Zealot Script

Reviewed by Richard Berry

I like to think I know my dystopias, so last week, I was surprised to discover an author and novella that had slipped under my radar: Termush, by the Danish writer Sven Holm. I double checked the inside pages to find it was first published in Danish in 1967 and in English in 1969. This year has seen a reprint in the Faber Editions series, which contains titles either ‘lost’ or in need of revival with a stylish cover and new introduction. 

So what is Termush about? The straightforward answer is that a bunch of wealthy preppers have bought shelter in an up-market hotel complex, Termush, in order to survive a nuclear apocalypse. Termush has doctors, essential provisions and a few luxuries, to make the guests feel like they are getting value for money. After a nuclear attack, the guests, including the unnamed narrator, emerge to try to get to their lives back to some sort of normality. But despite the best attempts of ‘the management,’ Termush cannot be hermetically sealed from the effects of nuclear catastrophe and the novella explores how the characters cope with the post apocalypse.

Initially I found Termush a little underwhelming. This was my fault: given similarities in theme to several J.G. Ballard novels, I was reading Termush through a Ballardian prism and found the prose wanting. There was none of the grotesque imagery; nobody is sat on their balcony eating dog or becoming sexually aroused by car accidents. There is strict adherence to realism and the few dips into imagery stay far away from the surreal often used by Ballard to comprehend the enormity of catastrophe. Holm’s approach to writing about the apocalypse is more minimalist. There is little for the reader to ‘grab’ onto. There are no temporal markers or place names and few named characters. Instead we have the faceless ‘management,’ ‘guests’, ‘reconnaissance men’ and the protagonist is an unnamed narrator. There is a limited range of adjectives and no attempt at ‘world building.’ The story could be set anywhere and at anytime. The simplicity of the linear chronology denies Holm the opportunity to fill in any back story and flesh out the characters. I finished the first few chapters wondering if this was a classic that had been ‘lost,’ for good reason.

I had a cup of tea and went back to the beginning. The second reading proved to be a far more rewarding experience as I read the novella on its own terms. Termush engages the reader because it poses a range of questions. Foremost among these is our attitude towards outsiders or refugees. ‘Guests,’ at Termush exhibit empathy for refugees from the apocalypse and want to help them but not if it jeopardises their own safety. Blaming ‘the management’ may salve their consciences to an extent, by portraying them as being unfeeling bureaucrats but Holm suggests the situation is not that simple. The management are only carrying out their contractual duty in providing a sanctuary. Furthermore, permitting any outsiders to enter Termush poses too many risks of radioactive contamination.  Holm develops this theme in examining the role of the narrator who, as an academic, attempts to justify to himself his limited intervention on the basis that he is only trained to be an observer.   

Whilst Ballard highlighted the perils of consumerism Holm goes a stage further in suggesting that survival itself has been turned into a commodity. Holm may have been thinking about reasons behind space exploration. Each time we seen a billionaire launch a new space craft purportedly for ‘the benefit of the human race,’ part of me thinks, ‘pull the other one, you’re just looking for a way to escape earth when things go belly up.’ While even the most devoted free market adherent must ultimately conclude that not everything can be bought, it does not stop them trying. 

Holm introduces an interesting discourse about the nature of democracy. When ‘the management’ attempt to canvass opinion on whether outsiders should be allowed entry into Termush the narrator  comments: ‘I do have some faith in democracy,’ I replied, ‘but I don’t think that this vote can be regarded as a matter of course as democratic. The voters knew too little about the alternatives.’ Where have we heard that before? 

Holm was known as a realist author, playwright and essayist. Termush is as far as I am aware, his only foray into SF and this might explain why he has resisted some of the tropes we might expect. Termush may reach a far wider audience this time around because it captures fears experienced during the pandemic. I cannot say that I loved ‘Termush,’ but it is worth reading because of the questions it raises and deserves its place in the dystopian cannon.