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We’ve made it into the 2040s in the fictional future of Kim Stanley Robinson’s 2020 novel The Ministry for the Future, roughly two decades since Chapter 1’s horrifying heat wave in India that killed 20 million people. Frank May, the sole survivor from one city caught up in that catastrophe, finally finishes his term in a very non-American Swiss prison as atmospheric carbon concentrations continue to rise and a similar heat wave hits the USA. Despite American wealth and technology, the power grid fails, and hundreds of thousands of people die. The American heat wave, we’re told, isn’t as large as the Indian heat wave, “but this time it was Americans, in America. That fact made a difference, especially to Americans” (p. 350).
Yeah, that’s a painful, true line, even if the heat wave is fictional.
I was really taken this week by the conversation Mary has with Frank, her shellshocked Jiminy Cricket, in Chapter 74, while Frank is still serving his time but is allowed to go to the café across the street from the prison, a very Swiss thing. Mary is trying to suggest Frank try not to “take on the whole world’s troubles,” but he’s not having any of it, because here we are, all interconnected, no longer having the luxury of thinking only our own cave’s or village’s residents are the only people who matter. There’s almost a horror to trying to comprehend an interdependent world of
Eight billion people, all stuffed in here.” She tapped her chest. “No wonder it feels so crowded. All smashed into one big mass. The everything feeling.”
Frank nodded, trying that on. That feeling of pressure in his chest. The headaches. Call it the everything feeling. A new feeling, or a new blend of feelings, bitter and dark. Caffeine and alcohol. Uppers and downers. Lots of everything. The everything feeling. Made sense that it resembled being somewhat stunned. Not unlike despair.
“Maybe,” he said, mimicking her.
She grimaced, acknowledging that she had been annoying. “Oceans of clouds in my chest. Some poet said that. So, say we feel the global village, but in a mixed-up way. Is that what you’re saying you are, mixed up? Mashed together?”
“No. Yes.” He glanced at her, looked down again. “Maybe” (p. 371).
I really identified with that idea, the sense that there’s just too much and how the hell do you deal with it? For me, it’s writing out some of the puzzles like this, and of course fart jokes, but also, at the risk of being a Pollyanna, or a Mister Rogers fan, looking for the helpers, as we discussed earlier today in that article about New Jersey’s awesome climate education program.
The other line that grabbed me was in the very next chapter, when the world economy completely collapses, money becomes worthless, and holy crap, the Ministry’s Plan B for stapling everything all together in a fairer economic arrangement steps in and saves the day:
It was quite a month, then quite a year; a year that became one of those years that people talk about later, a date used as shorthand for a whole period. A tectonic shift in history, an earthquake in the head (p. 380).
It’s just a good line, and fits our crazy world of the last near-decade.
So let’s discuss! As always, these are just a few of the things that occurred to me, but you needn’t feel limited to these only in your comments, since Wonkette does not allow comments. (The other usual disclaimer: If you’re behind on the reading, or haven’t read the book at all, no problem, we’re not grading any of this. Also, no worries about spoilers, since for the most part this is an idea-driven book, not a plot-driven one.)
1) How does the “Everything feeling” potentially help or get in the way of doing something about a huge problem like climate change? How do we not get bogged down or paralyzed?
2) The idea that a student debt strike could cause an economy-wide liquidity crisis (especially if joined by other debtors) feels intuitively realistic to me, particularly if the national economy were already in dire straits. See? This is why we need to fix student debt through other means! This is more of a comment than a question.
3) A question I’m flat out stealing from another Ministry for the Future book club (I’ve also stolen its reading schedule, but I don’t think that’s plagiarism; in any case, here’s the credit now):
A reader in that group observed that “’there are no villains’ in the novel.” Another reader added that it “a way of focusing our attention on systems… and on us, the readers. What do you make of a story told almost entirely about protagonists?”
Darn good question!
4) Did anyone actually read the entire list of NGO climate action groups in that one chapter? Yikes!
5) We’re starting to get the sense that things are slowly going to get better, after a lot of horrors. Hard-won optimism, or too easy?
You’ll probably have a lot to talk about beyond these, too!
I’ll be checking in all weekend to see how the discussion develops. Here are our previous installments:
For next week, let’s finish this thing! Chapters 89 through 106.
The one rule I am going to enforce strictly for this post is that, to keep the conversation focused, I will remove any off topic comments and ask you to move ’em to the open thread, coming soon at The Time. I’d honestly like to keep the book & climate conversation going all weekend, and if you wanna come back and say more, please do so!
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