Thinking rationally about apocalypses

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Albrecht Dürer

Apocalyptic thinking is in fashion. The apocalyptic threads in contemporary culture are everywhere to be found in books (both fiction and nonfiction), movies, television series, and the news media. We are riding a long wave of pessimism, with polls showing that something like 80 percent of the population think that life is getting worse.

When writing Fugue in Ursa Major, a novel, I had to think carefully about apocalypses. Science fiction, after all, though a work of imagination, must be internally consistent with itself and externally consistent with what we know from science and other fields. In thinking about how civilization might crash, we don’t want our imagination to just run wild. Rather, we want to discipline our imagination with a historical awareness of previous crashes and an awareness of all the unstable conditions of modern life that could take us down.

So, what could take us down? Lots of things, and in each area of instability you’ll find a rich literature, much of it scholarly and well documented. Pick your apocalypse. Would you like an economic collapse? A political crisis such as war? Environmental? A pandemic? You’ll find dozens of recent books. You’ll find books such as Jared Diamond’s Collapse, which examines the roots of several cultural collapses. There are many books on the lessons to be learned from Rome. My favorite in that group is Bryan Ward-Perkins’ The Fall of Rome and the End of Civilization. I think that anyone doing a survey of this literature will want to read an important paper by Joseph A. Tainter, “Complexity, Problem Solving, and Sustainable Societies.” Tainter approaches the subject from the economics of energy.

I need to make it clear that I am not talking about fringe elements, who are deep into all sorts of delusions. It’s the serious material from serious sources that is of interest. University presses have done good business in this area. Unless our interest is in the psychology of mass delusion, we don’t need to dirty up our imaginations with what some fringy doomers in northern Idaho might think, or religious End Times types. I am baffled by the current fascination with zombies in pop culture (though I thought “World War Z” was a pretty entertaining movie, and I can sort of see how zombies are an interesting metaphor for the empty lives of consumption that so many people live).

Having dug into some of the history, and into the all-too-plausible scenarios for economic, political, or environmental collapse, then it’s interesting to do a survey of the fiction. There is a wave of excellent apocalyptic fiction that started decades ago. Lucifer’s Hammer (1977), by Larry Niven and Jerry Pournelle, stands out. There is A Canticle for Liebowitz, by Walter Miller, from 1960. The thread continues to the present, with good, bestselling fiction such as Suzanne Collins’ The Hunger Games, and Cormac McCarthy’s The Road. You’ll find excellent lists of apocalyptic fiction all over the Internet.

The next apocalypse may well have much in common with apocalypses of the past, but obviously much will be brand new. So it’s important to consider how smart writers have imagined it. How and where will it start? How will it get out of control? Who will be wiped out? Who will survive, and why? What conditions will the survivors find themselves in? How long will the dark age last? Will some people in some places be able to keep some lights on? If so, where, and how? What factors will permit an eventual recovery? How will things be different on the other side? Beautiful stories can be told in these settings.

There are dissenters, of course — people who are more optimistic. A good example is David Brin, a writer and futurist, who believes that we are obsessed with Doomsday. People like Brin believe that a bold application of the human spirit, plus advances in technology, would be able to deal with our future problems. Pessimists refer disparagingly to those types as “techno utopians.”

Obviously no one knows what the future holds. So really I am making only two modest claims. The first is that is that the study of unsustainability, in all fields, deserves to be taken seriously. The second is that apocalypses make awesome settings for storytelling.

Another movie deal for John Twelve Hawks

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Source: johntwelvehawks.com

We learned this week that the mysterious John Twelve Hawks has sold the movie rights to his next book. It was first reported in Deadline Hollywood, and the industry is buzzing with the news.

John Twelve Hawks, you will recall, is the author of the bestselling Fourth Realm Trilogy, which (in my opinion) is some of the best science fiction to come along in years. No one knows Twelve Hawks’ real identity, not even his publisher and agent. He lives off the grid. There has been much speculation by people in the publishing industry who consider themselves savvy that John Twelve Hawks is a pseudonym for James Frey, a hustler of a writer who has made a bunch of money and taken a lot of heat after accusations that he made up a bunch of stuff in his memoir. He subsequently went on Oprah and Larry King to account for himself.

However, I think the James Frey theory is bunk, not least because I’ve gotten to know John Twelve Hawks a little, through email.

It’s strange how it happened. No joke, I was stretched out reading the thrilling conclusion of the third book of the trilogy, The Golden City, when I heard the email chime from the iMac. I got up to check mail and could hardly believe it when I found it was an email from my new favorite writer, John Twelve Hawks. How often does it happen that, when you’re reading a book, email comes in from the author, out of the clear blue sky? But Ken can testify that this is true, because actually John Twelve Hawks’ email went to Ken first, because Ken’s email address was easier to find. John Twelve Hawks asked Ken to forward the email to me.

The reason Twelve Hawks emailed me was to ask permission to reprint on another web site a blog post I had written on Internet privacy. Of course I gave him permission to do that. Since then (that was in 2010), we’ve exchanged a few emails.

There are several reasons why I think the James Frey theory of John Twelve Hawks’ identify is bunk. For one, Frey is a hustler and appears to have much more interest in money than truth. I believe that John Twelve Hawks is sincere, particularly in his commitment to freedom from surveillance. I don’t think that a busy businessman of a writer like James Frey would take the time to slum with provincial bloggers like me or to take note of something I had written on Internet privacy. Frey has more profitable fish to fry.

In any case, I can’t wait for Twelve Hawks’ next book. If you haven’t read the trilogy, I recommend it. Warner Brothers has bought the movie rights to Twelve Hawks’ first three books. All of which means that John Twelve Hawks is now a pretty rich man. I seriously doubt that Twelve Hawks is using the money for new hustles, as James Frey would be doing. Rather, I suspect that Twelve Hawks’ is using the money to buy himself more peace and quiet and more writing time at his hideaway in rural Ireland, wherever that place may be. I suspect County Kerry, though, because Skellig Michael is used as a location in the trilogy. When the movie comes out, expect some thrilling helicopter shots from Skellig Michael.


Below, an email from John Twelve Hawks dated May 24, 2013

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