All I wanted was a glass of water.
I usually have a beverage of some kind while I am reading. Maybe a tankard of ale for fantasy novels like Angus Watson’s excellent West of West trilogy. Wine feels right for elegant science fiction like anything written by Kim Stanley Robinson. Whisk(e)y for Raymond Chandler. But, while reading The Water Knife, I craved only water. It felt so precious and rare while reading this book due in large part to author Paolo Bacigalupi’s beautiful prose. Even while writing about a grim subject such as water wars between states in a near-future American Southwest, Bacigalupi paints such wonderful images of the parched and dusty land that just reading the words siphoned all of the moisture from my throat. Beer and wine did not at all sound appealing. Only a glass of water felt like the right beverage to have by my side.
Paolo Bacigalupi has forged a successful career writing in a science fiction sub-genre called climate fiction (or cli-fi for short, but do not ever call it that in my presence), a category I have only recently heard about. Some of the best books are reflections of the author’s time. Throughout the world right now, people are arguing about climate change. This is an ecologic argument on one side, an economic argument on the other, and a hostile one on both. Another issue at the core of society right now is the ever-widening wealth gap. Where I live in the United States, both subjects are frequently discussed by political candidates as they race toward the next election. In The Water Knife, Paolo Bacigalupi shines a blinding spotlight on both of these issues and establishes a firm connection between them. While I hope the novel’s setting does not come to pass, it certainly seems like we are racing down that road at a breakneck pace.
What makes The Water Knife so good and so frightening is the story’s plausibility and recognizable setting. While the novel is classified as science fiction, it is not a far future tale flung to the stars. This is a near-future story with so many familiar elements that ground the story in the world we know and set the hair on one’s neck abuzz with the sense of imminent danger. One character drives a Tesla and wears a bulletproof jacket from the Calvin Klein fashion brand. Another drinks Dos Equis beer and wears an air filter mask from REI. Current water companies like Aquafina get a nod and a real nonfiction book about the American Southwest’s difficulty with water, Desert Cadillac, is cited by frequently by multiple characters in a reverent tone. “It’s the bible when it comes to water,” says one of them.
As a water knife, Angel Velasquez does dirty work for the Southern Nevada Water Authority (SNWA) at the bidding of its ruthless boss, Catherine Case. A former gang member recruited from prison for his ability to respond to evolving situations, his aggression, and his intelligence, Angel’s reward for his service to Case is a permanent residence in Cypress 1, a new arcology complex being built in Las Vegas. The Cypress complexes are self-sufficient communities contained within a single high-rise building and are climate-controlled to protect occupants from the frequent dust storms and triple-digit temperatures outside. They include luxury residences, shopping centers, coffee shops and restaurants, parks with ponds and waterfalls. They are also protected by paramilitary security forces. One must have a pass to enter a Cypress arcology and to live in one, one must either be ridiculously wealthy or be like Angel Velasquez whose job it is to eliminate threats to SNWA’s water supply and cut the flow of water to cities that the SNWA determines no longer deserves it. Here is one of those familiar elements that should make the reader uncomfortable. The SNWA is a real entity formed in 1991 to acquire and manage water resources for southern Nevada.
When Angel is sent to Phoenix, Arizona to investigate rumors of a potential new water source, he encounters Lucy Monroe, a Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist who is investigating the brutal murder of a lawyer who may have had information about the water source Angel is trying to secure. Lucy is tough and tenacious and motivated to get the story despite multiple warnings from both cops and shady characters to leave it alone. Lucy is the moral compass of the novel, struggling to reconcile what she wants to do with what she feels she has to do.
Maria Villarosa is a young refugee from Texas, brought to Phoenix by her father who scored a job as a construction worker on Phoenix’s own version of the Cypress arcology. Named Taiyang after the Chinese company that is building it, the Phoenix arcology offers the same amenities as the Vegas arcologies and people are just as desperate to earn the right to live there as they are in Vegas. An accident leaves Maria on her own, homeless, fighting to survive in a dying neighborhood ruled by a violent man nicknamed The Vet. Maria is a survivor and not about to give up. Living as a refugee on the streets has toughened her despite her young age.
While on the surface,The Water Knife is an entertaining story, I was affected by the examination of class struggle. The ultra-wealthy have migrated from their gated communities to the fortresses of the Cypress and Taiyang complexes. Everyone else must live outside, suffer through harmful dust storms, and endure triple-digit temperatures even after sunset. The inhospitable nature of the desert is reasserting itself and only the haves are living in anything resembling comfort. Everyone else has sunburns, wears masks to prevent their lungs from filling with dust, and waits in line at water pumps to purchase a gallon at a time. There are already places in the world where this is very nearly the truth and if one looks at the state of water supplies in the American Southwest and California, one can imagine it happening here as well not too far in the future. It is a real problem with which our society is faced and one that feels too big to comprehend, too far along to correct. What worries me is that it is also the kind of problem that often results in violent rebellion.
One of Bacigalupi’s inspirations was Marc Reisner’s 1986 book Cadillac Desert: The American West and its Disappearing Water, which examines the danger of the region’s diminishing water supply. As a child growing up in my home state of California, I can recall droughts resulting in water rationing. We recently exited a seven-year period of drought that inspired many changes in landscaping practice. Where once verdant lawns and lush trees adorned housing lots, I now see many more native desert plants and succulents, more dirt and rockscapes. While it does return the region to a more natural environment, it probably will not prevent the grim future Bacigalupi portends in The Water Knife because humans are short-lived, selfish beings that will destroy everything around them to ensure their own comfort.
I tend to read a book, enjoy it, maybe write about it, and then move on, but this book has stayed with me and affected my routine. I have always been conscious of my water usage, but now I am even more careful. When once upon a time I may have dumped unused water down the sink, I will now take it outside and water plants with it. I take shorter showers. I am more conservative when washing dishes. Perhaps the most notable change in me, however, has been my increased intake of water. I now seem to drink water as though it will soon be taken from me. If we are not careful, it may be taken from all of us.
