A powerful hurricane, named Luna, devastates Miami. The Larsen-Halls manage to evacuate before it hits, but they have to leave Brantley behind, a surgeon who is in charge of evacuating critical care patients at his hospital. Daphne and the kids drive for as long as they can, but soon have to abandon their car. They are transported with other evacuees to a sprawling new don’t-call-it-a-camp in rural Oklahoma, where they spend the next few months learning to adjust to their new, imperiled, impecunious circumstances. Holsinger has written a profoundly thoughtful book on what it might be like to become a climate refugee in the US. The Larsen-Halls are rich, White, a stable family, outwardly successful; and yet an Act of God takes their social standing away from them with stunning abruptness. Holsinger’s description of their life in the camp is, of course, somewhat shocking for its harshness when it is applied to them; it doesn’t take much to realise that this is the point. Thousands of internally displaced people (IDPs, the UN term) are subjected to the same, or worse, all over the world, except that they are not—have not yet been—affluent White Americans. Holsinger shows us how the climate emergency is likely to change that. In the camp are all kinds of people from all kinds of places, including a group of migrant laborers from Guatemala. This leads to inevitable racial tensions, which culminate in an act of violence. Holsinger is also brilliant at drawing really despicable characters—I found myself getting really angry—including a truly monstrous drug dealer. I was also impressed by the facility with which he created one of the main characters, the Black woman who runs the camp. Holsinger also goes into the politics around refugees, showing how local communities may respond to a sudden influx, and how government help may not be as generous as required (although I was very struck by how much help these IDPs did get, all things considered). In the book, FEMA and the Red Cross collaborate to provide resources, and there are also international donations; but, after a few weeks, there is pressure to close the camp. Overall, an eminently enjoyable read, one to savor, and one that gave me lots to think about. I enjoyed how Holsinger challenged my assumptions about the Larsen-Halls at every turn. It’s easy to imagine hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions of people in their situation in coming years. Holsinger’s book is a warning to us all. A version of this appeared in The Sunday Long Read, August 28, 2022 — Issue #356.