Though humanity has only enjoyed civilization for the last few millennia of its two-million-year history, those of us alive today cannot imagine a world without its blessings. After all, this Earth of societies and governments, of industry and commerce, is all we, and our ancestors, have ever known, banishing into history the necessities of sleeping in caves for shelter, huddling around fires for warmth, and killing animals for survival. However, much as we would like to think of civilization as permanent, steps taken that cannot be undone, it is, in reality, a fragile construct that only persists thanks to the unspoken agreement of the many to abide by the laws of the land. Threaten our safety, jeopardize our futures, take away our abundance and it would be only a matter of years before we returned to the animal behaviors that defined us for so long. This is the stirring, disturbing and thrilling lesson of Mr. Christopher's existential classic, The Death of Grass.
In a 1950s England recovering swiftly from the deprivations of the Second World War, life is characterized by order and prosperity. Sure, inequities persist, but most families get by in a country that is still sufficiently rural to feed, clothe and empower the majority of its citizens. However, no matter how well-oiled the machinery of civilization may be, it is always vulnerable to surprises, disturbances that cause vital components of its system to cease functioning. When word filters out of China that a virus there is rotting out the particular strain of grass that yields rice, their most critical crop, there is, in England, more sympathy than concern for civilization. But when attempts to combat the virus cause it to mutate into a strain with the power to kill off all forms of grass on the planet, then it becomes painfully clear, to everyone everywhere, that life will never again be the same.
With every grain-based crop failing, with Britain's 50 million souls waking up to the realization that the supply of fish and root vegetables cannot possibly sustain all of them, John Custance, an architect, his wife Anne and their two children mount a journey from their now worthless home in doomed London to a valley in Westmorland where, for years now, John's brother David has operated the family farm he inherited from their father. Initially augmented by John's friend Roger and his family, the party, captained by John, quickly grows to incorporate more desperate people seeking out safe harbor in a world that has, virtually overnight, descended into lawlessness and barbarism. For without an abundance of resources, a mad scramble for what's left will inevitably take place, an all-consuming drive for food that will leave little energy left over for the sustenance of civilization. On the way, the Custance clan will have to learn which of their morals they can afford to keep and which will have to be sacrificed in a world now defined by the singular will to survive.
Though The Death of Grass is not without its flaws, this dark and gripping novel from Mr. Christopher is powerfully and movingly conducted by its premise, that civilization depends upon a few key pillars to remain upright and that, should any of those pillars suddenly crumble, humanity will swiftly collapse back into the abysmal chaos of survival and death that characterized so much of the species' history. Mr. Christopher argues, rather convincingly, that human civilization is an outgrowth of our planet's vast resources which simply cannot be captured by one person, or even a small band of tyrants. It is so ubiquitous that it must be shared and enjoyed by most, allowing for prosperity to fuel society. Remove that abundance swiftly and without warning, reduce the supply of necessities to an amount that must be fought over in order to be had, enjoyed? Then might will make right and the darkness of feudalism will re-capture us all.
But as much as the novel succeeds in communicating the full horror of this reasonable, if pessimistic, deduction, a few key flaws prevent it from reaching its full potential. Published in 1956, The Death of Grass is very much a work of its era. Female characters here are largely neglected not only by the author but by his male characters. This is somewhat understandable given that the subject matter concerns paternalistic 1950s england, but not even in feudal societies were women this marginalized. They had voices, wills and purposes. Here, they lack even that much. The most developed woman in our roster of characters is John's wife, Anne, and her singular purpose appears to be to highlight the extent to which John Custance has changed from the man she married pre-collapse, transforming into the hardened killer of the new England.
More annoying than this form of period paternalism, though, is the extent to which the personalities of the main players shift in order to suit the author's needs. Some of this is forgivable; the reader understands quite well that minor characters are little more than plot devices to thrust the story along, but John and Roger are the story's two most developed characters and their behaviors are in-flux for most of the novel, hardening in the face of their circumstances, only to soften, only to harden again. The authoritative Roger is especially victimized by this schizophrenia, losing his assertiveness only to regain it and lose it once more for no apparent reason.
This is a swift and grim work of post-apocalyptic fiction that is vivid in its darkness, shocking in its violence, and provocative in its message, but the author's inability to provide the reader with a set of solidly familiar characters, and his incapacity to fully understand feudal England, mars the piece. (3/5 Stars)
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