A lot of the best speculative climate fiction feels like it belongs to the non-fiction shelf.
Anxiety-inducing, because it speaks the truth and invites us to take a peek around the corner, at what’s coming. And then, there are books that treat climate change and the environmental crisis as the starting point for a bigger discussion.
These five (plus one) books ask a big What If? and do what speculative fiction (sci-fi and fantasy) does best; treat wild ideas as a playground to explore themes and concepts, and to invite you to (re)consider your opinions.
This book captures in a stark way the feeling of fighting a losing battle and the despair that sets in when you realize that you were never meant to have a happy ending. Equal parts eco-poetry and fever dream, this is not an easy read, but it’s worth it.
Three rebels hop from dimension to dimension, trying to stop different versions of the Company from contaminating the world and turning it into a mutant-filled wasteland. The group consists of a man made up out of salamanders, a woman-shaped bioweapon that loves marine life, and the last survivor of an ill-fated space mission. They’ve failed every single time so far, but perhaps this once will be different…
A soldier arrives in Ren’s village, at some indeterminate time after a climate disaster, and forces her to reveal the whereabouts of the mythical Rain Heron. Controlling the creature might be the key to ending a devastating drought. But the magic bird is just a fairy tale, right? In another storyline, the Rain Heron giveth and the Rain Heron taketh, saving farmers from drought and then bringing it back to teach them a lesson. In the third storyline of the book, an outsider driven by desperation challenges a small community’s monster squid-ink harvesting traditions.
A dark twisted trio of fables, this novel is fascinating in how it portrays good intentions and the way those intentions make humans want to control the uncontrollable, often with catastrophic results.
Le Guin’s day job was as a biologist and it shows in her novels. If there was ever a matriarch of environmentally-inclined fiction, it’d have to be Le Guin thanks to the way she integrated a deep ecological sensitivity with bold thought experiments. In The Word for World is Forest, humans are stripping a planet off its natural resources and using the Athsheans , a native sentient species, as slaves. Slaves that, by nature, are docile and non-violent, until something ―a genetic failsafe? The presence of violent humanity itself?― makes them take up arms.
If reading this book you start getting images of James Cameron’s Avatar, FernGully, and Ewoks, that would be speaking to the foundational importance of this novella in speculative fiction. But despite its position in the sci-fi corpus, this is a story that simply does a great job asking “Are we the baddies?” and makes us wonder what our part is in destroying this planet.
More anti-climate fiction than anything else, The Bear assures us that Earth will be fine no matter what. It’s humanity place in it that’s at stake.
The last girl on Earth buries her father and finds herself unable to get back home. She’s isolated and without resources. The titular Bear forms a connection with her and promises to protect her through the winter until she can return. There is no whimsy in this tale, despite the anthropomorphic Bear and other animals that assist the girl. What’s more, this is a quiet, contemplative tale, despite the survivalist slant and post-apocalyptic background story that sits between the lines. It’s deliberate and lyrical, almost like the relationship the girl develops with the wilderness. The Bear promises that the world will go on and that there’s always beauty in it, despite its inherent brutality.
Half-apocalyptic roadtrip, half-horror story, The Trees has an interesting premise that Ali Shaw never explains. Overnight, trees spear through the ground and tear civilization to shreds. Elemental fays may or may not have something to do with it. A small group forms around “loser” Adrien and tries to make its way from England to Ireland where his wife was on a business trip when things turned upside down.
What I really appreciate about this book is what it has to say about the reasons leading us to a climate disaster. Traditional notions of individual worth, toxic ideas of success, and “civilization” as an anti-nature force. The last few pages had me thinking for days about my own place in a system that’s designed to take more than it gives back. Adrien starts as one of the most unlikeable protagonists I’ve encountered. As the book went on, though, it became clear that it was everyone who viewed him as a loser that was the problem and that we’d never get anywhere with this mindset.
Also, The Trees has one of the most beautiful covers I’ve ever seen on a book.
Shameless plug. Get over it.
I wrote this book as a form of personal meditation on the nature of communication (or lack of). It was always clear to me though that the story took place in a dying world.
A farmer and his wife, the teacher, haven’t spoken to each other in years, since back when communication was outlawed. Drought and famine have destroyed their community, and so has the fascist regime that outlawed communication in the first place. When a girl with intact vocal cords breaks into their house, they are forced to face the damage they’ve done to each other. “Next year will be better” is the farmer’s mantra. In The Hush, things never get better.
Accepting climate change is a case of the frog in boiling water. We used to collectively discuss avoiding the point-of-no-return as far as rising temperatures were concerned. Now, we’re discussing damage mitigation, and avoiding the next big terrible milestone. The degradation of a relationship seemed like an apt metaphor for the things we’re willing to accept until it’s too late.
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