I first read Arthur C. Clarke’s “Childhood’s End” when I was myself a child. My brother and I were in a race to read all of the world’s “greatest literature”, and this book had come up as one example of the great Science Fiction of all time. It also happened to be available in our hometown’s library, which is a primary concern when the only transportation you can access is a bike.
It was a small book, so it received a slot somewhere between “Don Quixote” and Machiavelli’s “The Prince”. In our family we were forbidden to watch movies, so I had never even heard of “2001: A Space Odyssey.” Nothing prepared me for the experience of Clarke’s writing.
In the prologue “great ships descended in their overwhelming majesty.” Then we skip over the first encounter and go right to the Secretary-General of the United Nations, Stormgren, being carried up in a metal bubble to attend his regularly-scheduled meeting with the alien Karellan, “fifty kilometers above the earth” (p. 20). As always, their conversation takes place by way of a “vision screen” which allows Stormgren to be seen but which obscures Karellan.
What is Karellan? What does he look like? What is desired by the alien race that he represents?
Clarke masterfully lets us develop our own inquiries. Slowly he answers them, but in a way that raises still more questions. The revelation of Karellan’s true form is particularly effective when realized this way.
The story jumps over decades. The questions grow deeper. Clarke is the teacher. It is the questions that matter, the answers are beside the point.
It is a strange story to read in our day, when easy answers are always at our fingertips. Why did Stanley Kubrick choose to collaborate with a writer who had a reputation as a recluse? You can Google it. We have facts at our fingertips. The answers come to us instantaneous, like our burgers and our fries.
This alien race to which Karellan belongs, our Overlords, give us the power to see into the past using an instrument—“nothing more than a television receiver”—“on permanent loan to the World History Foundation” (p. 74). Upon seeing the “true beginnings of the world’s great faiths … mankind’s multitudinous messiahs … lost their divinity” (p. 74-75). Knowledge comes at the cost of the ancient gods.
There is a kind of utopia that emerges, well in line with millennial theology but equally comfortable to those who prefer Hegel or historical materialism. Clarke takes no position. It is enough to show that the human race “matures.”
Clarke manages to maintain tension by continuously drawing attention to the question, “What lies at the end of progress?” An uneasiness predominates, reaching into dinner parties, family life, unsettling leisure. A weight presses down upon humanity.
Clarke takes us through to the end, answers all of the questions that he can with the objectivity of an impartial observer. He delivers fireworks and foreboding in equal measure.
C.S. Lewis supposedly said, in 1956, that this book, “Childhood’s End,” is the greatest Science Fiction of all. He certainly called it “AN ABSOLUTE CORKER!” (along with a lot of other praise in a 1953 personal letter to Joy Davidman-Gresham).
Returning to the novel now, as an adult, I value the questions that Clarke raises. More than that, I get lost in his thoughts, swept away.
I cannot imagine a maturity that comes from knowing all of the answers, that exists in possessing the technology which delivers to us our daily bread. Progress is not “the true and only heaven”, much as Christopher Lasch argued.
There remains something wonderful to be found in not knowing it all, in wondering how it all turns out. It is still hidden there, beckoning to us, patiently waiting for us to look up from our electronic screens long enough to notice that a universe more vast than any ocean exists. The mind has room enough to roam.
There is a magnificence in raising questions, in puzzling over mysteries, in imagining. “I think, therefore I am.”
Arthur C. Clarke certainly understood that. In writing “Childhood’s End” he performs a miracle, a story that is as enjoyable closer to the end of life as it is nearer to its beginning. It is the best kind of speculation.



