Friday Arts Diary

Our cultural picks for the week ahead.


Joss Whedon’s Much Ado About Nothing, cinemas nationwide, 14th June

Whedon had a 12 day break after filming The Avengers, so what did he decide to do? Make a feature-length film of course! Filmed in black and white, Much Ado About Nothing unites the original Shakespearean language (spoken in American accents) with the modern day. Surprisingly, it has earned a reputation with critics as “the must-see film of the summer so far”, with one critic saying that “it ought not to work, but it does”. The film is released nationwide today.


Sky Arts Ignition: Memory Palace, V & A, 18th June- 20th October

Presented as a walk-in story at the Victoria and Albert Museum, Memory Palace brings a new fiction book by the author Hari Kunzru to life. It is visualised through a set of 20 commissions from a range of people including internationally renowned illustrators, graphic designers and typographers.  The exhibition opens on Tuesday and is open until Sunday 20th October.


Pet Shop Boys, The O2, 18th June

The internationally acclaimed Pet Shop Boys bring their Electric tour to London on Tuesday. This tour highlights the duo’s electronic music and style, but they will perform songs from across their entire career, up to and beyond their current album "Elysium", which has been received with much critical approbation.


The White Queen, BBC 1, premieres 16th June

This 10-part remake of acclaimed author Phillipa Gregory’s series The Cousins’ War premieres on Sunday. It is set in 1664, around the time of the Wars of the Roses, in what has become a turbulent part of British history. Filmed in Bruges, the series tells the story of a woman by the name of Elizabeth Woodville, who was relatively unkown until Gregory brought her into the public eye. Following the success of the dramatisation of her novel The Other Boleyn Girl, fans and critics alike await The White Queen with much anticipation.


Meltdown Future Sounds 1: Baltic Fleet, The Clore Ballroom at Royal Festival Hall, 16th June 6:00pm

As part of the Festival of Neighbourhood and Meltdown at the South Bank centre, marking  Yoko Ono's long-standing support of young and emerging artists, Baltic Fleet will be making their first of two appearances tonight at 6pm. Baltic Fleet are described by Time Out as being “Modern post-punkish sombre pop that's both melodic and kraut-rocking', and they are the winners of the 2013 GIT Award. Entry is free for this event.


Joss Whedon's take on Shakespeare's "Much Ado" is a surprise hit with critics. Photograph:
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How “cli-fi” novels humanise the science of climate change

The paradox is that the harder climate-fiction novels try, the less effective they are.

When the Paris UN Climate Change Conference begins at the end of November, the world’s leaders will review the climate framework agreed in Rio in 1992. For well over 20 years, the world has not just been thinking and talking about climate change, it has also been writing and reading about it, in blogs, newspapers, magazines – and in novels.

Climate change fiction is now a recognisable literary phenomenon replete with its own nickname: “cli-fi”. The term was coined in 2007 by Taiwan-based blogger Dan Bloom. Since then, its use has spread: it was even tweeted by Margaret Atwood in 2013:

It is not a genre in the accepted scholarly sense, since it lacks the plot formulas or stylistic conventions that tend to define genres (such as science fiction or the western). However, it does name a remarkable recent literary and publishing trend.

A 21st-century phenomenon?

Putting a number to this phenomenon depends, partly, on how one defines cli-fi. How much of a novel has to be devoted to climate change before it is considered cli-fi? Should we restrict the term to novels about man-made global warming? (If we don’t, we should remember that narratives about global climatic change are as old as The Epic of Gilgamesh and the Biblical story of the flood.) If we define cli-fi as fictional treatments of climate change caused by human activity in terms of setting, theme or plot – and accept there will be grey areas in the extent of this treatment – a conservative estimate would put the all-time number of cli-fi novels at 150 and growing. This is the figure put forward by Adam Trexler, who has worked with me to survey the development of cli-fi.

This definition also gives us a start date for cli-fi’s history. While planetary climatic change occurs in much 20th-century science fiction, it is only after growing scientific awareness of specifically man-made, carbon-induced climate change in the 1960s and 1970s that novels on this subject emerged. The first is Arthur Herzog’s Heat in 1976, followed by George Turner’s The Sun and the Summer (published in the US as Drowning Towers) in 1987.

At the turn of this century, Maggie Gee and TC Boyle were among the first mainstream authors to publish climate change novels. In this century, we can count Atwood, Michael Crichton, Barbara Kingsolver, Ian McEwan, Kim Stanley Robinson, Ilija Trojanow and Jeanette Winterson as major authors who have written about climate change. The past five years have given us notable examples of cli-fi by emerging authors, such as Steven Amsterdam, Edan Lepucki, Jane Rawson, Nathaniel Rich and Antti Tuomainen.

Creative challenges

Cli-fi is all the more noteworthy considering the creative challenge posed by climate change. First, there is the problem of scale – spatial and temporal. Climate change affects the entire planet and all its species – and concerns the end of this planet as we know it. Novels, by contrast, conventionally concern the actions of individual protagonists and/or, sometimes, small communities.

Added to this is the networked nature of climate change: in physical terms, the climate is a large, complex system whose effects are difficult to model. In socio-cultural terms, solutions require intergovernmental agreement – just what COP21 intends – and various top-down and bottom-up transformations. Finally, there exists the difficulty of translating scientific information, with all its predictive uncertainty, into something both accurate and interesting to the average reader.

Still, cli-fi writers have adopted a range of strategies to engage their readers. Many cli-fi novels could be classified as dystopian, post-apocalyptic or, indeed, both – depicting nightmarish societies triggered by sometimes catastrophic climate events. A future world is one effective way of narrating the planetary condition of climate change.

Some novelists are also careful to underpin their scenarios with rigorous climatic predictions and, in this way, translate science fact into a fictional setting. Kingsolver, who trained as an ecologist, is the best example of this – and Atwood and Robinson are also known for their attempts at making their speculations scientifically plausible. Also, cli-fi novels, particularly those set in the present day or very near future rather than in a dystopian future, tend to show the political or psychological dimensions of living with climate change. Readers can identify with protagonists. To some extent, the global community is represented in fictional everymen or everywomen. Or, often, it is through such characters that science is humanised and its role in combating climate change better understood.

Can cli-fi lead to change?

Could cli-fi affect how we think and act on climate change? The paradox is that the harder cli-fi tries, the less effective it is. Many writers want to inspire change, not insist on it: the line between literature and propaganda is one that most novelists respect. Literature invites us to inhabit other worlds and live other lives. Cli-fi at its best lets us travel to climate-changed worlds, to strive there alongside others and then to return armed with that experience.

In Paris, the UN will seek a global agreement on climate action for the first time in more than 20 years. There is plenty of climate change fiction out there to help provide the mental and psychological space to consider that action.

The Conversation

Adeline Johns-Putra, Reader in English Literature, University of Surrey

This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article.