![]() ![]() The disenfranchisement of silo residents contrasts interestingly with the way the stories themselves invert the traditional power dynamic between author and fan. While most post-apocalyptic fiction invites us to imagine how civilization might evolve after the world as we know it ends, Wool instead invites us to imagine what it might take-and what the costs might be-to prevent civilization from ever evolving beyond where we are right now. ![]() Readers’ fascination of Wool is powered not by the novelty of the silo, but the frightening familiarity of it. More than 100 floors deep and connected by only a narrow circular staircase, the silo is designed to limit mobility and communication, separating the mechanical department at the bottom, the mayor and sheriff up top, and the IT department as far away from both of them as possible. But it’s also a carefully designed system with zero population growth, a lack of media, and social stratification created by the architecture of the silo itself. It’s an energy-independent community with 100 percent employment and universal access to education and health care. In many ways, the silo is a triumph of human survival and sustainability. The intrigue of Wool (the title comes from the scrubbers used by people sent to clean the sensors on the surface) is enjoyable and thought-provoking, but it’s how Howey borrows from our present that really makes Wool resonate with readers. ![]()
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