Simple Joyful Futures

Hopeful Speculative Fiction and Reviews

Author: admin

  • A Couple of Nonfiction Books

    I’m mostly going to focus on fiction here, but I will occasionally talk about nonfiction stuff if it seems (at least to me) to be related to what I’m discussing here.

    For example, here’s two books that describe the path to the future I want to see. The Beginning Comes After the End by Rebecca Solnit and The Heroine’s Journey by Gail Carriger would seem to have little in common (other than both being nonfiction books written by women), one focusing on our current situation and the other on story writing, but they both talk a lot about relationships and building interconnections, seeing this work as essential.     

    Rebecca Solnit’s book The Beginning Comes After the End is basically a reminder that there has been a movement in this society over the past decades toward embracing all people and living in harmony with the earth and the problems we are struggling with are caused by elites who don’t want to give up power and who want us to return to the days when they controlled everything.  For me solarpunk describes the life that she believes we are struggling toward. 

    The Heroine’s Journey by Gail Carriger is about looking at two types of fictional stories, the ‘Hero’s Journey’ and the ‘Heroine’s Journey’, the difference being less about gender and more about the basic plot, whether it’s a person struggling to triumph alone or they’re someone working with others to build something together.  She believes the Heroine could be male or the Hero could be a woman.  I think her ‘Heroine’s Journey’ describes the stories I want to create.  

    These books mirror each other.  Solnit talks about the world we’re moving from, saying that “It’s symbolized by the lone man, the superhero, soldier, cowboy…” which is almost exactly the “Hero” that Carriger is reacting against.  Gail C says, “The Heroine’s Journey is one of building teams, creating cohesions, forming social relationships… It also seeks balance and compromise.”   That could describe the process Rebecca S thinks we need to go through.  

  • About Those Last Two Stories

    “The Vegetable Liberation Squad” and “Teaching Vignette #43” are far from the only stories that I’ve written. They’re not even representative of my writing. But these are the shortest stories that I’ve written that are representative of the kind of future that I want to depict, what I’m now calling “Joyful Woke Postindustrial Solarpunk”. (By “Woke” I mean I’m leaning into picturing a society that is Diverse, Egalitarian, and Inclusive.)

    In the future I plan to publish some fragments of longer or uncompleted things that I’ve written which also point in this direction. For now I am going to return to more reviews of books and stories about positive possible futures–or at least creating positive situations even in very difficult circumstances.

    Finally, I want to say again that I’m looking for potential collaborators. I am trying to envision some very collective, cooperative, and communal futures and I really want to model that by developing stories that are created together. If this interests you, please contact me at moonraven222 at gmail dot com. I’m excited about co-creating futures with other like-minded folks.

  • Teaching Vignette #43

    Teaching Vignette #43

    (Submitted by an entrance assistant at the Springfield Caring Center)

    March 4, 2120

    It had been a warm spring morning and I was enjoying the weather after making it through a winter where we actually had several weeks of cold.  I guess I shouldn’t complain since this was the first winter in decades where we had more than a few random cold days all season.

    The morning had been quiet so far, with only a couple of folks coming in for minor complaints.

    “Good morning,” I said to the person who had just come in and was walking up to my desk.  “How can we help you?”

    This is what I usually say to anyone who walks into the center, unless they are being carried in by someone else.

    “I don’t feel so good,” they said.  They didn’t look so great either.

    “What seems to be the problem?” I asked.

    As I said, it had been a quiet morning so far and although the caregivers were busy enough, I also knew that there were several that were doing routine work that could be handled later.

    “I’m feeling sort of…” was all that they said before they collapsed.

    I gave a yell for assistance before I scooted around my desk and felt for a pulse in the person’s neck.  There was one and it seemed strong enough, but the person, although still breathing, appeared to be unconscious.

    By this time, Belinda and Curzon were beside me with a rolling cot that already had a fluid bottle set up on it.

    “They’re breathing and have a good pulse,” I said to them, “but they collapsed and lost consciousness in front of me.” 

    “What happened?” Belinda asked as we moved the person onto the cot.

    “They walked in, said that they weren’t feeling well, and then fainted,” I said.

    “Did you get a name?” Curzon asked.

    “No,” I said.  “They didn’t have a chance to tell me anything else.”

    I helped them get the cot past the desk and through the doors into the back labyrinth and from there to an intake room where Deanna, one of the center’s caregivers, was waiting for us.  I repeated my story but she was already checking pupils, as well as the heart, the lungs, and their belly.

    As Deanna was prodding their belly, the person groaned softly and appeared to be regaining consciousness. 

    Their eyes opened and they looked blearily at us.  “What… happened?” they asked in a soft, shaky voice.

    “You fainted,” Deanna said, as she was putting a line in, inserting a needle that brought fluid in this person’s arm from the bottle overhead via some recently sterilized rubber tubing.  “Do you know where you are?”

    “I was…” they said, looking around the room before turning an unsteady gaze on us. “I was just coming into the care center.  I think.”

    Deanna pulled a jar off the shelf.  “When was the last time you ate anything?” she asked.  

    “It’s been a while,” they admitted.  “I’ve been doing a prolonged fast.  It’s supposed to reinvigorate you.”

    “It depends on how long you do it,” she said.  She used a glass syringe to add the contents of the jar to the fluid bottle.  I recognized the jar she used.  It contained a simple sugar and it was probably derived from syrup we had sugared from the trees on the farm that I had worked on a couple of years ago. 

    Deanna glanced over at a jar of ephedra, which I knew had probably been grown in a greenhouse that was at a neighboring farm, but seemed to decide against using it.  Both the sugar and the ephedra were likely to have been compounded by the commune near us that provided us with most of our remedies.

    She began unwrapping a care kit, which had a metal tray inside that contained most of the supplies she would probably need.

    While Deanna was doing that, I looked carefully at the shelves in the intake room.  I’m responsible for maintaining the supplies in the care center, but it looked like the room was adequately equipped with almost a dozen kits, all carefully wrapped in cloth on the shelves. Still, I thought I might contact the community responsible for sterilizing them and order a few more.

    I watched Deanna and Belinda work for a moment or two more before leaving.  Curzon had already left and with the person conscious and being treated, I wanted to return to my desk before anyone else walked in.

    (Note: I was asked to submit this as an example of a situation that the center faced recently.  Our day generally consists of seeing people with much less dramatic difficulties. As of this writing, Deanna and Curzon are still at the center, but Belinda has left us to train in caregiving. As per our confidentiality norms, I omitted any information that might identify the person involved.)

  • The Vegetable Liberation Squad (Part Four)

    Both Martha and Tom had carried rope on their backs and they tied a long length of it securely to what looked like a fairly sturdy part of the metal framework of the skylight.  Slowly the four of them lowered themselves to the floor of the warehouse.  The building looked deserted.

    They were surrounded by sky high shelves and shelves of canned and dry goods. 

    “I think they keep the produce and refrigerated stuff in the back,”  Martha said.

    Harry looked around.  “Let’s see if we can find our way out of this maze.”

    “Yeah,” said Tom.  “Let’s liberate some vegetables!”

    They had gotten two aisles down when they heard a noise behind them.

    “Stop,” said the cop.

    The new police chief was standing there flanked by two younger cops.  They all had their weapons drawn.

    The new top cop had been hired from out of town because of his reputation for order and efficiency.  It turned out he was a grim martinet, not particularly liked by the population at large or even the other officers.

    Martha recognized the two cops beside him, Tim and Rick.  While she didn’t know them well, they had grown up in the neighborhood and had probably gotten jobs with the police because they were some of the few jobs left. She figured they probably weren’t very happy as cops.

    “Well,” Tom said. “It was worth a try.”

    Harry grimaced.  “We knew that there might be informers.”

    “Alright,” the police chief said. “Quiet down and march to the door. And don’t try anything foolish.  When we get to the entrance I’m going to call for a transport van to bring you in.”

    “Chief,” Tim said, a bit nervously.

    “What?” he replied, irritably.

    “You should pay attention to where our guns are pointed.”

    He spun around only to see that their weapons were trained on him.

    Before he could do anything else, Jake and Harry had grabbed him and Martha was tying his hands behind his back.

    “I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Tim said.

    Rick let out a short laugh.  “I’ve been wanting to do this since he arrived.”

    “You’ll never get away with this,” he screamed.  “I’ll have you all arrested.”

    “I think you’ll have a lot of people to arrest,” Martha said.

    “I don’t think he’s going to get a lot of support with any of that,” Rick said.  “I was listening to the radio just before I was called in and it sounded like there were break ins at food warehouses in both Portlands.”

    “Both Portlands?” Harry said, sounding puzzled.

    “Oregon and Maine,” Rick replied.  “And they were also reporting food riots in dozens of cities.  I think the government is going to have their hands full.”

    “Alright,” Martha said.  “Let’s get these people some food.”

    In the following months the government slowly collapsed, but the city endured with the help of a lot of neighborhood organizing and many mutual aid networks.  Intensive soil remediation and regenerative farming techniques had food growing by spring.  The rationing center was turned into a food co-op and, although the former food warehouse was now lying empty, there was talk of using it to create a year round farmer’s market. Many of the parks had also been turned into community gardens.

    And the New New Harmony Commune was in the midst of yet another meeting.

    “Okay,” Tara said.  “I think finally we’ve agreed to build a greenhouse in the back of the backyard.”

    “But we’ll only grow vegetables there in the winter when they won’t grow outside,” Ginkgo declared, leaning forward like she was prepared to stand at any moment

    Tara sighed.  “You’ve already said that, twice, and it’s now part of the proposal we just agreed to.  Can we move on?”

    Before anything else could be said, most of the group were distracted by a commotion in the corner of the room.  Gosling seemed to be attacking the five story structure that Dawn was building.

    “Stop it!”  Dawn yelled.  “Gosling is wrecking the new food warehouse that I’m building.”

    “No more food warehouses!”  Pooka yelled.  “Build something else.”

    “Look at Gosling go,” Rabbit cried.  “They’re a one baby demolition squad!”

    “Maybe they’ve taken their role in helping liberate the vegetables seriously,” Plum said.  “This could turn out to be a career for them.”

    Of course it wasn’t.  Instead, in twenty years, Gosling would be tracking and managing produce for a collective agricultural operation called, ironically, the Liberation Vegetable Farm.

  • The Vegetable Liberation Squad (Part Three)

    Saturday afternoon, the reefer vans pulled up and were quickly loaded before they headed off to the rationing center. They were followed by three cargo vans, leaving just a couple of guards behind.  Twenty minutes after they all left, Magenta strolled up to the loading dock and managed to climb up it holding Gosling all the while.

    The guards stared at her and the infant.

    “Please,” she pleaded to them.  “We need food.  I don’t want my child to starve.” She ran past the two guards and stood in front of the triple locked door.  “Please let us in.  I know there’s food in there.”

    One of the guards, the taller of the two, managed to find his voice.  “I’m sorry, miss.  We couldn’t get you in there even if we wanted to. Now if you’ll just go to the rationing center I’m sure that they’ll…”

    As if on cue, Gosling started to cry.  “Now look at what you’ve done,” Magenta said. “My child’s hungry.  Well, I guess I’m going to have to feed them the only way I can.”  She started to unbutton her blouse.

    The two guards looked terrified.  They moved closer.

    “You can’t do that here,” the tall one said. “I’m sure…”

    Before he could complete his sentence the arms of both guards were grabbed from behind and lashed behind their backs by four strong folks.  Another couple of people relieved them of their weapons.

    Now the guards were perfectly panicked.

    “What are you doing?” the shorter one screamed.  “There’s no way you can get in there.”

    “We’re not trying to get in there,” Gus said.  “We’re waiting for someone to come out.”

    “There isn’t anyone in there,” the tall guard said.  “All the workers left with the trucks.”

    “Maybe there isn’t someone in there now, but there will be,” Magenta said.  Gosling had calmed down and there was actually a moment or two of quiet.  It looked like one of the guards was going to say something else but he was interrupted by the sound of breaking glass.  

    Magenta grinned. “I think there may be someone going in there now,” she said.

    “Don’t worry,” Sam said. “We’ll let you loose when we’re all done.”  He paused for a moment before adding,  “Probably.”

    Magenta turned around and looked at the sea of people gathering in the lot behind her.  It looked like most of the neighborhood was there, waiting.

    Gorilla Joe was one of two members of the Denali Collective that didn’t climb.  He lifted weights everyday.  He was also a professional truck driver and was now driving Tom, Harry, Martha, and Jake to the warehouse in the Collective’s not so gently used pickup.  Once they got to the warehouse, his job would be to keep the ladder steady.

    This little group couldn’t decide whether to call themselves the Storehouse Scaling Squad or the Vegetable Liberation Squad. They were still arguing about it when they arrived at the lot that was behind the fence behind the warehouse.

     It took them nineteen minutes to cut through the fence.

    “I told you we could do it in less than twenty minutes,” Jake said.

    “I don’t know,” Tom said.  “I’d say we were cutting it a bit close.”

    They quietly took away the large segment of fence that they cut.

    Once the fence was out of the way, Gorilla Joe backed the truck into place.  Tom extended the ladder and with help from Harry and Jake positioned it against the wall of the warehouse.  When the height of the bed of the pickup was added, it landed at a bit under thirty-three feet up the wall.  That left another two and half feet that each of them would have to pull themselves up and over.  Most people wouldn’t be able to do that, especially if they were balanced precariously on the top rung of a ladder, but most people weren’t trained climbers.

    Martha scampered up the ladder, grabbed the top of the wall with both hands, and heaved herself up, onto the top of the wall, and then dived over.

    “Impressive,” Jake said.

    “We try to keep ourselves well trained,” Tom said.  “My turn.”

    Tom went up a little slower but was able to heave himself over with a quick jerk.

    “You’re next.”  Harry motioned toward the ladder.  “I’ll come up last.”

    Jake’s movements were slow and methodical and he almost lost it at the end, but Martha and Tom pulled him over.

    “Sorry,” he said.  “I haven’t been practicing.  I guess I’m a bit out of shape.”

    He turned back in time to watch Harry climb over the top of the wall and swing down.

    “Okay,” Tom said.  “Let’s see if we can open one of these skylights.”

    Examining a couple of them made it obvious they weren’t built to be opened.

    “Okay,” Jake said. “I know how to deal with this.”  He lifted his leg and put his boot right through the glass. With a loud crash, the entire skylight shattered and fell inward.  Jake almost did as well, but Harry and Tom grabbed him and pulled him away from the gap that was left.

    “I hope that the New New Harmony folks were able to distract the guards,” Martha said.  “Otherwise I’m sure that that racket would let them know we’re up here.”

    “I don’t hear an alarm,” Harry said.

    Jake looked skeptical.  “That doesn’t mean that there wasn’t one that went off at the police headquarters.”

    “Listen,” Martha said.

    Everyone stopped and listened.

    “I still don’t hear anything,” Harry said.

    Martha smiled.  “That’s a very good sign.  Police headquarters are less than a mile away and the new police chief is an authoritarian madman.  If an alarm went off at the station, we’d be hearing sirens by now.”

  • The Vegetable Liberation Squad (Part Two)

    Tom looked at the photos of the wall. “How tall is the warehouse?”

    “The wall is thirty-five feet high but it ends in a parapet.  If you look closely, the actual roof is three feet below that,” Jack said.

    “If we could get a forty-foot extension ladder, we wouldn’t need to climb at all,”  Harry pointed out.

    “That’d be great,” Tom said, “We can try to find one, but I’ve got doubts we can.  On the other hand, I’m pretty sure I know where we can get a thirty-two footer.”

    “Well, that’s only three feet you need to climb up beyond that,” Jack said.

    Magenta laughed.  “You haven’t climbed a lot of ladders.”  She started scribbling on a piece of paper. “You want a roughly seventy-five degree angle.  That means the base of the ladder needs to be eight feet away from the wall and the reach of the ladder is going to actually be a little under thirty-one feet.  That’s if you climb to the very top rung which is not recommended.” She laughed again.   “Of course we do a lot of things that aren’t recommended.”

    “Hold on,” Jack said. “What do you mean the base of the ladder needs to be eight feet away? There’s a chain link wire fence four feet behind the building. It’s twelve feet tall with a foot of barbed wire on top.”

    Harry shook his head, “That’s going to be a problem. I was just thinking it’d be great if we could drive a truck up behind the building.  We could use it to mount the ladder and bring our equipment in.”

    “Barb wire and chain link can be cut,” Martha said.  “You must know someone who’s good at that.”

    “Damn,” Jack said.  “I should have thought of Jake.  I just don’t know where he is.  But I’ll bet I can find him.”

    While Jack was trying to locate Jake, and the Denali Collective was trying to figure out better ways to scale the wall, Sam and Gus were attending the New New Harmony Commune’s weekly meeting.

    “We think we can get inside,” Sam said, “but we’re going to have to immobilize the two guards on the dock.  We’ve figured out how we can do it, but we’ll need a distraction and it can’t be one of us since we’re immediately identifiable with the visual recognition system I’m sure all the guards carry now.”

    “Well, I’m not in their system,” Magenta said. “Not yet at any rate.”

    “You can’t go up to the guards alone,” Rabbit said.

    Magenta smiled.  “Of course not.  I’ll have Gosling with me.”

    It took Tara almost three minutes to bring anything resembling order back to the meeting. Gus looked amused.  Sam looked terrified.

    “Okay,” Tara said, when there had been nearly thirty seconds of silence.  “Selene.  You haven’t spoken yet.  Go ahead.”

    “I won’t have you endangering one of our children.  Bad enough that we agreed to this crazy scheme of yours but using our kids is out of the question.”

    “Again, if the alternative is to have them starve along with us,” Magenta said as calmly as she could, “I think that it’s worth the risk.”

    “But why use Gosling?” Pooka asked.

    “Because babies are the most powerful distraction I know of.  Gosling will bewitch them, believe me.”

    The meeting ran an hour overtime and Selene was crying at the end of it (and not the only one) but eventually everyone agreed that Magenta and Gosling could be the distraction.

    Jake had escaped from four different prisons and was currently on the state’s most wanted list.  Fortunately, he no longer looked anything like the picture that they were distributing of him.

    Jack came with him to another meeting with the Denali Collective.

    “That fence doesn’t look like much of a problem,” Jake said.  “It’s not even electrified.  If we get some good bolt cutters and a couple of you help me, we can make it through that in under twenty minutes.”

    “Good to know,” Martha said.  “You want to join us in climbing the back of the building?”

    “Are you kidding?”  Jake said.  “Joining you on the climb was one of my conditions for getting you past the fence.”

    Tom looked around the room at the whole collective, before looking back at Jack and Jake.  “I think we’ve got the climb figured out. If we can get through the fence in under twenty, I think we’re set on this end.”

  • The Vegetable Liberation Squad (Part One)

    “We’re not going to starve,” Magenta said.  “We’re not going to starve and I’m certainly not going to let Dawn and Gosling starve.”

    At the mention of their name, Gosling looked up.  Dawn was too busy playing with their tiny straw-bale construction kit to pay much attention.  The little house that they built in the corner of the room was now three stories tall—that is, three one foot tall stories.

    The adults, on the other hand, scattered as they were around the large room, were paying rapt attention to the discussion and when Magenta finished, several of them tried to talk at once.

    “Order!” Tara yelled.  “Screeching at each other is not going to help the situation.  Rabbit, I believe you were next in stack.”

    “Thank you,” Rabbit said.  “I’m not sure we have much choice.  With our land and gardens destroyed, the only way we’re going to get any food is to comply with the government. I know it’s going to mean doing things we don’t believe in and probably even breaking up the commune, but what choice do we have?  Half the city is close to starving now and I don’t see any other way that we don’t starve with them.”

    “There’s a warehouse full of food sitting just a mile from us,” Magenta said.

    “Are you suggesting that we break into it?” Rabbit asked, eyes practically bulging.

    “That’s exactly what I am suggesting,” Magenta said.

    “Order! Order!” Tara screeched into the ensuing screaming match.

    The Prisoners Dilemma Affinity Group (ex-cons every one) took charge of the scouting and surveillance.  Although the original idea had come from the New New Harmony Commune (an income sharing community of twenty adults raising two kids), within less than a week almost half the neighborhood had become involved.  There was some concern that there might be informers in their midst, but so far things seemed to be going well.  Perhaps too well.

    The warehouse was in an industrial park on the other side of town.  It was a large rectangular structure with thick concrete walls and nine loading docks set up on one side to accommodate tractor-trailers, although eight of the doors at the end of the docks were now completely sealed over.  The building had been used as a distribution center for electronic equipment when the internet still functioned.  Now the government controlled it and utilized a single dock to bring produce through in huge full-freezer trucks so that it could be stockpiled in the warehouse.

    The same dock was also used to send out the refrigerated vans that brought vegetables, bread, meat, and other perishable supplies to the rationing center (a former supermarket), while regular cargo vans took canned goods and toiletries. From the center the authorities doled out approved rations to registered individuals and families. All unapproved gardens and farms had been torn up and salted to insure the safety of respectable citizens (and to keep them dependent on the government).

    Although none of the former prisoners were allowed in the city hall anymore, Emilia, who worked there as a clerk, was able to smuggle out photographs of the warehouse from the old library archives. (The library itself was closed for repairs the government decided were needed. The government had decided a lot of libraries needed repairs and closed most of them.)

    “Okay, notice the docks are closely guarded and the one door that still functions is almost impossible to open from the outside,” Jack said after everyone had a chance to look at the photos.

    “Wait,” Sam interrupted.  “Then how does anyone get in there in the first place?  I mean they don’t have people working there twenty-four hours a day.”

    Jack shook his head.  “I said, almost impossible. The workers get in from the outside, usually in the morning, by simultaneously using three different keys carried by three different workers and even one of those keys would be difficult to obtain. And there are six armed guards there when doors are opened in the morning and at the times when the food is delivered, as opposed to the two guards that are stationed in front of the dock door twenty-four/seven. The point is that it’d really be impossible for us to get into the building through the loading docks.”  Jack stopped and pointed to several pictures of the warehouse taken at ground level.  “But notice no one pays much attention to the back of the building.”

    “That’s because there’s nothing there but a blank wall and a rather thick wall at that.” Gus looked at Jack like he was questioning his sanity.  “Are you thinking of trying to use some kind of charge to blow a hole through it?  Because I think that it’s probably thick enough to be blast proof, unless we had one of those RDX/PETN combo bombs and I doubt that anyone but the government has those now.”

    “No,” Jack replied.  “Forget about bombs.  Look at these photos.”  He pointed to a couple of aerial pictures of the building, probably taken by a drone.  “There’s nearly ten skylights on the roof.”

    “And how are we supposed to get up there?” Sam said.  “A helicopter?  The airport is even better guarded than this warehouse.”

    “Wait,” Gus said. “You’re not thinking of free climbing it?”

    “Me?” Jack shrugged.  “Nah.  But I know that several folks in the Denali Collective are enthusiastic climbers.  I bet that they could get up there.”

    Most of the members of the Denali Collective had been part of a cooperatively run climbing gym before the government had shut it down for unspecified safety reasons.  More than a few of them were now climbing the walls of their house, literally.

    “A sheer wall with no hand holds?  That’s going to be a challenge,” Martha said after Jack showed them the pictures.  “Fortunately for you, we love a challenge.”

  • My Writings

    I enjoy writing and I want to write a bunch of what I’m calling “Joyful Woke Post-Industrial Solarpunk”. (By “woke” I mean writing stories that are Diverse Egalitarian and Inclusive.) If you are interested in writing something with me (or you think you know someone who might be) please contact me at moonraven222 at gmail dot com.

    I’ve written some things already and plan to publish them here next.

    “The Vegetable Liberation Squad” is my attempt at a solarpunk heist story. I submitted it to Solarpunk Magazine but it wasn’t accepted. It’s a long story and I plan to post it here in four installments.

    After that I plan to post “Teaching Vignette #43”. I realized I hadn’t seen many solarpunk stories about health care so I tried to imagine what health care might look like in a postindustrial world where they’ve transitioned with ease.

    Here’s some examples of the style of stories that I’d really like to write in the future.

    The best examples:

    Naomi Kritzer, “The Year Without Sunshine”

    Danielle Arostegui, “A Merger in Corn Country”, in Bright Green Futures 2024

    Andrea Hairston, Archangels of Funk

    Some other examples:

    from Serena Ulibarri (ed), Glass and Gardens: Solarpunk Summers

    Julia K Patt, “Caught Root”

    Holly Schofield, “Call of the Wold”

    Commando Jugendstil and Tales from the EV Studio, “Midsummer Night’s Heist”

    from Phoebe Wagner and Brontë Christopher Wieland (eds), Sunvault: Stories of Solarpunk and Eco-Speculation 

    T X Watson, “The Boston Hearth Project”

    Maura Lydon, “The Herbalist”

    from Susan Kaye Quinn (ed), Bright Green Futures 2024

    Renan Bernardo, “The Doglady and the Rainstorm”

    Ana Sun, “Coriander”

    from Susan Kaye Quinn, Halfway to Better

    “Planting the Shell-Bones”

    from Gerson Lodi-Ribeiro (ed), Solarpunk: Ecological and Fantastical Stories in a Sustainable World 

    Antonio Luiz M. C. Costa, “Once upon a Time in a World” 

    from Christoph Ruprecht, Deborah Cleland, Norie Tamura, Rajat Chaudhuri, Sarena Ulibarri (eds), Multispecies Cities: Solarpunk Urban Futures

    N. R. M. Roshak, “By the Light of the Stars” 

    Kate V. Bui, “Deer, Tiger, and Witch” 

    D A Xiaolin Spires,  “The Exuberant Vitality of Hatchling Habitats”

    Timothy Yam, “Untamed” 

    Ernest Callenbach, Ecotopia

    John Michael Greer, Retrotopia

    I’ve also been very influenced by some parts of:

    Aldous Huxley, Island

    Marge Piercy, Woman on the Edge of Time

    Ursula K Leguin, The Dispossessed

    Ernest Callenbach, Ecotopia Emerging

    Starhawk, The Fifth Sacred Thing

    Starhawk, The City of Refuge

    Cory Doctorow, Walkaway

    Cory Doctorow, The Lost Cause

    Ruthanna Emrys, A Half-Built Garden

  • Twenty-First Century Solarpunk, etc

    This millennium has brought a lot of interesting takes on the future.  I want to look at solarpunk, but also hopepunk, Afrofuturism, and some interesting cli-fi. Let me start with some of the many collections of solarpunk stories.

    One of the earliest was SOLARPUNK (subtitle Ecological and Fantastical Stories in a Sustainable World), a collection of nine stories by Brazilian and Portuguese authors (only one by a woman) translated into English and the cultural differences with American influenced solarpunk are interesting. It was one of the first books to use the term ‘solarpunk’. These are not only not very utopian, but they are often violent and sometimes cynical.  While some of the stories didn’t appeal to me, I did like the two alternate history tales (“Once Upon a Time in a World” and ”Xibalba Dreams of the West”) and “Sun In the Heart” about solar tattoos.

    Then there are two collections with the name “Glass and Gardens”

    Glass and Gardens: Solarpunk Summers has a diverse collection of seventeen short stories focused around surviving the hot weather of the future.  The stories range from kids trying to fix the world to a solarpunk whodunnit to a heist pulled off by a collective of art punks to tales of starting over on new worlds (my least liked idea–trash the earth and move on).. I found it a fun read but looking at reviews of the book others found the quality of the stories mixed.

    Glass and Gardens: Solarpunk Winters is another collection of short stories, in this case where there’s cold weather in the future in spite of (or because of) climate change–or where people are trying to recreate it. The stories vary from preserving the contents of the Svalbard Seed Vault to keeping winter in glass houses to a tale of the art punk collective from Solarpunk Summers rescuing a snowed-in village.  The story “Rules for a Civilization” made me appreciate sports for the first time.

    Multispecies Cities  (subtitle Solarpunk Urban Futures) is a collection of twenty-four stories focusing on city living, connections with non-human life, and an Asian or Pacific Ocean connection.  They range from researchers looking for tigers in Vladivostok to a high-tech soldier who finds his place in a Japanese garden to two stories about life on Mars. There’s also surveys at the beginning and end of the book to see what effect the book has on you.

    Bright Green Futures 2024 is a collection of solarpunk stories by various authors and edited by Susan Kaye Quinn, that range from navigating a rainstorm (and a life) in flooded Brazil to confronting strange creatures on a space station to being saved by a mycorrhizal network to preserving cultural identity on a flooded island through food to finding a new species of bat. Plus imagining a monster trapped in a park. My favorite story was “A Merger in Corn Country” about cultural change in Missouri.

    Susan Kaye Quinn wrote all the stories in Halfway to Better, a collection of short solarpunk stories featuring underwater exploration, clones trapped in a tower, an old woman being rescued from a lighthouse, reparation hunting in the abandoned cities of the super-rich, a world where people no longer burn things, saving the rainforest and the family farm, and seed spreading from the sky.  Plus there’s a couple of queer romances and a “sky shanty”.

    Two authors whose work has been called solarpunk are Cory Doctorow and Kim Stanley Robinson.  Here’s my reviews of a couple of books by each of them.

    Cory Doctorow’s Walkaway starts as solarpunk with some cyberpunk added but quickly turns into mainly cyberpunk with little bits of solarpunk.  There are useful discussions about abundance and group process in the book.  I don’t like how high tech it is or how violent it gets, or the idea you can use tech to cheat death, but I love the notion that you can respond to violence and destruction by just walking away and starting something new.

    Cory Doctorow’s The Lost Cause is a solarpunk story about the fight for the future, between various progressives, leftists, and eco-organizers and builders (who have ideological disagreements among themselves) on one side and violent MAGA bigots and rich libertarians on the other. Much of the battles (including immigration struggles and California wildfires) will seem only too familiar. The book makes it clear that there’s a long struggle ahead.

    Kim Stanley Robinson’s New York 2140 is definitely not a utopia, but it’s not exactly a dystopia either.  In fact, it seems almost a continuation of the status quo except that NYC is flooded, people travel in blimps (and sometimes live in them in “skyvillages”), and the AIs are more advanced and have more personality.  The book does have a somewhat hopeful conclusion, but the author (in the person of an anonymous “Citizen”) rather directly warns us that “There are no happy endings.”  

    Kim Stanley Robinson’s The Ministry for the Future has one of the most horrifying openings I’ve read (as people are baked and boiled to death in India) but carefully and slowly maps out a pathway out of climate change. It’s slow and long and has Robinson’s sometimes cutesy chapters as well as many info dumps and an assortment of characters including the story of  Mary Murphy who heads the ministry. It provides some unusual positive ideas amid lots of socio-economic and technological ones. 

    I would describe Andrea Hairston’s Archangels of Funk as AfroFuturist solarpunk.  It’s about a wildly diverse group of folks dealing with a dystopian future situation with a lot of hope and ingenuity.  It has theater, creativity, magic, humor, and community, as well as very creative alternatives, from the Ghost Mall (turning an abandoned mall into a place people can live) to the Co-Op Clinic (cooperative medical care by folks who’ve left the mainstream health care system).  There’s also dogs, bots, and spirits.

    Nnedi Okorafor’s Binti trilogy (Binti, Home, and The Night Masquerade) are Afro-futurist hopepunk about Binti, a mathematically oriented resident of future Earth, who survives a massacre and then takes on part of the invading force’s identity and slowly takes on other identities.  How to understand your enemies? Listen to them and become part of them. These books are an exploration of what identity means and a look at ancestral and tribal perspectives.

    Becky Chambers’ A Psalm for the Wild-Built and A Prayer for the Crown-Shy are hopepunk stories that imagine a planet where people have abandoned machines (particularly robots which somehow became self aware) and live in a simple, ecological style. Unfortunately humans are here because the earth has been trashed and they are now trying to do better. In these books a “tea monk” goes off into the wilderness and encounters a robot who has been looking for humans to learn what humans want–it’s the quest of these novels. 

    I suppose you could call M E O’Brien and Eman Abdelhadi’s Everything for Everyone radical leftist hopepunk.  It’s a history of the future told through interviews with members of the New York Commune from sex workers to healthcare workers to a member of the North American Liberation Front.  This is somewhat of a Marxist communist utopia brought by rebellion and armed struggle, but it includes space elevators and algae based AI, as well as gender fluidity and “family abolition”.

    And then there’s some novels that aren’t exactly solarpunk or hopepunk but aren’t exactly dystopian either.

    Nick Fuller Googins’ The Great Transition starts off as a family drama before becoming a thriller where you don’t know who to trust.  It has a future with many of the same corporations around as we have today, only now they’re cooperatives, and they celebrate the day the world reached net-zero emissions.  There’s a lot that I don’t agree with here (especially using violence to achieve equality) but I like that when they reach zero emissions they say, “It’s not over.  It’s only just begun.”

    Jonathan Lethem’s The Arrest is not a typical post-apocalyptic novel.  The collapse that happened (called The Arrest) doesn’t actually make sense.  Things just stopped working–and the descriptions of it happening seem more like fantasy, or more likely, metaphor.   I have the feeling this book wants to be “literature” rather than science-fiction or solarpunk, but it does describe rather nicely a simple, post-industrial future.  A very unlikely possible future, though.

    Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone’s This Is How You Lose the Time War is not really utopian but a bloody romance between two time agents, one working for a solarpunk future called “Garden” and one working for a cyberpunk future referred to as “The Agency”.  Unfortunately neither is described but it ends with the two agents, who started as rivals and finish as lovers, deciding to build a bridge to a place where they can be together, becoming walkaways from both futures I suppose.

    Finally, here’s a couple of more visual takes on the future.

    Hiroshi Ashinano’s Yokohama Kaidashi Kikou is a manga series that straddles the centuries, running from 1994 to 2006.  It shows the end of the world as a slow, gentle, bittersweet experience.  It’s set “long after an environmental catastrophe”.  Alpha is an android who looks like a young woman and manages a coffee shop for an owner who is long gone.  She has few customers. The sea is slowly reclaiming the land. It’s hard to get around because the roads are in disrepair. This is the apocalypse as a very gentle and sweet decline.

    Sarah Mirk’s Open Earth is an often erotic (ie, soft porn) graphic novel which imagines a very collective life in a space station orbiting earth.  I liked the communal nature of it, the open sexuality, and the basic premise of a new generation making this venture their own in ways the older folks haven’t imagined.  What I didn’t like was the reason they are in a space station was that they abandoned earth as it was collapsing. Yet one more “trash the earth and move on” story where they say that they want to live more ecologically, this time.

    I’m still reading lots of stuff and plan to write a bunch more reviews in the future.

  • Twentieth Century Utopian Novels

    Moving into the Twentieth Century.  The authors of The Utopia Reader note that several famous dystopias were written in this century and they claim it “..is generally known as the dystopian century.”  They also admit, though, there were “many positive utopias” written as well.

    H. G. Wells’ A Modern Utopia is perhaps the first utopian novel of the twentieth century.  In this utopia, there is a World State that uses technology to run the world to provide “a universal maximum of individual freedom” through a group of people who “are engaged in administrative work.  Practically the whole of the responsible rule of the world is in their hands.” Later, Wells wrote that “…a better society could be created only by the very best of the human community working together.” 

    Charlotte Perkins Gilman wrote not one but three utopian novels plus a novella and a bunch of utopian short stories.  Herland is the best known of them, written in 1915.  It describes a women’s culture, “a sort of Maternal Pantheism” where she claims “…women are the natural cooperators, not men!” This book is interesting for a number of reasons but one of the most important is that it is one of the first feminist utopias.  There will be many more.

    Olaf Stapledon’s Darkness and the Light is about a society based on a balance between mechanization and hand crafting.  This society is “at once ‘super-modern’ and yet in a way medieval.”  “Sub-atomic power” produces all the necessities, freeing up people to produce beautiful handmade items. Cities are replaced by “a host of villages separated by parks, market gardens, orchards, and fields.” It seems to me like he’s trying to unite Bellamy’s and Morris’s utopias.

    B. F. Skinner’s Walden Two was written in 1945, though it wasn’t published until 1948. Many of its critics haven’t read the book.  Skinner claimed several ideas in common with Thoreau’s Walden, including: “No way of life is inevitable. Examine your own closely. … If you do not like it, change it. … Simplify, your needs. Learn how to be happy with fewer possessions.”  This book looks at work, class, and sex roles, and creates a very egalitarian model–and, again, was written in the forties.

    Aldous Huxley’s novel Island is a response to his dystopian novel Brave New World.  It’s set on an unknown South Asian isle in what might be the present or very near future. The island is an ecological and psychological paradise created by a sort of mixture of Buddhist philosophy, pop psychology, free love/open sexuality, and psychedelic drugs.  The book has some good critiques of capitalism and points out the benefits of cooperation.  Unfortunately, it doesn’t end well for the islanders.

    Ernest Callenbach’s Ecotopia may be the classic ecological utopia, but it has the basic male utopian plot.The skeptical visitor is Will Weston.  Ecotopia, a breakaway nation, has just allowed its first American visitor. Almost everything there is biodegradable and they are trying to actively decrease their population.  In the end, Will Weston is converted enough to stay–by his female love interest in Ecotopia, Marissa. This book has become a meme, so to speak, so to speak, when people call the PNW ecotopia.

    Ernest Callenbach’s Ecotopia Emerging Is the prequel to Ecotopia. Callenbach tries to build a bridge between now (or at least when he wrote it) and his utopian future and sketches out one way to get there. It relies a bit too heavily on technological luck (a self taught young scientist figures out a cheap way to make solar cells) and, worse, on nuclear blackmail, but it still gives some good ideas about how to create social change.

    In John Michael Greer’s Retrotopia  the skeptical visitor is Peter Carr who has been sent to Lakeland as a diplomatic missionary to this seemingly backward country. Of course, the longer he stays in Lakeland, the less backward it seems. There is the obligatory sexual liaison and the essential awakening of the narrator.  A lot of the plot seems to have much in common with Ecotopia and I suspect that isn’t an accident. However, in this book there is a future made out of ideas from the past.

    Marge Piercy’s Woman on the Edge of Time is a mid-seventies classic of feminist utopian fiction (solarpunk before its time) about a woman pulled into two different futures.  One is a playful utopian society (Mattapoisett) where everyone’s pronoun is per and they live happily in harmony with nature and raise their children communally. The other is a mechanistic dystopia where the corporations own everyone. It also has a strong critique of the psychiatric system.

    Joan Slonczewski’s A Door into Ocean follows the feminist formula of women meeting militaristic men and defeating them by nonviolent witness. This is a world of all women, a water world where there is no land, only floating villages, to which a young man comes, gets involved with one of the women, and slowly becomes converted to their point of view. The women have adapted to their ocean environment and created a feminist and ecologically adapted culture.  

    Joan Slonczewski’s Daughters of Elysium takes place on the same planet as A Door into Ocean, but over a thousand years later.  In this book the intersection of many cultures (the Sharers from A Door into Ocean, the Elsians who now also live on the planet, a Windclan family from Bronze Sky, the militant and patriarchal Urulans, and an emergent culture of sentient cyberbeings) raises fascinating questions and looks at issues of cultural diversity.

    Sheri S. Tepper’s The Gate to Women’s Country at first seems like a somewhat typical feminist-utopian novel.  There are two separate groups, the men who are in military style garrisons and the women who live in the towns.  There are no women in the garrisons but there are a few men, called ‘servitors’, who live with and support the women. The book contains many surprises, some not very pleasant.  Something I found interesting was the idea you could breed the violence and misogyny out of men. 

    Sally Miller Gearhart’s The Wanderground is a collection of stories about “the hill women”, a future separatist women’s society outside of the violent, patriarchal City where men hold sway. The women are protected by psychic power that doesn’t allow men to be potent outside of the city.  The only other humans in the countryside are “the gentles” who have stopped acting like men and want to ally with the women.  This book asks the question of whether any men can be trusted–and doesn’t answer it.

    Larry Mitchell’s The Faggots & Their Friends Between Revolutions is a raunchy, joyous story celebrating queer resistance and culture.  It’s as if the servitors from The Gate to Women’s Country and the gentles from The Wanderground were queer and got to tell their story.  The equivalents of ‘the women’ and ‘the men’ from those books are also here and the faggots definitely ally with the women.  The book also includes some wild and ribald illustrations.

    Ursula K. Le Guin’s “The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas” is a classic sci-fi story that imagines what at first seems like an unbelievably happy utopia, except that it is bought at the cost of one wretched child’s misery.  However, a few of the children and adolescents when they  find out about the child, and even the occasional adult whose conscience catches up to them, decide to leave the beautiful city and search for something better.

    NK Jemisin’s “The Ones Who Stay and Fight” was written as a response to Ursula LeGuin’s “Omelas” story. Here also is a beautiful utopian city where everyone is treated as important.  But Um-Helat is maintained by social workers who painlessly kill anyone who truly believes that they are better than others and tries to spread that idea. The story ends by saying this utopia could be created when enough people believe that everyone is worthwhile and are willing to fight for that.

    Here’s someone keeping track of the many fictional responses to Omelas.

    Ursula K. LeGuin’s “The Day Before the Revolution” is a prequel to The Dispossessed.  It’s a story about the woman who led and inspired the anarchists who would eventually found Anarres, at a point when she is old and suffering from strokes and is totally dissatisfied with her life, her lover and political partner has died long ago and although she is admired, she feels it’s because she is old and harmless now, since she spent much of her life in prison for her radical action. 

    Ursula K. Le Guin’s Always Coming Home is not written in a typical novel format.  It more seems like an almost anthropological work of speculative fiction, depicting a future society (in what had been California) through vignettes, and oral tales, and songs, and poetry, as if they were found by someone in an even more future society.  A treasure chest of ideas, but not something I was able to read straight through.

    Dorothy Bryant’s The Kin of Ata Are Waiting for You begins with a man who kills a woman and then flees in a car which careens off a cliff. He wakes up in Ata, a utopia where people feed each other, call each other “kin”, and sleep together at night so that they can share their dreams in the morning.  The dreams are mostly prophetic and ‘kin’ mostly follow the guidance of their dreams.  Slowly the man changes from a cynical skeptic to someone willing to give his life to help others.

    Samuel Delany’s Trouble on Triton (with the subtitle “An Ambiguous Heterotopia”) has been viewed as a response to Ursula LeGuin’s The Dispossessed (subtitled: “An Ambiguous Utopia”).  It apparently talks about the difficulties a rather unhappy man has dealing with an egalitarian and sexually fluid society.  Unfortunately, I have not been able to get access to the actual book, so I’m not going to review it further.

    In the twenty-first century, the stories move from utopias to -punks: solarpunk, hopepunk, and lunarpunk.  There’s also cli-fi, postindustrial, and Afro-futurism–but many of the stories in these genres are not hopeful. I will focus on the ones that are hopeful here.