The Bone Clocks

The War between Horology and the Anchorites resembles the archetypal struggle of good versus evil. The Anchorites believe that they are entitled to immortality because they have discovered the means to achieve it: consuming human souls, particularly those of children. Embracing this vampiric existence, Anchorites see themselves as better than humans, whom they disparagingly refer to as “bone clocks.” Meanwhile, the Horologists take it upon themselves to protect humankind by fighting against the Anchorites and other similarly malevolent forces. From this perspective, the delineation of good and evil is clear. But the distinction becomes murky when considered from the perspective of humans outside of the conflict. Mitchell asks what good means in a world moving away from religion toward secularity, and how morality intersects with forces that transcend the natural order.

Hugo Lamb is presented as one possible response to secularity—amorality. Without set moral standards policed by religion, the novel argues that little but the threat of prison prevents a sociopath like Hugo from pursuing his pleasure. Hugo has little empathy, happy to take what he wants from those less powerful than him. His honesty about this makes him looks down on those whom he sees as equally greedy, but still in thrall to the optics of respectability, like the woman in the commune who claimed to be above money, and then asked him for some. Hugo prizes his cunning: Resenting his affluent friends for their easy privilege, he sees them as fair targets for deceit and exploitation; capable of outwitting the brigadier, who has Alzheimer’s, Hugo prides himself on stealing the man’s valuable stamp collection. Hugo’s disparaging view of vulnerability explains why he has never fallen in love: Love requires self-sublimation. And yet when he falls in love with Holly, Hugo’s humanity begins to emerge—he allows Holly to escape the maze, letting her take the golden apple rather than use it for himself.

Crispin Hershey is another version of an amoral response to a secular world. Although he isn’t a hedonist like Hugo, Crispin indulges in antisocial behavior, making anti-gay and misogynist remarks and framing Richard Cheeseman for drug smuggling in retaliation for a bad review. But when Richard is imprisoned in Colombia for several years, Crispin reckons with his immorality and cowardice. Recognizing his failure to tell the truth that would liberate Richard from prison as an irredeemable character flaw, Crispin finally sees himself as a harmful and malicious person rather than a victim. As Crispin’s character develops, he lets go of his need to be affirmed by the literary establishment, finding validation when Örvar admires his work. Crispin’s acceptance of a moral universe is reflected in the punishment implicit in his death: Though he doesn’t die by Richard’s hand during their confrontation, the bullet that kills Crispin is a neat analog for Richard’s originally intended retribution.

The novel suggests that in a secular world, moral good is rooted in the abandonment of ego. This insight is underscored in Ed’s character arc. He goes from working in an important and altruistic job to recognizing that he is addicted to the thrill it brings him, overvalues his contribution to the world, and sacrifices opportunities to be with his family in favor of work. Admitting that he relies on his job to validate his life is a moment of redemption; afterwards Ed begins spending more time with Holly and Aoife. Making this choice does not prevent him from pursuing his vocation—we learn that he is later killed on the job in Syria, reporting on yet another war. However, Ed has managed to balance his duties toward his family with the obligations of his calling, his moral compass is righted before his demise, making his death appear brave, rather than just pointless.