Don’t Spit in the Wind

In the future, Earth is covered in garbage, and the last dregs of the human race inhabit a satellite spaceship. There’s nowhere to go but down in flames or sink into a sea of toxic trash. But this strangely delightful book revels in its own inevitable horror, with a cast of compelling villains and a few half-hearted heroes. There’s the Garbage Priest and his coterie of eco-terrorists, hoping to hasten annihilation; the grotesquely gluttonous boss of the failing satellite society, who inhales cake as poorer citizens starve; and breathtaking monsters born of toxic waste looming large over the Sisyphean efforts of the radioactive waste collectors. The story’s nominal hero, Travis, is one of these waste collectors. He initially hopes that this thankless work will lead to a spot on the space station for himself and his conspicuously buxom girlfriend. But they soon find themselves scrambling to save their workmates from certain destruction, with only the slimmest hope for survival. The chaotic nature of the narrative is served perfectly by Cardoselli’s (Sweet Downfall) bumpy, blotchy, almost infected-looking illustrations of grotesque human forms, nightmare landscapes, and the occasional elegant pink flamingo.