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A review by kangaruthie
Notes from an Apocalypse: A Personal Journey to the End of the World and Back by Mark O'Connell
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.