Joe Mungo Reed’s second novel, “Terrestrial History,” arrives as a stunning evolution from his cycling-focused debut “We Begin Our Ascent.” Where his previous work explored the microcosm of professional cycling’s moral complexities, this ambitious science fiction saga expands to encompass nothing less than the fate of human civilization itself. Reed has crafted a temporal puzzle that operates simultaneously as family drama, climate fiction, and philosophical meditation on responsibility across generations.
The novel’s structure mirrors its thematic preoccupations with time’s fluidity, weaving between 2025 and 2110 through nineteen interconnected chapters that follow four protagonists across two worlds. This isn’t mere chronological hopscotching; Reed uses temporal displacement as both narrative device and metaphor for how the consequences of our choices ripple through time, creating patterns we can’t always perceive from our limited vantage point.
The Architecture of Collapse and Hope
Hannah, a fusion scientist working in isolation on a Scottish island, becomes the story’s temporal anchor when a mysterious figure emerges from the sea. This visitor—Roban, traveling backwards through time from a Martian colony—sets in motion a chain of events that will determine whether humanity has a future on Earth or must accept exile among the stars. Reed’s handling of this central time-travel premise demonstrates remarkable restraint, grounding the fantastical elements in rigorous scientific speculation and emotional authenticity.
The author’s background as a journalist serves him well in crafting believable near-future scenarios. His depiction of Scotland’s political landscape feels lived-in and urgent, particularly through Andrew’s character—a politician whose idealistic vision of collective action increasingly clashes with practical realities. Andrew’s belief that “people are good, that people will come around” represents a kind of civic optimism that feels both admirable and potentially naive in the face of accelerating climate breakdown.
Character Study: Four Souls Across Time
Reed’s characterization shines brightest in the quiet moments between dramatic revelations. Kenzie’s journey from skeptical daughter to reluctant Mars colonist unfolds with particular psychological nuance. Her relationship with Justine provides some of the novel’s most tender passages, especially their final conversations before departure. The author captures the specific grief of leaving everything familiar, not through death but through irreversible choice.
Roban, perhaps the most challenging character to render convincingly, emerges as genuinely alien yet recognizably human. Born on Mars but haunted by inherited memories of Earth, he embodies the displacement that defines the human condition in Reed’s vision. His physical fragility and emotional intensity create a compelling contrast with the sterile efficiency of the Martian colony that raised him.
The novel’s emotional core lies in these generational relationships—between Hannah and her absent family, between Andrew and Kenzie, between Roban and his adoptive mother. Reed understands that even the largest questions about humanity’s future ultimately reduce to intimate choices between individuals who love each other but cannot fully understand each other’s perspectives.
The Scottish Landscape as Character
Reed’s evocation of the Scottish islands transcends mere setting to become a character in its own right. His descriptions of the cottage where Hannah works capture both the beauty and isolation of life at civilization’s edge. The landscape serves as a constant reminder of what stands to be lost, but also what endures. When Roban finally experiences Earth’s natural world firsthand, Reed’s prose becomes almost rapturous, capturing the sensory overload of someone encountering unfiltered sunlight and ocean wind for the first time.
This attention to place extends to the Martian colony, which Reed renders as sterile yet oddly touching. The colonists’ attempts to recreate Earth—their carefully maintained lawn, their chapel with recorded voices—speak to a profound homesickness that no amount of technological advancement can cure.
Narrative Ambitions and Minor Stumbles
Reed’s decision to tackle such an expansive canvas occasionally works against him. Some middle sections, particularly those dealing with the political machinery of Andrew’s campaign, feel less urgent than the intimate family dynamics or the sci-fi elements. The novel’s 400-page length sometimes strains under the weight of its multiple timelines and perspectives.
The time-travel mechanics, while generally well-handled, occasionally feel more convenient than inevitable. Reed works hard to establish the rules governing temporal displacement, but certain plot developments seem to prioritize emotional payoff over logical consistency. However, these issues feel minor given the novel’s overall success in balancing complex scientific concepts with deeply human storytelling.
Climate Fiction with a Conscience
“Terrestrial History” joins the growing corpus of climate fiction that refuses easy answers or false comfort. Reed doesn’t present Mars colonization as either salvation or abandonment but as a complex choice with profound moral implications. The novel’s most provocative question isn’t whether humanity will survive climate change—it’s whether survival justifies any cost, including the potential abandonment of those left behind.
The author’s handling of climate politics feels particularly relevant, avoiding both techno-optimist fantasy and doomer nihilism. Andrew’s political arc illustrates how good intentions can collide with systemic inertia, while Kenzie’s scientific pragmatism represents a different kind of hope—one rooted in making the best of impossible circumstances rather than betting everything on collective transformation.
Literary Comparisons and Influences
Reed’s work invites comparison with other ambitious time-travel narratives, particularly Ted Chiang’s philosophical approach to temporal mechanics in “Story of Your Life” and Martha Wells’ character-driven sci-fi in “The Murderbot Diaries.” The novel’s multigenerational scope recalls Kim Stanley Robinson’s Mars trilogy, though Reed’s focus remains more intimate and European in sensibility.
“Terrestrial History” also resonates with recent climate fiction like Richard Powers’ “Playground” and Jenny Offill’s “Weather,” sharing their commitment to finding hope without ignoring despair. Reed’s particular contribution lies in his exploration of how personal relationships survive—or don’t—when larger historical forces demand impossible choices.
A Meditation on Agency and Inheritance
Ultimately, “Terrestrial History” succeeds as both entertainment and philosophical inquiry. Reed has written a novel that trusts readers to grapple with complex ideas while delivering genuine emotional satisfaction. The book’s final sections, as Roban attempts to change the past and Hannah confronts her own limited time, achieve a rare combination of intellectual rigor and emotional resonance.
“Terrestrial History” suggests that perhaps our most important choices aren’t about grand gestures or technological solutions but about how we treat each other when everything familiar is disappearing. In Reed’s vision, love—between generations, between partners, between parent and child—becomes the only force capable of transcending time itself.
For readers seeking intelligent science fiction that engages seriously with contemporary anxieties while delivering compelling characters and genuine surprise, “Terrestrial History” represents a significant achievement. Reed has established himself as a voice capable of finding meaning in the midst of collapse, hope in the face of exile, and human connection across the vast distances of time and space.
Similar Books You Might Enjoy
- “The Ministry for the Future” by Kim Stanley Robinson – A comprehensive exploration of near-future climate solutions
- “Station Eleven” by Emily St. John Mandel – Post-apocalyptic fiction focused on human connections
- “The Time Traveler’s Wife” by Audrey Niffenegger – Time travel as metaphor for love and loss
- “Klara and the Sun” by Kazuo Ishiguro – Philosophical sci-fi examining consciousness and sacrifice
- “The Left Hand of Darkness” by Ursula K. Le Guin – Foundational work exploring humanity through alien perspective