This past weekend I watched the documentary ‘The Fog of War’ about former U.S Secretary of Defense, Robert McNamara. In the part where he describes how close they came to nuclear engagement during the 1962 Cuban Missile Crisis it put me in mind of On the Beach, which I’ve recently finished.
“It’s – it’s the end of the world. I’ve never had to imagine anything like that before.”
John Osborne laughed. “It’s not the end of the world at all,” he said. “It’s only the end of us. The world will go on just the same, only we shan’t be in it. I daresay it will get on all right without us.”
Dwight Towers raised his head. “I suppose that’s right. There didn’t seem to be much wrong with Cairns, or Port Moresby either.” He paused, thinking of the flowering trees that he had seen on shore through the periscope, cascaras and flame trees, the palms standing in the sunlight. “Maybe we’ve been too silly to deserve a world like this,” he said.
The scientist said, “That’s absolutely and precisely right.”Shute, On the Beach, pg 87
Many Aussies might know of this book because it is set in Australia, or for Ava Gardner’s famous quote about shooting the original film in Melbourne: “The perfect place to make a film about the end of the world.” (Although Wikipedia questions that she actually said it). While our world today isn’t (as) clouded with the fear of nuclear destruction like it was in 1957 when this book was first published, what On the Beach says about humanity – and how Shute imagines this world’s final months – still packs quite a punch. I finished it feeling utterly depressed. The plot is minimal, but what matters more are the details: I can imagine piles of opened cartons of suicide pills just left on the chemist’s floor so one can help oneself, for example.
