Published in 2021 by Verso, London, UK and New York, NY

176 pages

ISBN: 978-1-83976-047-1

The climate crisis haunts us like a specter, occupying an ever-present space in the back of our minds that we’d more often like to repress. However, what we repress by day will ultimately haunt us by night, revealing itself as a symptom. Literature is a prime space for the return of the repressed to make itself known in our consciousness. This is especially true for dystopian literature, as the oft-cited quote that is attributed to either Frederic Jameson or Slavoj Zizek (but arguably popularized by Mark Fisher) states, “It is easier to imagine the end of the world than the end of capitalism.” 

       As we wrestle with the oncoming climate catastrophe, we can see our fears reflected within art and literature. Accordingly, in his 2021 book, The Anthropocene Unconscious: Climate Catastrophe Culture, Mark Bould (​​Professor of Film and Literature at UWE Bristol) argues that climate anxiety pervades our contemporary works of fiction and film. Even in works that are not explicitly about climate change, Bould argues that the anthropogenic destruction of our climate occupies a central, if unconscious, place in all of our media. Essentially, Bould asks a bold and provocative question: what if every story we write in our contemporary age is essentially about climate change?

Overview: 

       Our daily lives are shadowed by the knowledge that our planet is rapidly warming, leading to extreme weather patterns, drought, and flooding that will cause mass migration and death (especially for those living in the Global South). Every moment we inch closer to the edge of global cataclysm, a product of the endless consumption driven by the exploitative and wasteful forces of imperialism and capitalism. Even the happiest of our lives are shadowed by the threat of this impending catastrophe, and the literature that we produce reflects this looming anxiety.

       According to Bould, every text has an unconscious. When a writer composes their text, they choose some words over others. What is not said is rejected in favor of a particular signifier which is actualized on the page. What is omitted from the text lingers over it through circumscribed and deferred language acting as signposts to what is repressed. Following Freud’s theory of the unconscious, Bould argues that the fears and anxieties about climate anxiety lie bubbling just under the surface of our everyday interactions and creative endeavors. 

       Bould guides the reader through a litany of examples throughout film, television, and literary fiction as he examines the latent climate anxiety that pervades contemporary media. Whether or not authors are aware of this theme, Bould argues that anxiety about climate catastrophe is underlying their work. Plumbing the depths of both high and low culture, Bould extracts the underlying themes of climate change from a wide array of media. Along the way, Bould teases out the factors of class, capitalism, inequality, racism, patriarchy, and violence that undergird the Anthropocene. 

       The driving impetus behind this book is a critical response to Amitav Ghosh’s 2016 book The Great Derangement: Climate Change and the Unthinkable, in which Ghosh argues that contemporary literature has universally failed to reckon with and outright ignored the enormity of the climate crisis. Bould argues that contemporary media does address this issue, if only indirectly. According to Bould, Ghosh privileges highbrow literary fiction while ignoring the entire genre of science fiction, as well as other artifacts of “low” culture. Bould argues that Ghosh’s parameters around what constitutes a text being “about” climate change is too narrow as he reads against the grain of these texts to extricate their hidden climate catastrophe content.

       Accordingly, Bould utilizes the infamously bizarre Sharknado franchise, the wildly successful Fast & Furious film franchise, Guillermo del Toro's Pacific Rim, zombie films such as 28 Days Later and World War Z, comic book figures like DC’s Swamp Thing, and sci-fi novels such as J.G. Ballard’s The Drowned World and Arthur C. Clarke’s The Deep Range as he examines how humans are implicated in climate change through petroculture and how we have imaginatively responded to this reality. Bould also includes examples from more “high-brow” literature, such as Jane Austen’s Mansfield Park and Arundhati Roy’s The God of Small Things (1997), as well as Ghosh’s own works of literary fiction. Arguing against Ghosh, Bould asserts that the contemporary literary novel either tries and fails to suppress this acknowledgment of the Anthropocene or directly confronts it, even if in implicit ways. By utilizing an incredibly wide range of texts, Bould attempts to show how every facet of our culture is subsumed by climate anxiety. 

Commendations:

There are several noteworthy dimensions to The Anthropocene Unconscious. First of all, at only 142 pages, Bould’s work is an incredibly quick read. Since the bulk of the text comprises plot summaries of the nearly three dozen pieces of media Bould references, it is also a relatively accessible and breezy read. Bould’s writing is punchy, concise, and often playful while also employing jargon when necessary. As such, Bould maintains a fine balance between theory and accessibility. 

As a literature and film professor, Bould is most at home when describing film franchises, especially those that modern academics might thumb their noses at or outright ignore. There is a certain glee to Bould’s prose when recounting the schlocky plot points of the Sharknado series, as well as the petroculture that permeates the Fast & Furious franchise, which were honestly joys to read. You can tell that Bould takes a certain pleasure in delving into these guilty pleasures, which reminded me of Mark McGurl’s approach in Everything and Less.  

In asserting that all contemporary media, regardless of the creator’s intent, is tangled up in the discourses surrounding climate change, Bould’s thesis is certainly provocative and immensely intriguing. By utilizing Freud’s concept of the unconscious, Bould fruitfully plums the depths of pop culture to address climate change, often reading against the text to find what is obscured and hidden between the lines. As with any application of critical theory to pop culture, I found Bould’s analysis to be fascinating, entertaining, and imminently thought-provoking. 

Bould is also correct, in my estimation, to critique Ghosh’s claim that contemporary literature fails to address climate change and instead serves as a distraction from the oncoming crisis. Bould spares no punches in his critique, labeling it as “nonsense.” Bould lambasts Ghosh for his elitism and focus on highbrow literary fiction, arguing that climate anxiety permeates pop culture. Bould goes so far as to claim that even Ghosh’s own fiction, which Ghosh claims is not about climate change, is actually rife with climate anxiety. As such, Bould’s provocations serve as a bold intervention against a behemoth text within the field of climate fiction and ecological literary scholarship.

Finally, I also appreciate Bould’s willingness to point forward to a way out of this looming catastrophe. Using the Fast & Furious films as an analogy, Bould suggests that we can either put our feet on the accelerator of the death drive and hurtle into petrol-fueled oblivion, or we can shift gears toward another way of living that would facilitate a flourishing biosphere and, by proxy, human flourishing as well. Bould believes that literature has the potential to rewrite our narrative symbols that shape our imagination and ways of thinking about the world. By utilizing cultural criticism and shifting our gaze toward how we create cultural products, we can begin to shift our thinking and imaginations toward an ecosocialist future that fosters respect toward not only other human beings but also our surrounding biosphere. 

Critique: 

On the other hand, there are a few weaknesses to this slim volume. First of all, the majority of Bould’s text is descriptive, as he gleefully delves into the plots of guilty pleasures such as the Sharknado franchise. Bould spends the bulk of his words describing the plots of the various works that he references before quickly tying them back to the general theme of climate anxiety and the unconscious. Within such a small space, this leaves little room for substantial analytic depth, as Bould seems to favor provocations and polemics over solid proof. Bould asks many thought-provoking questions but then doesn’t develop them too deeply before moving on to another text. This was disappointing because while I agree with many of Bould’s ideas, they were not presented convincingly. While it was a short and fairly entertaining read, I’m not sure if it had much of a deep impact on me due to its sporadic nature and weak thesis across chapters.

Furthermore, the examples of novels and films that he does choose are often obscure and not likely to have been encountered by the average reader. There is no methodological framework for why certain texts were chosen above others, which leaves Bould’s wide-ranging thesis weakened as a result. Granted, this book is most likely geared towards students and colleagues within literary studies (particularly ecocriticism), but aside from a few massively popular films such as the Fast & Furious series and Pacific Rim, many of Bould’s references might be lost on the typical reader.

Additionally,  the connections he makes between these texts are tenuous at best and often leave the reader with too many loose threads. As stated before, Bould’s thesis is wide-reaching in its breadth and provocative in its universalism. Yet, it is difficult to determine just how far back in time we can take Bould’s argument. Is it merely a contemporary phenomenon, or can we find climate anxiety in older texts as well? How does Bould’s theory of repression appear in other times of anxiety, such as war or pandemics? The speculative nature of Bould’s work and the underdevelopment of his theory ultimately makes for an unsatisfying read, as it often felt like a recap of obscure and random books/movies/television shows. The book seemed like an attempt to blend psychoanalysis and pop culture, which has become immensely popular in recent decades. Yet, Bould’s analysis doesn’t come off as convincing and thought-provoking as the mid to upper-tier works of other psychoanalytic thinkers such as Slavoj Zizek or Todd McGowan.

Finally, I found his transition from theory to praxis to be strongly lacking. Let me be clear. As someone who has a graduate degree with “Literature” in the title, I do believe that literature can be a powerful tool for social change. Yet, I do not think literature is the primary space for changing our stance toward the ongoing climate crisis. For all the trouble that Bould goes through to disagree with Ghosh on some small quibbles, what does it ultimately accomplish when it comes to material, effectual change? There doesn’t seem to be a cogent political roadmap within Bould’s analysis beyond a subtle shift in language. 

While I believe that establishing new signifiers can open the door to radical change, when it comes to climate action, it has proven difficult to push past the inertia and inaction of federal governments and build the political momentum necessary to stop (let alone reverse) the devastating effects of climate change. Again, the stories and narratives that we tell ourselves indubitably matter when it comes to sustaining the ideological infrastructure that undergirds our material conditions. Yet, we need much more than a shift in imagination to accomplish an ecosocialist future. We know the contours of the science of climate change and its inevitable effects, as well as what we need to do to change course. What we lack is the ability to overcome the stranglehold that large corporations hold over policy in the top-polluting countries. What we need is political power, which, to be fair, fiction can help to build. Yet, to quibble about whether contemporary fiction is about climate change or ignores it seems to be a trivial one in the face of the more structural challenges we face in effecting substantive change. Instead of navel-gazing, this is a question that the humanities desperately need to reckon with if we are to make a difference in the world, instead of merely analyzing it. 

Conclusion: 

Overall, The Anthropocene Unconscious is a bold and provocative analysis of how climate anxiety permeates every facet of our contemporary media. While it is overly descriptive and his analysis leaves the reader with more questions than answers, Bould’s theoretical playfulness and creativity make this slim volume a worthwhile read. If we are to have any meaningful impact on the climate change discourse, however, we on the Left need to translate these linguistic and literary discourses into salient and effectual political power. Bould’s critique of Ghosh shouldn’t end with mere debate, but rather reorient our thinking toward the Anthropocene. By bringing our unconscious considerations toward climate catastrophe into our conscious awareness, Bould’s project is the first step in drawing out progressive political praxis from our contemporary cultural cache.