The relationship of my texts to a dead fish
As a writer, my work involves a search for small islands of coherence – that I can later describe – in which social and ecological relationships thrive together.
As a writer, my work involves a search for small islands of coherence – that I can later describe – in which social and ecological relationships thrive together.
The story I am to tell you in this book is a story about a community that became isolated on a small island in the wake of industrial civilisation’s collapse, during the third decade of the twenty-first century. Those who grew up on the Isle, as I did, sometimes liked to jest that we were the descendents of Plato’s banished poets, but the reality is that our humble story is considerably less romantic, with more grit and tears than any fairy tale could ever allow.
What the ecomodernist narrative misses is that we are dealing with complex systems that support our very existence and that we don’t really understand those systems well. When dealing with things that are so complex that they are beyond our comprehension and control–especially if we are entirely dependent on those things–the first rule is not to perturb them. They will react in unpredictable and possibly ruinous ways.
My first opportunity to record in a natural biome took place almost half a century ago during the fall at Muir Woods, an old-growth coastal redwoods island habitat…