There's a certain attitude in the environmental movement that everything would be better, perhaps, if humanity would just disappear. This reaction is understandable, given the ecological damage we are witnessing: oceans clogged with plastic, forests on fire, species vanishing at an unprecedented rate. It is a conclusion, however, that I find incredibly shortsighted and sad. Despite all the devastation we've unleashed, we've also created a lot that has value, from music and art to empathy and philosophy. If the human race disappeared tomorrow, it would certainly be an extinction as terrible as that of any troubled ecosystem. And that is why, despite the beautiful writing and the rather engaging plot, I'm having trouble finishing Matt Bell's Appleseed.
There are three concurrent stories in Appleseed: one follows a faun and his brother as they plant apple seedlings in the American Midwestern frontier during the 1800's; another tracks a group of eco-terrorists led by a former scientist named John as they plan to sabotage a powerful corporation called Earthtrust as it attempts to remake a climate-ravaged world; while the third tale tells of a cyborg creature struggling to traverse a planet covered in ice as he carries the world's last living tree growing from his body. This is creative stuff; Bell has a great imagination and eye for natural beauty, and his flowing descriptions of the idyllic American wilderness evoke a great deal of sympathy for all that has been lost in the settling of this continent. His bleak depiction of a future America that has become almost unlivable also garners heavy emotions. Here's the thing, though; this book doesn't exactly have a happy ending, unless you consider the extinction of the human race to be a good thing, over all. We have failed in our stewardship, is Bell's message, and perhaps it would be better if we stopped trying to control things and just let nature heal. The book's antagonist, Eury Mirov, wants to delay the rising planetary temperature by releasing self-replicating nanobots into the atmosphere to distribute sunlight-blocking aerosols. She gains this sort of power by essentially buying half of the United States and depriving former American citizens of their citizenship in exchange for refuge and employment at Earthtrust headquarters, a carefully controlled surveillance agro-state populated by genetically engineered plants and animals. Eury is definitely a megalomaniac corporate egoist, but her idea to save the planet isn't necessarily a bad one, despite the feelings of John and his fellow terrorists. A drastic technological solution to climate change will almost certainly be required, since the world shows no real signs of slowing its ravenous appetite for energy. Things are far bleaker in Appleseed than they are likely to be in the future, yet the book's speculation is plausible enough to be distressing. I actually don't know if I can finished the last twenty-five pages or so. I don't know what that says about the novel or myself. The apocalypse always seems to be on the horizon lately, given the state of the world. I say this despite the fact that is is far better to be a human being in 2021 than almost any other time in human history. Still, we know too much, and the last few years have shaken my faith in human progress. The Atlantic recently had a profile on Boris Johnson in which he states that progress isn't a straight line. I think he's right.
If you have the stomach for it, Appleseed is an excellent read. If you're bogged down by bad news, then perhaps you should stay away. What a glowing endorsement, eh?
