So often in the books I’m reading I find this same notion. The book is set in a future. The protagonist hazily remembers the riots, the protests, the murderous past. Like it was a dream. But in the books’ present day, the world is a much different place. It’s controlled.
My eyes close in a subconscious effort to block out the bad memories, but the effort backfires. Protests. Rallies. Screams for survival. I see women and children starving to death, homes destroyed and buried in rubble, the countryside a burnt landscape, its only fruit the rotting flesh of casualties.” Shatter Me, Tahereh Mafi.
The problems that caused these worlds to change are issues we face today. Overpopulation. Infertility. Freedom. And in each of these books there’s a possible future depicted. The wrong future. They show the effect of our today, in which things go terribly. Then there’s the strong main character who fights back, because what else can they do?
How were we to know we were happy?” The Handmaid’s Tale, Margaret Atwood
It’s this same idea I’m reading over and over again. Why am I drawn to these books? Because I want to know how everyone else thinks the world will go. How do others see the world ending up? After today’s chaos, what will tomorrow bring? Is it pointless to wonder?
These books all show what could go wrong, but I’m waiting to find one that shows how things can go right. Everyone is caught up with how terrible things are, justifiably. But what I want to read is a future that’s better than the present.
Surely, that can’t be too hard to come up with.