Utopia in a Dystopia

In The Subprimes, a very recent satiric novel by Karl Taro Greenfeld, the setting is not far in a future in which all our worst fears have been realized. American life has become an orgy of rampant greed untempered by government regulation, including cancellation of all government-provided benefits: schools, health care, road maintenance (except for exclusive roads for rich people), police protection, civil rights, basic freedoms. Renewable energy is illegal, as are hybrid cars; the energy industry owns everything.

Climate change has resulted in punishing heat waves, packs of coyotes preying on humans and housecats, and distressed whales washing up on the beaches. In California, the view from the once-beautiful shoreline is mainly of large numbers of oil rigs. Food is scarce, and many types of food are simply not available any longer. Brutality of the rich against the poor includes debtors prison or worse for the "subprimes," that is, citizens with a bad credit score.

The subprimes have lost their jobs and have been routed out of their former middle-class neighborhoods. Large numbers of them roam in disintegrating SUVs and old cars from one "Ryanville" to another -- most of them underneath derelict freeway overpasses. In case you have forgotten this: in the Great Depression similar encampments where homeless people congregated were called "Hoovervilles." Yes, it's a very political satire!

The novel includes several vividly drawn individuals and families from each of the new classes of society including of course the subprimes. Sometimes the story is told by an omniscient narrator, sometimes by a writer who is still almost managing what's left of a middle-class lifestyle. As the novel progresses, these compelling characters all gather in a utopian communal experiment located in an abandoned subdivision in the desert near Las Vegas. With a mysterious woman leading them, they create a utopian living space where they raise vegetables, rehabilitate the decaying housing, cooperate to provide health care and nutrition, establish ways to educate their children, and above all, reclaim their dignity.

Communal meals particularly serve to unite them -- as individuals most of the subprimes have had to live on canned beans (heated when they were lucky) and tortillas as they fled from one Ryanville to another. In the small emerging settlement, they pool their resources and cook together. When the writer first arrives at the settlement, the residents feed him from their stew pot. It's a major contrast to the food in fast-food outlets, and a major contrast in attitude:

"Gemma and I both sit down on a log bench and spoon the stew into our mouths. The food is earthy and smoky, and while the first bite seems bland, the flavors grow on me, some kind of meat, seasoned with cilantro, onions, chipotle, garlic, and salt, so that after a few mouthfuls, I can’t imagine anything I would rather be eating. We wash it down with cups of water. 

"'What’s the meat?' I ask Sargam. 

"'Rabbit, goat, maybe snake,' she says. 'Definitely some lobster. Cans of the stuff have been donated— by the pallet.'" (Kindle Locations 3889-3894).

In the end, as one would expect, a violent clash pits the residents of this utopia against the goonish security guards hired by the representatives of the greedy society which has oppressed them. The leaders of the oppression are a pair of twins -- the Pepper sisters -- who own the biggest energy corporation in America and their ally, a smarmy evangelistic preacher who assures the public that all misfortunes, from those of beached whales to those of deprived subprimes, are the will of God. These representatives of the greedy rich plutocrats seem to me to be the most amusing of the novel's broad satiric streak.

I'm not going to tell you who prevails, but the end is dramatic if a little exaggerated. The whole book, especially the ending, is fun to read.