Nasty, Brutish, and Floral: “The Wilds” Depicts a Strange Apocalypse
I read a lot of fiction, and I read a lot of political theory. That’s not to say that everything I read in the former column has to be suffused by the latter — in fact, a compelling story that turns didactic, whatever its politics may be, is a great way to get me to lose interest in the work in question. But when done well, an infusion of political consciousness can make for an engaging read.
A few weeks ago, I wrote about Sarah Gailey and Liana Kanagas’s Know Your Station, a murder mystery set in space that threw a class-war subplot into the mix. That subplot had the effect of complicating the narrative further, taking in the story in unexpected directions and making for some surprises along the way. And while there are plenty of differences between that book and The Wilds — from writer Vita Ayala and artist Emily Pearson — the two books find a good balance between a familiar setting and an incisive point of view, with readers benefiting from that approach.
Let’s start with the familiar: The Wilds is set in the aftermath of an apocalyptic event, dubbed “The Reckoning” by its survivors. We’re in the realm of “science fiction version of a zombie apocalypse” here — think 28 Days Later or The Last of Us — with a distinctly visual twist. In this world, the infected (dubbed “Abominations”) begin by attacking other people, but their bodies are also transformed in a way where their bodies become fertile soil for seeds. Pearson’s visuals go a long way towards making that click; this story’s zombie equivalents, rather than appearing decayed or weather-beaten, look alluring, with leaves and flowers growing like organic tattoos. Pearson’s art is neatly unsettling here for its matter-of-factness, which also contrasts nicely with the more delirious approach taken by Natasha Alterici’s cover artwork.
The Wilds opens several years after the civilizational collapse took place and something new arose in its aftermath. Protagonist Daisy is a runner, tasked with the dangerous work of transporting materials from one enclave to another. On that level, the premise might resemble Nocterra, from Scott Snyder (who blurbed this book) and Tony Daniel. But while Snyder and Daniel lean into the pulpy horror of it all, Ayala and Pearson go a different route, focusing on the ways Daisy is working a dangerous job at the behest of an employer — Director Smith — who’s perfectly happy to be amicable at times and forceful at others. That he’s the only character in this wearing a suit feels telling; who, after all, wears a suit after the collapse of civilization? And what does it mean for a society where the risk is far from evenly distributed? Hint: that society might not be as stable as it looks.
Even when a runner has fulfilled their contract, they still face a conundrum: stay in an unequal society or leave for a life that’s potentially much riskier? As Daisy’s partner Heather comments, “Being a runner comes with a contract. You owe. Even when you pay it off, like I have, it’s…hard to break away.”
The plot of The Wilds is set in motion when Daisy rescues a man living in a medical facility while on a run. He’s at risk from some of the infected, and so Daisy returns with him to the settlement where she’s based. It’s an apparent coincidence that they cross paths; as the story deepens, that starts to look a lot less like a moment of serendipity. It’s not long before Heather winds up abducted and the larger agendas of the community that took her and Director Smith come into focus.
Some of the narration found in the book takes a big-picture approach to describing the effects of the apocalypse, encompassing things like infant mortality, and the disparities that can emerge there along racial lines. It’s worth noting, too, that Daisy is Black and Heather is (unless I’ve completely misread something here) Indigenous. But while race and gender play a role here, it’s also worth noting that their colleagues are a diverse group; the tensions within their settlement are more along the lines of class than anything. (Though gender also plays a role; one character mentions in passing that Director Smith has spoken inappropriately to some of the women he works with.)
Speculative fiction often abounds with big questions, and The Wilds definitely checks that box. At the heart of this book is a huge ethical question: what if the only people working on a measure to save the world were thoroughly amoral? And if so, what’s the best course of action? Late in the book, Daisy asks, “Is there any other way to stop the bad, without throwing away the good?”
There’s another comment that she makes later in the book: “There has to be something better than being used.” Most of the characters in The Wilds are searching for just what that something could be. Combine incisive writing with Pearson’s detailed artwork — which evokes Mike Allred with the body horror ramped up slightly — and you have a story that can take you by surprise. There are familiar aspects to The Wilds, sure — but the thematic elements found just below the surface hold plenty of surprises in store.
As always, I'm Tobias Carroll, and this has been Postcards From Komiksoj.
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