Gethan Dick’s dystopia begins at Elephant and Castle in London. The narrator, a young woman who considers herself unexceptional, recalls a break in a water main at the big roundabout, a rupture that revealed “white quartz pebbles being washed clean, rattling as they went like in any stream bed”. The surfaces we have built on the face of the Earth to sustain us are just that, only surfaces, easily cracked open to show what’s roiling beneath.
And this is how it is at the end of the world in Water in the Desert Fire in the Night. The setup for this slender, evocative debut will be eerily familiar to all its readers, albeit with the disaster quotient kicked up a notch. A pandemic arises and begins its cull, only this one is unstoppable: it results in whole streets full of the dead. Those who survive – and we don’t know why they do – must stick together, and so this is a tale of unlikely alliances between a group of travellers determined to reach a refuge in the south of France, a place called Digne-les-Bains.
