Kirsten and August discuss whether it’s easier to remember everything or remember nothing after the death of the modern world. Here, the narrator uses situational irony to highlight the painful burden of remembering the world before the Georgia Flu, as Kirsten muses:
But my point is, doesn’t it seem to you that the people who have the hardest time in this—this current era, whatever you want to call it, the world after the Georgia Flu—doesn’t it seem like the people who struggle the most with it are the people who remember the old world clearly? [...] What I mean to say is, the more you remember, the more you’ve lost.
The situational irony here lies in the fact that remembering good things that one no longer has can be hard and horrible. People who are old enough to remember the past world have an asset—knowledge of a world filled with comfort, technology, and stability—but instead of feeling lucky, in some ways they suffer from it. Those who are too young to remember have nothing to compare their dangerous world to. Although they never had the luxuries of the past, they also don’t have to re-learn to live without them. In this moment Kirsten is recognizing that her pleasant memories are also a source of grief. Those who were too young to recall the old world don’t have access to an extraordinary asset. However, they also don’t experience losing it, because they never knew what they were missing.
In this passage from Chapter 38, Kirsten and August have broken into an abandoned house and are paging through old magazines. Kirsten uses verbal irony to highlight the absurdity of what has survived from the old world:
“Look at the date,” August said. “Two weeks till the apocalypse!”
“Well, it’s nice that at least the celebrity gossip survived.”
Nothing else in the rest of the magazines, but this find was remarkable, this was enough.
So much of the world has been decimated by the pandemic, but in this house, the past seems to hang suspended. There are no working airplanes or cars outside, but the celebrity gossip of the past stays preserved and untouched in this place. Kirsten’s remark about it being “nice” that the celebrity gossip survived is verbally ironic because it points out the triviality of what remains. In a world where electricity, governments, and entire cities have vanished—along with the entire concept of celebrity and of mass media in general—the endurance of gossip magazines feels almost grotesque. Their meaningless content might have seemed important in the civilized world, but it feels nothing short of ridiculous in this context.
The phrase “this was enough” is particularly interesting here. On one hand, the magazine Kirsten finds is physically insignificant, as it contains no useful knowledge for survival. On the other hand, the simple, “remarkable” act of finding it is proof of a world that once existed and of a time when things like gossip were important and entertaining.