Book Review — Ishmael by Daniel Quinn

Last night, I finished Ishmael (a Novel). It was written in 1992 by American author, Daniel Quinn. I decided to pick it up because I was running through a list of Turner Tomorrow Fellowship Awardees and it caught my attention, having won in in 1991, a year before its formal publication. So, you can imagine how noticeable that is.

Daniel Quinn’s Ishmael opens with an unconventional ad:

“Teacher seeks pupil. Must have an earnest desire to save the world.”

This peculiar invitation propels the narrator — and the reader — into an unexpected journey with a wise, telepathic gorilla named Ishmael. Part philosophical exploration and part fable, Ishmael questions humanity’s relationship with nature, culture, and civilization itself, urging us to reconsider what it truly means to “save the world.”

At its core, Ishmael is a conversation, one that challenges the narrator’s — and by extension, society’s — most deeply held beliefs. On one of my runs, I had to pause when it cut into the assumption we have always had that the creation ended with man. We have an unspoken verdict that man is the end product of creation. That man is the creature for whom all the rest was made: this world, this solar system, this galaxy, the universe itself. It is not the idea itself but the way Ishmael unveils it that made it intriguing.

Through Ishmael’s teachings, Quinn unearths the hidden myths underpinning modern civilization. One of Ishmael’s defining ideas is that human culture has long enacted a narrative in which the world belongs to humans, who are destined to dominate and reshape it. This story, Ishmael argues, is the root cause of environmental destruction, overpopulation, and humanity’s existential dissatisfaction. As he puts it, “You’re captives of a civilization that compels you to go on destroying the world in order to live.”

Through simple yet provocative analogies, Ishmael offers ideas that stay with you long after closing the book, like the notion of “Takers” (modern civilization) and “Leavers” (indigenous cultures), illuminating the stark difference in how each relates to the earth. Takers want expansion by all means, while Leavers desire to live in harmony with nature for as long as it takes.

Of course, Ishmael’s assertions can appear overly simplistic or leave out complexities. I have been told that this is the first book in a series of three books, so maybe there are answers to be revealed. Yet, it could be that the lack of direct answers might be the point: Ishmael’s teachings challenge us to forge our path forward rather than accept pre-packaged answers.

Quinn’s Ishmael is an invitation to reexamine our collective story and ask if there’s another way to live that respects the world as a shared home rather than a resource to exploit. It’s a haunting reminder of humanity’s responsibility, as Ishmael himself insists that if we fail to change, “the world will go on without us.”

Will I read the other books in the series? Not likely, but that’s not to say I didn’t find this one worthy of my time.