Station Eleven

After the collapse of civilization as they know it, those who survive are left with memories of a world that no longer exists. Looking backwards through the lens of memory and imagination, they come to see the relics of the old world, as if for the first time, as symbols of human ingenuity. Thus, a person’s age and maturity at the time of the collapse becomes significant, as it determines how well that person remembers the old world. Those that are too young to remember, like Alexandra, may demonstrate interest in the past, but they lack the nostalgia that can only come by firsthand experience. Those old enough to retain some memories, like Kirsten and August, feel a more personal connection to the past, as evident in their ongoing searches for items of particular interest to them. Those, like Clark, who lived much of their adults lives prior to the collapse are likely to experience an even deeper sense of loss. Coupled with that sense of loss, however, is an even greater appreciation for the way things were: While explaining airplane flight to a teenager who was born after the collapse, Clark marvels that he “dwelt in that spectacular world for fifty-one years of his life” (232).