Children of Men, by P.D. James

I watched this movie about six months ago and really liked it, less for its plot than for its vision of the horrors of a barren future, which I thought were very well-imagined and well-depicted, a rare combination. I figured the book was worth trying, and I was right: it was, in many ways, far better than the movie (and drastically different--I hadn't quite realized that most movie reviews were telling me the plot was a loose adaptation, and so it was a shock to encounter an entirely different cast of characters, setting, and final goal), particularly in its exploration of this possible future. The apathy that settles over the globe is, apparently, a symptom of an aging population, who, with no future generations to bequeath the earth to, only want to live and die in peace and comfort. Though the second half of the book is worse than the first--their desperate chase across England into Wales was, for the most part, less than compelling--I thought this book worth the read, both for, as mentioned, its frightening vision, but also for its ultimate goal: whereas the movie was political, the book is almost religious in its ultimate story, that of a lonely, unloving and unlovable aging man redeeming himself, not so much through heroism, though he is, at times, heroic, but through love, through finally caring about another human being enough to risk himself for them. It was quite unexpectedly lovely, a touch of light and hope in a dark and doomed world, and, as that element was sadly lacking in the movie (except maybe for the scene in which Clive Owen first sees that the teenager he's transporting is pregnant, a scene I love to watch for the mixed shock and hope that steal over his face as he stares), I'd have to rate the book, whatever its flaws, higher than its film adaptation.