Eifelheim (2006)

by Michael Flynn

Eifelheim is a crash course on life in the Holy Roman Empire in the Late Middle Ages and on remaining compassionate and unprejudiced in the face of hopelessness. It achieves this by brilliantly weaving together: insectoid aliens, a Catholic pastor, some quite convincing pseudo-physics, and the bubonic plague. If that intro doesn’t sound like the recipe for your new favorite novel then we’re two very different people.

You may have heard elsewhere something like “those aliens aren’t really alien, they’re just funny looking humans” used to denigrate a science fiction novel for its unoriginality. In Eifelheim, the similarity between the proto-German villagers and the interloping aliens called the Krenken is exactly the point.

To the reader the lifestyle of the krenkl is probably more familiar than that of the villagers of Oberhochwald in the middle of the 14th century. Flynn overcomes this barrier and ensures that we see things from the human perspective with our protagonist Pastor Dietrich, who from the highest education attainable in that era possesses a sharp and critical mind that relies on logic and observation to draw conclusions rather than dogmatism. In this way we experience the events of Eifelheim from the perspective of a modern man, an unlikely but not entirely inconceivable character to be found in Western Europe on the eve of the Renaissance.

With Dietrich’s eyes we see the nitty quotidian details of village life under the manorial system. Work, marriage, feasts, the law, traveling merchants, death, and an endless stream of Catholic holy days. We see the storming of a fortress and the inside of a battlefield surgeon’s tent. Journeys to the marketplace in the nearest city and the martial rules of the road on the way there and back. None of it is particularly grand or historically noteworthy, intentionally so. But each day we spend in the Breisgau adds detail to the picture of life in that place at that time that very well may faithfully depict how things really were. The amount of research that went into the setting is astonishing and, even ignoring all else, for that reason alone I found Eifelheim to be an immensely rewarding read.

So, over to our Krenken and their shipwrecked vessel hosting a few score tourists, scientists, and crew. Since we see them from the perspective of medieval villagers their antics are presented as incomprehensibly alien but when you look at what’s said and not how it’s said it’s clear that that couldn’t be further from reality. Some stop to take pictures of the church while others pick plants to test in the lab and yet more pull apart the ship’s innards and attempt to repair the fried circuitry. They wear varied clothes, react to events differently, and speak diverse set of languages that are inconsistently translated into German. They have no clear leader or universally respected order within their ranks and present anything but a unified front. They are generally nonthreatening save for a cultural predisposition towards corporal punishment that they willingly curb at the request of the humans.

And yet, most hochwalders still see them as a band of irredeemable demons sent to punish the village for what sins, exactly, nobody can truly say. Most hochwalders — but not our Dietrich. He serves as the bridge between villager and krenk in much the same way as how he connects us, the 21st century readers, to the villagers.

With neighborly hospitality and a willingness to communicate he averts what could have been a slaughter by the superior Krenken weaponry and works to build a mutually enriching relationship, not for any personal gain but because helping those in need is just what you do. By communicating they learn ways in which members of each species might offer their unique strengths to aid each other in their quest towards salvation. Prejudiced villagers slowly come around to their mantis-like guests as they witness their strife and sacrifice while spiritually impoverished Krenken learn the meaning of hope, faith, and mercy by the example of Dietrich and others. It’s a real kum-ba-ya situation, until all of the Krenken starve to death and the village is annihilated by the plague, that is.

As the novel progresses and the relationship with the aliens deepens, the distinction between krenk and human diminishes until finally it disappears completely. In the last days of the village of Oberhochwald and the Krenken adventure on Earth those that remain are brother and sister, both condemned to death by forces entirely outside of their control and accepting of their fate with the sense of grace and duty reserved for the enlightened.

Parallel to the medieval storyline is a modern-day account of the relationship between two professors, one theoretical physicist and one quantitative historian attempting to learn the truth behind Oberhochwald’s disappearance. This serves as a lighter and more familiar break for the reader while underlining how tolerance and open-hearted curiosity can uncover the hidden connections between concepts and strengthen those between people, throwing the themes of the other storyline into relief.

Straddling the line between historic fiction, science fiction, and so-good-it-needs-no-modifier fiction, Eifelheim is nothing other than a masterpiece. I have the same knot in my chest that I had after finishing Hemingway’s For Whom the Bell Tolls.