56 pages • 1 hour read
One of the critical themes of The Atlas Complex is the inherent duality of human nature: altruism and compassion versus selfishness and maliciousness. One of the defining features of the Atlas trilogy is its exploration of gray morality. Throughout the series, characters grapple with moral dilemmas and conflicting motivations. Rather than presenting the characters as good or evil, the books portray them as morally ambiguous, particularly when it comes to surrounding power, knowledge, and ethics. Rather than focusing on the dual nature of a single character, Blake illustrates how each character is capable of both noble and reprehensible acts, challenging traditional notions of heroism and villainy. As Blake writes, “Nothing in the universe was purely ugly without something beautiful; nothing wholly good without the shadow of something bad” (326).
While this theme permeates the whole novel, Blake specifically explores the duality of humanity in the book’s Prologue. She explicitly discusses the dichotomy between good and evil, which she portrays as two sides of a coin. On one side, she writes, “Left to their own devices, humans will inevitably resort to baser impulses, to self-eradicating violence. Within every human being is the power to see the world as it is and still be driven to destroy it” (21); on the other, she writes, “Left to their own devices, humans will inevitably care for one another at great detriment to themselves. Within every human being is the power to see the world as it is and still be compelled to save it” (21). By presenting both goodness and violence as inevitable, Blake suggests that human nature is inherently conflicted and complex.
The characters’ actions embody the thematic duality Blake lays out in the Prologue. For example, Libby began the series as the most moral and “good” of the protagonists. However, she subsequently became more jaded in the world while remaining assured of her ability to do what is “right.” For example, when the multiverse experiment fails, there is a massive blowback of energy, and Libby is faced with the choice to have either herself or Nico fatally take all of it. She sees Nico as being less “valuable” than her and decides that it is acceptable to kill him rather than sacrifice herself, illustrating the extent of her moral shift. Gideon’s decisions at the end of the novel reveal an alternate moral choice. He and Parisa were antagonistic toward each other previously, with her promising to kill him if they met again. However, this antagonism changes when they meet again in the dream realm toward the end of The Atlas Complex. He gives her a sword, and together, they try to stop Dalton and the Wessex cronies. However, when Dalton tries to pull Parisa with him into the trap Gideon set, he is left with the dilemma of whether to leave her behind. The justification for doing so is that “letting go would be the sacrifice; the thing it would take to end the apocalypse that Libby Rhodes had been trying to prevent” (392). However, he ultimately chooses to save Parisa. Despite their conflict, he sees Parisa as having value as a person, and, therefore, he believes that she should be saved despite the consequences. Gideon’s and Libby’s decisions are directly connected and serve as comparable explorations of morality. Libby’s actions are inherently violent and destructive, while Gideon’s come from a place of compassion. However, their moral frameworks are blurry in both cases, as even Gideon’s choice to save Parisa means that he is willingly risking more lives.
Olivie Blake notes in the acknowledgments for the book that her writing of the book stemmed from a place of anger and helplessness regarding injustice, violence, and climate change. As such, one of the major themes is systemic inequality and how the characters’ magic is not enough to fix these issues.
In the novel, characters face discrimination based on their gender or race. Parisa, for example, is consistently viewed as an object of desire due to her conventional attractiveness. This over-sexualization is something she is constantly aware of due to her telepathic abilities. For example, during the attack by the assassins in the hotel lobby, the narrator notes, “Two people were looking at her breasts. No, three […] Parisa glanced to her left to lock eyes with the attendant behind the front desk (he, sweet thing, was looking at her legs)” (66). Parisa’s abilities and intelligence are often overlooked in favor of her looks. Nothazai’s jaded view of the world is also due to the racism he faced as a man of Pakistani descent in England. He is a talented biomancer, but his talents are often not enough to prove his worth because “[s]ome people could witness a miracle firsthand and still complain that its skin was too brown” (467). Despite their powers, Parisa, Nothazai, and other characters are subject to stereotypes, prejudice, and discrimination, illustrating that these systemic issues are too great for even magic to overcome.
Like gender and racial discrimination, poverty is another problem that magic cannot, or will not, solve. Both Atlas and Gideon grew up in poverty, which impacts their worldviews. For the latter, poverty is a source of tension between himself and Nico. The narrator notes, “Nico didn’t understand poverty the way that Gideon understood poverty, or hunger the way Gideon understood hunger, or fear the way Gideon knew fear” (96). Blake’s description of Gideon’s firsthand experience with poverty underscores deep-seated economic divisions and inequality in society, adding realism to the narrative and contextualizing the privileged position of many academically trained medeians.
This inequality prompts Reina’s efforts to magically enact political change, but the narrative reveals that her efforts are ultimately futile. Using Callum’s abilities, she tries for six months to manipulate politics all over the globe in an attempt to force positive change. However, she ultimately fails at her goal due to how deeply rooted the issues are. When she wants to deal with global inequalities by altering everyone’s minds, Callum warns her of the problems with this plan, saying, “You’re not talking about a single generation’s worth of fixing […] What I do isn’t permanent. It can’t be. By definition, people change” (110). Reina’s best efforts to change the world for the better aren’t enough on a larger scale. Instead, the narrative argues that these are issues on a societal level, the origins of which stretch far back into human history. Blake writes, “Who knew where the problems actually began? Institutional religion? Imperialism? The invention of the printing press or the steam engine, or was it irrigation?” (467). Because of how ingrained societal inequities are in humanity, magic is not and cannot be enough to fix them.
One of the major themes of The Atlas Complex is the inconsequence of the individual. The novel’s characters are all medeians who possess huge amounts of power compared to the general public. This amount of power led Reina to declare herself a god in The Atlas Paradox. They also have access to nearly infinite knowledge from the Alexandrian archives. However, the book ultimately puts the idea forward that, in the grand scheme of the universe, no single individual can make a true impact, regardless of the extent of their power.
Through Libby’s and Atlas’s character arcs, the narrative explores the risks of individuals not accepting their lack of significance. Much of the novel is dedicated to the characters at the Society’s manor house performing Atlas’s experiment, intended to open the doors to the multiverse. As the narrator states following the failed experiment,
A season of rot was approaching, and with it, the unavoidable sense that life would go on unhindered. The world would not be destroyed, and it would not change. Not for Libby. She could power the stars, unmake universes, and leave a trail of destruction in her wake—and still, she would be nothing more than a speck in the universe (400).
Libby has enough power that, in the prior book in the series, she created a literal nuclear explosion. She also believes so deeply in her own importance that she sacrifices Nico’s life so that she can live, convinced that she has more to contribute to the world than him. Despite this, the narrator compares her to a mere “speck,” indicating that her self-image is overblown. Similarly, Atlas made himself believe that Alexis Lai’s last words for him not to waste his life meant that he, alone, not only needed to save the world but also possessed the ability to do so. As the narrator states, “Atlas has achieved enough success—he is just arrogant enough—to believe that certain minds and futures can be altered” (338). It is arrogant to believe that he can change the world by himself just because he wants to do so. Libby and Atlas possess substantial abilities and intellect, leading them to think that they can shape the course of events on a cosmic scale. However, neither’s actions can ever be enough to make an actual impact on more than a comparatively microscopic scale. Indeed, by purporting to enact cosmic change, both characters ultimately hurt those they care about, with Atlas’s actions leading to the deaths of his cohort and Libby’s decisions directly killing Nico and destroying her relationships.
Cosmic inconsequence despite tremendous individual power isn’t unique to these two characters. Others, like Reina, come to the same rude awakening regarding the extent of their abilities. Indeed, throughout the series, characters who think they are unique enough to play god are forced into the perspective of humility. Ultimately, The Atlas Complex suggests that despite one’s aspirations, achievements, or struggles, all individuals are but a speck in the vast expanse of time and space.
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By Olivie Blake