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Born in a brothel...
Raised in an orphanage...
Entranced by music...
And seduced by women...
DAVY
The utterly candid chronicles of a youth from an age beyond the future...a young man whose unquenchable thirst for knowledge is matched only by his dauntless lust for life!
Raised in an orphanage...
Entranced by music...
And seduced by women...
DAVY
The utterly candid chronicles of a youth from an age beyond the future...a young man whose unquenchable thirst for knowledge is matched only by his dauntless lust for life!
265 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published January 1, 1964
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1211 people want to read
About the author
Edgar Pangborn
92 books38 followersEdgar Pangborn was an American mystery, historical, and science fiction author.
He published also under the pen-name of Bruce Harrison
He published also under the pen-name of Bruce Harrison
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 82 reviews
August 26, 2011
While sailing a trackless sea aboard a ship called the Morning Star, a scoundrel named Davy writes a book detailing his life and times in a post-apocalyptic America.
Things I liked about Davy:
First and foremost, the writing style of Davy was what sucked me in and kept me interested. Pangborn employs a style that makes me feel like I'm sitting down and listening to him talk. Davy's a character, that's for sure, both as a teen and as an adult. As I've mentioned in the past, I like my protagonists to be more like people I know rather than larger than life heroes. Since Davy's not all that bright and thinks about sex quite a bit, I understand where he's coming from.
Post-apocalyptic stories are a dime a dozen these days but Pangborn's writing sets his apart from the others. One of the fun parts of Davy was trying to figure out what modern day places he was talking about.
Things I did not like about Davy:
What I didn't like about Davy can be summarized in one word: pace. While it was an interesting world and Davy's story eventually became interesting, it was over halfway through the book before I felt like things were actually happening. It's like Pangborn looked at his manuscript at that point and said "I'd better get things moving or this thing is going to be a thousand pages long!" That's pretty much all I have to say about that.
Conclusion:
I enjoyed Davy and could see why it was nominated for both the Hugo and Nebula awards when it was released. The style of writing was really good. Still, it was like an expensive plate with nothing on it. Maybe if I was in a different mood I would have appreciated it more but the best I can give it at this time is a 3.
Things I liked about Davy:
First and foremost, the writing style of Davy was what sucked me in and kept me interested. Pangborn employs a style that makes me feel like I'm sitting down and listening to him talk. Davy's a character, that's for sure, both as a teen and as an adult. As I've mentioned in the past, I like my protagonists to be more like people I know rather than larger than life heroes. Since Davy's not all that bright and thinks about sex quite a bit, I understand where he's coming from.
Post-apocalyptic stories are a dime a dozen these days but Pangborn's writing sets his apart from the others. One of the fun parts of Davy was trying to figure out what modern day places he was talking about.
Things I did not like about Davy:
What I didn't like about Davy can be summarized in one word: pace. While it was an interesting world and Davy's story eventually became interesting, it was over halfway through the book before I felt like things were actually happening. It's like Pangborn looked at his manuscript at that point and said "I'd better get things moving or this thing is going to be a thousand pages long!" That's pretty much all I have to say about that.
Conclusion:
I enjoyed Davy and could see why it was nominated for both the Hugo and Nebula awards when it was released. The style of writing was really good. Still, it was like an expensive plate with nothing on it. Maybe if I was in a different mood I would have appreciated it more but the best I can give it at this time is a 3.
December 3, 2018
wonderful! a pastoral post-apocalyptic tale of growing up slowly. by now, this formula has been used so many times that it probably doesn't sound remotely fresh. but it was fresh to me when i first read it many years back, and re-reading my favorite parts of it again tonight, the magic is still there. this is not a novel of grand adventure but one of many small moments. although it includes an oppressive, knowledge-hating church (in post-apocalyptic fiction, aren't they always?) and an uprising in a city, the narrative and the novel itself is a fragile, melancholy thing, a thoughtful adventure recounted by a man gently remembering his past youth, the friends he made, the woman he loved, the places where he visited and lived, the politics that he perhaps barely understood. this novel has much in common with A Canticle for Leibowitz, but for me the goofy, horny, not-particularly-bright, tender-hearted youth at the center of the story sets it apart. it is a sweet and very human tale.
December 13, 2015
Davy: My favorite coming-of-age SF novel of all time
Originally posted at Fantasy Literature
Davy (1964) is a wonderfully-written coming-of-age story set in a post-apocalyptic Northeastern United States 400 years after a brief nuclear exchange destroyed high-tech civilization, where life has become far more like the frontier days of the early US, with a scattered group of city-states dominated by the Holy Murcan Church. Far from what you might expect, it is a tale filled with humor, wisdom, and charm. It is the narrative voice of Davy as he grows up from a simple boy to a randy young man that captures the reader from the start. His early days are dominated by wanting to escape from his bondsman life (in between freeman and slave), his desire for the tavern owner's daughter, and his discovery of a golden horn in the possession of an innocent and ignorant mutant.
Taking this horn propels him on a series of adventures with deserters from a battle and he eventually joins an itinerant musician/entertainer group called Rumley's Ramblers. Along the way he finds romance and love and a father figure, all told is a style reminiscent of Mark Twain's Tom Sawyer or Salinger's Catcher in the Rye. The only other SF books this reminded me in tone and setting were another lesser-known classic, Ward Moore's Bring the Jubilee (1953), which was an alternate history tale in which the South won the Civil War, and George R. Stewart’s Earth Abides (1949), a pastoral post-disaster story set in the Bay Area after a virus wipes out much of civilization.
The details of Davy's world are well-described, and the pervasive and menacing grip of the Holy Murcan Church and religion on this rural and scattered society are believably depicted. There is no question that Pangborn's Davy is skeptical of organized religion and it's role in crushing individual thought and dissent, especially in a world where literacy is rare and the Church controls the thoughts of the common people. I found it a very refreshing contrast to that more famous post-apocalyptic tale, Walter M. Miller's A Canticle for Leibowitz, which suggests that the Catholic Church would be a protector of knowledge and morality in a dark post-nuclear world. They are both well-written books, and I wish that Davy could be read as much as Canticle.
In terms of narrative voice, world-building, characters, and sheer beauty of writing, I would gladly give Davy 5 stars, but I'm forced to deduct 1 star simply because very little happens in his story. Essentially only three of four major events happen in the novel, and other larger events are only referred to in passing or in hindsight. Instead, Davy regales us more with his thoughts on life, women, religion, and his world, which are very entertaining, but not much else. I have a strong suspicion that this is why the novel didn't get a better reception (although it was a Hugo Nominee for 1965). That, and naming a book "Davy" really doesn't tell you what it's about at all. Don’t let that dissuade you from reading it, though, it is a wonderful novel.
Originally posted at Fantasy Literature
Davy (1964) is a wonderfully-written coming-of-age story set in a post-apocalyptic Northeastern United States 400 years after a brief nuclear exchange destroyed high-tech civilization, where life has become far more like the frontier days of the early US, with a scattered group of city-states dominated by the Holy Murcan Church. Far from what you might expect, it is a tale filled with humor, wisdom, and charm. It is the narrative voice of Davy as he grows up from a simple boy to a randy young man that captures the reader from the start. His early days are dominated by wanting to escape from his bondsman life (in between freeman and slave), his desire for the tavern owner's daughter, and his discovery of a golden horn in the possession of an innocent and ignorant mutant.
Taking this horn propels him on a series of adventures with deserters from a battle and he eventually joins an itinerant musician/entertainer group called Rumley's Ramblers. Along the way he finds romance and love and a father figure, all told is a style reminiscent of Mark Twain's Tom Sawyer or Salinger's Catcher in the Rye. The only other SF books this reminded me in tone and setting were another lesser-known classic, Ward Moore's Bring the Jubilee (1953), which was an alternate history tale in which the South won the Civil War, and George R. Stewart’s Earth Abides (1949), a pastoral post-disaster story set in the Bay Area after a virus wipes out much of civilization.
The details of Davy's world are well-described, and the pervasive and menacing grip of the Holy Murcan Church and religion on this rural and scattered society are believably depicted. There is no question that Pangborn's Davy is skeptical of organized religion and it's role in crushing individual thought and dissent, especially in a world where literacy is rare and the Church controls the thoughts of the common people. I found it a very refreshing contrast to that more famous post-apocalyptic tale, Walter M. Miller's A Canticle for Leibowitz, which suggests that the Catholic Church would be a protector of knowledge and morality in a dark post-nuclear world. They are both well-written books, and I wish that Davy could be read as much as Canticle.
In terms of narrative voice, world-building, characters, and sheer beauty of writing, I would gladly give Davy 5 stars, but I'm forced to deduct 1 star simply because very little happens in his story. Essentially only three of four major events happen in the novel, and other larger events are only referred to in passing or in hindsight. Instead, Davy regales us more with his thoughts on life, women, religion, and his world, which are very entertaining, but not much else. I have a strong suspicion that this is why the novel didn't get a better reception (although it was a Hugo Nominee for 1965). That, and naming a book "Davy" really doesn't tell you what it's about at all. Don’t let that dissuade you from reading it, though, it is a wonderful novel.
November 13, 2023
"I'm Davy, who was king for a time. King of the Fools, and that calls for wisdom." Post-apocalyptic Huckleberry Finn. A story about a boy growing up in America hundreds of years after a nuclear war. I know the post-apocalyptic theme has been done to death (well almost), but this story by Edgar Pangborn (1909-1976) is a classic of this sub-genre, published in 1964, to be compared with such classics as "A Canticle of Leibovitz" by Walter Miller.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
August 22, 2007
Written almost fifty years ago now, DAVY is a grand science fiction story, often compared to TOM JONES. Considered extremely racy (bordering on vulgar) when it first appeared, it's an engaging story with excellent characterization.
August 25, 2025
3.5 - A post-apocalyptic pastoral with episodes of sublimity and a pervading air of gentle humanism that make the picaresque tale of Davy's growth from childhood to manhood a compelling one. Some of the moments are a bit too cute, but ultimately they don't take away from the power of the story overall.
November 15, 2013
Such a fantastic, beautiful, delicately imagined work. It reminds me by turns of Mark Twain's Huckleberry Finn and Henry Fielding's Tom Jones. Pangborn has the ability to get at the heart of his cast of misfits and make you care about them as much as he does -- not in spite of their flaws and foibles, but because of them. The main character, Davy, tells us his own story, the story of an orphan in a post-apocalyptic world where so much has changed, but so much more is still the same as it ever was. Davy ponders the most formative time of his life, recapturing his own pains and joys as he first discovered himself and the world around him. He wistfully tells the story of his youth as he begins to ponder the challenges and turmoil of what comes next.
A fine speculative writer, one can't help but wonder that Pangborn, a gay man, imagined and explored a world coping with a plague that attacks the very essence of us 15 years before the world first recognized and identified AIDS.
I first read this book as a 14-year-old, and later I would snap up every copy I found in used book stores to give away to friends. I reread this book every few years, just to make sure it's shine is still there, and my love for the book grows deeper with each reading.
A fine speculative writer, one can't help but wonder that Pangborn, a gay man, imagined and explored a world coping with a plague that attacks the very essence of us 15 years before the world first recognized and identified AIDS.
I first read this book as a 14-year-old, and later I would snap up every copy I found in used book stores to give away to friends. I reread this book every few years, just to make sure it's shine is still there, and my love for the book grows deeper with each reading.
November 13, 2016
Somehow I grew up when this book was published, and have not read it before now, 50 years later. Post-apocalyptic settings are a dime a dozen now, but this was new in 1964. It is 325 years after a limited nuclear war and subsequent plagues have returned the people of New England to a feudal lifestyle that reminds one of pre-industrial England. Part of the fun is the recognition of changed place names and the devolution of accurate history into folklore. By comparison to contemporary post-apocalypse, this is a very pastoral future, where a boy can grow up having a grand adventure, without demons other than the usual human ones and a lack of technology. As the cover says, Davy is born in a brothel, raised in an orphanage, entranced by music, and seduced by women. It's a fun tale, but not much more than that.
May 24, 2017
The reviews of Davy raised my expectations too high, perhaps. Some reviewers claim that the book is as good as Huckleberry Finn or Walter Miller’s A Canticle for Leibowitz, and although the book is good and admirable, it is not on par with those two great works.
Certainly, Davy is an ambitious, praiseworthy novel. I appreciate the book’s structure, which interweaves two chronological narratives—one describing events that took place in the past, when the narrator was entering adolescence, and one that describes more recent events taking place as the middle-aged narrator writes of his adolescence, complete with footnotes from his current middle-aged companions. I admire the narrator’s changing voices; he sounds believably like a postapocalyptic adolescent and, later, like a middle-aged introspective man. There’s clever wordmangling that helps set the tone and reinforce the postapocalyptic worldbuilding, such as the remnants of current New England geographical terms in the postapocalyptic names Katskil, Vairmant, and Conicut, or the riff on “demoralized” on pages 216-217, which Davy renders as “demarbleized,” then “demarvelized,” and finally “demongrelized.” And the characters that Davy meets on his journey are, for the most part, round and descriptively detailed.
But the world that’s built in this book feels more like one that belongs in a magic-less fantasy than in postapocalyptic science fiction—like an early America ruled by a dominant and technophobic Church, with no special insight into what that means for the inhabitants. The book’s intended indictment of that technophobic Church isn’t unique: children die, ignorance abounds, and mudgrubbing is the order of the day.
The plot is episodic and doesn’t build toward anything in particular until the last fifty pages or so, when the two lines of narrative coalesce. Yes, the boy learns lessons that that his grownup self comments on explicitly, but those comments—like the indictment of the Church—aren’t particularly insightful.
Maybe my complaints about lack of insight—and, hence, my disappointment in the book—is that I’m an older woman? The people I know who recommended the book to me are all older men who read it when they were young; I can see how Davy would be most meaningful and titillating and memorable to a young man who’s sorting out who he is and how best to rebel against authority.
Or maybe it’s that the book feels somewhat old-fashioned: its attack on the Church and politics is relatively gentle, restrained, moderate—rather simple, as if merely complaining about the Church and politics is extraordinary and shocking and, thus, sufficiently observant. And the sex is tame by current standards—“bawdy” reviewers call it, an appropriately old-fashioned word.
I wouldn’t complain (much) about the foregoing if I had been caught up in Davy’s emotions. But I wasn’t caught, not as I am caught by Huck Finn’s life and emotions. I sat back and engaged dutifully with Pangborn’s intellectual exercise, but the book didn’t carry me away.
And even the intellectual exercise was somewhat disappointing (again, perhaps because of the expectations created by the reviews). The book lacks the deeply complex layering of myth and Church that exists in A Canticle for Leibowitz. And it lacks the “what happened” piecing together of clues embedded in deteriorated language that I enjoy in Russell Hoban’s Riddley Walker—a book I’d compare it to before I compared it to Miller’s Canticle.
So, in sum, I am glad that I read Davy, because now I can check it off my list of Significant Books That It’s Good to Know About. But reading it felt like duty, not like joy.
Certainly, Davy is an ambitious, praiseworthy novel. I appreciate the book’s structure, which interweaves two chronological narratives—one describing events that took place in the past, when the narrator was entering adolescence, and one that describes more recent events taking place as the middle-aged narrator writes of his adolescence, complete with footnotes from his current middle-aged companions. I admire the narrator’s changing voices; he sounds believably like a postapocalyptic adolescent and, later, like a middle-aged introspective man. There’s clever wordmangling that helps set the tone and reinforce the postapocalyptic worldbuilding, such as the remnants of current New England geographical terms in the postapocalyptic names Katskil, Vairmant, and Conicut, or the riff on “demoralized” on pages 216-217, which Davy renders as “demarbleized,” then “demarvelized,” and finally “demongrelized.” And the characters that Davy meets on his journey are, for the most part, round and descriptively detailed.
But the world that’s built in this book feels more like one that belongs in a magic-less fantasy than in postapocalyptic science fiction—like an early America ruled by a dominant and technophobic Church, with no special insight into what that means for the inhabitants. The book’s intended indictment of that technophobic Church isn’t unique: children die, ignorance abounds, and mudgrubbing is the order of the day.
The plot is episodic and doesn’t build toward anything in particular until the last fifty pages or so, when the two lines of narrative coalesce. Yes, the boy learns lessons that that his grownup self comments on explicitly, but those comments—like the indictment of the Church—aren’t particularly insightful.
Maybe my complaints about lack of insight—and, hence, my disappointment in the book—is that I’m an older woman? The people I know who recommended the book to me are all older men who read it when they were young; I can see how Davy would be most meaningful and titillating and memorable to a young man who’s sorting out who he is and how best to rebel against authority.
Or maybe it’s that the book feels somewhat old-fashioned: its attack on the Church and politics is relatively gentle, restrained, moderate—rather simple, as if merely complaining about the Church and politics is extraordinary and shocking and, thus, sufficiently observant. And the sex is tame by current standards—“bawdy” reviewers call it, an appropriately old-fashioned word.
I wouldn’t complain (much) about the foregoing if I had been caught up in Davy’s emotions. But I wasn’t caught, not as I am caught by Huck Finn’s life and emotions. I sat back and engaged dutifully with Pangborn’s intellectual exercise, but the book didn’t carry me away.
And even the intellectual exercise was somewhat disappointing (again, perhaps because of the expectations created by the reviews). The book lacks the deeply complex layering of myth and Church that exists in A Canticle for Leibowitz. And it lacks the “what happened” piecing together of clues embedded in deteriorated language that I enjoy in Russell Hoban’s Riddley Walker—a book I’d compare it to before I compared it to Miller’s Canticle.
So, in sum, I am glad that I read Davy, because now I can check it off my list of Significant Books That It’s Good to Know About. But reading it felt like duty, not like joy.
February 8, 2011
If you've looked at my list, you know that my tastes run towards science (or speculative) fiction, in particularly the type that relies more on character and philosophy than technology. I haven't read Davy for many years, but it was one of the first I remembered to list. I must have read it 20 times or more; it was that good.
Davy is a post-apocalyptic novel set in a world that has reverted to something like the middle ages, but there is nothing dreary or hopeless about this book. The main character, (guess?), Davy, is a high-spirited youth, with the temperment and intelligence of a post-adolescent Huck Finn. Escaping from his early life of servitude, he travels across a landscape of re-established primordial forest, carrying little except a golden horn and his indomitable optimism.
He encounters dangers and various fascinating characters along his way, each contributing to his education, both practical and spiritual. His first act of freedom causes the death of the first to befriend him. This weighs heavily upon his conscience, and is a lesson hard learned.
I'm a lot older now, so I'm not sure how I'd feel if I read it today, but:
Davy was for me one of those books I got totally lost in. The character of Davy was so well fleshed that I forgot I was reading; I was Davy, setting off on his own for the first time, and (please forgive my paraphrase, I don't have the book in front of me), nothing ever drew me as powerfully as the road that lay ahead of me in the dark.
Davy is a post-apocalyptic novel set in a world that has reverted to something like the middle ages, but there is nothing dreary or hopeless about this book. The main character, (guess?), Davy, is a high-spirited youth, with the temperment and intelligence of a post-adolescent Huck Finn. Escaping from his early life of servitude, he travels across a landscape of re-established primordial forest, carrying little except a golden horn and his indomitable optimism.
He encounters dangers and various fascinating characters along his way, each contributing to his education, both practical and spiritual. His first act of freedom causes the death of the first to befriend him. This weighs heavily upon his conscience, and is a lesson hard learned.
I'm a lot older now, so I'm not sure how I'd feel if I read it today, but:
Davy was for me one of those books I got totally lost in. The character of Davy was so well fleshed that I forgot I was reading; I was Davy, setting off on his own for the first time, and (please forgive my paraphrase, I don't have the book in front of me), nothing ever drew me as powerfully as the road that lay ahead of me in the dark.
March 7, 2008
Problematic, but not too shabby overall. The narrative structure and timeline of the novel irritated me, as did the footnotes added by the other characters, which seemed way too cute and cloying of a device. And the novel itself took me more than halfway through to really get into, because the beginning is very overly detailed and slow. In contrast, the last few chapters of the book feel like the author had all of a sudden realized that he had something way more important that had to be done than completing this book. The end is really just rushed through, with major events in the main character's life being covered extremely briefly. However, even with all of those issues, I still enjoyed this book when all is said and done. It also seemed to capture a quaint feeling of the incipient counterculture of the 1960's that I enjoyed, which is, after all, when the novel was written.
February 29, 2020
Storyline: 2/5
Characters: 3/5
Writing Style: 2/5
World: 2/5
Perhaps there is an appropriate stage of life in which to read Pangborn’s Davy; I obviously encountered it at the wrong time. Maybe this coming of age tale is written for younger adolescents. But insistence on explaining and referencing sexual arousal and satisfaction does read like something written by a (and intended for like-minded) sex-crazed teenager (that Pangborn was 55 when this was published can come off as either insightful or creepy). Maybe intended for later adolescents, then. However, there are those repeated descriptions of the sexual experiences of nine-year olds (scratch insightful and definitely choose creepy). I really just do not know who this was for.
Throughout I was reminded of Huckleberry Finn. Panborn creates a new linguistic cadence, not unlike a Southern drawl. The book has a definite rhythm – a rambling, stream-of-consciousness, no-transitions, chapters-as-paragraphs way of relating the story. And it is an adventure story – albeit one in a post-apocalyptic, lost civilization future with strange connections to then-current history. And there’s definitely satire throughout, the object mostly religion. A lost-civilization Huckleberry Finn is a neat idea. It has been too long since I read Twain, however, to know how the two compare. Today, Davy was mostly a painful experience. The linguistic cadence was too cumbersome to easily understand. The rambling sentences that stretched on end without paragraph breaks or transitions sentences was taxing. The future world gets very little description. The tirade against religion never deepened or broadened; the complaints obvious early on with no new revelations or insights as the tale drags on. Pangborn seemed to think he was doing something terribly witty with the “book within a book” format and with the split perspectives. Perhaps not terrible, but definitely not witty. The story gave a lot of unfulfilled foreshadowing, and the ending could hardly have been more uninteresting. There is a somewhat satisfying coming-of-age tale mixed in to all those elements. And amidst the drawl and run-ons, there were some quoteworthy musings or observations. I’m still not sure whether to credit Pangborn with trying something difficult and falling short or with throwing something together and slapping the name “art” on it.
Apparently this was the first in a series. I did not realize that at the time of the reading. There is no need to read further; this one comes to a conclusion. I am not reading on further, and there is no one I would recommend this book to.
Characters: 3/5
Writing Style: 2/5
World: 2/5
Perhaps there is an appropriate stage of life in which to read Pangborn’s Davy; I obviously encountered it at the wrong time. Maybe this coming of age tale is written for younger adolescents. But insistence on explaining and referencing sexual arousal and satisfaction does read like something written by a (and intended for like-minded) sex-crazed teenager (that Pangborn was 55 when this was published can come off as either insightful or creepy). Maybe intended for later adolescents, then. However, there are those repeated descriptions of the sexual experiences of nine-year olds (scratch insightful and definitely choose creepy). I really just do not know who this was for.
Throughout I was reminded of Huckleberry Finn. Panborn creates a new linguistic cadence, not unlike a Southern drawl. The book has a definite rhythm – a rambling, stream-of-consciousness, no-transitions, chapters-as-paragraphs way of relating the story. And it is an adventure story – albeit one in a post-apocalyptic, lost civilization future with strange connections to then-current history. And there’s definitely satire throughout, the object mostly religion. A lost-civilization Huckleberry Finn is a neat idea. It has been too long since I read Twain, however, to know how the two compare. Today, Davy was mostly a painful experience. The linguistic cadence was too cumbersome to easily understand. The rambling sentences that stretched on end without paragraph breaks or transitions sentences was taxing. The future world gets very little description. The tirade against religion never deepened or broadened; the complaints obvious early on with no new revelations or insights as the tale drags on. Pangborn seemed to think he was doing something terribly witty with the “book within a book” format and with the split perspectives. Perhaps not terrible, but definitely not witty. The story gave a lot of unfulfilled foreshadowing, and the ending could hardly have been more uninteresting. There is a somewhat satisfying coming-of-age tale mixed in to all those elements. And amidst the drawl and run-ons, there were some quoteworthy musings or observations. I’m still not sure whether to credit Pangborn with trying something difficult and falling short or with throwing something together and slapping the name “art” on it.
Apparently this was the first in a series. I did not realize that at the time of the reading. There is no need to read further; this one comes to a conclusion. I am not reading on further, and there is no one I would recommend this book to.
April 14, 2020
Non ho letto Davy, romanzo che organizza un mondo post apocalisse nucleare che sta alla base di questi racconti. In sè sono buoni, ricordano per certi versi Un cantico per Leibowitz ma qui l'atteggiamento verso la religione, sia organizzata sia quella personale o naturale, è decisamente di sfiducia e negativo. Giustamente a mio modesto parere.
3 stelle.
3 stelle.
February 23, 2015
The wit of Vonnegut meets the bawdiness of Farmer? A lascivious Huck Finn? Not that horrible, with humorous jabs at dogma and ignorance, but an idle tale. Brackett did better with less, ten years earlier, but without the laughs.
November 15, 2019
Take a rather action-free meander through the mundane villages of the future with Davy, who occasionally ponders religious zealotry between rolls in the hay. Slightly interesting ideas and characters in an intensely boring book.
June 30, 2023
Anyone else also think a 2-star review is more damning than a 1-star?
January 3, 2025
4.5
I discovered Davy through Joachim Boaz's Science Fiction Ruminations blog-- the glowing review there made me seek it out, and I'm glad I did.
It'll definitely benefit with a reread in the future, as my mind gets pretty scrambled this time of the year, but Davy fits within the Post apocalypse framework in the same way my other favorites in the subgenre do-- that instead of focusing on the action or thrill of surviving in that kind of post-nuclear landscape, it instead is a story about the very act of storytelling, and the challenges of writing and recording information in a world where languages and other means of communication have been either obliterated or obscured. It involves a mythologizing of the past, of getting just enough details wrong that our current day seems remote and alien. Much in the same vein as A Canticle for Leibowitz, Engine Summer and Riddley Walker too in the way that it doesn't squarely lay blame on a singular source for this apocalyptic demise, even though it is very critical of power structures-- particularly of very conservative religious hierarchy. It is an oddly prescient and progressive novel in this regard. Though the first half grabbed me a lot more than the second, it is nevertheless a beautifully written and surprisingly thoughtful novel, especially coming from this era of SF. Pangborn was apparently a major influence on getting Le Guin to get into sci-fi writing, and I can see why with the level of nuance on display here.
I discovered Davy through Joachim Boaz's Science Fiction Ruminations blog-- the glowing review there made me seek it out, and I'm glad I did.
It'll definitely benefit with a reread in the future, as my mind gets pretty scrambled this time of the year, but Davy fits within the Post apocalypse framework in the same way my other favorites in the subgenre do-- that instead of focusing on the action or thrill of surviving in that kind of post-nuclear landscape, it instead is a story about the very act of storytelling, and the challenges of writing and recording information in a world where languages and other means of communication have been either obliterated or obscured. It involves a mythologizing of the past, of getting just enough details wrong that our current day seems remote and alien. Much in the same vein as A Canticle for Leibowitz, Engine Summer and Riddley Walker too in the way that it doesn't squarely lay blame on a singular source for this apocalyptic demise, even though it is very critical of power structures-- particularly of very conservative religious hierarchy. It is an oddly prescient and progressive novel in this regard. Though the first half grabbed me a lot more than the second, it is nevertheless a beautifully written and surprisingly thoughtful novel, especially coming from this era of SF. Pangborn was apparently a major influence on getting Le Guin to get into sci-fi writing, and I can see why with the level of nuance on display here.
July 29, 2023
Full review: https://sciencefictionruminations.com...
"Nominated for the 1965 Hugo Award for Best Novel [1]
Edgar Pangborn’s Davy (1964) takes place in a future devastated by a partially abortive nuclear war and waves of plagues (50). A powerful theocracy and perpetually warring microstates in the American Northeast [...]"
"Nominated for the 1965 Hugo Award for Best Novel [1]
Edgar Pangborn’s Davy (1964) takes place in a future devastated by a partially abortive nuclear war and waves of plagues (50). A powerful theocracy and perpetually warring microstates in the American Northeast [...]"
August 24, 2011
This is the fortieth anniversary edition of an old favorite. I didn't read the original, but one edtion published probably in the early eighties.
It's a post-apocalyptic novel set some 250 years after a nuclear war.
Davy is the protagonist, writing a book from his advanced years of twenty-nine, discussing his life. Raised in an orphanage, not really an orphan(but taken from his prostitute mother so she wouldn't pollute him by the Holy Murcan Church), he was bonded out at nine to a tavern owner. An incident at fourteen sends him on the run and it becomes a coming of age story in a repressive society controlled by this bastardized version of a religion in this future world.
It was nominated for both the Hugo and Nebula and was voted one of the greatest science fiction novels of all time.
It's a post-apocalyptic novel set some 250 years after a nuclear war.
Davy is the protagonist, writing a book from his advanced years of twenty-nine, discussing his life. Raised in an orphanage, not really an orphan(but taken from his prostitute mother so she wouldn't pollute him by the Holy Murcan Church), he was bonded out at nine to a tavern owner. An incident at fourteen sends him on the run and it becomes a coming of age story in a repressive society controlled by this bastardized version of a religion in this future world.
It was nominated for both the Hugo and Nebula and was voted one of the greatest science fiction novels of all time.
March 4, 2026
It is the future, long after the bomb has dropped, and New England is as fractious and smug as ever.
Davy is born into this world as the child of a prostitute. He escapes indentured servitude as a teenager, steals a French horn from a mutant, falls in with some army deserters, finds his biological father (maybe), joins up with some travelling performers, and eventually becomes a politician. He is writing the narrative himself as a memoir while he sails to the Azores with the other members of the failed regime that ruled over what used to be New York, during which they attempted to pass some progressive reforms–including freeing the slaves–and were ousted following some political intrigue. But the focus of this picaresque tale is not the world of Nuin or even the adventure as much as it is on Davy himself.
Davy addresses the reader many times to offer his insights into the world and his view of it, even meditating on who his reader might eventually be. His best friend and his lover are frequently breaking in via footnotes, usually to provide a somewhat mocking counterpoint to Davy’s already-loose narrative tone. He is by turns romantic and cynical but with a kind of earthy pragmatism, and presumes that his outlook is a bit wiser than everyone else’s despite his protestations of ignorance and poor education. Most of his insights can be summarized as, Think for yourself, go your own way, don’t take anything too seriously, embrace your desires passionately but also unsentimentally. I tend to find this presentation of shallow “wisdom” as something like casual observation to be contrived and annoying.
“So far as I can see, nations exist because of boundaries and not the other way around…” is the kind of thing we are talking about.
But it is fine, as far as it goes, to follow this character as he points out things about people or society or religion and goes, “How stupid!” in a somewhat Voltairish mode. Davy has some sharp barbs and witty apercu, to be sure, but what is being satirized is not the world of today or even of yesterday, but the world that existed in the minds of the comfortable classes of mid-century America. Those are the audiences for whom the revelation that (gasp!) young men seek sexual pleasure wherever they can find it as a matter of course provoked a frisson of liberatory excitement. However, those sacred cows have long since been slaughtered, and thus the novel loses its intended comedic and critical edge.
When one revisits the minds of our mid-century forebears, the comparisons to the classics Tom Jones and Huckleberry Finn become easy to appreciate, for it is in this tradition that the novel stands. There is also pleasure in a style that uses old-fashioned words such as “foofaraw” or “lolloping” or “panjandrums” or “whopmagullion.” It is not really much of a science fiction. There are certain elements (occasional mutants, the fragmented political landscape, the lost knowledge and artifacts of Old Time, the absence of heavy snowfall in New England) that remind one that we are in a far-flung future post-apocalypse. But for the most part the setting isn’t much of a character, and exists only to allow certain conventional assumptions about both tradition and progress to be turned on their head so that the “countercultural” mindset of the ‘60s can be treated as common sense.
As for the story itself, (at the risk of taking things too seriously) I have not entirely decided what sort of book this is intended to be. Davy constantly references his years with the performing troop to the reader, but they actually make up a relatively small degree of the page count. I thought that perhaps the book would go into detail of his (apparently exciting) political career and their attempt to enlighten the masses. But no. The more interesting plot elements are treated as a framing device for a bildungsroman of the classic sort, but it ends with a sudden miscarriage on a distant island and a tearful epilogue from Davy’s friend Dion about how Davy took to sea to explore and Dion really would like to see him again because they were so close. Except–aside from the footnotes–we have very little notion of what their relationship was. Meanwhile, over a hundred pages are spent with the army deserters and a great deal of naturalistic dialect and tiresome conversations in said dialect about sin between an evangelical would-be martyr and the prostitute he converted. It is a strangely-constructed book, and seems aware and purposeful about this fact, but it is not a very satisfying narrative. It is rather interesting to wonder what the author thought we would derive from this tale.
Nominated for a Hugo in 1965, this novel has occasionally been compared with A Canticle for Liebowitz, only taking the opposite tack regarding the role of religion in securing civilization. Davy seems to take the progressive-secularist view, and perhaps that is the best lens for evaluating it. It is about a dumb but clever kid who gets into scrapes and wild situations and occasionally does good and occasionally is wicked but overall grows into a decent guy despite himself who tries to do some good for Humanity, but Humanity doesn’t appreciate the favor. The closing lines speak of a hope for progress, to reclaim the good of Old Time “but without the bad,” ironically suggesting that it might “only” take another thousand years.
Progress, like adulthood, happens despite our best efforts to keep it from happening.
Davy is born into this world as the child of a prostitute. He escapes indentured servitude as a teenager, steals a French horn from a mutant, falls in with some army deserters, finds his biological father (maybe), joins up with some travelling performers, and eventually becomes a politician. He is writing the narrative himself as a memoir while he sails to the Azores with the other members of the failed regime that ruled over what used to be New York, during which they attempted to pass some progressive reforms–including freeing the slaves–and were ousted following some political intrigue. But the focus of this picaresque tale is not the world of Nuin or even the adventure as much as it is on Davy himself.
Davy addresses the reader many times to offer his insights into the world and his view of it, even meditating on who his reader might eventually be. His best friend and his lover are frequently breaking in via footnotes, usually to provide a somewhat mocking counterpoint to Davy’s already-loose narrative tone. He is by turns romantic and cynical but with a kind of earthy pragmatism, and presumes that his outlook is a bit wiser than everyone else’s despite his protestations of ignorance and poor education. Most of his insights can be summarized as, Think for yourself, go your own way, don’t take anything too seriously, embrace your desires passionately but also unsentimentally. I tend to find this presentation of shallow “wisdom” as something like casual observation to be contrived and annoying.
“So far as I can see, nations exist because of boundaries and not the other way around…” is the kind of thing we are talking about.
But it is fine, as far as it goes, to follow this character as he points out things about people or society or religion and goes, “How stupid!” in a somewhat Voltairish mode. Davy has some sharp barbs and witty apercu, to be sure, but what is being satirized is not the world of today or even of yesterday, but the world that existed in the minds of the comfortable classes of mid-century America. Those are the audiences for whom the revelation that (gasp!) young men seek sexual pleasure wherever they can find it as a matter of course provoked a frisson of liberatory excitement. However, those sacred cows have long since been slaughtered, and thus the novel loses its intended comedic and critical edge.
When one revisits the minds of our mid-century forebears, the comparisons to the classics Tom Jones and Huckleberry Finn become easy to appreciate, for it is in this tradition that the novel stands. There is also pleasure in a style that uses old-fashioned words such as “foofaraw” or “lolloping” or “panjandrums” or “whopmagullion.” It is not really much of a science fiction. There are certain elements (occasional mutants, the fragmented political landscape, the lost knowledge and artifacts of Old Time, the absence of heavy snowfall in New England) that remind one that we are in a far-flung future post-apocalypse. But for the most part the setting isn’t much of a character, and exists only to allow certain conventional assumptions about both tradition and progress to be turned on their head so that the “countercultural” mindset of the ‘60s can be treated as common sense.
As for the story itself, (at the risk of taking things too seriously) I have not entirely decided what sort of book this is intended to be. Davy constantly references his years with the performing troop to the reader, but they actually make up a relatively small degree of the page count. I thought that perhaps the book would go into detail of his (apparently exciting) political career and their attempt to enlighten the masses. But no. The more interesting plot elements are treated as a framing device for a bildungsroman of the classic sort, but it ends with a sudden miscarriage on a distant island and a tearful epilogue from Davy’s friend Dion about how Davy took to sea to explore and Dion really would like to see him again because they were so close. Except–aside from the footnotes–we have very little notion of what their relationship was. Meanwhile, over a hundred pages are spent with the army deserters and a great deal of naturalistic dialect and tiresome conversations in said dialect about sin between an evangelical would-be martyr and the prostitute he converted. It is a strangely-constructed book, and seems aware and purposeful about this fact, but it is not a very satisfying narrative. It is rather interesting to wonder what the author thought we would derive from this tale.
Nominated for a Hugo in 1965, this novel has occasionally been compared with A Canticle for Liebowitz, only taking the opposite tack regarding the role of religion in securing civilization. Davy seems to take the progressive-secularist view, and perhaps that is the best lens for evaluating it. It is about a dumb but clever kid who gets into scrapes and wild situations and occasionally does good and occasionally is wicked but overall grows into a decent guy despite himself who tries to do some good for Humanity, but Humanity doesn’t appreciate the favor. The closing lines speak of a hope for progress, to reclaim the good of Old Time “but without the bad,” ironically suggesting that it might “only” take another thousand years.
Progress, like adulthood, happens despite our best efforts to keep it from happening.
February 15, 2008
Post-post-apocalyptic: 300 years ahead, the known world has lost much technology, is controlled by a facist church, and runs on a feudal economy. The language is challenging, since it's written as a faux autobiography of a former bond slave named Davy. I wish there was more to it, but it exists as a remnant of some possible future history. Good book to read with Octavia Butler's Parables duet. Can someone who's read the book explain to me what a loin rag is?
December 18, 2015
A story about a 14 year old boy growing up in a post-apocalyptic time. Surprisingly better than I thought it would be. Davy is exposed to some horrible situations and commits a few terrible crimes without remorse. The storyline is all over the place and the language is a bit hard to read at times. It seems to me the music/instrument is a minor thread in the book. Fortunately the speculative portion of the book isn't too dominant.
July 18, 2008
Very few S/F buffs know this classic author. Poignant, endearing, soft and dark.
February 28, 2024
A hipster walks into a library and this is what he chooses to read. It may have been nominated for the 1965 Hugo, but this is one of the more obscure books I've read, and more generally it seems like the world has chosen to forget Pangborn and his Darkening World. I know how the old adage goes, but allow me to admit that I only chose to read this because of how much I liked the cover.
Welcome to the Darkening World, this is Pangborn's version of the dying earth, set 300 years after nuclear war breaks out and the sea level rises. This story focuses on far future New England, which has become a series of federated "democratic kingdoms" that rise out of the countryside of the irradiated East Coast. We follow Davy, a plucky young stable boy who escapes from life as an indentured servant and sets out on his own adventure. This is a coming of age book through and through, and the story is told in an autobiographical nature well into Davy's adulthood as he sails the seas in search of former Europe. The star of the show is this post-apocalyptic pseudo-medieval version of America; this is uncannily similar to my own prediction of what the end times would be like, particularly the inclusion of the aptly named Holy Murican Church
It's odd to say this about an SF book, but this is remarkably similar to The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. On some level, what else would you get when you set a Bildungsroman in post-apocalyptic America? You could almost substitute these books 1 for 1 if it weren't for the difference in themes; where racial prejudice colors the world of Huck Finn, it seems that Pangborn substituted racism for religion. That's not to say that this world doesn't have its own set of prejudices, orphans are sold into slavery, mutant "mue" children are murdered after their birth by witness priests. I personally adore this substitution; just like Huck Finn there’s a lot of subtext to digest just with a “fresh” New Wave SF take.
If anyone ever gets confused about what New Wave SF is, look no further than this book, because this book has all the hallmarks. Neologisms? Check. Experimental form and prose? Check. Focus on the psychological/social sciences? Check. Imitation of non-SF styles of lit? Big Check. From my modern perspective, it's hard to tell if this book helped to establish the New Wave trend or if it was fad-driven itself. I lean towards the former, if only because of the quality of the writing, which is superb. I can see why this faded into obscurity, though, SF Huck Finn is a tough sell.
Ultimately, I didn't feel all that strongly about this book. It's very well written, but I'd say that this was a conceptual flop. I think my biggest problem with this book is that the story was boring, and it makes you plainly aware of this by hinting at incredible developments later in Davy's life that won't be making it into the book.
Welcome to the Darkening World, this is Pangborn's version of the dying earth, set 300 years after nuclear war breaks out and the sea level rises. This story focuses on far future New England, which has become a series of federated "democratic kingdoms" that rise out of the countryside of the irradiated East Coast. We follow Davy, a plucky young stable boy who escapes from life as an indentured servant and sets out on his own adventure. This is a coming of age book through and through, and the story is told in an autobiographical nature well into Davy's adulthood as he sails the seas in search of former Europe. The star of the show is this post-apocalyptic pseudo-medieval version of America; this is uncannily similar to my own prediction of what the end times would be like, particularly the inclusion of the aptly named Holy Murican Church
It's odd to say this about an SF book, but this is remarkably similar to The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. On some level, what else would you get when you set a Bildungsroman in post-apocalyptic America? You could almost substitute these books 1 for 1 if it weren't for the difference in themes; where racial prejudice colors the world of Huck Finn, it seems that Pangborn substituted racism for religion. That's not to say that this world doesn't have its own set of prejudices, orphans are sold into slavery, mutant "mue" children are murdered after their birth by witness priests. I personally adore this substitution; just like Huck Finn there’s a lot of subtext to digest just with a “fresh” New Wave SF take.
If anyone ever gets confused about what New Wave SF is, look no further than this book, because this book has all the hallmarks. Neologisms? Check. Experimental form and prose? Check. Focus on the psychological/social sciences? Check. Imitation of non-SF styles of lit? Big Check. From my modern perspective, it's hard to tell if this book helped to establish the New Wave trend or if it was fad-driven itself. I lean towards the former, if only because of the quality of the writing, which is superb. I can see why this faded into obscurity, though, SF Huck Finn is a tough sell.
Ultimately, I didn't feel all that strongly about this book. It's very well written, but I'd say that this was a conceptual flop. I think my biggest problem with this book is that the story was boring, and it makes you plainly aware of this by hinting at incredible developments later in Davy's life that won't be making it into the book.
May 27, 2023
My selection for the 'Bottom of the TBR' square for the r/Fantasy 2023 Bingo.
Three and a half stars rounded up to four. I remember buying this in a used bookstore in England before I left the country, so it's been on my TBR for at least 40 years. It's a post-apocalyptic coming-of-age science fiction story that was the runner-up for the Hugo award in 1965.
Our world was devastated sometime in the twentieth century. This is set in the North-eastern United States about three to four centuries later. Religious extremism has turned the world into a Luddite culture.
Our hero is Davy, who runs away from all this because he's hoping to find a better place then where he's currently at. He tells the story in the form of a memoir. He's self-educated, so the writing is quite often phonetical and you have to puzzle out what's been said (there are also footnotes from editors of the memoir, who explain some things and degoof some of the worst spellings).
Who would have thought that I would have ended up reading two Bingo books this year with religious cults in them. Pangborn's writing style kept me reading, even though I wasn't always enjoying what was happening. He effortlessly captures the thoughts (almost a stream of consciousness) of the young boy as he goes on his travels.
(Other 2023 Bingo squares that this would fit: Mundane Jobs).
Three and a half stars rounded up to four. I remember buying this in a used bookstore in England before I left the country, so it's been on my TBR for at least 40 years. It's a post-apocalyptic coming-of-age science fiction story that was the runner-up for the Hugo award in 1965.
Our world was devastated sometime in the twentieth century. This is set in the North-eastern United States about three to four centuries later. Religious extremism has turned the world into a Luddite culture.
Our hero is Davy, who runs away from all this because he's hoping to find a better place then where he's currently at. He tells the story in the form of a memoir. He's self-educated, so the writing is quite often phonetical and you have to puzzle out what's been said (there are also footnotes from editors of the memoir, who explain some things and degoof some of the worst spellings).
Who would have thought that I would have ended up reading two Bingo books this year with religious cults in them. Pangborn's writing style kept me reading, even though I wasn't always enjoying what was happening. He effortlessly captures the thoughts (almost a stream of consciousness) of the young boy as he goes on his travels.
(Other 2023 Bingo squares that this would fit: Mundane Jobs).
August 1, 2024
2.5 stars. Davy was a fairly enjoyable, whimsical, post-apocalyptic coming-of-age tale. Written like an extended journal, I enjoyed the first-person perspective, the ample humor and light tone, and the frequent breaking of the fourth wall.
So why the lower rating? The author tends to be overly focused on world-building, which is often times a good thing, but unfortunately very little plot happens in the story. I was left scratching my head as to why the author went to such lengths to flesh out the new history of the world after some unnamed apocalypse when very little events actually transpire. Even with only 20 pages left, Pangborn was still laying out large descriptions of history and customs and I found myself starting to skip large section of the text to simply try to arrive at the point. Many of the characters have thick accents, which adds to the charm but decreases the ease of reading. The ending also seemed to come very quickly, with longstanding plot threads quickly closed. I'm not entirely sure what the point was.
Reading other reviews, it's clear that many folks admire this book because they read it as they themselves were coming of age. I could see why the nostalgia might be a deep draw here, especially for boys. But, as an adult with no prior connection to the book, I found myself a bit bored by the end.
So why the lower rating? The author tends to be overly focused on world-building, which is often times a good thing, but unfortunately very little plot happens in the story. I was left scratching my head as to why the author went to such lengths to flesh out the new history of the world after some unnamed apocalypse when very little events actually transpire. Even with only 20 pages left, Pangborn was still laying out large descriptions of history and customs and I found myself starting to skip large section of the text to simply try to arrive at the point. Many of the characters have thick accents, which adds to the charm but decreases the ease of reading. The ending also seemed to come very quickly, with longstanding plot threads quickly closed. I'm not entirely sure what the point was.
Reading other reviews, it's clear that many folks admire this book because they read it as they themselves were coming of age. I could see why the nostalgia might be a deep draw here, especially for boys. But, as an adult with no prior connection to the book, I found myself a bit bored by the end.
December 30, 2023
Classic Sci-Fi in a post apocalyptic setting, this fictional autobiography novel with a semi-reliable narrator works very well on 3 layers:
First there's the Character Davy's life story (so far), given as he learns the world around him but always with allusions to things he learned later. This is true bildungsroman, as Davy goes from boy to young man.
Then there is the narrator himself, Davy as an older man, writing his asides (with help from contemporaries) and connecting both the old and young parts of his story gradually. Understanding the world in a wider context, and struggling to make it a better place for his friends and descendants.
Then the reader's 3rd perspective, where we can see the world Davy doesn't understand except vaguely in the light of modern technology, maps etc.. We understand the atomic war and radiation that Davy sees as a curtain across the past between him and an earlier time. We know the names of cities and US states that have become separate nations and badlands. Pangborn's solid writing means that this novel remains very readable and believable nearly 60 years later.
First there's the Character Davy's life story (so far), given as he learns the world around him but always with allusions to things he learned later. This is true bildungsroman, as Davy goes from boy to young man.
Then there is the narrator himself, Davy as an older man, writing his asides (with help from contemporaries) and connecting both the old and young parts of his story gradually. Understanding the world in a wider context, and struggling to make it a better place for his friends and descendants.
Then the reader's 3rd perspective, where we can see the world Davy doesn't understand except vaguely in the light of modern technology, maps etc.. We understand the atomic war and radiation that Davy sees as a curtain across the past between him and an earlier time. We know the names of cities and US states that have become separate nations and badlands. Pangborn's solid writing means that this novel remains very readable and believable nearly 60 years later.
December 16, 2021
I was 18 when I first read Edgar Pangborn’s DAVY, which may have been the perfect age to discover Pangborn’s gentle, sentimental and oft-tragic worldscape, I don’t know.
The cover blurbs compared it to HUCKLEBERRY FINN and Fielding’s TOM JONES, both of which I loved. I read Pangborn’s Note on the copyright page: “The characters in this novel are fictitious in a limited sense — that is, they won’t be born for several hundred years yet.” I was hooked. And then I read the opening lines: “I’m Davy, who was king for a time. King of Fools, and that calls for wisdom.” Hooked and reeled in, I began reading the novel on the bus ride home. I almost missed my stop.
DAVY told of a New England of a future time after a global nuclear war. DAVY told of a time of medieval ignorance and superstition, of spreading green forests and sheltering villages, of mutant children and wild tigers. DAVY told the tale of a young rogue, an inn boy who wants to see more. And in his own fumbling words, tells us his tale…
To read more of my thoughts on Edgar Pangborn, go to https://www.civilizedbears.com/davy-e...
- Brian Alan Burhoe
The cover blurbs compared it to HUCKLEBERRY FINN and Fielding’s TOM JONES, both of which I loved. I read Pangborn’s Note on the copyright page: “The characters in this novel are fictitious in a limited sense — that is, they won’t be born for several hundred years yet.” I was hooked. And then I read the opening lines: “I’m Davy, who was king for a time. King of Fools, and that calls for wisdom.” Hooked and reeled in, I began reading the novel on the bus ride home. I almost missed my stop.
DAVY told of a New England of a future time after a global nuclear war. DAVY told of a time of medieval ignorance and superstition, of spreading green forests and sheltering villages, of mutant children and wild tigers. DAVY told the tale of a young rogue, an inn boy who wants to see more. And in his own fumbling words, tells us his tale…
To read more of my thoughts on Edgar Pangborn, go to https://www.civilizedbears.com/davy-e...
- Brian Alan Burhoe
February 16, 2022
"...where now this ship winds her passage through gray or golden days and across the shoreless latitudes of night." is in the second sentence of the novel. It caught my attention and held onto it for the entire length of the novel.
Davy, a crew member on that ship, tells the story of his youth and, inter alia, how he came to be on board. It is set in a post-apocalyptic, and now sub-tropical, north east USA rendered almost unrecognisable by global warming and rising sea levels that have shifted coastlines, turning hills into islands.
Davy's tale tells of his growing realisation that he wants no part of the repressive church of his time and the wilful ignorance that comes with it. It is part coming of age story, part diary and part ongoing love letter to Nickie, his wife, lover, soulmate and muse. Like the best of science fiction it holds a mirror to our times and remains as relevant today as when it was first published, nearly 60 years ago.
This is for me a deeply moving story and remains a real favourite.
Davy, a crew member on that ship, tells the story of his youth and, inter alia, how he came to be on board. It is set in a post-apocalyptic, and now sub-tropical, north east USA rendered almost unrecognisable by global warming and rising sea levels that have shifted coastlines, turning hills into islands.
Davy's tale tells of his growing realisation that he wants no part of the repressive church of his time and the wilful ignorance that comes with it. It is part coming of age story, part diary and part ongoing love letter to Nickie, his wife, lover, soulmate and muse. Like the best of science fiction it holds a mirror to our times and remains as relevant today as when it was first published, nearly 60 years ago.
This is for me a deeply moving story and remains a real favourite.
July 31, 2023
Of all the post-Apocalypse coming-of-age novels I've read, two stand out as separated-at-birth: Leigh Brackett's wonderful The Long Tomorrow and Ed Pangborn's Davy. Both tell of truth-seeking (male) youths in revolt against theocratic orthodoxy in a post-nuclear apocalypse society. Apart from some gorgeous landscape writing and muscular, efficient prose (she was a successful Hollywood screenplay writer for Howard Hawks), Brackett's novel, however beautifully written, is rather grim and replete with Serious Thought (and I don't say that as a bad thing), with what I thought was a rushed, somewhat soapy Hollywood ending.
Pangborn's Davy is anything but. It's picaresque, colorful, sexy, often guffaw-out-loud funny, it also is philosophical and deeply reflective, with as much deep heartache as wonderfully-funny folk humor. Think of a post-Apocalypse Tom Jones. Davy is a forgotten gem. If you decide to read it, to mangle a line from Joni Mitchell's 'A Case of You', prepare to laugh yer patootie off, but be prepared to bleed.
Pangborn's Davy is anything but. It's picaresque, colorful, sexy, often guffaw-out-loud funny, it also is philosophical and deeply reflective, with as much deep heartache as wonderfully-funny folk humor. Think of a post-Apocalypse Tom Jones. Davy is a forgotten gem. If you decide to read it, to mangle a line from Joni Mitchell's 'A Case of You', prepare to laugh yer patootie off, but be prepared to bleed.
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