What is my fascination with the apocalyptic theme? Is it a macabre interest in the decimation of mankind or just a desire for a simpler world (a simpler world only able to be created through the destruction of this complexity)? Who’s to say? I can tell you that I know my interest in apocalyptic literature--as well as films, music, and videogames--is tied heavily to my interest in the Medieval period, especially the Early Middle Ages--notoriously and erroneously known as the Dark Ages--and the Black Death of 1348. It is interesting, to me at least, that the word apocalypse simply means revelation and literally has nothing to do with the end of the world. Of course, our association with that topic is from the book of Revelation of St. John, which, in case you were unfamiliar with the Christian scriptures, is the book describing the Christian view of the end of the world. (Whether or not I give any credence to this book is inconsequential.) Such a fact should change our opinion on what an apocalyptic story is. It is raising the veil and showing us beyond our petty world. It is a memento mori: a reminder of death. The “apocalypse” is a change, a transition into something different--something better is too subjective to say definitively. Still, as most apocalyptic literature is quick to point out, the death of man is not the death of the world or the universe. When I was younger (meaning six or seven), I was foolish and close-minded enough to think that when the Bible said God would destroy the world that the rest of the universe would be destroyed as well, but it wasn’t too long (meaning eight or nine) when I realized that if the world, or just mankind, ceased to exist, the universe wouldn’t notice. I was smart enough to reduce this to the personal, and thus began my interest in nihilism and existentialism. (Obviously I was a child and didn’t realize I was developing an interest in such heady topics.) Now, I realize this is a long preface to my review of Greybeard, but I just want to give an idea on my views of the end of mankind and the literature related to it.
Starting out, I want to say that this is my first excursion into the world of Brian Aldiss, so I will be reviewing this book, not as a work of Mr. Aldiss, but as a work independent. That being said, along with my long preface about my views on the apocalyptic subject, I should say that I have a fondness for apocalyptic literature, so my opinion on this novel is probably skewed slightly. I wanted to give it five stars, but forced myself down to four. I do that because the part of me that loves literature knows that the writing is not very good. It’s not very bad either, but it is certainly lacking is fluidity--clunky is the wrong word, but if you must wrench it from me, you can have it. I love this type of writing though: matter-of-fact-philosophizing, I call it. Mr. Aldiss is clearly a smart man who has read his Wells, and is not far from imitating him (this isn’t a bad thing). The book brought to mind In the Days of the Comet, without all that free-love crap at the end. Not so much from content, but from concept. I’ll get back to that shortly. (Maybe not.)
Greybeard is the book P.D. James’s Children of Men should’ve been, and that’s all I’ll say about that. The year is 2029: we are in the last generation of men. Back in 1981, a nuclear experiment in space caused a heavy dose of radiation to settle in on earth, killing off many of the larger mammals. Dogs went the way of the dinosaur, but luckily the cat survived, though a little hindered. Humans were rendered sterile, though some mutated babies are being born in between the time from 1981 to 2029. We join Greybeard in Sparcot, a secluded town on the banks of the Thames, and we follow his history for a couple of years. Don’t worry: Mr. Aldiss isn’t about to leave you without an explanation. The chapters go back and forth from The Accident--the nuclear tests that resulted in the disturbance in the Van Allen Belts--to the present.
It is essentially a study of man’s maddening consolations in the face of his own extinction. Gnomes roam the forests. They will replace children, since man cannot have anymore. Oxford is sinking, and when it does, the naked young of the river will populate it. A massiah promises a “second generation.” Each group of secluded mankind has it’s own consolation, each just as maddened as the last. Greybeard leads his group down the river after his eleven years of secluded “peace” in Sparcot, and discovers these insanities along with us.
And that is basically the story. Granted, there are extensive flashbacks to before their Sparcot days, even back to just after The Accident--not to mention the ending, which, for spoiler reasons, I will try to refrain from.
The basic dilemma brought up by Greybeard--whose real name is Algy Timberlane--is whether or not life is better with or without the accident. It is a moral quandary that he is sparsely given the opportunity to ponder, but it is in the background of his every thought and action--in the background of every human being. There is a point where he says to his wife Martha that without the accident, they would not have led such meaningful lives, living in the normal 20th century ideas of materialistic life, and he asks if she thinks their lives are not better since the Accident happened. I love that her response is simply “No, I don’t. We would’ve had children and grandchildren by now, but for the Accident, and nothing can ever make up for that.”
I don’t have children, though I’ve always had a strong desire to have some (especially a daughter), but I can imagine that living without the thought of someone to live for would leave you hollow. That’s why Algy and Martha hold to each other so solidly. She is more the saint than he is. He has a bit of a drinking problem, but that’s to be expected. She just deals with his coming home and drinking gin till his thoughts and feelings spill out. Maybe if there hadn’t been the Accident, she’d have left him. They probably wouldn’t even have met. Charley Samuels holds to his religion as tightly as Jeff Pitts holds to his bow and arrow or Dr. Jangedangelow holds to his delusions. We all have our consolations.