Everybody tries to figure things out, although what is being figured out is hardly the same for everyone. Nor is the method for figuring things out the same for everyone, with academics a class of its own, and this applies to climate fiction, too.

Here’s how “Six books to help you explore the role of storytelling in the climate fight,” starts:

Humans are storytelling animals. 

That, at least, is one of the stories that humans tell about themselves. We are not logic machines or information processors; we need the tug of a narrative thread to carefully follow an argument. 

This poses a challenge for science, especially climate science, which has such a long timeframe, such a vast playing field, and way too many characters. But climate scientists, social scientists, reporters, and activists have tried, in permutating collaborations, to meet this challenge. And they have stories to tell about their efforts. (Or should we call them quests?) 

You have to love academics, and I mean this positively. Appearing in Yale Climate Connections, this article runs the deck, “This special selection includes books on storytelling, science, and climate change.” The article is found through an initiative of the Yale Center for Environmental Communication. The article is written by Michael Svoboda and was published on January 30, 2026. Svoboda has been at George Washington University and teaching in the writing program there for two decades-plus, where “… he has pursued two very different research programs—on ancient Greek rhetoric and on communicating climate change. In 2010, he became a regular contributor to Yale Climate Connections. His current book project—and the focus of his year with GW’s Humanities Center—will further develop pieces he wrote for YCC on how climate change is depicted in advertising, in popular books and magazines, in documentaries and fictional movies, and in American political cartoons and commentary.”

Like I said, you got to love academics.

There’s a sub-industry on climate fiction these days and this recent Yale Climate Connections contribution is but one manifestation. Not that the books covered in this article are necessarily focused on climate fiction, but rather are books on the forms and values of storytelling about matters including climate change. I’ve read none of them, although I have looked a bit at We All Die in the End: Storytelling in the Climate Apocalypse and read the generous, albeit hopscotched, “Read sample.” I found myself impressed.

Not surprisingly, as a writer of what I call “literary climate fiction,” I have a dog in this hunt. I’ve reviewed quite a few cli-fi books, dived deep into such pools as Climate Fiction Writers League, and explored various academically-oriented programs looking at climate fiction or more generally the topic of storytelling associated with or applied to climate fiction.

Here’s a list of posts about climate fiction on my website published since September 2025:

• Climate Fiction, Climate Fantasy: What’s the right mix of hope and disappointment? 
• Let’s Talk About Climate Optimism and Hope That We Can Write About Doing Something About Climate Change
• Is Climate Hope Fiction Hopeless?
• Climate Fiction, Optimism, and Realism
• Fun with Apocalypse, Part 2
• Writing The Steep Climes Quartet, Part 2: Economics in Climate Fiction
• Climate Change and the Human Condition
• Writing Villains on Both Sides in Climate Fiction
• Democracy, Climate Action, Climate Fiction… and Criminality
• Why We Write: A look back at why the heck I’m writing a four-book climate fiction series

There are more, going back to mid-2023, too, back when the first book of The Steep Climes Quartet, Kill Well, was published, although I’m not sure what this tells me. Maybe that I’m a slow learner or that I still have questions about what kinds of climate fiction may be most efficacious?

Climate Fiction’s Scorecard

There are plenty of great climate fiction works out there. I place Kim Stanley Robinson’s The Ministry for the Future in the top tier, although the scale is global and across many domains and the book carries a lot of policy wonkiness, but entertainingly so. The Deluge, by Stephen Markley, is another solid work along a similar scope as Ministry. Flight Behavior, by Barbara Kingsolver, places readers into the lives of everyday characters, encouraging readers to live alongside these characters in regular lives, even as the sublime aspects of climate change manifest. Weather, by Jenny Offill, accomplishes much the same, but at an even subtler level. Snowflake: A Novel, by Arthur Jeon, is a book I’ve greatly appreciated both for its form—journal entries by a climate/Trump obsessive high school senior with spectrum disorder—and its perspective, and there are a number of independently published works by others of note, but if you want to see more, look under “Other Writing” category on my website for reviews.

You’ll also see books that carry my complaint. One critical aspect is catastrophic climate occurrences that fall outside of known science. Another critique is focused on books that re-write human culture as climate solution or adaptation, pre-supposing either the passage of time or major human cultural shift, or both. These sorts of climate fiction can be engaging but represent what I term the “You can’t get there from here” problem.

What most concerns me is the question of how writers get people interested in climate change action, which for me seems mostly that of political action (i.e., voting) to affect legislation supporting the renewable energy transition. In America today, this has become part and parcel of the struggle to continue our democratic experiment, where today’s emerging authoritative threat bleeds into the fight between fossil fuel’s policy ascendancy and the anti-competitive market conditions being imposed on the clean energy transition. Traditional storytelling, such as the hero’s journey or a main focus on action plots or disaster stories, I argue, keep people from identifying with the current situation, even if such stories can be satisfying reads in and of themselves. Unfortunately, few of us are indeed heroes or survivalists or champions on the international stage. Most of us find our attention taken up with paying next month’s rent or mortgage payment, or current or dreamed of relationships, or the grocery or utility bill. An individual’s positive climate action takes place within the quotidian and having readers identify with characters’ experiences seems the way to bridge our everyday concerns with climate concerns, and not by making people into outsized heroes but rather by showing more informed citizens who realize the normal actions within which they participate can lead to better outcomes. Still, the range of concern varies from character to character, from intense climate action involvement to indifference or denial, and why? Because this is the world in which we live and so must be represented in climate fiction to support identification by the reader with the issue of climate change and what we can do about it.

Huh. Maybe I should write an academic paper about this.

The post Figuring Out Climate Fiction first appeared on David Guenette.

In some climate fiction the recreation of mankind is the necessary solution to the climate crisis, while climate action progress such as significant carbon emission reductions is not sufficient. Examples of these stories of reformed humans include degrowth or return to nature, including stories taking the lead from indigenous cultures. Other examples might focus on the West turning elsewhere for archetype substitutions or some other significant alternative cultural shift. Alongside these themes, hopeful climate fiction frequently relies on radical social restructuring. These stories often pivot toward non-normative gender dynamics, BIPOC perspectives, or spiritual awakenings as the primary drivers of change. Yet other types of climate fiction include some shift in economic model or political makeover, predominantly in the abandonment of capitalism.

Unfortunately, when it comes to helping people understand how one can approach the problem of climate change and push for solutions, many stories have a fundamental gap between today’s world and the depicted later world. The telling point is that such stories are not grounded in the present and presuppose a major cultural break. It may be that such stories can show us a world that may truly be helpful and compelling at some point. For us presently caught up in the crisis of climate change, however, these stories do not reflect today’s world, since manifesting new worlds, good or not, require time passing because cultural transformation is typically a slow process.

The challenge, however, is that the pressing nature of the climate crisis means that we do not have the time to wait for a new world to appear, if climate change storytelling wants to be efficacious in contributing to solutions today.

No Gain in Degrowth Stories

Degrowth is an absurd expectation and climate fiction that posits degrowth as a solution to our current climate crisis is absurd, at least in any way other than as a parable. Certainly, shifting away from conspicuous consumption is a healthier way to live in the world. It is also true that our still-raging engine of consumer culture broadcasts the extractive economic model down to the level of the individual. Nonetheless, stories showing the pressure on the world planetary boundaries reduced by reducing human population is simply an apocalyptic tale cleaned up, corpses hidden from the scenes. There are already far too many stories portraying degrowth scenarios, as any reader of zombie plagues novels knows, or some other catastrophic pandemic, perhaps. There is the old stand-by of post-nuclear holocaust stories and the updated version of EMP tales. Then there are the ‘fast collapse’ storylines: asteroids, inexplicably fast-rising seas, or the cracking of the Earth. These narratives rely on widespread disaster to bring about a precipitous decline in mall visits and Amazon deliveries.

We have policies designed for accounting the price of carbon in consumer, business, and industrial goods, such as carbon taxes or fees. Creating a world that has fewer humans in it to ease the carbon burden the Anthropocene has produced is unnecessary. You want plastic straws? Then pay for them at a more realistic price, not an artificially low price that results from ignoring externalities of fossil fuel use. This applies across many domains. EVs versus ICVs is just one example, and god help us, great public transportation is also a part of the same domain. We also have a clear understanding of how changes in zoning can lead to smarter density and smaller carbon costs. We know that we can manage huge amounts of unused electrical capacity instead of building more gas plants, and we have companies already providing the technologies and services. We have laws and the means to make laws that hold fossil fuel corporations accountable for harm. We have elections that rid the governing structures of undue influence that disproportionally favors the small number of ultrawealthy at all others’ expense.

But a movement exists within climate fiction that seeks similarly radical world-building—fortunately, often with a lower body count. Even with the emergence of the “Thrutopia” concept of climate fiction, which purports to shift climate storytelling into a teachable methodology and the promotion of solution-focused narratives, there remains a reluctance to present worlds that doesn’t require a fundamental transformation of reality.

Wait, What Do You Mean by “Efficacy of Climate Change Storytelling”?

The result from a Google search on “efficacy of climate fiction” turns up a lot:

Climate fiction (cli-fi) serves as a potent, though mixed, tool for environmental engagement, capable of increasing short-term concern, empathy, and emotional connection to climate issues. While it can drive, in some studies, increased political efficacy and specific climate actions (e.g., increased donations, higher likelihood of seeking information), it often triggers negative emotions, such as anxiety or despair, which may lead to disempowerment rather than action. 

There are views that climate fiction can transform scientific data into relatable narratives, and in so doing expand the reader’s understanding of climate issues even while encouraging emotional or empathetic responses. One concern, of course, is that these emotional reactions can be negative, such as anxiety or despair that result in inaction.

Can beliefs about climate change and action about it be encouraged through climate fiction? The jury is still out, with conflicting studies making the case yea or nay. For some reason that is beyond me there is the view that climate fiction may be “particularly effective in developing climate literacy among children and encouraging them to think critically about environmental issues.” Whether such consequences are long-term or ephemeral—whether with children or the rest of us—remains unproven.

And what’s up with YA and MG climate fiction books? I understand that children and youngsters are anxious and quite possibly likely to come to help address climate change, but the need for action is now. We are already past the point of any climate resolution back to normal. If we count on children growing up in order to start in on the problem, there will likely be a whole different level of problem, and besides, isn’t it incumbent for the grownups to act?

The question of the efficacy of climate fiction to help more people consider the problem of climate change or learn more about it or raise the level of action is an interesting one. But why should we expect this from climate fiction if most stories jump to some far future, displaying worlds we can’t recognize as our own? I’ve got no problem with good writing of any sort, whether for kids or adults. How can climate fiction claim ‘efficacy’ when it ignores the practical steps we actually can to take today?

I used “efficacy of climate fiction” as my search string. The following AI Summary I found to be of special interest to me because it so spookily well-summarizes my own efforts with The Steep Climes Quartet:

Common Themes and Techniques:

• • Hope vs. Fear: The most effective stories often blend both, balancing the grim realities with possibilities for action.
  • Relatability: By placing characters in familiar settings facing climate-induced changes, it helps readers to better understand the potential impacts on their lives.
  • Future Imaging: It allows readers to imagine potential solutions and scenarios, encouraging a more proactive mindset. 

Feel free to do your own reading. Here’s just a sample of page 1 of search result links on the topic (I skipped around and page 20 in the search results was still going strong!):

• • The Influence of Climate Fiction | Environmental Humanities, by M Schneider-Mayerson, 2018
  • On the False Promise of Climate Fiction, Emma Pattee, 2023
  • The Curious Case of Climate Change Fiction – C21 Literature, by H Bolze, 2026
  • Climate fiction is a vital tool for producing better planetary …, by I Malpas, 2021
  • “Beyond Dystopia: The effect of reading hopeful climate fiction …, by B McWilliams, 2024
  • Fiction builds political efficacy and climate action, by L Page, 2022
  • Can Fiction Really Change the World?, by T Lash, 2023
  • “The Influence of Climate Fiction: An Empirical Survey …, by M Schneider-Mayerson, 2018
  • Why I Don’t Like Climate Fiction, Substack · Climate Fiction Writers League, by D.A. Baden, 2025
  • Approaching Climate Change Through Fiction? The Effects …, by JR Winkler,·2025

The Climate Fiction Writers League and Thrutopia

You shouldn’t be surprised that The Climate Fiction Writers League, which was founded in 2020 by Wren James and has a Substack by the same name, talks about climate fiction. In December of 2025, I wrote “Climate Fiction, Optimism, and Realism,” that largely focused on an article on Literary Hub, that explored the concepts raised in a just-published anthology called Climate Imagination: Dispatches from Hopeful Futures, and this essay was written by Joey Eschrich, who is the co-editor of the anthology. I liked what I read and set out to read the anthology itself.

The two editors have more recently published an article on Climate Fiction Writers League Substack. The essay is titled “Imagining a Writer’s Toolkit for Hopeful Climate Futures.” I did buy and read the anthology. It is a curious mix of academic essays and short stories. The academic aspect isn’t surprising, considering that both Joey Eschrich and Ed Finn both work at the Center for Science and the Imagination at Arizona State University; Ed is the center’s founding director and Joey is the managing editor.

Something else that surprised me is that the stories contained therein tended toward worlds not all that recognizable as the present one, including one novelette that was post-Niger fictional civil war that included magical realism elements. On the other hand, the short story “City of Choice,” by Gu Shi, caught my eye because it served a reasonable extrapolation of the use of AI in city planning for dealing with chronic flooding problems, but that story was technologically a bit far afield.

So, what’s my complaint? I’ll refer back to one of the search results listed earlier, Why I Don’t Like Climate Fiction, Substack · Climate Fiction Writers League, by D.A. Baden, which helped spark another recent post of mine, this one titled “Let’s Talk About Climate Optimism and Hope That We Can Write About Doing Something About Climate Change.” There’s another one or two CFWL posts by other writers that I referenced in the post, too, including one on the concept of “Thrutopium” climate fiction titled “Thrutopian Writing – a new genre for a new world,” by Manda Scott, published in May 2024, which starts this way:

Ursula le Guin spun us a challenge, and we’re doing all we can to foment resistance and change: ‘we’ who are writers, podcasters, poets, scriptwriters, bloggers of regenerative farming; those who are engaged in alternative politics, community food projects or land banks; co-housing groups experimenting with sociocracy, co-operative architecture practices, zero-carbon cities, or bio-regional banks experimenting with ideas that could yield a whole new global reserve currency….

My complaint? ‘Thrutopia’ has expanded to cover books that stray far from practical solutions. It seems to count ‘remaking the human species’ as a viable climate strategy—an idea that does little to address the crisis as it manifests in the real world today. I mean, yeah, better humans, better economic models, better moral perspectives can reshape the world but is this really going to happen before the continuing carbon emissions remakes the world, and certainly not for the better?

I believe that reconnecting with nature—whether through indigenous wisdom or simple exposure—is valuable. But frankly, turning down the planet’s thermostat is the more pressing goal. Whether it depicts a utopia or an apocalypse, fiction that ignores the near-term work makes it less likely we will ever reach that happy future—or avoid our worst nightmares.

I was listening to The 7am Novelist and its January 6, 2026 “Roundtable: Can Climate Fiction Move the Needle?” The Substack is by Michelle Hoover, and this particular roundtable had four authors participating. Here’s a bit more background, from the transcript:

…Ash Davidson. She’s the author of Damnation Spring. Wren James, creator of the Climate Conscious Writers Handbook and founder of the Climate Fiction Writers League. Emma Petit [sic], a climate journalist, author of the novel Tilt and the person who coined the term Climate Shadow. Tim Weed, author of The Afterlife Project, a finalist for the Prison Climate Literature Award. And Kate Woodworth, author of Little Great Island and creator of the Grassroots Climate Change Initiative, Be the Butterfly.

At one point, Wren James says:

We don’t really have that collective vision right now of what we want the future to be or what we want governments to spend money on doing, whether that’s free public transport and train lines and all those kinds of things. We kind of have vague ideas that we need to go to green energy.

But the specifics, we don’t know what a city would look like if it was a green city. Sci-fi writers and futuristic writers have the job of creating those stories to create this vision of the future that we then know what we want to push our governments to make.

I beg to disagree. There’s plenty of work being done on greening cities and expanding and improving public transportation and what we want the government to spend money on. There’s been all kinds of tremendous work undertaken, from solar/wind/batteries all the way to cultured meat. The Electrotech Revolution is here. If climate fiction authors don’t know about those efforts, then those efforts don’t get incorporated into their fiction and thus the “promotion of solution-focused narratives” falls short. As people better understand the world of the humanly possible, then their political support is encouraged and made that much more effective. One thing I know is that the right political action taken sooner rather than later makes the future world of reduced global warming consequences the best story.

That’s how climate fiction gets through.

The post Is Climate Hope Fiction Hopeless? first appeared on David Guenette.