The Children of Men by P. D. James
"The Children of Men," a novel by P.D. James, presents a dystopian vision of a future twenty-six years devoid of human births, exploring themes of despair, morality, and the complexities of power. The story follows Theodore Faron, an Oxford historian, who reflects on the decline of civilization amid oppressive government control and societal decay. The title contrasts with the biblical phrase "children of God," emphasizing human frailty and the darker aspects of existence such as violence and cruelty.
As Faron navigates a world ruled by tyrannical figures, including his cousin, the First Warden, he witnesses the breakdown of social order and moral values. The narrative is structured into two distinct parts: "Book One: Omega," which depicts the slow disintegration of society, and "Book Two: Alpha," a morality tale that introduces a glimmer of hope through the story of a miraculous birth amid chaos. The novel also addresses the psychological struggles of women yearning for motherhood, alongside the harsh realities of a totalitarian regime.
Ultimately, James crafts a complex exploration of human nature, combining a sense of inevitable decline with the possibility of redemption, inviting readers to reflect on the interplay between hope and cynicism in both politics and everyday life.
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The Children of Men by P. D. James
Excerpted from an article in Magill’s Survey of World Literature, Revised Edition
First published: 1992
Type of work: Novel
The Work
The phrase “children of God” suggests divine guidance, human potential, and the hope of redemption, while James’s title The Children of Men, a derogatory phrase reminiscent of Old Testament diction, suggests human frailty, a fall from grace, impermanence, and the dark side of the human spirit—cruelty, violence, and a lust for power. In an age in which no child has been born in twenty-six years, adults burdened by guilty pasts face the nightmarish end of the human species. Human achievements lose their grandeur and their potential to inspire as they meld into the landscape. It is a time for Ozymandian contemplation, carpe diem, and a human accounting before the world’s demise. Such are the thoughts of Oxford historian and erudite narrator Theodore Faron, who escapes responsibility for the present by taking a slow journey, revisiting European centers of art and architecture in the interim between the two sections of James’s novel. In this science-fiction vision of the very near future, James reverses their standard order to identify the first part, “Book One: Omega,” and the second part, “Book Two: Alpha.”
Thus, book 1 depicts a dystopian winding down, a retrenching of human civilizations, a movement from rural isolation to urban security, and an increasingly powerful and tyrannical government and military, as roving bands of bacchanalian thugs engage in sadistic sacrificial rites, and, in general, the threads of morality and social structure break. In England, Faron’s cousin, a power-proud First Warden, makes life and death decisions, condemning rebellious citizens to terrifying island penal colonies where the inmates rule, approving military-assisted mass suicides, and in every instance governing with an iron fist. In effect, James’s speculation queries how far national control might be extended under the guise of protecting the citizenry from terrorist-labeled activities. She also envisions heightened psychoses, as frustrated women fake pregnancies and fantasize about motherhood.
Faron’s understanding of history, his delight in the Victorian past, and his love of Jane Austen (Emma is the book he chooses for his defiant journey with revolutionaries), provide a distanced, scholarly, ironic study of the times, and his past association with the present ruler enables him to provide a contrast in psychologies between himself and his cousin, to analyze the journey that led his cousin to this power, and to predict his behavior in the face of mystery.
The mystery of book 2, a morality tale, echoes the religious story of Mary and the Infant Jesus pursued by Herod and protected by an awed band of worshippers, in this case people willing to die themselves so that mother and child can thrive. The action therein moves forward like a mystery as well, with traitors whose egos take dominance over philosophical commitments, and with a final murder that changes the future and forces a decent man to step into a power he has not wanted—for the good of humankind. Ironically, it is the only known fertile male who sacrifices himself for his infant. The story ends with hope for regeneration tempered by an understanding of the fallen nature of humankind that requires justice, as well as mercy. In this way, James’s take on the future is in keeping with the hard truths of her detective fiction—so much awry in human nature and yet some hope based on frail, unlikely humans who stand up when it counts. The ambiguous mix of hope and cynicism at the end is meant to leave readers pondering the way in which good intentions can be turned awry in politics, as in daily life.
Sources for Further Study
The Christian Science Monitor. March 16, 1993, p.14.
Commonweal. CXX, April 23, 1993, p.26.
Locus. XXX, April, 1993, p.17.
Los Angeles Times Book Review. April 4, 1993, p.12.
New Scientist. CXXXVII, March 20, 1993, p 41.
The New York Times Book Review. XCVIII, March 28, 1993, p.23.
The New Yorker. LXIX, March 22, 1993, p.111.
Time. CXLI, March 1, 1993, p.69.
The Times Literary Supplement. September 25, 1992, p.26.
The Wall Street Journal. February 19, 1993, p. A12.