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The Jerusalem Passage
A dark, near-future parable set in a Holy Land afflicted by a mysterious blight by the author of the visionary Catholic sci-fi thriller, Our Lady of the Artilects.
Although no one knows who or what caused the Desolation, pilgrims now travel to Jerusalem to die. Most want a holy death or simply to lay down the burden of living. Only the worst sinners go as penance. Janusz, a disgraced priest who has committed a terrible crime, is one of these. Along the way, he meets mysterious strangers and experiences horrific visions, discovering that an undead conscience might be the most terrifying monster of them all.
Although no one knows who or what caused the Desolation, pilgrims now travel to Jerusalem to die. Most want a holy death or simply to lay down the burden of living. Only the worst sinners go as penance. Janusz, a disgraced priest who has committed a terrible crime, is one of these. Along the way, he meets mysterious strangers and experiences horrific visions, discovering that an undead conscience might be the most terrifying monster of them all.
113 pages, Kindle Edition
Published September 16, 2024
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Displaying 1 - 29 of 29 reviews
November 15, 2024
Set in the maybe not so distant future, pilgrims in what was 'formerly' Israel, go to Jerusalem to die. There is what the reader assumes to be some type of apocalyptic event that is referred to as The Desolation. Janusz, a priest who has committed a terrible act (think of the numerous scandals affecting priests within the Catholic Church), becomes one of the Pilgrims who will travel through a desolate and bleak landscape, while monitored by drones assigned by the Vatican to monitor each traveler. His remorse for the outcome of his horrific act produces some extremely thought-provoking musings on his guilt but lack of remorse. Along the journey there are Biblical hallucinations such as The Parable of the Good Samaritan and that of The Parable of the Workers in the Vineyard who pays each of his workers a denarius, regardless of how long they worked. He is also haunted by grotesque visions that seem to reflect the horrific act he committed and the ramifications thereof. This is not a long book, but its depth stays with the reader long after the ending. Thank you to Goodreads as I won this in a Goodreads giveaway.
October 15, 2024
The Holy Land is wasted. Everything there seems to die.
What caused this? Why is it happening? We don't really know. But pilgrims (monitored by flying Vatican drones) still make their way there in search of meaning? Absolution? Solace? knowing it will be a one-way trip. And thus is the premise of The Jerusalem Passage.
While other spec-fic will focus on the events that made the world this way, we are forced to zoom in and focus on one depraved man - Janusz - a disgraced former priest who deserves every trial that comes his way.
These are the kind of small, intense stories sci-fi is made for and sadly that the genre produces far too few of these days.
Luckily, we have Andrew Gillsmith, author of Our Lady of the Artilects, who can't help but drag the genre into new territory with his impactful prose and richly drawn characters.
This book is short. But it will be hard to read in one sitting. It makes you ask questions about justice and mercy that you didn't think possible. And when you put it down it will stay with you for a long time.
But you need to buy this book. Not just for the unique and haunting story it contains therein, but to get a glimpse of where the sci-fi genre is going. You will be very glad you did.
What caused this? Why is it happening? We don't really know. But pilgrims (monitored by flying Vatican drones) still make their way there in search of meaning? Absolution? Solace? knowing it will be a one-way trip. And thus is the premise of The Jerusalem Passage.
While other spec-fic will focus on the events that made the world this way, we are forced to zoom in and focus on one depraved man - Janusz - a disgraced former priest who deserves every trial that comes his way.
These are the kind of small, intense stories sci-fi is made for and sadly that the genre produces far too few of these days.
Luckily, we have Andrew Gillsmith, author of Our Lady of the Artilects, who can't help but drag the genre into new territory with his impactful prose and richly drawn characters.
This book is short. But it will be hard to read in one sitting. It makes you ask questions about justice and mercy that you didn't think possible. And when you put it down it will stay with you for a long time.
But you need to buy this book. Not just for the unique and haunting story it contains therein, but to get a glimpse of where the sci-fi genre is going. You will be very glad you did.
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September 26, 2024The Quality of Mercy
Disclaimer: I was provided with a digital copy of this novella by the author.
As an author of speculative fiction, I’ve found that inspiration often comes from a wide array of different places. One story might be birthed from an interaction you had with a stranger, one might be birthed from an interesting Wikipedia article you read, or a random line in a TV show, or a book, or a song, or a movie, or a sound; and it’s been my experience that stories like these, that are born of things, are usually because I’d also like to write about that thing. But sometimes we authors are possessed by different inclinations, and wish to write not about things as material objects (spaceships, exoplanets, rogue AIs, etc), but about things as ideas—to write, as sci-fi author and editor Judith Merril would call them, “Preaching stories” (though I’d like to note that Merril does not use the term “Preaching” here as we might understand it from an American evangelical sense, but instead as a way of defining “morality pieces, prophecies, visions, and warnings, [stories that are] more concerned with the conduct of human society than with its techniques” [Merril, “What Do You Mean—Science? Fiction?”, Extrapolation Vol. 7 Iss. 2, 1966]). In the world of speculative fiction we would understand stories like Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451, Huxley’s Brave New World, or even—to a certain, lesser extent—something like Crichton’s Jurassic Park as these kinds of stories.
But oftentimes the writing of these kinds of stories comes with the greatest amount of doubt from the writer themself, because suddenly the writing of the story feels more important than before. Now you’re saying something. And in saying something, you want to make sure that you say it right. This is not to say that more popcorn-ish fare is not without any thematic weight. Typically, even a story that begins in the pulpiest of narrative pools will form some amount of thematic meat along its skeleton as it grows from conception to birth; but for the stories that begin with the key theme in mind… those stories are the most challenging, because we want to make sure that we do them justice. And yet, for whatever doubts are held by the author, history has shown that these kinds of stories are often the ones that stick with readers the longest, because, as Fahrenheit 451’s Ray Bradbury says, “When a man talks from his heart, in his moment of truth, he speaks poetry” (Bradbury, “How to Keep and Feed a Muse,” The Writer, July, 1961).
And that is exactly how I would define Andrew Gillsmith’s The Jerusalem Passage: poetry spoken from the heart.
I was offered a digital copy of this novella by the author, which I gladly accepted because I have absolutely adored the two novels of his that I’ve read (2022’s Our Lady of the Artilects and 2024’s A Cloud of Unknowing), but was warned over Twitter messages that it was “extremely dark.” And he was not lying.
The Jerusalem Passage tells the tale of a priest partaking in a death march through a desecrated Holy Land, the titular “Jerusalem Passage”. He is there as a matter of personal penance, and though—at the beginning of the story—we don’t know exactly why he would do such a thing, the sin at the root of his penance is made progressively clearer as the tale unfolds. A single, offhanded moment of inner-monologuing early in the text queues the reader as to what that sin might be, and I felt my gut get sickeningly tighter as my suspicions were confirmed via later pages. This story is, as advertised, incredibly dark.
The priest, Janusz, is the protagonist of The Jerusalem Passage only insofar as he is the main character of the story, but he is not the hero. He is repulsive, the kind of character whose depths of evil makes you question the author’s own sanity for having written them. But it is exactly that evil that is the purpose for which Gillsmith has written Janusz, and the purpose for which he has written this whole story.
The Jerusalem Passage is a thoughtful and challenging meditation on the ideas of justice and mercy that is precision manufactured to force the reader towards introspection. It is not content to let you off the hook after its closing words. We can look at other works in this field—let’s use Fahrenheit 451 as an example—and easily say, “Ah! Yes, the stifling of ideas presented in this novel is bad, and I would never be a willing participant in such an endeavor.” But then we look at something like The Jerusalem Passage and quickly discover that it requires a bit more of us than simple affirmations or disavowals.
Yet all this darkness and challenge is wrapped up in the same kind of beautifully evocative prose I’ve become familiar with from Gillsmith’s other works, evoking the omnipresent dread of Ambrose Bierce’s An Inhabitant of Carcosa and the uncanny otherworldliness of Jeff VanderMeer’s Dead Astronauts. There is a lyrical quality to the novella that helps to ease your eyes over the terrible things the words are actually saying. I hesitate to say more, except to say that I think you should read this story. Whether you subscribe to the novella’s theological framework is irrelevant, because at the end of the day The Jerusalem Passage is simply a well-crafted tale that transcends the idea of “target audience”. Anyone can read this book and find something valuable to take from it. In a perfect world I’d love to look back on this review 10, 20, 30 years from now and take comfort in knowing that The Jerusalem Passage has taken up residence alongside other classic works like Fahrenheit 451 and Brave New World. It is worthy of that position.
Disclaimer: I was provided with a digital copy of this novella by the author.
As an author of speculative fiction, I’ve found that inspiration often comes from a wide array of different places. One story might be birthed from an interaction you had with a stranger, one might be birthed from an interesting Wikipedia article you read, or a random line in a TV show, or a book, or a song, or a movie, or a sound; and it’s been my experience that stories like these, that are born of things, are usually because I’d also like to write about that thing. But sometimes we authors are possessed by different inclinations, and wish to write not about things as material objects (spaceships, exoplanets, rogue AIs, etc), but about things as ideas—to write, as sci-fi author and editor Judith Merril would call them, “Preaching stories” (though I’d like to note that Merril does not use the term “Preaching” here as we might understand it from an American evangelical sense, but instead as a way of defining “morality pieces, prophecies, visions, and warnings, [stories that are] more concerned with the conduct of human society than with its techniques” [Merril, “What Do You Mean—Science? Fiction?”, Extrapolation Vol. 7 Iss. 2, 1966]). In the world of speculative fiction we would understand stories like Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451, Huxley’s Brave New World, or even—to a certain, lesser extent—something like Crichton’s Jurassic Park as these kinds of stories.
But oftentimes the writing of these kinds of stories comes with the greatest amount of doubt from the writer themself, because suddenly the writing of the story feels more important than before. Now you’re saying something. And in saying something, you want to make sure that you say it right. This is not to say that more popcorn-ish fare is not without any thematic weight. Typically, even a story that begins in the pulpiest of narrative pools will form some amount of thematic meat along its skeleton as it grows from conception to birth; but for the stories that begin with the key theme in mind… those stories are the most challenging, because we want to make sure that we do them justice. And yet, for whatever doubts are held by the author, history has shown that these kinds of stories are often the ones that stick with readers the longest, because, as Fahrenheit 451’s Ray Bradbury says, “When a man talks from his heart, in his moment of truth, he speaks poetry” (Bradbury, “How to Keep and Feed a Muse,” The Writer, July, 1961).
And that is exactly how I would define Andrew Gillsmith’s The Jerusalem Passage: poetry spoken from the heart.
I was offered a digital copy of this novella by the author, which I gladly accepted because I have absolutely adored the two novels of his that I’ve read (2022’s Our Lady of the Artilects and 2024’s A Cloud of Unknowing), but was warned over Twitter messages that it was “extremely dark.” And he was not lying.
The Jerusalem Passage tells the tale of a priest partaking in a death march through a desecrated Holy Land, the titular “Jerusalem Passage”. He is there as a matter of personal penance, and though—at the beginning of the story—we don’t know exactly why he would do such a thing, the sin at the root of his penance is made progressively clearer as the tale unfolds. A single, offhanded moment of inner-monologuing early in the text queues the reader as to what that sin might be, and I felt my gut get sickeningly tighter as my suspicions were confirmed via later pages. This story is, as advertised, incredibly dark.
The priest, Janusz, is the protagonist of The Jerusalem Passage only insofar as he is the main character of the story, but he is not the hero. He is repulsive, the kind of character whose depths of evil makes you question the author’s own sanity for having written them. But it is exactly that evil that is the purpose for which Gillsmith has written Janusz, and the purpose for which he has written this whole story.
The Jerusalem Passage is a thoughtful and challenging meditation on the ideas of justice and mercy that is precision manufactured to force the reader towards introspection. It is not content to let you off the hook after its closing words. We can look at other works in this field—let’s use Fahrenheit 451 as an example—and easily say, “Ah! Yes, the stifling of ideas presented in this novel is bad, and I would never be a willing participant in such an endeavor.” But then we look at something like The Jerusalem Passage and quickly discover that it requires a bit more of us than simple affirmations or disavowals.
Yet all this darkness and challenge is wrapped up in the same kind of beautifully evocative prose I’ve become familiar with from Gillsmith’s other works, evoking the omnipresent dread of Ambrose Bierce’s An Inhabitant of Carcosa and the uncanny otherworldliness of Jeff VanderMeer’s Dead Astronauts. There is a lyrical quality to the novella that helps to ease your eyes over the terrible things the words are actually saying. I hesitate to say more, except to say that I think you should read this story. Whether you subscribe to the novella’s theological framework is irrelevant, because at the end of the day The Jerusalem Passage is simply a well-crafted tale that transcends the idea of “target audience”. Anyone can read this book and find something valuable to take from it. In a perfect world I’d love to look back on this review 10, 20, 30 years from now and take comfort in knowing that The Jerusalem Passage has taken up residence alongside other classic works like Fahrenheit 451 and Brave New World. It is worthy of that position.
December 12, 2025
The Jerusalem Passage is about guilt, faith, death, and the Catholic urge to be hopelessly tacky.
Janusz is on a pilgrimage to see the city of Jerusalem. Ever since an unknown catastrophe irradiated the Holy Land, this is a pilgrimage that people go on to die. Unlike a lot of the people in the convoy who are elderly or dying of incurable illnesses, Janusz seems in perfect health and we learn very quickly that for him, this end-of-life pilgrimage is a form of atonement.
I’ll get to what specifically he’s atoning for in a moment, but one of the main themes in this book is what atonement, forgiveness and sacrifice really are in a religious but specifically Catholic context. Janusz claims to be doing penance by undertaking the pilgrimage. Leibowitz, the fatuous old man who follows Janusz through his journey, accuses him of just wanting to die, forcing the question of what the difference is between a noble and meaningful self-sacrifice and a suicide. The book also provokes questions about what forgiveness really is, whether, in a Christian setting, it really can be absolute or if some things are unforgiveable even for God. Andrew Gillsmith doesn’t necessarily answer these questions, just asks them and thinks through them with his reader as we all follow Janusz’s journey. The Jerusalem Passage is written from a religious perspective, which may not be for everyone but which isn’t cloying or attempting to convince anyone of anything. All books have a perspective and this one happens to be Catholic, and the themes it is considering are important regardless.
And even if they weren’t, The Jerusalem Passage is so incredibly well written that it’s worth reading no matter what. It’s gripping from the start and nearly impossible to stop reading and, once I finished it, it was equally hard to stop thinking about afterwards. The themes and the setting and the characters all come together so beautifully in this novella that it’s hard to think of any meaningful way it could be improved. I enjoyed every page of it, even though it’s a hard story to read.
Janusz is a reprehensible person. He’s mean to everyone around him, he thinks unkind thoughts about them constantly, he’s selfish, and he has himself committed a horrible crime which I don’t think he really feels bad about. The consequences of his crime are what he’s distraught by and he’s experiencing grief, but the emotions he describes—and doesn’t describe—having do not read like guilt at all. Janusz’s idea of atonement is to suffer until God forgives him for something he doesn’t feel bad about and, most likely, would do again if he could. If you’re going to write a book that meaningfully explores what forgiveness and atonement are, this is the best way to do it—it’s easy to forgive someone who’s barely done anything wrong, after all.
I usually try to avoid spoilers, but something I really liked in The Jerusalem Passage is a minor one because the nature of Janusz’s crime, while not hard to figure out, is kept from the reader for a while. In the next paragraph I plan to address it directly, so if you’d like to avoid being spoiled, skip to the paragraph after that.
Considering how short it is, The Jerusalem Passage has a lot going on in it, all of it good. One final particular thing I want to say is that I love all the Catholic imagery at play in this. The Lazars are overly ceremonial and ominous in a vaguely gothic way and the holograms of biblical stories meant to guide pilgrims feel so earnest and well meaning but are clearly so silly. It all feels like it’s almost too much, but in a way where you go “yeah, that’s what Catholicism is authentically like.”
It feels authentic. Everything in The Jerusalem Passage feels authentic, from the themes to the characters to the earnestness with which the theology is deployed. Gillsmith asks a lot of questions and doesn’t offer all that many answers in the end, and it leaves the reader thinking about the book.
The Jerusalem Passage is certainly not going to be for everyone, but for the people who it is for, it’s an absolute delight of a read.
Janusz is on a pilgrimage to see the city of Jerusalem. Ever since an unknown catastrophe irradiated the Holy Land, this is a pilgrimage that people go on to die. Unlike a lot of the people in the convoy who are elderly or dying of incurable illnesses, Janusz seems in perfect health and we learn very quickly that for him, this end-of-life pilgrimage is a form of atonement.
I’ll get to what specifically he’s atoning for in a moment, but one of the main themes in this book is what atonement, forgiveness and sacrifice really are in a religious but specifically Catholic context. Janusz claims to be doing penance by undertaking the pilgrimage. Leibowitz, the fatuous old man who follows Janusz through his journey, accuses him of just wanting to die, forcing the question of what the difference is between a noble and meaningful self-sacrifice and a suicide. The book also provokes questions about what forgiveness really is, whether, in a Christian setting, it really can be absolute or if some things are unforgiveable even for God. Andrew Gillsmith doesn’t necessarily answer these questions, just asks them and thinks through them with his reader as we all follow Janusz’s journey. The Jerusalem Passage is written from a religious perspective, which may not be for everyone but which isn’t cloying or attempting to convince anyone of anything. All books have a perspective and this one happens to be Catholic, and the themes it is considering are important regardless.
And even if they weren’t, The Jerusalem Passage is so incredibly well written that it’s worth reading no matter what. It’s gripping from the start and nearly impossible to stop reading and, once I finished it, it was equally hard to stop thinking about afterwards. The themes and the setting and the characters all come together so beautifully in this novella that it’s hard to think of any meaningful way it could be improved. I enjoyed every page of it, even though it’s a hard story to read.
Janusz is a reprehensible person. He’s mean to everyone around him, he thinks unkind thoughts about them constantly, he’s selfish, and he has himself committed a horrible crime which I don’t think he really feels bad about. The consequences of his crime are what he’s distraught by and he’s experiencing grief, but the emotions he describes—and doesn’t describe—having do not read like guilt at all. Janusz’s idea of atonement is to suffer until God forgives him for something he doesn’t feel bad about and, most likely, would do again if he could. If you’re going to write a book that meaningfully explores what forgiveness and atonement are, this is the best way to do it—it’s easy to forgive someone who’s barely done anything wrong, after all.
I usually try to avoid spoilers, but something I really liked in The Jerusalem Passage is a minor one because the nature of Janusz’s crime, while not hard to figure out, is kept from the reader for a while. In the next paragraph I plan to address it directly, so if you’d like to avoid being spoiled, skip to the paragraph after that.
Considering how short it is, The Jerusalem Passage has a lot going on in it, all of it good. One final particular thing I want to say is that I love all the Catholic imagery at play in this. The Lazars are overly ceremonial and ominous in a vaguely gothic way and the holograms of biblical stories meant to guide pilgrims feel so earnest and well meaning but are clearly so silly. It all feels like it’s almost too much, but in a way where you go “yeah, that’s what Catholicism is authentically like.”
It feels authentic. Everything in The Jerusalem Passage feels authentic, from the themes to the characters to the earnestness with which the theology is deployed. Gillsmith asks a lot of questions and doesn’t offer all that many answers in the end, and it leaves the reader thinking about the book.
The Jerusalem Passage is certainly not going to be for everyone, but for the people who it is for, it’s an absolute delight of a read.
September 18, 2024
What is justice?
That's the main question being addressed in The Jerusalem Passage.
Janusz, a priest with a terrible sin on his conscience, embarks on a deadly pilgrimage in a ravaged Holy Land. It is a pilgrimage that none survive, attended by the fanatical Lazarites order. As his journey progresses, we journey deep into the psyche of a truly vile man, as prideful as he is shameless. For Janusz has taken on this trek as a sort of penance for his worst sin, destroying the life of a young boy to satisfy his own cravings. Except, Janusz doesn't seem particularly penitent. Even as he marches to his own death and is laid bare, we find only deeper ego.
Can men such as this be redeemed? What does redemption look like when even the sinner's sacrifice becomes an idol? And how can a just God love the wicked?
The Jerusalem Passage takes us into the depths of the human heart, unafraid to examine the motives of the worst among us, but equally unafraid to recognize evil for what it is. It does so with prose dripping with beauty, set against a desolate but encaptivating landscape. Many stories are told, but few NEED to be told. This is one of the latter.
That's the main question being addressed in The Jerusalem Passage.
Janusz, a priest with a terrible sin on his conscience, embarks on a deadly pilgrimage in a ravaged Holy Land. It is a pilgrimage that none survive, attended by the fanatical Lazarites order. As his journey progresses, we journey deep into the psyche of a truly vile man, as prideful as he is shameless. For Janusz has taken on this trek as a sort of penance for his worst sin, destroying the life of a young boy to satisfy his own cravings. Except, Janusz doesn't seem particularly penitent. Even as he marches to his own death and is laid bare, we find only deeper ego.
Can men such as this be redeemed? What does redemption look like when even the sinner's sacrifice becomes an idol? And how can a just God love the wicked?
The Jerusalem Passage takes us into the depths of the human heart, unafraid to examine the motives of the worst among us, but equally unafraid to recognize evil for what it is. It does so with prose dripping with beauty, set against a desolate but encaptivating landscape. Many stories are told, but few NEED to be told. This is one of the latter.
January 2, 2025
TJP follows Janusz, a priest who has committed a terrible sin. Over the course of the book, we learn a lot of the context of the sin but never the full specifics, which leaves enough room for it to be the maximum, the worst imaginable. Janusz knows what he did was wrong, and has chosen to pay with his life. But he doesn't seem to regret his actions or feel any guilt.
This is the setup for a series of questions - perhaps none really answerable - that we go through as Janusz makes his way to Old Jerusalem to die. What good will Janusz's sacrifice do at this point? Can a sin be too great to atone for? At times Janusz seems to view his sin as inevitable, or a byproduct of attaining some absolute beauty. If Janusz is wired this way, to what extent was it his fault? (And should the possessive actually be Janusz'?)
Such questions might not have definite answers, but TJP does seem to make forward progress in reasoning through them. At times I had the sense that I was not catching all of the symbolism or ideas, for two reasons: I don't have much knowledge of Christianity, and I haven't read A Canticle for Leibowitz. (Full disclosure - tried it once, put it down pretty quickly. TJP has much better sentences.) And for a philosophical story, it's totally fair to build on bodies of existing thought without summarizing.
I particularly enjoyed the writing. There's a strong narrative flow despite not having a conventional plot, the sentences are elegant and balanced, and the descriptions are vivid and sometimes haunting. I found it a very easy book to get into, which I ended up reading in two sittings.
There is a truly great scene of horror. I do wish there had been a few more such scenes, to see more of what makes Old Jerusalem and the path there so treacherous, and because scenes like that kick ass. Then again, there is only so much room in a novella. All in all, TJP is a wonderfully written and thought-provoking read for anyone, with perhaps more to chew on if you have some background.
This is the setup for a series of questions - perhaps none really answerable - that we go through as Janusz makes his way to Old Jerusalem to die. What good will Janusz's sacrifice do at this point? Can a sin be too great to atone for? At times Janusz seems to view his sin as inevitable, or a byproduct of attaining some absolute beauty. If Janusz is wired this way, to what extent was it his fault? (And should the possessive actually be Janusz'?)
Such questions might not have definite answers, but TJP does seem to make forward progress in reasoning through them. At times I had the sense that I was not catching all of the symbolism or ideas, for two reasons: I don't have much knowledge of Christianity, and I haven't read A Canticle for Leibowitz. (Full disclosure - tried it once, put it down pretty quickly. TJP has much better sentences.) And for a philosophical story, it's totally fair to build on bodies of existing thought without summarizing.
I particularly enjoyed the writing. There's a strong narrative flow despite not having a conventional plot, the sentences are elegant and balanced, and the descriptions are vivid and sometimes haunting. I found it a very easy book to get into, which I ended up reading in two sittings.
There is a truly great scene of horror. I do wish there had been a few more such scenes, to see more of what makes Old Jerusalem and the path there so treacherous, and because scenes like that kick ass. Then again, there is only so much room in a novella. All in all, TJP is a wonderfully written and thought-provoking read for anyone, with perhaps more to chew on if you have some background.
May 27, 2025
Sometimes, the worth of fiction is to put us in the best or worst of places. Since art is about beauty, and beauty derives from truth and goodness, everything is connected. The author could place the reader in the skin of a wealthy businessman or a Hollywood actor and show that life isn't all bright or fulfilling, even in the brightest spotlights. But he can also place us in the worst scenarios to teach us another kind of lesson, or show us the heart of a different type of people. Indeed, there's a reason for the horror of the best Medieval depictions of hell, in literature or painting; there's also a reason for the existence of gargoyles in the cathedrals of old. Sometimes, the ugly is the best remedy against evil.
For me, that's what justifies the beauty of "The Jerusalem Passage". Janusz abused a child and had to face the fate of the boy: he carries the almost infinite guilt of breaking a soul and, in a way, killing a life. He sets out on a journey in a land as desolate as his heart. He thinks his death could atone for all his wrongdoings, and, if not, it will at least end his suffering. The reader shouldn't like him, for the one who hates him the most is Janusz himself. At heart, he tries to latch onto modernistic thinking and say to himself that God wills all human beings to be saved, and He will save each one of them, with or without contrition; but he can't fool himself. Our conscience is still stronger than our heresies. In his dreams and visions, he experiences the horror of his doings and what the boy felt when he lost his innocence. In a way, Janusz tries to atone for this by following the old woman and caring for the ugly boy, but even they are taken from him. He ends his days alone, and we can't know if Jerusalem came for him.
What we do know is that God knows our ways and can use our mistakes and misconceptions for good, for other people or ourselves. Our Lord could accept Janusz's sacrifice, but it would have no worth without God's grace. So, Janusz is open to salvation, but only God knows what would happen at the end. What matters to us is that our life on earth is like a journey through a desolate land; people often don't reach the goals they aimed for, and can die at any point along the way. In the end, it doesn't matter where or when we die, but only if we have made peace with God. For the real Jerusalem is what that name means: "vision of peace".
For me, that's what justifies the beauty of "The Jerusalem Passage". Janusz abused a child and had to face the fate of the boy: he carries the almost infinite guilt of breaking a soul and, in a way, killing a life. He sets out on a journey in a land as desolate as his heart. He thinks his death could atone for all his wrongdoings, and, if not, it will at least end his suffering. The reader shouldn't like him, for the one who hates him the most is Janusz himself. At heart, he tries to latch onto modernistic thinking and say to himself that God wills all human beings to be saved, and He will save each one of them, with or without contrition; but he can't fool himself. Our conscience is still stronger than our heresies. In his dreams and visions, he experiences the horror of his doings and what the boy felt when he lost his innocence. In a way, Janusz tries to atone for this by following the old woman and caring for the ugly boy, but even they are taken from him. He ends his days alone, and we can't know if Jerusalem came for him.
What we do know is that God knows our ways and can use our mistakes and misconceptions for good, for other people or ourselves. Our Lord could accept Janusz's sacrifice, but it would have no worth without God's grace. So, Janusz is open to salvation, but only God knows what would happen at the end. What matters to us is that our life on earth is like a journey through a desolate land; people often don't reach the goals they aimed for, and can die at any point along the way. In the end, it doesn't matter where or when we die, but only if we have made peace with God. For the real Jerusalem is what that name means: "vision of peace".
September 21, 2024
A hard book to read
This is not an easy read as it deals with heavy matters of conscience and sin in light of God's infinite mercy. A deep meditation on our own limited understanding of God.
This is not an easy read as it deals with heavy matters of conscience and sin in light of God's infinite mercy. A deep meditation on our own limited understanding of God.
September 25, 2024
Mr. Gillsmith is in grave danger of being declared my favorite living author. He writes what Walter Miller or Charles Williams would be writing were they reincarnated as late Gen Xers, with occasional glimpses of Edgar Allan Poe. As a novella, this tale was the perfect length, and it is only my own concupiscence (which I'm thinking a lot about for *some* reason) that makes me disappointed that it isn't a full-length novel.
It took courage to write this book. The aptly named protagonist "Janusz" (getting that one was a nice, self-congratulatory lightbulb moment for me) is a vile man. A penitent on a death pilgrimage to the ruins of Jerusalem in a dystopian future, his sin is the worst imaginable. Mr. Gillsmith has descended into Hell to enter the mind and heart of such a man, which must have been painful. Yet the payoff for the reader from Gillsmith's sacrifice is extraordinary. We glimpse Janusz' interior process of temptation, struggle, and acquiescence, and we find--or, I find--that it mirrors my own [markedly more mundane and less criminal] liturgical dance with vice and moral perversion. Am I a better man than Janusz because my sins are more boring and less destructive? Or am I only a luckier man, because I happen to be tempted to more boring and less destructive things?
What I love most about Mr. Gillsmith's work is that, even though he writes from an overt, explicit perspective of Christian faith, he does not offer pious drivel or cheap grace. He is unafraid to openly acknowledge those questions that gnaw on at least me and probably all people relegated to see through a mirror dimly--the same questions that have kept my grip on faith a perpetual two fingers on a slippery rope for 45 years. In a scene responding to an animal attack, a character offers this indictment: "If (God) wanted to punish them, he'd make them like us...He'd give them a conscience and leave them their appetites." Faith may tell us that there is an answer to this objection; Mr. Gillsmith has the integrity, like a psalmist of lament, to acknowledge that we ain't got it yet.
TLDR: Stop what you're doing right now and read everything Andrew Gillsmith has written.
(A brief postscript from my damnable pride: It doesn't usually take me a week to read 90 pages. I lost my Kindle for a few days is all.)
It took courage to write this book. The aptly named protagonist "Janusz" (getting that one was a nice, self-congratulatory lightbulb moment for me) is a vile man. A penitent on a death pilgrimage to the ruins of Jerusalem in a dystopian future, his sin is the worst imaginable. Mr. Gillsmith has descended into Hell to enter the mind and heart of such a man, which must have been painful. Yet the payoff for the reader from Gillsmith's sacrifice is extraordinary. We glimpse Janusz' interior process of temptation, struggle, and acquiescence, and we find--or, I find--that it mirrors my own [markedly more mundane and less criminal] liturgical dance with vice and moral perversion. Am I a better man than Janusz because my sins are more boring and less destructive? Or am I only a luckier man, because I happen to be tempted to more boring and less destructive things?
What I love most about Mr. Gillsmith's work is that, even though he writes from an overt, explicit perspective of Christian faith, he does not offer pious drivel or cheap grace. He is unafraid to openly acknowledge those questions that gnaw on at least me and probably all people relegated to see through a mirror dimly--the same questions that have kept my grip on faith a perpetual two fingers on a slippery rope for 45 years. In a scene responding to an animal attack, a character offers this indictment: "If (God) wanted to punish them, he'd make them like us...He'd give them a conscience and leave them their appetites." Faith may tell us that there is an answer to this objection; Mr. Gillsmith has the integrity, like a psalmist of lament, to acknowledge that we ain't got it yet.
TLDR: Stop what you're doing right now and read everything Andrew Gillsmith has written.
(A brief postscript from my damnable pride: It doesn't usually take me a week to read 90 pages. I lost my Kindle for a few days is all.)
March 21, 2025
Dead dove. Do not eat.
This is a quick, brutal, and immersive read. I think a lot of writing today gets categorized or described as "dark" in a way that's dim but not truly dark-dark, and that does not apply here. Our plot follows Janusz, a priest with a deservedly heavy, heavy burden on his shoulders and his soul as he journeys to a ravaged near-future Holy Land - one of desolation, destruction, and apocalyptic suffering, though it's unclear what exactly incited this devastation - to die what he hopes might be a holy death. Details emerge as the journey progresses that shed further light on the devastating decisions that have led him to this point, often inspired by his encounters with apparitions of biblical parables along the road.
This one is heavy, y'all. It's good, and it's though-provoking, but it's heavy.
This is a quick, brutal, and immersive read. I think a lot of writing today gets categorized or described as "dark" in a way that's dim but not truly dark-dark, and that does not apply here. Our plot follows Janusz, a priest with a deservedly heavy, heavy burden on his shoulders and his soul as he journeys to a ravaged near-future Holy Land - one of desolation, destruction, and apocalyptic suffering, though it's unclear what exactly incited this devastation - to die what he hopes might be a holy death. Details emerge as the journey progresses that shed further light on the devastating decisions that have led him to this point, often inspired by his encounters with apparitions of biblical parables along the road.
This one is heavy, y'all. It's good, and it's though-provoking, but it's heavy.
November 8, 2024
shook
This book pushes you beyond comfort which I’m always looking for in books honestly. With a hint of futuristic sci-fi and the heaps that come with Catholic guilt it’s gut wrenching. Spoiler though. I hope one priest suffered so much more and went to hell. Thank you to the author and Goodreads giveaways for the e-book.
This book pushes you beyond comfort which I’m always looking for in books honestly. With a hint of futuristic sci-fi and the heaps that come with Catholic guilt it’s gut wrenching. Spoiler though. I hope one priest suffered so much more and went to hell. Thank you to the author and Goodreads giveaways for the e-book.
March 14, 2025
I have no idea how I feel about this book.........
September 30, 2024
Joseph Conrad would be proud
Haunting, dreary, and restless, Gillsmith delivers a tale as old as time, yet with a unique spin on the pilgrim's journey. Abandon all hope of happy resolutions, ye who enter "The Jerusalem Passage," where bleak landscapes reflect the private hell of a man driven mad by his abandoned conscience.
Told from Janusz's totally original perspective, we follow his retreat into the wilderness, headed for "Desolation," after committing an unimaginably heinous act. Along the way, the Otherworld bleeds into his reality, set against a futuristic, post-apocalyptic backdrop.
This book is an easy, yet profound read, offering incredible insight into the nature of suffering, platonic forms, regret, and humanity's eternal struggle with the elusive, yet omnipresent, Divine.
I downloaded the Kindle version seamlessly. Highly recommended – 100%!
Haunting, dreary, and restless, Gillsmith delivers a tale as old as time, yet with a unique spin on the pilgrim's journey. Abandon all hope of happy resolutions, ye who enter "The Jerusalem Passage," where bleak landscapes reflect the private hell of a man driven mad by his abandoned conscience.
Told from Janusz's totally original perspective, we follow his retreat into the wilderness, headed for "Desolation," after committing an unimaginably heinous act. Along the way, the Otherworld bleeds into his reality, set against a futuristic, post-apocalyptic backdrop.
This book is an easy, yet profound read, offering incredible insight into the nature of suffering, platonic forms, regret, and humanity's eternal struggle with the elusive, yet omnipresent, Divine.
I downloaded the Kindle version seamlessly. Highly recommended – 100%!
December 18, 2024
An excellent short story exploring mercy, forgiveness, and guilt.
November 22, 2024
This was a hard book to read. It in a sense needed to be lived and experienced more than to be read. To walk beside Janusz on his journey and observe his frustration, regret, and hopelessness, that is what needs to be done. The author admits it was a very hard book to write, and that makes sense, because of the depth of evil encountered in the soul of the main character. One wishes for him to have a moment of revelation, to repent, to embrace Divine Mercy, but he seems to draw closer to it without having the inner strength to make that turn. It is a morally good book because of the picture of sin it presents in all its personal and universal horror.
It certainly had the feel of a modern work of fiction, the kind of thing I less regularly read, but I think the moments that seem bizarre or fragmentary help emphasize the disorder of the one who's life we are looking at in the story.
It certainly had the feel of a modern work of fiction, the kind of thing I less regularly read, but I think the moments that seem bizarre or fragmentary help emphasize the disorder of the one who's life we are looking at in the story.
September 18, 2024
Set an unspecified number of years distant, this intense story follows the aged priest, Janusz, as he joins a pilgrimage of the terminally ill. He carries a burden of horrific sin that eats away at him like the cancers borne by his fellow pilgrims. The goal of these unfortunates is the genuine Jerusalem- a destination very different from the more popular theme park of a false, commercial Jerusalem, which we are informed off-handedly is located far to the south in Nigeria. In this future, the genuine Holy Land of antiquity has been chastised with an undisclosed punishment, resulting in the deaths of millions and tainting the land with lingering effects of madness and decay. This desolate landscape is the perfect setting for a man struggling with sin and trapped by a pride that keeps his stony heart gripped by vice.
On his journey, Janusz encounters numerous mysterious figures, including a grandmother with her crippled grandchild and an old man who helps and challenges Jaunsz's notions of suffering and forgiveness. The reader is uncertain whether these characters are products of a guilty conscience, advanced technology or of a diseased mind. This uncertainty works perfectly with the sense of a mystical yet almost hallucinatory conversation that occurs throughout the work.
Layers of Janusz's past sin are revealed in poetic and horrific imagery, showing the reader how he justified it in his own mind and continues to cling to his rationalizations. He deludes himself into finding meaning and beauty in what was a vile, selfish act. As a protagonist, Janusz is repellent; short-tempered, self-centered, and embittered. Janusz is a character study of one who over-intellectualizes both vice and forgiveness, distracting himself with man-made complexities as he avoids facing the scintillating simplicity that is God's love. He is the embodiment of a heart hardened through sin and lack of true repentance. Yet he undertakes this dire passage in a last-ditch bid to have that stony organ replaced with a heart of flesh, through which the blood of forgiveness and charity may eventually trickle.
In the end, there are no easy answers to the universal and hard questions that the author poses. The story does not wrap up neatly, but the beauty of the prose, along with the stark yet lush images and symbolism, makes this a very memorable work. In his previous novels, Gillsmith displayed his skill at blending plot and metaphysical musings, but his gifts really shine in this smaller, more intimate format. The touches of speculative world-building within The Jerusalem Passage are flawlessly incorporated into the storytelling. There’s a rhythm to the structure and prose that echo a beating heart or the trudging footsteps of pilgrims in a dusty, post-apocalyptic landscape, as they make their way toward what may be a mirage of hope in the far distance.
On his journey, Janusz encounters numerous mysterious figures, including a grandmother with her crippled grandchild and an old man who helps and challenges Jaunsz's notions of suffering and forgiveness. The reader is uncertain whether these characters are products of a guilty conscience, advanced technology or of a diseased mind. This uncertainty works perfectly with the sense of a mystical yet almost hallucinatory conversation that occurs throughout the work.
Layers of Janusz's past sin are revealed in poetic and horrific imagery, showing the reader how he justified it in his own mind and continues to cling to his rationalizations. He deludes himself into finding meaning and beauty in what was a vile, selfish act. As a protagonist, Janusz is repellent; short-tempered, self-centered, and embittered. Janusz is a character study of one who over-intellectualizes both vice and forgiveness, distracting himself with man-made complexities as he avoids facing the scintillating simplicity that is God's love. He is the embodiment of a heart hardened through sin and lack of true repentance. Yet he undertakes this dire passage in a last-ditch bid to have that stony organ replaced with a heart of flesh, through which the blood of forgiveness and charity may eventually trickle.
In the end, there are no easy answers to the universal and hard questions that the author poses. The story does not wrap up neatly, but the beauty of the prose, along with the stark yet lush images and symbolism, makes this a very memorable work. In his previous novels, Gillsmith displayed his skill at blending plot and metaphysical musings, but his gifts really shine in this smaller, more intimate format. The touches of speculative world-building within The Jerusalem Passage are flawlessly incorporated into the storytelling. There’s a rhythm to the structure and prose that echo a beating heart or the trudging footsteps of pilgrims in a dusty, post-apocalyptic landscape, as they make their way toward what may be a mirage of hope in the far distance.
March 18, 2025
I would like to start this review by exploring the afterword by Andrew, and that question was 'why?'
Why did he write The Jerusalem Passage? He said it wasn't an easy book to write and he spent his time agonizing over it and questioning the project. I say The Jerusalem Passage was necessary, it has a purpose and makes us question our own way of thinking - on morality, on redemption and forgiveness. The Jerusalem Passage is a philosophical book with underlying themes that we all should be thinking about, especially in light of real world events. Literature such as this, is the best form of literature.
Now, let's proceed to the story.
Janusz is a priest on a journey with the purpose of dying. He has lead a bad life and done many unthinkable things as we infer from the text. He is travelling to Jerusalem to atone for his sins - to offer himself in exchange for mercy.
As we proceed through the book we get an idea of the twisted morality of Janusz. The irony of his ideals and delusional ego, but despite this, does he deserve forgiveness? The tale is weaved with skill, I read this in one sitting, I was that engaged!
Andrew has done it again, he has alluring prose and a captivating way of keeping readers engaged. I highly recommend The Jerusalem Passage.
Why did he write The Jerusalem Passage? He said it wasn't an easy book to write and he spent his time agonizing over it and questioning the project. I say The Jerusalem Passage was necessary, it has a purpose and makes us question our own way of thinking - on morality, on redemption and forgiveness. The Jerusalem Passage is a philosophical book with underlying themes that we all should be thinking about, especially in light of real world events. Literature such as this, is the best form of literature.
Now, let's proceed to the story.
Janusz is a priest on a journey with the purpose of dying. He has lead a bad life and done many unthinkable things as we infer from the text. He is travelling to Jerusalem to atone for his sins - to offer himself in exchange for mercy.
As we proceed through the book we get an idea of the twisted morality of Janusz. The irony of his ideals and delusional ego, but despite this, does he deserve forgiveness? The tale is weaved with skill, I read this in one sitting, I was that engaged!
Andrew has done it again, he has alluring prose and a captivating way of keeping readers engaged. I highly recommend The Jerusalem Passage.
November 13, 2024
This was an exceptionally impactful book - not what I expected! A combination of The Road, The Divine Comedy and The Pilgrim's Progress! Andrew Gillsmith has a talent for 'stripping' situations of all extraneous layers; forcing the reader to confront very uncomfortable assumptions that they have held without close examination. The journey of Janusz (a disgraced priest) is both revelatory and shocking; a journey in which external desolation mirrors a deeper internal desolation; the perfect example of the Nietzschean abyss à la Narcissus. Highest recommendation.
September 24, 2024
Having read a couple of Andrew's other works I went in with the expectation of a fun romp with Catholic teachings and exquisite world building. This was a gut punch in the best possible way.
I can't recall a more detestable main character that somehow only got worse as I endured his obscene egotism and rationalizations.
Brilliant novella that shows Andrew's depth as a writer and bravery in tackling subject matter like this.
I can't recall a more detestable main character that somehow only got worse as I endured his obscene egotism and rationalizations.
Brilliant novella that shows Andrew's depth as a writer and bravery in tackling subject matter like this.
Want to read
September 24, 2024Author is sending me a copy. I should actually get off my ass and read his other book that he sent me Our Lady of the Artilects a few years ago.
June 17, 2025
A deeply unenjoyable read. I wonder who this book is for? The afterword attempted to clear it up but failed utterly. Gillsmith's only accomplishment here is him being on everyone's side except his own, sadly.
Still, the book is finely written so I do not wish to leave a punishing rating.
Still, the book is finely written so I do not wish to leave a punishing rating.
September 24, 2025
Well that was..different. Gillsmith is one those writers who doesn't shy away from difficult and thought-provoking subjects. This is the story about an abusive priest torn by grief and self hatred on a mystical pilgrimage .Though despicable, he's still a somewhat relatable human being.
Side note.
It's those who lack empathy nor have regret , who roam this world and do damage to innocents without thinking twice . The born sociopaths of this world (Also within the clergy ) .Those who live their lives as 'happy predators ' Those are the ones that make me doubt if a ' God with a plan ' exists.
Those personal musings aside, This is an interesting and original meditation on the abuse within the Catholic church by Gillsmith , without making it preachy or provide easy answers.
Side note.
It's those who lack empathy nor have regret , who roam this world and do damage to innocents without thinking twice . The born sociopaths of this world (Also within the clergy ) .Those who live their lives as 'happy predators ' Those are the ones that make me doubt if a ' God with a plan ' exists.
Those personal musings aside, This is an interesting and original meditation on the abuse within the Catholic church by Gillsmith , without making it preachy or provide easy answers.
September 17, 2024
A dark, near-future parable set in an uninhabitable Holy Land.
Just some light reading.
Just some light reading.
December 5, 2024
Very good. I enjoyed reading this novel!
December 8, 2024
An incredibly difficult topic but it was done so beautifully and it was incredibly thoughtful. It makes you think and wonder about good and bad and if salvation is for everyone.
December 29, 2024
This was okay. Really middle of the road for me. At times, I wasn't sure what was going on and was a little confused. I just don't think that this book was for me.
January 5, 2025
Hard to follow at times
Religious allegory or feverish delusions and hallucinations, is Janusz schizophrenic. It had me wondering, interesting trying to figure what is real
Religious allegory or feverish delusions and hallucinations, is Janusz schizophrenic. It had me wondering, interesting trying to figure what is real
March 4, 2025
“Desire without love is closer to hate.” This was a hard book to read but well done. A great reflection on mercy and the damage of our sins.
December 26, 2024
This book was very well written. From the very start of the book I was invested and I really enjoyed reading this. It was a very good story of mercy, sin and forgiveness and I recommend reading this.
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