Apocalyptic Planet by Craig Childs

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Gearing up to see Al Gore’s return in An Inconvenient Sequel? Be sure to add some good mental trail mix to your rucksack.

Childs, Craig. Apocalyptic Planet: Field Guide to the Future of Earth. New York: Vintage, 2012. Print.

Genre: narrative nonfiction

Summary: Craig Childs travels around the world to showcase the impacts of climate change — those we can readily observe, as well as those more hidden in surprising chain reactions. Childs’ work won the Orion Award, presented only to those outstanding books which deepen a reader’s connection to the natural world. Childs is also the author of previous award-winning and thought-provoking books including The Animal Dialogues, Finders Keepers, and House of Rain.

Critique: With his usual devil-may-care penchant for bedlam, Childs takes readers — and anyone else crazy enough to tag along — to every deadly brink he can find on the planet which may (or may not) chart the course of our demise. He rafts an uncharted Himalayan river…with his stepdad…during flood season. He traverses the base of a glacier…while it is calving…at unprecedented speeds. He monitors the stormy, hostile waters around the Bering Straight…under gale-force winds hurtling stone-hard rain…with his mother.

From Greenland’s white water deserts to Mexico’s sandy no-man’s (and no-waters) lands; from Hawaiian lava flows to Iowan corn vistas, Childs presents a dazzling tour of destruction. Over and over, he covers the planet’s 4.6 billion years of cyclical renewl and collapse. Digestion and regurgitation of landmasses and species. He points out the research suggesting what we are going through now is perfectly normal…and yet perfectly exacerbated by our mode of modern life.

Sure, the earth will most likely survive any severe turnover — life always finds a way. But we homo sapiens might not be so lucky. We may have already triggered irreparable sequences; destructive dominoes already litter our path. Or do they? Only time will tell.

I’m not just being coy about the end of this book as a way of tempting you to read it. I am reflecting Child’s even greater penchant for sharing more tough questions than easy answers. Which is wise, considering how few complex issues are ever cut and dry. Not every debate has a right or wrong side. Sometimes both sides’ positions stink equally. In this case, Childs holds us accountable to answer the toughest questions. What will we do in the face of global demise — wait and see if we’re really boned, or act in every way possible to avert calamity?

We know what plays better at the movie theater when the clock on the nuclear bomb ticks down its final seconds before detonation. Rarely does the hero just sit and wait.

Because this is a critique and not a review, I am obligated to point out that this book’s greatest feature is also its most tragic flaw. It stems from a stylistic habit I share with Craig Childs, and thus, I comment with deepest respect and sympathy. Every page, every paragraph, is loaded with stunning similes and metaphors to evoke the settings.

Back in February, I had the distinct pleasure and privilege of meeting Craig Childs several times during his week-long visit in town. Apocalyptic Planet was the common reading experience for the college freshmen (and the wider community). Often, he noted the goal of his writing was to bring readers out of their easy chairs and into the wilds, out on the trails where most cannot follow. To that end, he leaned heavily on figurative language. However, the text held so many of these descriptive gems, they eventually dulled into common minerals. I lost sight and sense of the place, or else lost the scope and stakes of the environmental issue under scrutiny. As a result, the pacing slackened and my desire to keep reading waned (the very thing my writing advisers and mentors always warned me about).

Perhaps if the earth generally benefits from gobbling up its most precious places, then Craig and I might also benefit from wiping away our more darling descriptions.

 

The Animal Dialogues by Craig Childs

childs_animaldialoguesChilds, Craig. The Animal Dialogues: Uncommon Encounters in the Wild. New York: Little, Brown, and Young, 2007. Print.

Genre: narrative nonfiction

Summary: Craig Childs is a naturalist and award-winning writer. He has spent his entire life prodding the invisible tissues that connect man, animal, earth, time, life, and death. This brings together a collection of striking essays, musings, and mementos describing his encounters with all kinds of creatures and beasts. Cougars, bears, jaguars, elk, ravens, fish, sharks, owls, even the common cat and domestic dog.

Critique: Rather than a critique of this book, I offer would-be readers a warning. Do not read this book if you are neither ready nor willing to see the world in a whole new way. Do not glance at a single page or paragraph unless you can accept that the universe does not operate in the way you have always presumed. Through Childs’ eyes you will experience a world were waterfalls in the distance are loose strings and threads. Shorelines are the haggling grounds between oceans and mountains. Time is simultaneously vast and puny.

Language is different with Childs, too. He admits early on he has to use a sort of different language to convey what it is like to come into contact with animals the way he has. The experience is a lot like trying to build the sky out of sticks, he says. But you have been warned: Childs is incredibly skilled with his sticks!

Be careful, else you’ll start to speak, think, and feel differently. You too may realize dawn is not a time, but a color you can feel on your face. You may notice how “blood jacks into muscles” when you stand toe-to-claw with a hungry predator. Perhaps a growl or roar will feel like an animals voice breaking the air on your back. Or how your body transforms into “a single muscle sliding like pure light between the trees” as you run with, or maybe away from, an animal.

What’s that? You’re going to nab this book and start reading it? Even though nature is savage and full of frightening beasts — the most horrifying beast of all being the one you keep locked inside your own skin, denied the feral pleasures of sun, air, chase, and dark??? Don’t say I didn’t warn you…