I don’t know what it is about apocalyptic tales that is so alluring; why we read them, knowing the macabre theme. But there’s something fascinating about the topic: Could the world end? Could we prevent it? What would we do if the world ended? How would we behave? In many end-of-the-world novels, the cause of the end doesn’t seem to be the main point. Even when allusions are made to possible causes, such as global warming, nuclear bombs, and chemical warfare, most apocalyptic narratives seem more concerned with our responses, behavior, and the strengths and weaknesses of the human condition. Of course, this is fiction’s goal, to have us assess the state of things and our reactions. Such is the focus of Karen Thompson Walker’s inaugural novel, “The Age of Miracles.”
In Walker’s book, the curious phenomenon that turns everything askew is a slowing of the Earth. From “the slowing,” repercussions occur such as earthquakes, solar storms, radiation leaking into the atmosphere, and an accelerated heating of the Earth: “The slowing was throwing off all the tides. Hundreds of feet of sea floor lay exposed, the sand ribboned black with bits of iron. These were the ocean’s insides, revealed.” The world isn’t necessarily ending as we might imagine, but there remains a haunting tone to “The Age of Miracles” with the realization that life is fading with each day’s extension.
The 11-year-old protagonist, Julia, living in the suburbs of Southern California, bears witness to the change in time while falling in love with Seth Moreno, a classmate she admires from a distance, but who then becomes her best friend and boyfriend. Julia and Seth’s budding romance becomes a sub-theme of the book, a look at first love, first true love. Julia innocently questions and reflects on “the slowing” and the reactions of family and friends around her, each generation dealing with “the slowing” differently, from Julia’s grandfather, her parents and teachers, to Julia herself. Later, as she grows older, Julia looks at the past and cautiously at the future, trying to make sense of things: “I’m always on the lookout for proof that what is done can sometimes be undone.”
Through Julia’s eyes and experiences, we see the effects of “the slowing” on the production of food, the schedules of work and school, and the burden put on electrical grids. Everyone is tired and hungry and emotionally worn for having to remain indoors for fear of being sunburned. Days become longer, nights become longer, and the government is mostly at a loss for what to do. One suggestion — to pretend the days are the same, sticking to the same routines as before, no matter the light of day or darkness of night — becomes one government solution, “clock time,” they call it: “Clock time began at two A.M. like daylight saving time. They’d chosen a time when the sun rose more or less in tune with the clocks. The gap would widen as the day passed, but the idea was to transition us slowly.” Opposed to those who follow clock time are the real timers, people who escape their old neighborhoods and set up “real time” communities, refusing to change clocks to fit the old way of life, but who are “perpetually out of time with society.”
“The Age of Miracles” was highly recommended to me by a bookstore owner and her manager as they cornered me next to a bookshelf with Walker’s latest release, lined up amid other bestsellers. I listened to their excited exaltations as they lauded its thought-provoking spirit and beautiful voice. When I finished the last page, I found myself in the same position: I wanted to tell someone. From Walker’s details and her protagonist’s innocent voice, an appreciation for everything we have and how life would be different without “everything” becomes a central theme. One quote in particular speaks to this appreciation and possibility of loss: “We hunted for the last living eucalyptus, which we found, we were certain, withering on the end of a sandstone bluff by the ocean. We collected the neighborhood’s last blades of grass. We kept the final flowerings of daisies, of marigolds, of honeysuckle. We pressed petals between the pages of dictionaries. We lined our shelves with relics from our time. Look here, we pictured saying someday, this one we called maple, this one magnolia, this aspen, this oak.”
As I anticipated, the conclusion was beautifully written, Walker giving her reader one last thing to think about, one of those endings that gives you chills. I’ve always thought that a book that produces chills is a winner. “The Age of Miracles” is just that book.
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