Butler, Octavia Parable Of The Sower

Butler, Octavia Parable Of The Sower

Butler, Octavia Parable Of The SowerButler, Octavia Parable Of The SowerButler, Octavia Parable Of The SowerButler, Octavia Parable Of The SowerButler, Octavia Parable Of The SowerButler, Octavia Parable Of The SowerButler, Octavia Parable Of The SowerButler, Octavia Parable Of The SowerButler, Octavia Parable Of The SowerButler, Octavia Parable Of The Sower

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Parable of the
Sower
by Octavia Butler
The odyssey of one woman who is twice as
feeling in a world that has become doubly
dehumanized. The time is 2025; the place is
California, where small walled comunities must
protect themselves from desperate hordes of
scangers and roaming bands of drug addicts.
When one such community is overrun, Lauren
Olamina, an 18-year-old black woman, sets off
on foot, moving north along the dangerous
coastal highways. Lauren is a "sharer," one who
suffers from hyperempathy -- the ability to feel
others' pain as well as her own.
"Butler's spare, vivid prose style invites
comparison with the likes of Kate
Wilhelm and Ursula Le Guin." --Kirkus
"Moving, frightening, funny and eerily
beautiful." --The Washington Post
General Fiction Science Fiction
2024
Prodigy is, at its essence, adaptability and
persistent, positive obsession. Without persistence,
what remains is an enthusiasm of the moment.
Without adaptability, what remains may be
channeled into destructive fanaticism. Without
positive obsession, there is nothing at all.
EARTHSEED: THE BOOKS OF THE LIVING
by Lauren Oya Olamina
.
Parable of the Sower
1
All that you touch
You Change.
All that you Change
Changes you.
The only lasting truth
Is Change.
God
Is Change.
EARTHSEED: THE BOOKS OF THE LIVING
SATURDAY, JULY 20, 2024
I had my recurring dream last night. I guess I should
have expected it. It comes to me when I struggle--
when I twist on my own personal hook and try to
pretend that nothing unusual is happening. It comes
to me when I try to be my father's daughter.
Today is our birthday-- my fifteenth and my father's
fifty-fifth. Tomorrow, I'll try to please him-- him and
the community and God. So last night, I dreamed a
reminder that it's all a lie. I think I need to write about
the dream because this particular lie bothers me so
much.
I'm learning to fly, to levitate myself. No one is
teaching me. I'm just learning on my own, little by
little, dream lesson by dream lesson. Not a very
subtle image, but a persistent one. I've had many
lessons, and I'm better at flying than I used to be. I
trust my ability more now, but I'm still afraid. I can't
quite control my directions yet.
I lean forward toward the doorway. It's a doorway
like the one between my room and the hall. It seems
to be a long way from me, but I lean toward it.
Holding my body stiff and tense, I let go of whatever
I'm grasping, whatever has kept me from rising or
falling so far. And I lean into the air, straining
upward, not moving upward, but not quite falling
down either. Then I do begin to move, as though to
slide on the air drifting a few feet above the floor,
caught between terror and joy.
I drift toward the doorway. Cool, pale light glows
from it. Then I slide a little to the right; and a little
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