John Lanchester, 2019

SIGNIFICANT PLOT SPOILERS

I love this book.

I’m not renowned for being overly generous with praise. If anything I tend to be a little too critical. But I genuinely, really, love this book.

The Daily Express are quoted on the back as having called it ‘a 1984 for our times’… I’m not sure I’d go that far, but it was outstanding. I can certainly see why they’d draw the comparison, but I don’t think it’s applicable beyond a glance at the surface.

I got this book around the time I got Cold Skin, because I was looking to read some books which explored the idea of isolation. Certainly isolation plays a part in this book, but not to the extent that I’d anticipated from the blurb. I’d got it into my head that he’d be alone for much of the narrative, but this simply wasn’t the case. There’s a small but tightly-knit group of secondary characters, each of whom play vital roles in our protagonist’s experiences on The Wall.

I’m getting ahead of myself a little, because I’m really eager to talk about this book. Let me slow it down and bring it back a step.

Kavanagh is a young man (his age is not specified, but it’s implied he’s in his late teens) who’s been conscripted to The Wall. It’s a mandatory two-years service which all eligible men and women must undergo. The only requirement for eligibility seems to be that you exist… all people go to The Wall, with the exception of ‘the elite’. I know it’s very tempting to start drawing real world comparisons here, but hold off one more minute. We’ll get there, I promise.

We don’t know how long The Wall has been standing. We know it can’t have been too long, because the Defenders’ (those conscripted for service) parents’ generation did not serve. They can remember visiting beaches and pleasant holidays at the seaside; something which Kavanagh’s generation never experienced. The Wall encircles the entirety of the UK, consequently removing all beaches. There’s just The Wall now.

The author does some really great work in the second chapter talking about how The Wall dominates the eyeline so much that everything just sort of bleeds into one. He talks about the sky, the wind, the water, and the concrete. He explores the relationship these things have by playing about with their physicality on the page. I don’t usually like it when authors do this; it can feel forced. But Lanchester does it in a way that makes us feel like we’re emoting with Kavanagh. This is likely a consequence of the first person narration, giving us the sensation that we’re being told a story by Kavanagh rather than reading a story about him. At the end of the book, we come to appreciate that this is exactly what’s happening.

I got a little sidetracked. There’s just so much to unpack here. Back to the story.

So they’re on The Wall. Their principle reason for being up there is to keep an eye out for The Others. The Others are, to boil it down, asylum seekers. The whole world has been affected by what the characters in the novel call The Change. The Change is climate change. It’s not a subtle parallel and it isn’t meant to be. This is a world rocked by catastrophic climate change, and the novel explores what a civilisation would look like post-Change. He touches on the idea that those in the West see The Change as something which ‘happened’. Like it was a one-time occurrence. He goes on to make clear that The Change is something which is happening all across the world, and while The Wall keeps the UK safe from much of it, the rest of the world is either drowning or burning.

The Others regularly charge the wall, desperate to get over. If they should cross the wall they know only a life of slavery awaits them. That’s all they have to look forward to, but they’re prepared to throw their bodies against The Wall in their hundreds just for a chance to clean floors in a world behind The Wall. Lanchester also has this interesting idea, touched upon only a few times, that there are people inside the UK working to get The Others over The Wall. There’s a real sense of division in the UK of the novel (yes, I know, real world comparisons, but let me finish this bit first). But the Defenders don’t really care about that. They know their job is to guard The Wall and to prevent The Others getting over. Should The Others prove successful, then the Government will take those Defenders ‘to blame’ for them getting over and put them to sea. If three Others get over, then three Defenders are tossed into a little rowboat and pushed out into the ocean to fend for themselves. The Captain of the regiment responsible is also put to sea, regardless of how many Others get over. It’s a brutal system. Kavanagh makes it clear that being put to sea is the ultimate fear of not just Defenders, but even those civilians yet to be called upon to serve. Being put to sea is the worst possible scenario.

Naturally, Kavanagh is put to sea.

But before he does, he makes a few friends along the way. He even makes a girlfriend, of sorts.

You see, in this really screwed up world having kids is seen as the most selfish thing a person could possibly do. How dare you bring a new life into this world? So most people do not want to have children. Similarly, this generation has a really difficult relationship with their parents’ generation. They see them as the ones who killed the world, and the parents know it. They have to live every day knowing that their children hate them. There’s just no incentive to having a family.

Except: if you’re a Breeder. Breeders are a separate group of people who are prepared to bring children into the world, to carry on the species, in return for certain Governmental privileges (housing, food, etc.). They’re also immune from service on The Wall. So when a particularly nasty attack on The Wall results in Kavanagh being injured, some of his friends dying and one being seriously wounded, he and his girlfriend Hifa decide to become Breeders. But until she’s actually pregnant, they have to carry on defending The Wall. So it’s not a ‘get out of jail free’ card, but it’s definitely the first step towards one.

Later in the book they suffer an even more terrifying attack, betrayed by their Captain who murders the Sergeant in cold blood, in order to get a whole host of Others across The Wall. The Captain was once an Other himself, something which is revealed to the reader early on in the narrative – just early enough that you forget about it by the time it becomes relevant. It’s wonderfully done.

So, Kavanagh, Hifa, their friend Hughes and The Captain are all put to sea. Along with a ‘baby politician’ called James, who makes a couple of appearances in the story. James is put to sea for failing to recognise that The Captain was potentially traitorous. It isn’t fair, and he’s quick to point it out.

They encounter a floating colony of Others and are taken in, until pirates turn up and ransack the colony. James sacrifices himself to prevent a group of teenage girls being taken off by the pirates, and in so doing causes an explosion which decimates the community.

Hifa and Kavanagh survive, likely the only two that do, and float away to an oil installation. They’re let in by a crazy old man, and the story ends with Hifa asking Kavnagh to tell her a story. He says: ‘It’s cold on the Wall’. There are the opening words of the first chapter, and the reader becomes aware that the story they’ve been reading was Kavanagh telling a story to Hifa.

The old man is a really interesting character. He’s clearly mentally disassociated with reality, and only occasionally acknowledges that he’s ever aware Kavanagh and Hifa are there. He communicates principally by moving around little pieces of paper that he keeps in a cardboard box, which he’s made to look like a TV. Yeah, I don’t get it either. If he’s important then I don’t see how. He’s interesting though.

I know I rushed it a little at the end there, but simply recounting the plot isn’t that interesting. It’s a great book, and you should definitely read it for yourself, which is why you don’t need me iterating each and every breath of it.

Shall we get to those real world comparisons we’ve been deliberately ignoring?

Let’s.

So we’re introduced to a world ravaged by climate change. That’s familiar. We also see a UK that’s deeply divided. That’s familiar. Being run by an authoritarian Government. That’s familiar. Where the leading mentality of its inhabitants is an Us vs Them mentality. That’s familiar. Anyone from anywhere else is deeply suspect if not outright criminal. That’s familiar. It’s all pretty familiar, isn’t it?

So Lanchester is drawing some pretty clear lines between the UK as it is now and the UK of his story. Entrenched in division, fostering a strong and near-violent attitude to those from other places. Particularly brown people from brown places who don’t speak the Queen’s English, thank you very much. It’s pretty uncomfortable, and I think a lot of this discomfort comes from the fact that it doesn’t feel like this story is a million miles from the truth.

Maybe this is what justifies the 1984 comparison touted on the back of the book? It’s not that distinctly Orwellian sense of authoritarianism that provokes the comparison, but rather the ‘oh God, this could actually be the future’ feeling that it engenders in its readers. Kavanagh is no Winston Smith. He’s not psychologically railing against the confines of an overbearing, totalitarian society. If anything his position as a Defender puts him at the outskirts of society. Marginalised. And a sense of marginalisation is certainly important when reading 1984, but it’s a self-imposed marginalisation that comes from Winston deciding to stop drinking the company Kool-Aid. That’s nothing like Kavanagh’s journey. I think it’s a flashy comparison written by someone who needed to reach for a quote that conveyed the idea ‘this author thinks the future is scary’. And clearly, the future written by Lanchester is scary. It’s horrifying. And the idea that it might genuinely happen makes it all the more shaking.

The world is divided. People are frightened and at war with an enemy they’ve never seen. Oh, and just in case that wasn’t bad enough, slavery is back, boys and girls. Oh yes, we’re keeping brown people as slaves again. That’s fun, isn’t it? Isn’t that fun? Jesus Christ, Mr. Lanchester, like I didn’t find the future scary enough. They don’t call them slaves of course. Institutionalised slavery is never actually called slavery. They call them The Help. Because they help us do things. For no money. And if they don’t they’ll be cast out to sea to drown. You know… fun…

I said earlier in this ramble that I got this book alongside Cold Skin, because I was chasing some isolationist high. I loved reading about one guy, on his own, going mad. Watching as he became a monster even to himself. The Wall isn’t that. It’s not even close. I’m really grateful for that too. It’s definitely one of the best books I’ve read this year, and I can’t recommend it highly enough. I can’t believe more people aren’t talking about this. I got it from a supermarket for about £8, so it’s not exactly like it was a best seller, but I don’t know why. Maybe it was too doom and gloom to capture the public interest? Maybe it wasn’t marketed well? God knows… it should’ve been. This story could sell itself if given the legs to do so. Everyone I’ve told about this book thinks it sounded really interesting. Sure, maybe they were just appeasing me to stop me talking about a book they’ve not read… I guess that’s possible… don’t take this away from me…

This is one of those books that makes me glad I’ve got as much spare time as I have. Lately I’ve been going a bit stir crazy because I feel like I’ve got too much spare time. But next time I start to think that, I’ll remind myself that if I’d actually been a functional adult who used their time more effectively then I never would have had the chance to read this book. And it is such a good book.

Which I guess explains why I’ve just written over 2000 words on it, like a mad man enduring a fever dream. Oh well.

I love this book.