Convincing argument that the return of the big carnivores will sharpen the debate over how humans situate themselves in the...
A thoughtful history from environmental reporter Baron elegantly forewarns of the mountain lion’s return to human-populated landscapes.
“Animal behavior is malleable, and a community of people . . . can exert a powerful, cumulative effect on wildlife,” writes the author. This is especially so in the ecotone, the transition zone between land types, often biologically rich and often the site of uneasy mingling between creatures that are typically separate. There will be some strange edge effects as behavioral patterns adapt; and if one of the two creatures fails to sense a need to adapt, Baron cautions, the consequences may not be pretty: “A cat's prey preferences are not hard-wired.” The for-instance here is Boulder, Colorado, where mountain lions are threading themselves into the expanding human environment. Dogs and humans, once thought to be relatively immune to mountain lion attack due to historical animosity, have become prey to a creature that was formerly timid in their presence. Boulder has long prided itself as living gently on the land, and the community's response to the lions, Baron predicts, will soon be replicated as the carnivore’s range expands, with one side for, one side against the animals, and the middle ground left unmapped. It is a privilege to live among the cats, but humans are active agents within their environments, and the author suggests that a targeted approach to troublesome mountain lions may be in order. Following the thought-line of William Cronon (Changes in the Land, 1984, etc.), Baron writes, “if nature has grown artificial, then restoring wildness requires human intervention.” Many will concur, though his point that “we must manage nature in order to leave it alone” takes a next step that lies open to discussion.
Convincing argument that the return of the big carnivores will sharpen the debate over how humans situate themselves in the environment—at least, it certainly should. (3 illustrations, 2 maps, not seen)Pub Date: Nov. 1, 2003
ISBN: 0-393-05807-7
Page Count: 320
Publisher: Norton
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Sept. 1, 2003
BOOK REVIEW
Unsentimental nature writing that sheds as much light on humans as on eels.
An account of the mysterious life of eels that also serves as a meditation on consciousness, faith, time, light and darkness, and life and death.
In addition to an intriguing natural history, Swedish journalist Svensson includes a highly personal account of his relationship with his father. The author alternates eel-focused chapters with those about his father, a man obsessed with fishing for this elusive creature. “I can’t recall us ever talking about anything other than eels and how to best catch them, down there by the stream,” he writes. “I can’t remember us speaking at all….Because we were in…a place whose nature was best enjoyed in silence.” Throughout, Svensson, whose beat is not biology but art and culture, fills his account with people: Aristotle, who thought eels emerged live from mud, “like a slithering, enigmatic miracle”; Freud, who as a teenage biologist spent months in Trieste, Italy, peering through a microscope searching vainly for eel testes; Johannes Schmidt, who for two decades tracked thousands of eels, looking for their breeding grounds. After recounting the details of the eel life cycle, the author turns to the eel in literature—e.g., in the Bible, Rachel Carson’s Under the Sea Wind, and Günter Grass’ The Tin Drum—and history. He notes that the Puritans would likely not have survived without eels, and he explores Sweden’s “eel coast” (what it once was and how it has changed), how eel fishing became embroiled in the Northern Irish conflict, and the importance of eel fishing to the Basque separatist movement. The apparent return to life of a dead eel leads Svensson to a consideration of faith and the inherent message of miracles. He warns that if we are to save this fascinating creature from extinction, we must continue to study it. His book is a highly readable place to begin learning.
Unsentimental nature writing that sheds as much light on humans as on eels.Pub Date: May 5, 2020
ISBN: 978-0-06-296881-4
Page Count: 256
Publisher: Ecco/HarperCollins
Review Posted Online: Feb. 29, 2020
Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 15, 2020
This is our life, these are our lighted seasons, and then we die. . . . In the meantime, in between time, we can see. . . we can work at making sense of (what) we see. . . to discover where we so incontrovertibly are. It's common sense; when you-move in, you try to learn the neighborhood." Dillard's "neighborhood" is hilly Virginia country where she lived alone, but essentially it is all those "shreds of creation" with which every human is surrounded, which she is trying to learn, to know — from finite variations to infinite possibilities of being and meaning. A tall order and Dillard doesn't quite fill it. She is too impatient to get about the soul's adventures to stay long with an egg-laying grasshopper, or other bits of flora and fauna, and her snatches from physics and biological/metaphysical studies are this side of frivolous. However, Ms. Dillard has a great deal going for her — in spite of some repetition of words and concepts, her prose is bright, fresh and occasionally emulates (not imitates) the Walden Master in a contemporary context: "Trees. . . extend impressively in both directions, . . . shearing rock and fanning air, doing their real business just out of reach." She has set herself no less a task than understanding emotionally, spiritually and intellectually the force of the creative extravagance of the universe in all its beauty and horhor ("There is a terrible innocence in the benumbed world of the lower animals, reducing life to a universal chomp.") Experience can be focused, and awareness sharpened, by a kind of meditative high. Thus this becomes somewhat exhausting reading, if taken in toto, but even if Dillard's reach exceeds her grasp, her sights are leagues higher than that of Anne Morrow Lindbergh's Gift from the Sea, regretfully (re her sex), the inevitable comparison.
Pub Date: March 13, 1974
ISBN: 0061233323
Page Count: -
Publisher: Harper's Magazine Press
Review Posted Online: Nov. 2, 2011
Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 1, 1974
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