In The Ministry for the Future (2020), Kim Stanley Robinson writes about climate collapse, and human adaptation, exploring how societies can survive ecological disasters. Richard Powers’ The Overstory (2018) examines the deep connections between people and ecosystems. Omar El Akkad’s American War (2017) looks at a postapocalyptic America ravaged by climate-related conflicts, and the social and political fallout of environmental collapse.
Katie Hale’s captivating The Edge of Solitude is an eco-thriller set in a near-future. Disgraced environmental activist Ivy Cunningham joins a billionaire’s ambitious project in Antarctica in the hope of redeeming her reputation and mending the broken relationship with her son. As the journey progresses, Ivy grows suspicious of the true motives behind the project and the intentions of her fellow passengers. Trapped with no way home, she faces a tense dilemma between personal ambition and the urgent need to protect the environment.
Through their speculative fiction cli-fi writers make this complex issue more relatable and understandable. It’s a genre that homes in on pressing cultural and social issues, including racial and economic inequalities, and how marginalised communities are disproportionately affected.
Challenging traditional literary norms, cli-fi focuses on collective rather than individual experiences. By exploring the emotional and psychological effects of living in a changing environment, these writers encourage readers to confront their fears about the future. “Radical hope” is a recurring theme — striving for change despite daunting challenges, focusing on adaptation, resilience, and new ways of living in an altered world.
African authors are contributing to the genre, presenting exciting if terrifying perspectives uniquely shaped by our continent’s experiences with global warming. Advanced technologies, exploration of eco-centric world views, and deeper integration of indigenous knowledge run through these narratives.
Set in a future Botswana, Womb City (2024) by Tlotlo Tsamaase is about Nelah Bogosi-Ntsu, a woman who seems to have it all — a successful career and a happy marriage. But there’s one thing she wants more than anything else: a child. Nelah is willing to go to great lengths to make it happen, even though she lives in a society where women are closely monitored through microchips. These chips let her husband access her memories and check for any “hidden wrongdoings”. As she fights against the societal restrictions placed on her, she also struggles with her own role in maintaining a dark and deadly system.
In It Doesn’t Have to Be This Way (2022), set before, during, and after “The Change” in Cape Town, author Alistair Mackay follows Luthando, Malcolm, Viwe, and Milo through eco-activist movements and a dystopian future. His story starkly highlights the inequalities compounded by climate change.
In a future global economy powered by solar and wind energy, Noor (2021) by Nnedi Okorafor, imagines a cybernetic heroine, AO, and Fulani herder, DNA, as they flee from threats like drones and cyborg soldiers.
Rugare Nyamhunga’s The Water Harvesters unfolds in a parched Zimbabwean desert, where water is scarce, and temperatures are scorching. People seek refuge in underground cities to escape the harsh weather. The WaterCorp controls access to water, favouring the wealthy while leaving the poor to fend for themselves. It’s a grim reflection of real-world disparities in resource distribution.
Letters to My Mother by Chinelo Onwualu is set on a future Bonny Island in Nigeria. Protagonist Obeche discovers a journal from the “climate wars” era. The novel contrasts traumatic past memories with a utopian vision of a harmonious future, suggesting better worlds are possible if we learn from past mistakes.
Entertaining and provocative, cli-fi reminds us that the future is uncertain, but within our power to shape. It seeks to make us reflect on our actions and advocate for sustainable practices. Increasingly, films, TV shows and interactive media are incorporating cli-fi elements, expanding the reach and influence of this urgently necessary narrative.
Whether it has the potential to shape our consciousness and inspire collective action before these stories become non-fiction remains to be seen.
This article originally appeared in Business Day.
Read Alert
Climate fiction entertains as it asks us to reflect on our actions
Cli-fi has exploded over the past decade, urging readers to imagine a dystopian world ravaged by drought and wildfires
What will happen to us when the world we know changes and we have to change with it? Southern Africa is warming at twice the global average. Predictions indicate extreme heat, economic collapse, social conflict, displacement, food insecurity, water stress and disease outbreaks in the coming decade.
A survey by the Human Sciences Research Council (HSRC) showed that climate change awareness in SA has increased. About 80% of people recognise climate change as a grave issue and are concerned about its effects on their lives. This is partly due to the effect of climate fiction and media coverage.
Climate fiction has exploded over the past decade, urging readers to imagine a dystopian world ravaged by drought and wildfires. In Paolo Bacigalupi’s short story The Tamarisk Hunter (2006), Lolo, a “water tick”, finds and kills off tamarisk trees — they suck up to 276,000l of river water a year — scraping together a living in a not-so-distant American West in the grip of the Big Daddy Drought.
An atlas of the unexpected
In The Ministry for the Future (2020), Kim Stanley Robinson writes about climate collapse, and human adaptation, exploring how societies can survive ecological disasters. Richard Powers’ The Overstory (2018) examines the deep connections between people and ecosystems. Omar El Akkad’s American War (2017) looks at a postapocalyptic America ravaged by climate-related conflicts, and the social and political fallout of environmental collapse.
Katie Hale’s captivating The Edge of Solitude is an eco-thriller set in a near-future. Disgraced environmental activist Ivy Cunningham joins a billionaire’s ambitious project in Antarctica in the hope of redeeming her reputation and mending the broken relationship with her son. As the journey progresses, Ivy grows suspicious of the true motives behind the project and the intentions of her fellow passengers. Trapped with no way home, she faces a tense dilemma between personal ambition and the urgent need to protect the environment.
Through their speculative fiction cli-fi writers make this complex issue more relatable and understandable. It’s a genre that homes in on pressing cultural and social issues, including racial and economic inequalities, and how marginalised communities are disproportionately affected.
Challenging traditional literary norms, cli-fi focuses on collective rather than individual experiences. By exploring the emotional and psychological effects of living in a changing environment, these writers encourage readers to confront their fears about the future. “Radical hope” is a recurring theme — striving for change despite daunting challenges, focusing on adaptation, resilience, and new ways of living in an altered world.
African authors are contributing to the genre, presenting exciting if terrifying perspectives uniquely shaped by our continent’s experiences with global warming. Advanced technologies, exploration of eco-centric world views, and deeper integration of indigenous knowledge run through these narratives.
Set in a future Botswana, Womb City (2024) by Tlotlo Tsamaase is about Nelah Bogosi-Ntsu, a woman who seems to have it all — a successful career and a happy marriage. But there’s one thing she wants more than anything else: a child. Nelah is willing to go to great lengths to make it happen, even though she lives in a society where women are closely monitored through microchips. These chips let her husband access her memories and check for any “hidden wrongdoings”. As she fights against the societal restrictions placed on her, she also struggles with her own role in maintaining a dark and deadly system.
In It Doesn’t Have to Be This Way (2022), set before, during, and after “The Change” in Cape Town, author Alistair Mackay follows Luthando, Malcolm, Viwe, and Milo through eco-activist movements and a dystopian future. His story starkly highlights the inequalities compounded by climate change.
In a future global economy powered by solar and wind energy, Noor (2021) by Nnedi Okorafor, imagines a cybernetic heroine, AO, and Fulani herder, DNA, as they flee from threats like drones and cyborg soldiers.
Rugare Nyamhunga’s The Water Harvesters unfolds in a parched Zimbabwean desert, where water is scarce, and temperatures are scorching. People seek refuge in underground cities to escape the harsh weather. The WaterCorp controls access to water, favouring the wealthy while leaving the poor to fend for themselves. It’s a grim reflection of real-world disparities in resource distribution.
Letters to My Mother by Chinelo Onwualu is set on a future Bonny Island in Nigeria. Protagonist Obeche discovers a journal from the “climate wars” era. The novel contrasts traumatic past memories with a utopian vision of a harmonious future, suggesting better worlds are possible if we learn from past mistakes.
Entertaining and provocative, cli-fi reminds us that the future is uncertain, but within our power to shape. It seeks to make us reflect on our actions and advocate for sustainable practices. Increasingly, films, TV shows and interactive media are incorporating cli-fi elements, expanding the reach and influence of this urgently necessary narrative.
Whether it has the potential to shape our consciousness and inspire collective action before these stories become non-fiction remains to be seen.
This article originally appeared in Business Day.
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