"Juice" by Tim Winton

 Searching for refuge in a post-apocalyptic world, a man is forced to tell his life story, hoping to convince a bowman not to kill him.

This is a much applauded cli-fi epic whose has been twice short-listed for the Booker prize (1995 and 2002). The publishers say it is perfect for fans of Station Eleven and The Road; I really didn't like Station Eleven. 

Winton's writing is undeniably powerful. He has some wonderful descriptions. For example, at the start: “The sun appears. Molten. Slumped at the edges. Liquefying before us like a burning blimp.” (2) In the final paragraph: “A constellation of hovering birds. They were black and white and grey. Suspended in nothing, sculling air.” (513) And his writing style of short, punchy sentences or sentence fragments perfectly matches the edge-of-the-seat plot. This is a classy thriller.

But for me, as with Station Eleven, the basic story didn't work. I had no problem with the basic premise that the world has almost destroyed itself through climate change leading to massive depopulation during a period of Terror followed by a stable world of villagers and farmers eking out a precarious and fundamentally communal living from the scorched landscape. The problem arose when the hero was called and, despite reluctance, answered the call (very Hero's Journey). He is recruited by one of those super-efficient but utterly clandestine organisations that supervillains always seem to control in more contemporary thrillers. This organisation, the Service, train him and then send him on meticulously organised missions after which he is lavishly rewarded. It's all a little but too perfect. And does the Service serve the people? Do they help improve the agriculture or provide medical services? No. Each mission is dedicated to assassinating descendants of the families who used to own the wicked petrochemical (and other) companies that caused the climate to change. 

Talk about a dish best served cold. Even the Count of Monte Cristo spared the children of the those who had done him wrong. Even the Lord only visits the sins of the fathers upon the sons to the third or fourth generation. 

Three characters stand out: the protagonist, whose bildungsroman this is, his mother and his wife. Unfortunately the carefully crafted characters of the latter two were undermined by the twist close to the end.

It's a beautifully written thriller. There's a huge amount of world-building (which slows down the narrative) which results in the creation of huge amounts of verisimilitude when it comes to the cli-fi element. But in the end, the superhero and his Service are as absurd as any space opera. It seemed a shame. This is a man who can write powerfully but he was undermined by his ridiculous plot.

Selected quotes:

• “Once you've seen the posture of forced labour, you never forget it.” (8)
• “Each of us needs a little something of what the other has - food, water, building materials, parts, doctoring, scholarship, labour. Even the bards and jokers have their place.” (21)
• “Wringing your hands won't make water.” (27)
• “The great mystery of people lies in the many ways in which they'll deceive themselves.” (37)
• “Isn't there more to courage than suffering?” 165
• “Don't we take dead people's words? I said. Their stories? Skills? Ideas?” (207)
• “You’re like some wild-eyed pilgrim looking for paradise. No. Not me. They're searching for the end, those folks. I'm looking to start something.” (237)

January 2025; 513 pages

Published in 2024 in Australia by Hamish Hamilton

My edition, to which page number refer, is the Picador hardback issued in the UK by Picador

In the Winter Dark by Tim Winton is also reviewed on this blog. Other Australian fiction reviewed in this blog can be found here.

This review was written by the author of Bally and Bro, Motherdarling  and The Kids of God