Voices from Chernobyl by Svetlana Alexievich

A system built on self-conscious, ideological subjugation of nature confronts a natural force it can scarcely comprehend, much less control.

Soviet men pride themselves on hurling their bodies into the nuclear pyre, which is chunks of irradiated graphite scattered across a reactor roof, and also months spent burying dirt beneath more dirt and shooting housepets.

"People are already living after the nuclear war—though when it began, they didn't notice. I felt like I was recording the future."

The Rebel of Rangoon by Delphine Schrank

Bloodchild by Octavia Butler

Neuromancer by William Gibson

Stoner by John Williams

Trickster Makes This World by Lewis Hyde

Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy

Dumb. Occasionally beautiful.

The Judge could hardly be more obvious and grotesque, in a bad way.

Yes, ok, Cormac, modern man's defining animus is the will to violence, maybe systems building, and maybe they're the same thing. Put it in a fucking short story. Then write your field manual of southwest flora and fauna, which might actually be worth reading.