Michael Dirda on 'Nation'

And, as I said earlier, a deeply philosophical one, especially for a young adult novel. Mau's doubts are those that haunt anyone who has lived with undeserved misfortune. Why did the gods destroy the Nation, including innocent children and babies? Do such deities deserve worship? Are they in fact real, or do things simply happen or not happen? What are the claims of tradition against the needs of the present and future? And, most simply, what is a man, and what are his obligations to himself and to others?

While Mau's education revolves around such spiritual and intellectual conundrums, Daphne's is more practical: This hitherto sheltered daughter of privilege learns that she is a woman of power, at once strong, resolute and utterly indomitable. By the end of the novel, the girl who had been taught that "a lady should never lift anything heavier than a parasol and should certainly never set foot in a kitchen" will chew the food for a toothless old crone, midwife the birth of a baby, saw off a man's leg, poison a murderer and even descend alone into the realm of the dead.

Old crone? Baby? Where, you might wonder, did they come from? Over time, various other survivors of the tsunami gradually make their way to Mau's island, bringing with them their troubles, talents and difficult personalities. The Sweet Judy is gradually stripped of its useful materials: After all, "since there was going to be a future, it would need a roof over its head." Yet always the tireless, hard-working Mau is assailed by the voices of the Grandfathers, mocking his efforts, calling upon him to bring back the old traditions. But Mau has learned to think for himself and ceaselessly wonders about the nature of his world: Who made the white stones called "god anchors"? And what secret lies hidden deep within the cave of the Grandfathers? The ultimate answer to both these questions would be right at home in an Indiana Jones movie.

Still, even the most esoteric mysteries diminish in importance before the growing threat of the Raiders, roving cannibals who worship the death-god Locaha. Mau points out that there's nothing much left on the island, so "What have we still got that they would want?" And the old priest Ataba answers: "Skulls. Flesh. Their pleasure in our death. The usual things."

Yes, the usual things, indeed. But there's worse yet: It turns out that an evil mutineer named Cox may have become their new leader, and Daphne knows him all too well. "Like crocodiles and sharks, Cox always had a grin for people, especially when he had them at his mercy, or at least where his mercy would be if he had any."

While Nation occasionally moves a little slowly, it soon develops great momentum, and we come to care and worry about Mau, Daphne and the others. Moreover, this being a Pratchett novel, the writing is always a pleasure, albeit somewhat muted compared to Discworld's higher-pitched zinginess -- though not always or wholly so: "It was, according to the history books, the fastest coronation since Bubric the Saxon crowned himself with a very pointy crown on a hill during a thunderstorm, and reigned for one and a half seconds."

And then, of course, there's the cook on the Sweet Judy, who transforms his coffin into a well-provisioned life raft. He tells Daphne, "I got the idea off a harpooner I met when I was working on the whalers." Harpooner, coffin? Could it be? Cookie goes on: "He was a rum 'un and no mistake. Had more tattoos than the Edinburgh Festival and all his teeth filed as sharp as daggers, but he lugged this coffin onto every ship he sailed with so's if he died, he'd have a proper Christian funeral and not be chucked over the side sown up in a bit o' canvas with a cannonball for company. I thought about it myself -- it's a good basic idea, but it needs a little bit of changing. Anyway, I didn't stay long on that ship on account of coming down with bowel weevils just before we rounded the cape, and I had to put ashore at Valparaiso. It was probably a blessing in disguise, 'cause I reckon that ship was heading for a bad end. I've seen a few mad captains in my time, but that one was as crazy as a spoon. And you may depend upon it, when the captain is crazy, so is the ship. I often wonder what happened to 'em all."

Yes, Cookie, you were right: That ship and her captain were definitely heading for a bad end. But Nation isn't. It's a terrific, thought-provoking book, and it ends wonderfully. ·

Michael Dirda's e-mail address is mdirda@gmail.com.