Expecting the End: Affective Turns and Green Utopianism in The Future

Since the early 2000s, the Anthropocene has come to signify not just a geological epoch but also a culturally resonant paradigm shaped by awareness of human-driven ecological disruption (Keller, 2017). In this context, eco-narratives have become key forms of cultural expression. From the perspective of audience-reception studies, they serve analytical and didactic functions by reframing scientific knowledge through affective strategies, thereby shaping readers’ psychological, cultural, and ecopolitical responses (Benedetti, 2021; Schneider-Mayerson, 2018; Schneider-Mayerson et al., 2023). Reflecting this concern with affect, Lisa Garforth (2018) identifies “green utopianism” as a key mode through which contemporary Western literature imagines ecological futures that resist dystopian closure and offer readers a renewed sense of hope. Combining a reader-oriented approach with insights from Garforth’s (2018) study, I argue that Naomi Alderman’s The Future (2023) exemplifies a post-millennial articulation of green utopianism. Set in a near-future United States shaped by climate crisis, inequality, and billionaire-controlled AI systems, the novel links environmental collapse to religious apocalypticism. The apocalyptic tone, sustained by the CEOs—central characters who believe in an AI-predicted global catastrophe—is further intensified through biblical references which are repurposed in digital survivalist forums as both ecological prophecy and moral rationale. Drawing on Garforth (2018), I argue that The Future reimagines apocalypticism not as a culmination, but as a generative space for transformation. In fact, Garforth (2018) contends that twenty-first-century green utopias harness emotions such as fear, nostalgia, and mourning to give rise to eco-utopian possibilities (23, 109). Consistent with this view of apocalypse-induced utopianism, Alderman’s novel engages deeply with apocalyptic tropes and elite fantasies of survival, only to ultimately subvert them. The anticipated collapse is revealed to be a fabrication, and the CEOs’ exile unexpectedly facilitates the conversion of harmful tech systems into tools for ecological restoration. By resisting dystopian closure, the narrative redirects its emotional intensity toward imaginative agency and empowerment. The Future’s affective trajectory aligns with what Alexa Weik von Mossner (2017) identifies as a central challenge for environmental narratives: the need to balance hope and despair. Overly bleak representations, she argues, risk alienating readers or inducing emotional paralysis rather than encouraging action (98). Alderman’s novel responds to this challenge by drawing readers into emotional proximity with crisis, then reorienting that affective investment toward utopian transformation. In doing so, it reframes the future not as a fixed endpoint, but as a site of open-ended possibility.