of story that leaves you feeling a bit better armored for the ways that things could go if the timeline really does turn even darker.
Highly recommended, in either the text or graphic novel form. But find a time when you can cope with reading about true darkness.