In the 1970s post-atomic-bomb writing was all the rage, and I read and loved 'Riddley Walker' - set hundreds (thousands?) of years after the 'one big one' it inhabits an England of weird but just recognisable language and myth.
I have returned to it time and again over the years and it remains among my top ten books of all time.
As the threat of nuclear disaster has been superseded in recent years by the threat of climate catastrophe, I have found myself apologising often...sorry, really sorry, should have seen it coming earlier.
And last winter I even started mentally composing a short story set in a post climate-disaster west Wales - mentally collating Riddley Walker-type phrases, as Kitty and I walked the storm-battered, eroding cliffs.
And now...and now I have just collected from the library a book which has been on my to-read list for a while. Written a few years ago, it tells the story of a world post-apocalypse. Post-pandemic in fact...
I'll let you know how I get on with it.
(Station Eleven, by Emily St John Mantel - should you be feeling brave...)
No comments:
Post a Comment