Review of Juice by Tim Winton

Many years ago, preparing to live in Australia, I read a book capturing some of the early settlers' experiences on the continental island. One experience was of a European who took a native Australian into his service. After some time, the native commented: “I now understand why the white man is so greedy. Trade me some apples for a pig, and I need to consume them rather quickly lest they spoil. Trade me some money for a pig, and I can hoard it til the end of time.” I paraphrase, but the sentiment strikes at a fundamental fact in the concept of money, and thus by default our modern society. Examining this facet in fascinatingly contemplative fashion—in the hot, dry Australia outback—is Tim Winton's 2024 Juice.

Juice is foremost a frame story. It tells of a man and young girl driving a scavenger rig through the post-apocalyptic Australian outback. Our world order has collapsed many years prior and global warming has reached peak heat. Ambushed, the man and girl are taken prisoner by a lone survivor. While under lock and key, the man must convince the survivor to let him go, something he does by telling his backstory. It's in the telling of this backstory that the book's true story emerges. The reader learns of the man's childhood in the sun-baked prairies and his eventual taking of an operator position in a secret order dead set—literally—on preventing the capitalism of our our era from ever having the same power again. These two stories culminate in a choice for the survivor, and ultimately, the reader.

Poorly informed reviewers are wont to say Juice is Mad Max meets Cormac McCarthy's The Road. Don't buy this. At the most superficial level the comparison rings true. The book does feature a resourceful man guiding a child through dangerous territory. But Juice is layers deeper than this. I would offer Kim Stanley Robinson's Three Californias trilogy, with the edge of Paolo Bacigalupi's The Water Knife, as a better frame of reference.

As the introduction to this review hints, Juice looks to put the concept of affluence through the ringer and see what gets squeezed out the other side. Winton uses an extreme concept to challenge one result of modern capitalism, i.e. the ultra-rich. His portrayal of Bill Gates, Elon Musk, Jeff Bezos et al as “gangsters” is delightfully thought-provoking, as is the desperation and scarcity of the Aussie outback and the manner in which it forces people and societies into direct forms of trade: my homegrown tomatoes for the car battery you scavenged from the dust, the 100L of water I collected for the pipes you no longer need, etc., etc.

Winton's style is straight-forward, no flourishes, no purple prose. The mood floats among grit and the pastorale. The man's daily life is dirty, tough, surviving in the searing heat of the Outback, and his missions as an operative have punch. But the beauty of nature likewise comes through, just as the humanity of the man's role in these missions never fails to overlook the people he is after. Bits of the novel feel like Cormac McCarthy's westerns for their bare descriptions of nature, or perhaps John Steinbeck's California, all making for evocative reading.

My strong concern throughout Juice was that it was going to turn out to be a left-wing political piece, to be throwing its weight behind socialism. While socialism is 100% an aspect of the novel, it's not the only one, not the be-all end-all. What are the novel's concerns then? What direction does its commentary lead? Open but not entirely open is the answer. A mild spoiler here, Juice ends as does “The Lady & the Tiger”. While I find that short story eye-rolling for the nature of its final conceit, Juice has significantly more content for the reader to weigh, and thus feel invested in turning over the options upon its final page. In weighing those options, it's clear Winton takes strong issue with the idea of a small few getting mega rich off the backs of a large many. Beyond just haves and have-nots, however, Winton also takes aim at the carbon foot print of these people. The mega-yachts, multiple luxury compounds, garages full of luxury cars, etc., at one level, while responsibility for the products they sell and distribute, and their impact on the environment at another level. But does Winton go so far as to posit an alternative? Possibly—and it's not socialism, rather something more akin to small government and local business—like Kim Stanley Robinson's Three Californias trilogy. I will leave at that and let the reader sort out their own opinions. There is a lot of room here.

Therefore the main challenge of Juice may be that is doesn't know where it stands. It knows it has energy and motivation. It knows it has serious, realistic challenges to present. It knows our current golden age can't last forever. But in terms of a stance or position to forestall any of this, it doesn't offer solutions or answers. For people looking for that type of certainty, the book may not be as pat and dried as they wish. I find it human, fascinatingly, frustratingly human.

In the end, Juice does what much literary fiction aims to do but perhaps doesn't always succeed at: provoke thought through compelling story. Winton uses an effectively described Aussie Outback at peak global warming to question some of the manners and methods of society today, particularly the ultra-affluent and whether they are leading us to a future for everyone. For those concerned this is a left-wing hit-piece, don't be. Juice is more nuanced and exploratory. And, I can't help but say, may be the perfect novel for someone contemplating the Luigi Mangione killing of Brian Thompson. There are eerie, eerie (unintended), parallels.