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Notes from an Apocalypse: A Personal Journey to the End of the World and Back by Mark O'Connell
littlewitch_ruth's review against another edition
3.0
This book definitely hits the nail on the head when it comes to relatability. Although apocalypse visions of a near-future of ruin and decay are hard to avoid in the world right now, I have always had a fascination with this eschatological present and the ways people react to this. The ground that O’Connell explores (preppers, Mars colonisers, Chernobyl tours) are very apt at exploring this. His insights especially on the truth behind them and the groups of people who desire these situations are extremely interesting, too. At times, I think the book veers slightly too much introspectively. Every chapter seems to end with him seeing something on the street and linking it back to various philosophical musings - at points it feels like a diary. Which is fine, of course, it’s his personal journey and emotional thoughts are good for thinking about the apocalypse, but sometimes I was left wanting more facts and explorations of what was happening at the time rather than what could be. The biggest emotional push in this book is how much this man loves his children. It’s adorable and tragic how the apocalypse and this man’s family are so intertwined for him, how death cannot exist without birth. It’s very sweet and makes it very poignant (on this note, though, the edition I own features a lot of reviews on the front and back which say how funny this book is, such as the Irish Independent calling is ‘one hell of a funny book’. O’Connell has natural wit and warmth which makes it a joy to read, but I don’t think the humour is the main facet of the writing? The emphasis on how funny it is confused me).
In conclusion, I knew a lot of it already but that’s my fault for having an interest in it anyway. It’s a very enjoyable and poignant read, written very well. Very good :)
In conclusion, I knew a lot of it already but that’s my fault for having an interest in it anyway. It’s a very enjoyable and poignant read, written very well. Very good :)
lookpook's review against another edition
adventurous
dark
emotional
reflective
medium-paced
4.0
Lost a lot of pace and interest in the last chapter, but an interesting and surprisingly refreshing given the subject matter. Reduce emissions.
kangaruthie's review against another edition
5.0
This book might seem at first glance like the worst possible book to read right now, in light of apocalyptic-esque current events like the COVID pandemic and widespread protests in the U.S. However, I actually found it helped me view the current happenings in the world with a new perspective.
O'Connell is consumed by his own obsessions of the apocalypse. He starts the book by pondering how to reconcile his pessimism about where the world is heading (especially because of climate change) with his necessary optimism for creating a better, sustained future for his children.
To explore his obsession to its full extent, he decides to go on an ethnographic expedition of sorts to apocalyptic groups all around the world. He talked to white, male "doomsday preppers" in America who sell and purchase $35,000 luxury bunkers in South Dakota. He visits New Zealand, where American tech billionaires are buying up expensive property as their climate change contingency plan. He attends meetings held by wannabe Mars colonists. He travels to Chernobyl to witness what one type of apocalypse actually looked like.
I found his insights to be extremely thought-provoking. My favorite chapter by far was his analysis of the white male doomsday preppers. He talks about how "prepping" is a way for white men to fulfill their ultimate fantasies, fueled by toxic masculinity, sexism, racism, and a core disbelief in civil society and community.
I learned a lot by reading this book about various groups and perspectives I hadn't previously encountered. His analyses were so poignant I found myself reading the same paragraphs I highlighted over and over again. I'm sure his philosophical musings will be annoying to some, and at times, the narrative of the book does feel disjointed (for example, he will switch to a discussion about a conversation with his son without much transition or warning). However, these things didn't really bother me at all and were a small price to pay for the deep payoff of his perspective.
After the author explores all these apocalyptic groups and scenarios, he muses on the fact that for all of his grandiose apocalyptic visions (climate change, meteors striking the planet, global pandemics, etc.), there are small apocalypses taking place on our planet every day. For refugees in war-torn countries, for black communities being killed by police, for the residents of Chernobyl in 1986: it is always the end of the world for someone, somewhere.
O'Connell is consumed by his own obsessions of the apocalypse. He starts the book by pondering how to reconcile his pessimism about where the world is heading (especially because of climate change) with his necessary optimism for creating a better, sustained future for his children.
To explore his obsession to its full extent, he decides to go on an ethnographic expedition of sorts to apocalyptic groups all around the world. He talked to white, male "doomsday preppers" in America who sell and purchase $35,000 luxury bunkers in South Dakota. He visits New Zealand, where American tech billionaires are buying up expensive property as their climate change contingency plan. He attends meetings held by wannabe Mars colonists. He travels to Chernobyl to witness what one type of apocalypse actually looked like.
I found his insights to be extremely thought-provoking. My favorite chapter by far was his analysis of the white male doomsday preppers. He talks about how "prepping" is a way for white men to fulfill their ultimate fantasies, fueled by toxic masculinity, sexism, racism, and a core disbelief in civil society and community.
I learned a lot by reading this book about various groups and perspectives I hadn't previously encountered. His analyses were so poignant I found myself reading the same paragraphs I highlighted over and over again. I'm sure his philosophical musings will be annoying to some, and at times, the narrative of the book does feel disjointed (for example, he will switch to a discussion about a conversation with his son without much transition or warning). However, these things didn't really bother me at all and were a small price to pay for the deep payoff of his perspective.
After the author explores all these apocalyptic groups and scenarios, he muses on the fact that for all of his grandiose apocalyptic visions (climate change, meteors striking the planet, global pandemics, etc.), there are small apocalypses taking place on our planet every day. For refugees in war-torn countries, for black communities being killed by police, for the residents of Chernobyl in 1986: it is always the end of the world for someone, somewhere.
fruitys's review against another edition
the chernobyl chapter was really interesting
jake_powell's review against another edition
4.0
Occasionally journalistic, at times more reflective, but overall an honest and self-compassionate answer to how to live with the collapsing of the world.
annauq's review against another edition
5.0
"A question I have frequently asked myself is whether the appeal of the apocalypse, in all its vastness and finality, is that it can comfortably absorb the personal fear of death. And not just death, either, but every other ancillary fear , too - of change, of instability, of the unknown, and of the precariousness of life itself, all positions held within it."
Notes From an Apocalypse is a quiet thing, somewhere between a meditation and a lament for the state of the world, a reflection on anxiety, politics, climate, and our duty to ourselves and others. I read it in one sitting, from an e-reader that has seen more action in the last month than in its entire previous existence. It's my fourth, nearly fifth, week inside, and in many ways, the world feels like it has ended.
Irony is an understatement, but much has been said about the comfort of reading, so I won't waste any time on it here. Suffice to say that it was both cathartic and incredibly moving, and I couldn't have read it at a better time. A literary and philosophical exploration of The End, in all its abstract forms, it had me in tears on the final pages. The incredible humanity shining from the pages -whether through an anxiety-ridden musing on climate change or through a breathtaking description of a laughing child - turns Apocalypse into a celebration of the sheer absurdity of existence that made me feel (glad to be) alive.
Notes From an Apocalypse is a quiet thing, somewhere between a meditation and a lament for the state of the world, a reflection on anxiety, politics, climate, and our duty to ourselves and others. I read it in one sitting, from an e-reader that has seen more action in the last month than in its entire previous existence. It's my fourth, nearly fifth, week inside, and in many ways, the world feels like it has ended.
Irony is an understatement, but much has been said about the comfort of reading, so I won't waste any time on it here. Suffice to say that it was both cathartic and incredibly moving, and I couldn't have read it at a better time. A literary and philosophical exploration of The End, in all its abstract forms, it had me in tears on the final pages. The incredible humanity shining from the pages -whether through an anxiety-ridden musing on climate change or through a breathtaking description of a laughing child - turns Apocalypse into a celebration of the sheer absurdity of existence that made me feel (glad to be) alive.
jdintr's review against another edition
4.0
I misjudged this book after reading a review in the New York Times. I was expecting more of a travelogue that would take me to the world's bunkers and get-away locales.
Instead O'Connell shares his own fears about apocalypse--primarily environmental, but also acknowledging other sources, like the viral apocalypse that allowed me to expand my reading this summer, even as I worked less.
The reader, then, is illumined as O'Connell's mind comprehends the scenarios--from viewing Peter Thiel's New Zealand getaway to the underground silos in South Dakota. The further O'Connell gets, the more he begins to doubt the ideas behind apocalypticism itself: that the individual has to survive, that The End is somehow out of our control. This aspect was one I really appreciated.
Instead O'Connell shares his own fears about apocalypse--primarily environmental, but also acknowledging other sources, like the viral apocalypse that allowed me to expand my reading this summer, even as I worked less.
The reader, then, is illumined as O'Connell's mind comprehends the scenarios--from viewing Peter Thiel's New Zealand getaway to the underground silos in South Dakota. The further O'Connell gets, the more he begins to doubt the ideas behind apocalypticism itself: that the individual has to survive, that The End is somehow out of our control. This aspect was one I really appreciated.
koreilly's review against another edition
3.0
The thing about picking a large and nebulous topic such as "the apocalypse" and just sort of Feature Article writing your way through it, is you find some interesting facts and wild characters but you never really land on a good solid through line. There are a lot of ideas in here I liked and the writing is good but it just doesn't come together as a cohesive whole enough for me.