In 1845, a Victorian Arctic explorer by the name of Graham Gore, along with 128 men under the command of Sir John Franklin, set out on what history would call the Franklin Expedition: two ships, the Erebus and the Terror, in search of the Northwest Passage. Their ships reached the Canadian Arctic and stayed afloat but shipwrecked by crushing ice for almost two years. Weakened by scurvy, tuberculosis, and a host of other maladies, the survivors began walking the 800 miles back to the mainland. They froze, starved, and, as scattered bones later discovered suggest, resorted to cannibalism. All of this is true–as true as historical records, archeological discoveries, and Inuit testimonies can be.
Also true: 200 years and countless documentaries later, during the height of the pandemic, a British-Cambodian editor would develop a mild but persistent fixation on the expedition, and in particular, Graham Gore and his dimples. The Ministry of Time is the result of staring at the lone daguerreotype of Gore for longer than is, perhaps, reasonable.
An unnamed British civil servant accepts a position as “Bridge” in a newly formed department–The Ministry of Time. Time travel is new, and the department is gathering “expats” from across history to establish its safety and efficacy for humans and the space-time continuum. Bridges serve as one-year companions to the newly arrived expats from history, and our civil servant is assigned to, who else, Commander Graham Gore. Over one year, they address the past, navigate the present, and confront a future contrary to what was promised.
My first book of 2025 is a genre-bending book that involves time travel, love, found family, destruction, and global responsibility–and it was a pretty great way to start the year. Bonus: I didn’t have to say goodbye on the last page. The BBC is adapting “The Ministry of Time” into a six-part series and A24 Films will produce it. Until we meet again, Commander Gore.
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