I’ve long admired the SF novels by British author John Christopher (Sam Youd), and have posted about his works such as The Tripods trilogy and the Sword of the Spirits series, with the former in particular having been an influence on my novel The Map of the Known World. Christopher’s Death of Grass is also an excellent post-apocalyptic novel, one that is rightly lauded and which felt eerily resonant with the onset of Covid-19 in 2020.

I recently read another of Christopher’s post-apocalyptic books, Empty World. A short novel, at around 134 pages, it follows fifteen‑year‑old Neil Miller, a survivor of the catastrophic Calcutta Plague. The story begins with Neil losing his parents in a car accident. As Neil struggles to adapt to this tragedy, the whole world is devastated when the Plague swiftly wipes out the adult population, including his grandparents, with whom he has lived with since the death of his parents.
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Although clearly published for young adults, Empty World does not soft-peddle and is often an unsettling read, with a bleak, unflinching atmosphere, establishing a bleak world of silent streets, abandoned homes, and the threat of rats and feral dogs, all punctuated with moments of fear and sadness. For example, the fate of Tommy and Susie, two young children Neil tries to help, is both brutal and movingly told.    

The inexorable spread of the Plague, and the rapid societal collapse it causes, feels horribly plausible, given weight and power by Christopher’s taut writing and chilling imagery.

Empty World perhaps works best as a character study, as Neil, already numbed by unimaginable loss and trauma, is forced to confront the disintegration of civilisation and the psychological torment of isolation. His struggle to survive and to find other survivors is quietly but vividly portrayed – when Neil reaches a desolate London, he finds all the material resources he could ever need to survive, but as one shocking encounter with an unfortunate survivor who believed himself utterly alone, the greatest danger, the biggest threat of all, is loss of human connection. When Neil does meet other survivors, their interactions are riven with suspicion and fear – this is a new world, without order, without rules, with the ever-present threat of violence, and who, if anyone, can you trust?

As he is forced to both battle for survival and face his own trauma, Neil is morally conflicted, and this is brought into sharp focus in the novel’s very last pages, which I won’t spoil here.

Empty World is a brief but impactful science fiction novel, a layered exploration of grief, loneliness and human relationships.
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If you’re interested in finding out more about John Christopher / Sam Youd, it is well worth visiting the Syle Press website, which is packed with information and resources about the author and his books. 

I’ve read many Stephen King novels in recent years, including recently completing his multi-volume magnum opus, The Dark Tower. With novels such as The Stand (which I reviewed previously), IT, ‘Salem’s Lot and 11.22.63, King’s imagination and brilliantly observed characterisation always shines through, whether working with horror, fantasy or science fiction elements, or portraying gritty realism. So, I was looking forward to reading The Institute and it did not disappoint.
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Luke Ellis, a twelve-year-old genius is abducted and his parents murdered. Luke is taken to a secret government facility in Maine, where children with powers of telepathy and telekinesis are drugged and subjected to cruel experiments to exploit their abilities for a mysterious purpose. The situation looks hopeless, with any thought of escape just an impossible dream, but the arrival of young Avery, whose powers outstrip anything seen before, encourages Luke and his friends to plot a way out… 

Although The Institute is not as overtly frightening as some of King’s work, it is a deeply unsettling and suspenseful page turner, and I raced through the novel’s final hundred pages.

There may not be literal monsters in The Institute, but the casual and unquestioning cruelty of the adult staff – personified by Mrs. Sigsby and Trevor Stackhouse – is horrifying. They commit inhuman acts and deceive the children in their ‘care’ at every turn, not because they are demons, but because it is their job, and although some claim to work for a higher purpose, their lack of conscience is both disturbing and all too plausible.

The imprisoned children suffer enormously, but show resilience, courage and a macabre humour in the face of evil, and their reactions always feel authentically child-like and believable. Their friendships – forged through mutual torment at the hands of callous adults – are hard-earned and touching, perfectly captured through King’s well-tuned dialogue.

There are plot twists aplenty, which I won’t reveal here, but it is another plotting masterclass from King. And King displays his talent for creating a vivid sense of place - alongside the more fantastical parts, the community of a small town, of people doing their best to get through tough challenges in life, is sensitively and movingly portrayed.

The Institute might not be quite as well-known as some of Stephen King’s other novels, but this is a top-notch, inventive thriller, the impact of which lingers long after the final page.