February 2022 reading update (No. 24)

Greetings, friends!

I’m here for the usual monthly reading round-up, supplemented by some internet readings/thoughts I stumbled upon. Along with the reading, there’ve been a good deal of plant babies in my life to take care of, which has kept me busy and fulfilled. What has February brought into your life this year?

Cheers,

Maya

Links

• “Interesting” ideas
  • Clever: repurposing blades from decommissioned wind turbines to build infrastructure like bridges.
  • Fascinating, disgusting, and so very circular-economy: turning waste bones from the bovine meat industry into electrical outlets and light switches.
  • The case for “invasivorism” — or, for most of us, starting to eat squirrels.
• Visual things
  • Cool art.
  • A visual scroll-through of how a book is made— I’d never imagined the process looked like this before.
  • Murmurations: inspiration for my art with paper cranes? Also simply natural beauty, beautifully captures.
  • Pretty pink in Australia
  • A very cool resource of 507 mechanical movements, many of which are animated (and incredibly meditative to watch). Some of my favorites: this pulley, ordinary crank motion, and this rack/pinion.
• Interactive, sorta
  • The Big Here Quiz— or, 30 questions to connect you to your place of living. My goal for March will be to answer one of these a day; would love to collaborate or share answers with any locals!
  • Another (much less rigorous) quiz: what immune cell are you? I was a Helper T-cell, which I’m not quite sure is the best fit, but I’ll take it! What sorta cell are you?

February 2022 books

For some reason, nearly all the books I read or listened to this month had to do with out connection to the land, to agriculture and “nature,” whatever that means. Interesting to consider the cross-dialogue between the similar messages in very different formats from, for example, the essays of Wendell Berry and Christopher McDougall’s account of getting into donkey racing, and it elevated the experience for sure!

• The World-Ending Fire — Wendell Berry, selected by Paul Kingsnorth
  • Collected works by the noted author, whose poetry I’ve found so compelling. Berry’s essays connect always to the land, to how we’ve become so distant from it, and to how to cultivate a closer relationship to the soil upon which we walk. His words of personal anecdotes give credence to his political and activist advice, inciting me to want to do what I can to turn off the lights and pick up the litter, no matter how small the acts may seem. To be honest, I skimmed over some of the more solely economic and political treatises, but read enough to gather they only supported the more accessible points he made in other essays.
• Sankofa — Chibundu Onuzo
  • A woman travels from her home in London to a fictional African country when she learns that her father was once its president… that’s the simple explanation, but Onuzo crafts a rich narrative around the story, full of complex characters and evolving relationships. This was a joy to listen to, and provoked much thought on cultural biases and race at the same time.
• *Dark Emu* — Bruce Pascoe
  • Pascoe writes a surprisingly readable book given the topic he’s addressing— that is, evidence for the origins of agriculture among the Aboriginal people of Australia. Despite being anchored on old primary observations, his voice comes through as strong and assertive without being argumentative or disparaging of the inaccuracies of previous research.
• Desert Notebooks - Ben Ehrenreich
  • Ehrenreich recalls familial themes of time, history, writing, and plants from some of last month’s readings in his memoir/historical accounts of the American desert. Though the transitions between contemporary political criticism and the ancient stories of the history of the world are sometimes jarring, that may quite be the point— the emphasis of time, change, and how it’s all connected through words.
• Fuzz — Mary Roach
  • Surprisingly readable, despite the gruesome subject matter (“when nature breaks the law,” as the subtitle describes). Mary Roach analyzes these cases of bear, lion, elephant, and leopard crime with comprehensive and humane treatment of the people and animals involved, somehow managing to also embed moments of humor into the narrative. Again, I’m surprised my squeamish self could get into this, but I’m glad I picked it up!
  • Key points: In America, “[w]ild life and wilderness weren’t conserved for their intrinsic value. They were conserved for hunting and fishing.” This in contrast to approaches to wildlife interactions in countries like India, where many animals are considered sacred, and often treated more humanely— and human-ly.
  • Roach’s chapter transitions, too, are something to be admired.
• Wish You Were Here — Jodi Picoult
  • I was honestly disappointed with this Jodi Picoult novel aimed to tackle the challenges of our current pandemic. The plot was uninteresting and characters seemed almost elementary, and I cared little about what they did or what happened to them. Still, a light listen and good for falling asleep to!
  • PSYCH! It was all a dream! Stay tuned for how I feel about this wild twist.
  • It was okay. Some detailing of hospital rehab I didn’t care to hear about after having experienced myself, but definitely a book redeemed by its surprise. Picoult captured the unease and surreal nature of the pandemic in the contrast between the two parts. Still, it wasn’t as compelling as some of her other works.
• Running with Sherman — Christopher McDougall
  • As an avid fan of McDougall’s Born to Run, I was excited to pick up this more animal-centric book by the author. It is immediately heart-warming, funny, and filled with engaging side adventures, making for an authentic and enjoyable read.
  • Movement-as-medicine: a principle that works for healthy and injured animals and humans alike. I agree.
• Three Flames — Alan Lightman
  • A window into the many worlds of a Cambodian farming family. Heartbreaking, at times, and filled with the difficulties of the lives and times that seem so far away. Of course, Alan Lightman’s writing leaves little to be desired.