This is the name of an end-of-the-world novel I wrote in the late '80s/early '90s. Rooted in some stories I first set down back in high school, it tells the tale of four teen-age survivors of a worldwide cataclysm that resembles what would happen if the Sun went nova. As one and eventually all four discover, however, there is much more to it all than first meets the eye. Although it has, at least for the first-person narrator, a (somewhat) happy ending, it is ultimately a tragedy of deception on every level from governmental to personal and the consequences of humanity's failures to recognize and promulgate the truth. Sound familiar?
It gets better. I set it in West Texas, where I'm originally from, in an imaginary city somewhere near Midland (yes, that Midland). The antagonist, who rises to power in the wake of the cataclysm, continually invents fictitious reasons for the survivors to circle the wagons and fight off vicious enemies who always seem to be just over the horizon. Meanwhile, he and those of his inner circle grab up the best of what's still around while the rest of the community suffer and die for their misdeeds. When the narrator faces execution for trying to expose the truth, the antagonist defends his actions as the way all great societies rise and prosper.
The plot was laid out and decided back in the Reagan years, and at least partly inspired by events of that time. It all seemed a natural extension into the near future of what was being ordained as national policy: social Darwinism, paranoia, and a cultural paradigm shift from substance to style that was decried by those in power when they were actually its biggest instigators. The point of view is entirely through the eyes of the young, since they know they'll have to fix it someday. Oh, and there's this massive and obscenely expensive effort to produce a technologically complex, seemingly invincible defense system that still has a few bugs in it. And I mean real bugs.
So why should I read it?
There's plenty here for everybody, except perhaps intransigent MAGA nutwagons. I subtitled it A Pagan Apocalypse because I forward a plot twist that the world-ending events might have been astrologically foretold in the stars. The narrator is ambivalent about this prospect, even as he decides on the inevitable course of action contained in the prophecy. Weird? Hey, it's every bit as believable a premise as that put forward by those awful Left Behind novels that are selling like mad, and as God is my witness, better written, too. How can I say that? Because 1) I managed to tell my whole story in one book, and 2) my allegory really is coming true.
There is sex, and even some drag, though in the great Shakespearean tradition of necessary disguise. There are the ridiculous posturing and pecking orders of life in high school, as a backdrop to the ridiculous posturing and pecking orders of everything later on in life. There are religious allusions and spiritual speculation that leads to the conclusion that God is gravity. There is even a subplot that both comically and tragically parallels the demonization of smokers.
Here are some tidbits from the text to whet your appetite.
Read the Opening