By Colleen McCullough
"Creed" imagines a destiny international menaced by way of ice. North American society has taken generally to the hotter climates so one can break out the descending glaciers, and nobody's more than happy approximately it. whereas warfare and overseas strife are all yet long gone, existence expectancy is at an rock bottom, overpopulation is a dominant factor, and it appears like man's days are ultimately numbered.
So the President orders a seek. A seek to discover someone who can cheer everybody up. They discover a psychologist via the identify of Joshua Christian. Mr. Christian serves as a media-born Messiah determine, guiding a crippled civilization into the dim mild of desire and salvation.
An attention-grabbing suggestion, yes, yet McCullough does little to maintain issues jointly the following. The writing type is totally superficial and borderline-laughable, is totally riddled with cliches. The discussion is not far better. there is a few perception to be present in right here, yet it is buried a ways too deep underneath the author's almost-shameless preachiness.
Most in no way certainly one of McCullough's best moments, and such a lot deservedly out-of-print, "Creed" is worthy an day trip to the used-book shop provided that you are a fan of McCullough and/or the post-apocalyptic novel. you would be much better off with McCullough's different paintings, and can I recommend Stephen King's "The Stand" in case you are searching for a really tremendous novel of Christianity on the finish of the area.
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Additional info for A CREED FOR THE THIRD MILLENNIUM
Before Tibor Reece had appointed him to this most important of all the Executive portfolios, he had been a famous legal advocate specializing in cases with a bearing on the environment, and he had argued as persuasively on behalf of those who sought to destroy it as he had on behalf of its champions. This fact had made him an unpopular choice in many circles, but President Reece had routed the opposition by observing with characteristic detachment that surely Harold Magnus's hopping from one side of the fence to the other had given him an unparalleled opportunity to taste the grass in both yards.
Dr Carriol smiled. 'Okay, okay! ' asked Dr Abraham. 'We could, yes. But I'd rather not. ' asked Dr Hemingway. 'Correct. No one has yet managed to define what I call gut instinct, but I guess it's some kind of ostensibly illogical human reaction to other human beings in human situations. So I've always been of the opinion that in this particular exercise, where human emotion is of paramount importance, there should be a period of time in which we can personally observe or interview or test a small, select number of possibles.
And then, even though the sun had risen several hours before, she could go to bed fuelled for sleep. 3 When the fog came down at the end of January some aspects of life stopped and some started. Out of its all-pervading furtiveness it bred furtiveness. Things dripped hollowly. Footsteps came and went muffled, directionless, threatening. Two people could pass within a yard of each other and not know they had even passed. Some sighed and some died, each a kind of giving up the ghost. An infinite weariness, that fog, as if the very air itself gave up the ghost and sank in upon its own skin and in so doing condensed enough to make itself visible at last.