This is another book that I am so completely torn about that I can barely figure out how to talk about it.

On the one hand, Wilson has gathered together some really interesting science and thinking about the world as it is right now – ie coming apart at the seams, and no one much wants to do anything about it.

On the other hand, there is so much… look, calling it “woo woo” is dismissive, I get that. But there is so much not supported by evidence thinking, so many suggestions that I just blinked at in bewilderment, and a few bits that are just downright WHAT?? that it makes me question the bits that I did appreciate.

The book is typeset with wide margins. Wilson acknowledges this early on and says it’s for writing notes. Which I did. But probably not the sort of notes she was hoping for.

Let me start with some of the aspects that I did appreciate.

It’s a very personal book, and I do like that; Wilson isn’t trying to present this as impersonal. It’s heartfelt and passionate, there are lots of personal anecdotes, references to her newsletter readers, and acknowledgement of where she has personally struggled with ideas and issues. I like this! … even though sometimes it felt a bit name-drop-y, and occasionally self-indulgent. I suspect that’s a YMMV issue, and I don’t know where the line would have been for me, so that’s an issue to let slide (for me).

I happen to agree with a lot of her points: the climate crisis is real, and there’s no winding it back; much of society is pulling a stereotypical ostrich manoeuvre; we really do need some new suggestions for how to confront the coming disasters. Living in constant existential uncertainty is appalling for individual and societal mental health. And I do like some of the straightforward suggestions she has. Make art! Enjoy the world! etc.

So then, the issues.

I have an issue on the first page. Wilson recounts the story of Pandora, with hope left in the container when Pandora closes the lid… which Wilson presents as hope being “forever lodged in human consciousness as a thing that exists but is always out of reach.” Which is the complete antithesis of how I have always understood the story. Hope is what is left for humans, to help us keep going. So… that wasn’t a great a start.

She then talks about giving up on hope – the hope of being able to fix the climate crisis. And then immediately talks about having hope for other things. Which gave me whiplash, basically.

Then there’s an attempt at historicising the current crises, and here I saw red. Wilson goes into hopelessly simplistic ways of seeing the collapse of ancient civilisations, saying it happened “because [sic] they became too complex.” I can’t even begin to discuss how her examples – the way she airily discusses all of human history as fitting into her paradigms – left me blinking in shock. And she ties this to John Glubb’s essay, “The Fate of Empires,” which I have not read but which she summarises admiringly. He apparently outlines six stages of civilisational rise and fall; the bit that really got me is that in the mid-stages, “the dominating discourse switches from morals and values to knowledge and discourse. A society will start to become secular and fixated on rights over collective needs.” This leads to the “age of intellect” and these things are bad. Apparently. And it just sounds so staggeringly conservative and frowny I can’t even.

There’s a lot of “not everyone can deal with looking at crises face on and if you’re with me we’re a bit special.” I am suspicious of such ways of thinking.

Many of the suggestions presented here for how you might personally work through or deal with what’s going on are only applicable to those who are likely to read the book – which I understand, I really do – but without giving pointers for non-Western, and non-affluent folks, who are (as the book does acknowledge) already living with the realities to a far greater extent THAN those Western affluent types… well.

If you’re going to quote “Me and Bobby McGee,” maybe attribute it to Kris Kristofferson, not (or not only) Janis Joplin.

So… yeh. I wouldn’t stop someone from reading the book – unless they were already in a not-great place, mental health-wise, and I wasn’t sure they’d be able to get through the disaster aspects to some of the more hopeful bits. I would also not give this to someone who wasn’t pretty science savvy, as I could not in good conscience think that was a good way to read it.

Do I regret reading the book? I don’t think so? But I’m not entirely sure.