Pamela Sargent's The Shore of Women works out in persuasively anthropological detail--almost Geertzian "thick description," if you will--a post-apocalyptic world in which women rule with space-age technologies from walled citadels, exiling male children into literal stone age societies of isolated bands clad in animal skins, where lives are nasty, brutish, and short. The violence of Sargent's largely paleolithic male society is mitigated only by its loving devotion to "The Goddess" and her cult, visits to the shrines in which prayer and worshipful communion with the deity transpires, and the occasional "callings" to the enclaves--simultaneously the preeminent male rite of passage and the sole (blind and thoroughly mediated) interaction with the ruling society that enables both worlds to procreate and persist. Within city walls, the master society is strictly bifurcated into elite and masses, in which the custodians of established order replace themselves, presiding over the bought indifference of commoners.
Sargent is a beautifully expressive writer who works out the logic of her story to persuasive conclusions and, along the way, has smart, thoroughly rendered observations to make on societies of women and of men, the humanistic origins of religion, small group interactions under duress, the transformation of nomadic bands into sedentary cultures, the possible retreat of civilization from its points of greatest advancement, a variety of contemporary feminist political ideas, and more. At times, The Shore of Women brought to mind a host of antecedents, including A Canticle for Leibowitz, Lord of the Flies, The Golden Bough, Greek and Roman mythology, captivity stories from 17th and 18th century prisoners of American woodland Indians, the writings of Margaret Meade and other classic anthropologists, and other possible references, but without seeming directly dependent on any. Its principal characters, the inquisitive newly "called" man Arvil and the cast-out woman Birana, are beautifully developed and pass through punctuated sequences of change and unfolding awareness. A third point of view is provided by Laissa, who as the daughter of one of the "Mothers of the City" progresses on her own surprising journey of discovery...
More than ten years later (October 24, 2012): I wish I had stowed somewhere the remainder of this review, which was printed at a time, apparently, that amazon.com worried about giving excessive space to commentary on out-of-print books. That's no longer the case, as it's in the business of leasing out space for any and all. But my remarks get an occasional "like," and I'm writing this coda after all these years because I can't help but think readers of these notes are puzzled at the abrupt ending. I still admire this wonderful book and had the good fortune to meet Ms. Sargent around the time of this posting, under rather unusual circumstances, to discuss it with her. Delighted to see she's still writing thoughtful SF. I'm looking forward to revisiting her work.