This novella is one of those very-near-future climate pieces... so near-future that it hardly feels like the future at all (or even science fiction, for that matter). There's been enough severe weather events in the past couple of years in New Zealand that the massive storm at the centre of the story here feels all too plausible. Part of that plausibility, I'm sure, is the recognisability of the setting. I know the places described, and if I haven't sat out a storm in Wellington airport, I had to spend the night in Auckland airport earlier this year, trapped by floods and with the rain coming through the ceiling. Not pleasant.

Also recognisable are the characters. There's a variety of them, from displaced teens to exhausted scientists to despairing farmers, and there's nothing unusual about them. They're people anyone who lives in NZ would meet every day, and it's easy to feel for them because they're so clearly drawn from life. I think what makes this story so affecting, though, is the sense of... not quite apathy, but the banging-your-head-against-the-wall frustration that comes from trying to get a nation of people with disparate interests to draw together in the face of coming disaster. That emergency weather that left me stuck in Auckland airport, that ravaged the East Coast, that caused those landslides in Nelson... it's not going away. There's going to be more of it. Lots more. We won't have the option of prevarication much longer, though I'm sure some people will still try. What makes Emergency Weather fundamentally hopeful for me, however, is that familiarity of character. I feel for them all. I think most readers will feel for them. That empathy encourages working-together rather than working-against, or at least I hope it does. 

We're going to need it.