Giant Grasshoppers

Eifelheim, by Michael Flynn, was yet another book recommended to me by my aunt-in-law. It was amazing. In 1348 an alien spacecraft was stranded in the woods outside of a small village, as yet untouched by the Black Plague, in southern Germany. The village priest, local skank, and head of the lord’s soldiers discovered the survivors and, after initially thinking they were demons, realized they were hurt and succored them. The lord allowed them to stay as vassals while they worked on ship repair.

The main story was bracketed by occasional chapters set in the near future or an alternate present. In them a couple, he an historian and she a physicist, were poised on the edge of individual theoretical breakthroughs, that just happened to intersect. And the village of Eifelheim, neé Oberhochwald, was the key.

This book was completely engrossing. There were so many philosophical discussions, both natural and religious, between the aliens and the priest as they struggled to understand each others strange ways. And there were so many surprising revelations, such as the aliens completely misinterpreting Christianity and thinking that Jesus himself was an alien overlord who could possibly save them. It was a fun device to have the Paris-educated priest assign Greek terms like "mikrofon" and "atom" to the vastly superior alien technology and scientific knowledge. But also realistic that he would be able to grasp the ideas and see them as something real and not magic.

And the ending! I was reading the final chapters on the bus and just quaking with joy-infused excitement. The way that everything came together was so beautiful and perfect and right. Truly awe inspiring.