A parable for our times

By Jim Buckell

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Juice

Tim Winton

Random House, 2024

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Tim Winton's latest novel Juice is big and bold – ambitious in scope, harsh in tone and ruthless in every way imaginable.

In taking on the story of the collapse of human domination, and setting that epic tale several generations into the future, he allows himself no room for playfulness or nuance. The language is as sparse as the landscape. This might be the biggest sacrifice of all for a writer whose love of words has sparkled on every page through scores of novels.

Despite these self-imposed limitations, it’s a compelling story.

We’ve been telling tales of survival after extreme weather events since the Book of Genesis and Noah’s Ark. Juice sets itself apart from most tales of disaster because it’s grounded in stark reality. Winton takes over from the climate scientists to chart where we are headed.

Beginning with a man in a hole, the saga becomes increasingly engrossing as the trapped narrator tries to talk his way out. The long story he tells his captor is a history of humankind since the Terror  – a parable of truly biblical proportions.

Big trouble for big oil

Winton boldly points the finger, excoriating those responsible for the global mayhem – the fossil fuel industry – with fearless conviction. Guilty not just of death and destruction, but of proceeding knowingly, like their counterparts in big tobacco before them.

When they learn of this complicity, through caches left for them by their ancestors, the survivors of the collapse organise secret squads – the Service – to annihilate the vestiges of power and privilege ensconced in improbable remote locations.

Their hit teams have access to the best technology and resources for the sole purpose of wiping the evil scourge from the face of the planet. Even the children of the oil dynasties are not spared.

After pursuing a policy of compassion and sparing the cosseted offspring of the reviled elites, the people quickly learn these flabby, pale youngsters (people are shorter and thinner in this age) are ill-equipped to survive. They have neither the skills nor the inclination to join the collective action necessary to live in the heat and chaos. Hidden from reality for so long, there is no place for them. 
 

Solidarity forever

Despite the dire conditions, it’s not all gloom. Humanity is ever-present, even when hope dwindles and the thermometer continues to rise. In Winton’s hands, survival is dependent  on “solidarity, not science”.

“Hamlets” are run by elected councils which are in turn managed by a far-reaching “Association”.  A strict code of conduct guarantees help is always given on the road and in times of disaster (there are many).  

Along the way in this epic saga there is plenty of awe and wonder and even a touch of compassion, although it’s meted out in teaspoons rather than bucketloads. Harshness is the overwhelming sentiment.

The one aspect of Winton’s writing that is not lost in this world of extreme hardship is his delight in the natural world, albeit as momentary relief in this setting. When the protagonist comes face to face with a wedge-tailed eagle, the encounter is one of pure joy. His ancestors' survival through the Terror by dwelling in an underground cave system accessed via the roots of a giant fig is inspiring. 

The fierce determination of all life to reproduce and survive in ever more inhospitable conditions is apparent. But the spirit of co-operation has taken an almighty battering. By the end of these 500 pages it’s withered and found wanting.

The job of any parable, after all, is to sound the alarm loud and clear.