Year of New Authors
In an alternative history, the UK is struck by a devastating nuclear attack. Cities and communication systems are destroyed, roads melted, the earth and air poisoned and ravaged. All seen through the eyes of Mr and Mrs Bloggs living alone in the countryside, who are a bit peeved the milkman hasn't came yet.
For some questionable reason, in the mid 90s when I would have been 11/12, we were shown part of Threads at school; a harrowingly brutal depiction of a city on fire and slowly decaying with radiation and lawlessness. I vivdly remember everyone watching in stoney silence when we saw blackened corpses slowly smouldering amongst rubble, or a mother screaming for her child who hadn't reached the shelter in time. The quiet was only broken with pained 'awws' when a dying cat was shown, prompting the teacher to actually pause the video and ask what the hell was wrong with us for sympathising with a moggy over human lives.
I thought of that a lot when reading this, as Mr and Mrs Bloggs are absolutely adorable cats. They are the quintessential old couple, concerned with regular habits and interacting with fond little jibes. Their love for each other is realistic, simple and tender, and their innocence absolute with adorable misunderstandings that slowly become sad or deadly as the story goes on. Their attempts to guard themselves from the foretold destruction are ineffectual, but based on the only information they're given. Their faith in the government and society continuing after the bomb drops is based on their childhood recollections of the blitz, where the postman would climb over debris and bomb shelters were decorated. A colourful, almost fond time for the pair when they were too young to fully appreciate the horrors, and now too old to realise this a new and thouroughly different kind of war.
While I, as a Brit, have certainly met both a Mr and Mrs Bloggs in real life, they are little bit too silly at times, with constant mispronounciations and their ignorance of politics, but never quite to the point where it felt offensive to me. Some people may also find the sheer amount of text in this book a bit of a slog, but I didn't and the silly conversations of our protagonists simply made everything feel more real.
I consider When the Wind Blows an extremely effective anti-war piece, far more so than others, precisely because it doesn't really show any war or even the bomb itself. Compared to the disgustingly gory animation in Barefoot Gen or A Short Vision (1956), I tend to find these gruesome depictions of the explosion simply mesmerising, so violent and destructive that they almost seem impossible and thus detatched from reality. In the book it's more subtle, the explosion is a white blast that contorts the very comic frames until they shudder back to normal, leaving no doubt that the previous idyllic frolics of country life are now forever warped entirely. The following slow disintegration of colour and our protagonists outlines, by radiation poisoning and the reality that no one is coming to help them, is a thoughtfully more unsettling horror than watching someone violently vaporised, and it's precisely this lack of sensationalism thatmakes it feel more visceral.
This is a very hard read, especially if you go into it knowing exactly what is coming. It's horrible, it's sad, it's unbearably tragic, but a beautifully sweet piece. Is such a work useful post Cold-War? Absolutely, because the Blogg's innocence is still a problem for today. 'It'll be over by Christmas' says Mr Bloggs as he drinks contaminated rain water, and 'They're overreacting about this virus the same way they do about Global warming. It's just a bad flu' said people over a year ago. Our complacency is as steadfast as the Bloggs' normalcy bias, and we've yet to find that sweet spot between rampant paranoia and ignoring what actually needs to be done.
A wonderful work of mental flaggellation that ignores shock tactics to stab directly at your heart. Five stars.