Just Finished Reading: Far North by Marcel Theroux

In an unspecified but near future a group of Quakers decide to turn their backs on an increasing corrupt and violent world. They buy a piece of marginal land in the Far North of Siberia and settle in. Unfortunately for them the long predicted collapse of human civilisation happens and their settlement is quickly overrun by wave after wave of refugees. After much debate and soul searching a group decide that the only way to hold onto their way of like is to take up arms to defend it – but it’s too late. Their town is a shadow of its former self and the decline is clearly terminal. Years later the lone survivor of their community – simply known as Makepeace – comes across a run-away slave. Taking her in Makepeace discovers she is pregnant and cares for the girl until she reaches full term. Disaster strikes as both mother and baby die in childbirth. This is the last straw and Makepeace decides to commit suicide. Whilst drowning in a nearby lake Makepeace sees a plane fly over and crash into a hillside killing all on board. Deciding to find the last remnant of civilisation still capable of running and maintaining aircraft Makepeace sets out into the wilderness to see what is left of mankind.

You can probably tell that this is not exactly a cheerful book. Oddly though it is not anything like as depressing as you might suspect from reading the synopsis above. This very well written book is, I think, more that anything else a message of hope. Hope that no matter what the circumstance humanity – in all its best forms – can still survive. Makepeace is also a great invention. With a tragic personal history and a grim determination to survive Makepeace is at the very heart of this journey not only into the remains of civilisation but into the psyche of a complex and very likable character. I found myself reading this book as slowly as I could so that I could savour the situations and the delightful prose. Though I’d never heard of the author before I was certain from almost the first page that he was not normally a writer of Science-Fiction. His use of language and his descriptions of the desolation both in the landscape and in human society – such as it was – was far too literary to be anything but mainstream. This was quite honestly a wonderful read and I recommend it to SF and non-SF readers. I believe they call this sort of thing a ‘cross-over’ novel. Regardless of the technicalities I think anyone interested in an adult read will enjoy this book. It’s not for the faint of heart but that’s part of its grip on the imagination. Quite, quite excellent.