Monday, September 17, 2007
It's the End of the World As We Know It
"Still, some dreams refuse to die. Some souls never know when the cause is lost. Such ignorance can be truly awe-inspiring!" - Jim Starlin, Infinity Gauntlet
End of the world narratives are a dime a dozen. It's always been a popular foray for science fiction writers, probably best exemplified by the 1990s revival of The Outer Limits (I dare anyone to find an episode of this show where mankind doesn;t kill itself off by the end of the hour). This summer I read three separate narratives about the event, each with their own unique take on what the end of history would mean for both man and the world. And nary a Mok in sight.
The Road
Let me begin by saying that the Road, by Cormac McCarthy, is the most unrelenting piece of horror fiction I have ever read - and this is coming from someone who enjoys the work of Poe, Lovecraft, and Steven King. In a lot of respects, the basic premise of McCarthy's work is similar to that of King's novella The Mist, and although King's novel centers mostly on the dissolution of society that McCarthy only alludes to in flashback, both stories then rely on the concept of a father and son traveling down a road in search of salvation.
Incredibly, King's ending feels far more optimistic, ending with the word 'hope'; there is a chance that there is an end to the all-consuming mist, just down the road. In McCarthy's novel, however, the blasted wasteland of earth continues unendingly, and its hopeful turn at the end feels more like a brief respite than a turning point in the fortunes of the protagonist, kind of the like the false hopeful ending of most horror films prior to that final punch.The Road is an intimate look at the relationship of a father and son, and McCarthy allows us to concentrate on that relationship by stripping the world around it to its barest core. The novel is more than this however; it is an epic journey, and in a lot of ways in reminiscent of the journey of Frodo and Samwise in the Lord of the Rings. However, there is no miraculous rescue on the wings of Golden eagles, nor is there a promise of renewal as Sam regrows the Shire with the boon of Galadriel; there is unremittant spiraling towards the end of the world.
This dark conclusions parked a great deal of discussion in the reading group I was part of. Most felt this novel talked about the end of the world, the end of man and all life on Earth, and initially I agreed. Later, however, I came to feel that there was some concept of hope in the novel, a stubborn persistence of life to find a way to survive. Life could still exist in deep caves or deep under the sea under volcanic vents. It is possible that man himself could survive. A nuclear winter has to end, and life will flourish again. The only question that remains is if man is there to see it.
In an amazing example or far-thinking, Norway has contemplated such a possible future. The Svalbard Global Seed Vault, located far north on the island of Spitzbergen, has collected samples of many of the world's plant species, perfectly preserved for planting after an unforeseen global catastrophe.
And the son in the novel knows where a boat is. Perhaps the world has provided him a gift from Galadriel, after all.
The World Without Us
The World Without Us explores a much different world: a global catastrophe, or alien invasion, or Rapture has eliminated all humans, and Earth is allowed to grow into the spaces once inhabited by man. The book explores how much of what man considers as permanent will crumble away, and rather quickly, and how millions of years hence the primary evidence that we were here will be indestructible compounds, plastics, nuclear waste, and Mount Rushmore. Nevertheless, it is far less bleak that than it is hopeful, showing how nature has managed to reclaim its place in places we've long since abandoned as too dangerous - nuclear contaminated zones, chemical spill areas, etc. Life finds a way, and given enough time can overcome any obstacle.Lucifer's Hammer
One of the comments made in the reading group for The Road was that this novel set itself apart from other post-apocalyptic stories because the protagonist was able to raise themselves to a nobler ideal due to the love of a child. I disagreed with that assessment; the idea that children can influence the hardened veteran of a hostile world is explored in many post-apocalyptic stories. Mad Max was well on his way to becoming like any other survivor of Bartertown until he risked it all to save the children in the wilderness; the Mariner of Waterworld awoke to his humanity thanks to a little girl; Theo Faron finds redemption is saving a pregnant mom in Children of Men.In Lucifer's Hammer however, the main characters are not burdened with young children. In fact, the book is bereft of them. The main character's son is sent off before the impact, and when he is reintroduced some several weeks later, he has undergone a lord of Flies-like transition and rebuffs his father, who immediately leaves him to his own devices. Orphans fostered on another main character are disposed of to another family just some dozen pages later. Bereft of the idea of the propagation of humanity as a driving force to the future, the novel then basically revolves around which characters can sleep with the others, and how nuclear power will save us, but not really (as the authors pull a nasty turn in the last few pages). In a nutshell, the seventies, sans disco.
Ironically, in the fortified sanctuary the characters create for themselves, the greatest crimes are punished with verdict of "The Road", in which characters are forced out of the compound and must make their way put of the mountains to the devastated coast. Seems the novels came full circle.
I just one of them could have had an Ookla.
Labels: And We Are Rather Puny, Anti-Fun, Guitarmaggedon
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