STILLICIDE

A grim vision of near-future Britain as climate change increases its grip.

Welsh novelist Jones’ latest isn’t so much an apocalyptic novel as an apocalypse-in-progress one: Britain isn’t yet in tatters due to global warming, but it’s rapidly getting there. In desperation, an iceberg is being hauled from the Arctic to bring fresh water, bolstering what's already being distributed via a “Water Train” that can carry 10 million gallons at 200 miles an hour. The precious cargo is well protected against monkey-wrenchers: There are weapons onboard, and guards are stationed along the tracks. But anxiety is high, symbolized by one of those guards in the early pages investigating an anomaly while stressing over his dying wife and the general sense of impending calamity. Jones shifts this brisk story across a variety of perspectives: a journalist skeptical about the iceberg scheme; protesters at risk of displacement from the construction of the Ice Dock; the journalist's wife, a nurse pondering an affair; a scientist who discovers a protected dragonfly, which threatens to halt the Ice Dock plan; a boy chasing his dog into a guarded area; a father distressed at his son’s work for the Water Train, which is under seemingly constant threat from saboteurs. In prior novels, Jones has proven masterful at spare, aphoristic sentences that create a sense of foreboding, whether his subject was drug trafficking or hard-luck rural hunters. There are glimpses of that here. But though Jones’ long-running concern with nature makes climate change a natural theme for him, this novel lacks the earthy grit of his earlier work and the kind of clarity a thriller demands, even an ersatz one.

Jones finely captures the mood of a country nearing collapse, but his plot threads are loosely woven.