by Lidia Yuknavitch

Canongate, out now

In the near future, a brutal combination of endless warfare, insatiable consumption and geocatastrophe have rendered Earth a barren wasteland.

Deluded that they are ascending to a higher plane of existence by the entrepreneur-turned-saviour Jean de Men, the rich have taken to the skies in the orbiting space station CIEL, and suck the last resources of the diseased planet from cables known as skylines. Those fortunate enough not to have perished in the wars and ensuing geological apocalypse, but not fortunate enough to afford a spot on CIEL, have been left to rot on the dying Earth. But none have been spared the bizarre effects of radiation that have turned the evolutionary clock back, leaving both rich and poor pigment-less, hairless and sexless beings, with no purpose beyond surviving another day. Art has endured only in the form of scarification, burning meaning and dreams onto milk-white skin. But from the ashes of the planet, Joan of Dirt – the martyr of Earth and those who fought for her, sworn enemy of Jean de Men – re-emerges, the last hope for humanity on the verge of annihilation.

The Book of Joan presents a horrifyingly realistic dystopia, the hell of humankind’s own making where all the atrocities we have inflicted on the Earth and each other have violently and simultaneously come to a head. It’s not all bad news though: Joan of Arc, the humble icon of courage in adversity, has returned in our darkest hour, remodelled and refocused, to save us from ourselves.

Yuknavitch dissects and explores every aspect of humanity with flawless and gut-wrenching accuracy: the role of gender and sex in a world where procreation is impossible; the cults of personality that arise when our conventional gods abandon us; how people seem to need somebody to hate, and how they react when differences of sex, race and religion have faded away. My only complaint would be that sometimes the deeper message of the book overshadows the events: though beautifully crafted, the non-linear narrative and philosophical debate make the plotline occasionally difficult to follow.

Verdict: Devastating and insightful, The Book of Joan drags humanity down to its lowest ebb and resurrects it with art, compassion and genre-defying feminism. 9/10

Sophie Simpson