The Everlasting

Alix E. Harrow’s The Everlasting critiques how national identity is constructed and weaponized as propaganda by reworking elements of foundational myths. Nations often define themselves through founding myths—simplified, symbolic narratives that frame a people’s origins as purposeful, righteous, and inevitable. These myths are reinforced through propaganda, education, and cultural repetition, transforming complex or violent pasts into stories of heroism and destiny. By elevating select figures and events while erasing others, nations create a shared identity that legitimizes present power structures and future ambitions.

One prominent example is the United States’ narrative of Manifest Destiny. The term, coined in 1845 as the United States explored western territories, emphasized westward expansion as a divine mandate. This idea essentially erased the horrors of conquest, displacement, and genocide against Indigenous peoples. Instead, it posited these atrocities as necessary steps in a providential national story, aiming to unite the American people behind the government’s desire to grow and expand.

Similarly, modern political narratives surrounding the “Promised Land” draw upon Torahic tradition to frame Israeli territorial claims as a sacred inheritance, erasing or delegitimizing the existence of Palestinian people within those territories. Rooted in the Book of Genesis, from the Jewish sacred text known as the Torah, these claims imbue contemporary politics with mythic inevitability.

In Japan, the legendary figure of Emperor Jimmu, said to be descended from the sun goddess Amaterasu, served as a foundational myth that justified imperial authority and national unity, setting up the line of succession in Japanese rulers. There is little evidence of his existence, with historians instead believing he is a legend that has since been used throughout Japan’s history to justify historical action. For example, the legend became a state doctrine in 1868 during the Meiji Restoration, taught to school children to reinforce the State Shinto—a nationalist ideology that co-opted Shinto religious traditions to frame the Emperor as a living god. Similarly, in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, the Jimmu myth was weaponized to justify imperial expansion, insisting that Japan’s emperor ruled by divine mandate over Korea, Manchuria, and parts of China. As soldiers were taught that dying for the Emperor was both honorable and spiritually meaningful, it normalized extreme sacrifice like kamikaze missions during World War II.

In each of these three cases, national identity was literally constructed by those in power to reshape history and transform it into ideological justification, an idea which is reflected in The Everlasting. Vivian’s mission is to forge such a narrative for Dominion, stating, “In order to have a future worth fighting for, you must have a past worth remembering” (104). To do so, she co-opts literary traditions, particularly Arthurian legends, which were themselves used to construct a national identity for Britain. Geoffrey of Monmouth’s 12th-century Historia Regum Britanniae is his written account of Britain’s history, exploring its foundation and tying it to mythical figures like King Lear, King Arthur, and Merlin. Just as Vivian does with Una, Geoffrey of Monmouth tied Britain’s national identity to heroic figures, mythical roots, and a heroic past. Harrow mirrors this process by having Una pull a sword from a yew tree and embark on a quest for the grail, using these familiar tropes to expose the artificial and often violent labor of mythmaking. This weaponization of history is further linked to modern propaganda through the “DOMINION NEEDS YOU!” (19) poster, which directly evokes iconic World War I recruitment posters like Britain’s “Lord Kitchener Wants You.” By connecting the creation of Una’s legend to both ancient mythmaking and modern propaganda, the novel reveals how patriotic narratives are manufactured by state powers to justify conquest and control.