Magic, Climate Collapse, and the Folly of Humanity

Thomas D. Lee’s "Perilous Times "strolls into the climate crisis wearing chainmail and carrying a sword, and somehow it works. By summoning the legends of Arthurian Britain and hurling them into an ecologically collapsing future, Lee toys with the sheer absurdity of our moment in history. After all, if a handful of powerful men are willing to scorch the world for profit, why shouldn’t dragons be real too? The result is a story that’s hilarious, unsettling, sharply political, and occasionally way too close for comfort.

Why Medieval Heroes Make the Climate Crisis Feel… Weirdly Accurate

The novel’s playful audacity raises irresistible questions. What would a knight of the Round Table do in the face of rising seas and burning forests? What does protect the realm mean when the realm has been carved into corporate fiefdoms and climate refugee camps? And, perhaps most pointedly: whose job is it to save a world that refuses to save itself? These questions may sound whimsical, but they’re grounded in real science and history.

For example:

• Just 100 companies are responsible for more than 70% of global industrial emissions.

• The UN’s IPCC reports repeatedly warn that delays in climate action overwhelmingly stem from political and economic power structures, not scientific uncertainty.

  
  

So when Lee paints a world where crisis continues because a few entrenched leaders choose destruction over change, it’s not fantasy — it’s Tuesday.

A Britain That Feels Broken, Familiar, and Frightening

Lee’s fractured Britain is bleak yet hauntingly familiar. The political splintering, the desperation, the sense of a nation hollowed out by forces it chose not to confront — all of it feels disturbingly plausible. And yet, the swirl of magic in this wasteland has a strange emotional logic. At first the supernatural elements can feel disorienting, almost too fantastical for the gravity of the crisis. But then comes the realization: humanity’s real-life destruction of its only home is wild and illogical in its own right. If anything, dragons may be the least implausible part of the story.

Characters Who Bleed, Bicker, and Break (In a Very Human Way)

One of the book’s real pleasures lies in the interplay between Lee’s vividly humane characters and his clever reimagining of mythological beings. Their conflicts, heartbreaks, and small triumphs crackle with authenticity. The in-fighting within FETA, the environmental resistance group, lands with uncomfortable accuracy. Movements are full of passion, but also exhaustion, clashing egos, and fraying hope. That weary resolve seeps through every chapter. The amount of different groups represented in the story beg the question:

Who rules a ruined realm when magic resurfaces and the climate collapses?

These groups don’t just shape the political world of the story—they reveal the messy human responses to climate collapse: denial, exploitation, resistance, hope, and sheer exhaustion. Every faction embodies a different emotional response to collapse—resignation, defiance, fear, or belief. Between the polished corporate strongholds and the scattered FETA bases lie fragmented communities trying to survive without allegiance. They represent what happens when national structure collapses—political vacuum becomes fertile ground for improvisation, mutual aid, or exploitation.

That Ending: A Magical Catalyst, a Human Responsibility

Without spoiling too much, the ending shifts its weight onto humanity rather than magic. The fantastical elements act as a catalyst, not a cure. This subtly reflects a truth that climate scientists emphasize:

• Technology and innovation can help, but human behavior and decision-making determine our future.

I appreciated that the magic functioned more as a metaphor — the spark inside us rather than a solution handed from outside. Still, I was left wondering:

• Will Miriam’s efforts actually succeed?

• Or is this timeline truly doomed, as Merlin hints?

Maybe that uncertainty is the book’s truest, sharpest message. None of us know whether our efforts will be enough. We don’t know if the tide can be turned, or if we’re simply shouting into a storm. But ambiguity does not absolve us of responsibility. It does not mean we stop fighting. And if even the most stubborn, ancient minds in Lee’s reimagined world can change, perhaps ours still can too.

Perilous Times doesn’t offer comfort, but it does offer a spark — a reminder that hope requires action, even when the outcome is unknowable. And maybe that’s the most magical idea of all.