Dr. Suzan G, Senior Archivist of the 4th Millennium, is renowned in the underworld for her remarkable insights. Years of meticulous research and documentation of ancient civilizations have established her as an authority on the past and a beacon of hope for the future. Or at least, that’s what she should represent for the people. In reality, the Council seeks neither time-tested wisdom nor the guidance of a scholar. In this progressive, enlightened utopia, imperfections have been engineered out of existence so why would anyone look for anything else? People are convinced they are truly living the best life possible, and Suzan’s report to the Council ought to align with that notion. Yet, history holds undeniable lessons for those willing to look deeper and her research uncovers a reality that Arctic City doesn’t want to embrace. While combing through the past, she comes across texts that have been shunned, ridiculed, and effectively forbidden by society. Hidden words of wisdom scratch at the shiny veneer of Suzan’s conviction while opening her eyes to truths she can’t keep to herself. So she waits and plans, slowly introducing her subversive ideas to captive audiences. She may not be loud but her arguments are strong because Suzan realizes, “Power is not in noise; it is in control.” In the end, her purpose drives her but her arrogance condemns her.
Challenging the boundary between fiction and reality, The Constitution of the Underworld: Letters from the Darkest Ages of Humanity is an exceptionally astute novel with unflinching social commentary. After some bleak warnings, the novel unfolds across three distinct story arcs and moods. The first arc follows Suzan’s quest for knowledge, her discovery of buried truths, and the development of her faith. Here, readers are drawn not into the daily operations of the underworld but into the pervasive lack of passion and resolve that characterizes its citizens. Later, another pivotal character, Aya, is introduced—a young diplomat-in-training who evolves from protégé to acolyte. As his story emerges, readers are offered a wider glimpse into perceived advancements in Arctic City and are treated to profound lessons gleaned from scripture and history’s greatest minds. When Suzan is inevitably called to account for her seditious teachings, tension builds and the book’s early ominous warnings are realized. The final plot movement is an intense sequence of litigation, judgment, and execution of justice capped by a chilling dystopian twist. While the monotonous yet bombastic narrative style emphasizes the foreboding implications of the story, it diminishes the impact of pithy observations and profound insights. But for audiences who place their faith in something more than progress or conformity, this searing deconstruction of humanity’s illusions offers vindication. More powerful as a stark warning than a fictional tale, The Constitution of the Underworld is a forcefully delivered reminder of truths humans have always known but are loath to remember.
