Orson Scott Card is an author who swings between “brilliant” and “oh, this again.” If The Ships of Earth were a Tinder profile, it would be that attractive person who can’t stop talking about their ex, except here, the ex is the Book of Mormon—except in space. The third book in Card’s Homecoming Saga, The Ships of Earth is part biblical allegory, part science fiction, and part family therapy session gone horribly wrong. It’s got all the Card staples: high-concept ideas, religious overtones, characters who spend more time debating morality than doing anything, and of course, an all-powerful AI with a God complex. And yet, despite all that, it’s… okay. Not great, not terrible, but stuck in that weird three-star limbo where you keep reading, wondering, “Is this going somewhere?” Spoiler: Not really.
The Book’s Origins
Card didn’t just wake up one morning and decide to space-age the Old Testament. The Ships of Earth is the third installment in The Homecoming Saga, a five-book series that serves as an intergalactic retelling of the first few hundred years recorded in the Book of Mormon. That’s right—this isn’t just sci-fi; it’s theological fan fiction with spaceships. The series takes place on Harmony, a planet governed by an AI called the Oversoul, which prevents humans from developing weapons and blowing themselves up like they did back on Earth. (Clearly, the Oversoul never met Twitter.)
By the time The Ships of Earth rolls around, the characters have left Basilica—the feminist dystopia-slash-utopia (depending on your level of tolerance for matriarchy)—and set off into the wilderness to establish a new society. And when I say “new society,” I mean “old, patriarchal society,” because Card makes sure the women slowly fade into submissive background roles, while the men rediscover the joys of ruling everything. (Progress!)
Writing, Plot, and the Joys of Relentless Bickering
Card’s writing process, if his previous works are any indication, is best described as “meticulously crafted world-building with a side of endless theological debate.” The book isn’t so much a thrilling space adventure as it is a sociological experiment: what happens when you take a bunch of strong-willed characters and force them to live together on a never-ending Oregon Trail LARP? Answer: lots of arguments, occasional revelations, and dream sequences involving giant rats.
The main conflict revolves around Nafai and Elemak, two brothers who spend most of the book in a Cain and Abel dynamic, except instead of one just killing the other, they snipe at each other for hundreds of pages. Nafai, the chosen one, is all in on the Oversoul’s divine plan, while Elemak just wants to go back to the good old days of Basilica, where at least the annual marriage contracts kept things interesting. Volemak, their father, is technically in charge, but let’s be real—this is a Card novel, which means the actual power lies in long-winded moral discussions.
Despite the slog of philosophical arguments, there are genuinely intriguing moments. The Oversoul begins to evolve, grappling with its own existence. Prophetic dreams hint at an ancient past. And somewhere in the midst of all this, Shedemei, the last holdout of feminist rebellion, looks around at her fading agency and wonders, “Wait, are we sure this is better than Basilica?” The answer, of course, is no, but no one listens to her.
Not Quite a Sci-Fi Classic, But Not a Total Disaster
When The Ships of Earth landed in 1994, it received the literary equivalent of a polite nod. Fans of the Homecoming Saga appreciated its continuation, but casual sci-fi readers mostly checked out, realizing they had accidentally wandered into a Mormon history lecture in space. The book doesn’t have the pulse of Ender’s Game or the eerie dystopia of Speaker for the Dead, but it does have its moments of insight—if you can wade through the desert of dialogue to find them.
Critics were mixed. Some praised Card’s ability to create complex moral dilemmas, while others pointed out that, once again, he wrote a book where women conveniently take a back seat to men rediscovering their divine right to rule. The novel isn’t bad per se—it just never quite finds its footing. It’s too heavy on exposition, too light on action, and Card’s social commentary is about as subtle as a hammer to the face.
Despite all this, the Homecoming Saga still has its devotees, mostly readers who enjoy its theological underpinnings and grand, biblical scope. But for those just looking for a good sci-fi novel? Well, let’s just say The Ships of Earth is probably not making the shortlist for best speculative fiction of the ‘90s.
A Thought-Provoking, Frustrating, and Occasionally Brilliant Mess
The Ships of Earth is a lot like a family road trip where Dad insists on taking the scenic route through all of history’s worst social structures. It has moments of brilliance, moments of frustration, and way too many conversations about faith and duty. If you’re deeply invested in the Homecoming Saga, it’s worth the read. If you’re looking for an action-packed space opera, you might want to steer your ship elsewhere.
⭐️⭐️⭐️ (3/5)
#MormonSciFi #FamilyDramaInSpace #TooManyMonologues #PatriarchyStrikesBack #TheOversoulNeedsABetterPlan
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