There is this story about a man of a tribe who just wanted to chill and relax but the women of the tribe wouldn't stop nagging. So grudgingly he set out to save the world even though all he wanted to do was drink beer.

Does anyone know what it is? Maybe David Brin postman?

UPDATE: The tribe leader may be George Powhatan?

  • 2
    It does sound like David Brin's Postman, specifically George Powhatan and his tribe
    – A.Steer
    Commented Dec 6, 2022 at 5:01
  • 7
    That's my life summed up
    – Danny Mc G
    Commented Dec 6, 2022 at 6:39
  • 1
    It may be a part of The Postman, but the character you described is not the main character and that is only a piece of the story, IIRC
    – Basya
    Commented Dec 6, 2022 at 13:42
  • 2
    @DannyMcG - glad to hear that you are saving the world :-)
    – Basya
    Commented Dec 6, 2022 at 13:43
  • 4
    @DannyMcG --- Could you start by getting the UK's railways working again? Commented Dec 6, 2022 at 14:33

1 Answer 1


I think that A.Steer was correct when they suggested David Brin's The Postman.

America has been left in ruins in the wake of the Doomwar, a conflation of various doomsday scenarios. Seventeen years later, Gordon Krantz, who was a college sophomore before it all came down, struggles to survive in a harsh environment where scavenging and violence is the norm and the vicious, fanatical Holnists reign supreme. He has been searching and searching for a place, anywhere, where "someone is taking responsibility." When he is robbed of most of his possessions, Gordon takes the uniform of a long-dead postman for warmth. The simple act of taking up this symbol soon snowballs into an elaborate tale casting Gordon as an agent of the fictional Restored United States. At first, he maintains this lie only to survive, but as hope springs up in his path, the lie becomes something more.

Near the end of the book, George Powhatan defeats the villain, and when asked why he fought by the main protagonist, Gordon, he states:

“You’re right,” he groaned. “It never ends. I’ve done my share, a thousand times over I have!. . . All I wanted was to be left to grow old in peace. Is that too much to ask? Is it?”
His eyes were bleak, “But it never, ever ends.”
Powhatan looked up, then, meeting and holding Gordon’s stare for the first time.
“It was the women,” he said softly, answering Gordon’s question at last. “Ever since your visit and those damned letters, they kept talking, asking questions.
“Then the story of that madness up north arrived, even in my valley. I tried . . . tried to tell them it was just craziness, what your Amazons did, but they—“
Powhatan’s voice caught. He shook his head. “Bokuto stormed out, to come down here all alone . . . and when that happened they kept looking at me. . . . They kept after me and after me and after me. . . .”
He moaned and covered his face with his hands.
“Sweet God in Heaven, forgive me. The women made me do it.”

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