Not for the first time, it all feels a bit end times. Or at least a bit penultimate. We don’t always talk about it, but with bees vanishing, the Keeling Curve hitting 400ppm and headlines about “peak soil” it’s there, hanging over us: the possible end, if not of humanity, then at least of the lives of many, many living things.
We’ve rehearsed this many times before. There’s an old Fredric Jameson line about how the fictionalised futures of 1984 came and went, leaving us a bit blasé about dystopia (Jameson, 1991: 284-5).