Eco-fiction and cli-fi: why climate-centred narratives are more crucial than ever

Not long ago, a story about climate disaster might have been shelved neatly in the realm of science fiction. Now, it reads like realism with a sense of urgency. 

As global temperatures climb and natural disasters become routine news, climate fiction, often shortened to "cli-fi", has shed its speculative skin and settled into something uncomfortably close to home.

Reading the weather

Eco-fiction and cli-fi aren’t new. From J.G. Ballard’s The Drowned World to Octavia Butler’s Parable series, writers have long imagined ecological futures that mirror our present fears. But in 2025, what feels different is the mainstreaming of these narratives. They no longer whisper warnings; they howl. There’s less distance now between story and reality—and readers are noticing.

Bestsellers feature climate themes not as backdrops, but as emotional engines. In The Ministry for the Future, Kim Stanley Robinson maps out a frighteningly plausible path forward. Jenny Offill’s Weather distils climate anxiety into wry, devastating fragments. Claire Vaye Watkins’s Gold Fame Citrus conjures a drought-stricken dystopia through lyrical, fractured prose. And Charlotte McConaghy’s Migrations quietly breaks your heart with vanishing birds and a woman on the brink.

Even romance and YA are bending toward ecological themes, with characters navigating both tender feelings and rising seas. It’s not unusual to find cli-fi in genres previously untouched by it—a sign that climate storytelling is not just a niche, but a narrative necessity.

Why cli-fi now?

Literature has always mirrored its moment. Sometimes it even prophesies. Today’s readers, whether consciously or not, are seeking stories that validate their anxieties about the world they’re inheriting—or already navigating. Cli-fi lets us rehearse survival. Eco-fiction invites us to imagine differently.

These books don’t offer easy solutions. What they do offer is emotional texture. They give shape to the diffuse dread so many feel. They help us sit with grief, reckon with complicity, and occasionally glimpse possibilities for change. And crucially, they remind us that climate collapse is not just science or politics. It’s a story. It’s personal.

Five eco-fiction and cli-fi reads to start with:

• The Ministry for the Future by Kim Stanley Robinson – A sweeping vision of global climate response, told with urgency and precision. If you're curious about the intersection of policy and survival, this one’s for you.

• Weather by Jenny Offill – For fans of dry wit and fragmentary storytelling, Offill’s take on climate dread is both intimate and biting.

• Gold Fame Citrus by Claire Vaye Watkins – A haunting, sun-bleached dystopia set in a drought-ravaged California. Come for the atmosphere, stay for the lyrical despair.

• Migrations by Charlotte McConaghy – A love letter to endangered species and fragile hope. Perfect for those who like their climate fiction quiet, aching, and poetic.

• Parable of the Sower by Octavia E. Butler – Prophetic and urgent, Butler’s tale of collapse and survival feels eerily tailored to now. Ideal for anyone seeking foundational cli-fi.

As readers and writers, highlighting these books isn’t just on trend. It’s urgent. Literature might not save the planet. But it can shift how we see it, and how we see ourselves within it.