Earthblog

The following is excerpted from Simon Fairlie’s book, Meat: A Benign Extravagance, now available at Matter Bookstore. This piece appeared originally on the web at Rhys Southan’s website, Let Them Eat Meat.  Reposted on Matter Daily courtesy of Chelsea Green Publishing.

The Fence

In the 1960s, the American biologist Robert Paine conducted an experiment involving the removal of a predator species from a seashore environment:

When he removed the main predator, a certain species of starfish, from a population of fifteen observable species, things quickly changed. Within a year the area was occupied by only eight of the fifteen species. Numbers within the prey species boomed and in the resulting competition for space, reasoned Paine, those species that could move left the area; those that could not simply died out.[1]

Commenting on Paine’s experiments, Allan Savory remarks: ‘I witnessed a similar disruption in two much larger communities in Africa’, namely the Luangwa valley in Northern Rhodesia (Zambia) and the lower Zambezi Valley in Southern Rhodesia, where he worked as a biologist:

Both areas contained large wildlife populations – elephant, buffalo, zebra, more than a dozen antelope species, hippo, crocodiles and numerous other predators. Despite these numbers, the river banks were stable and well vegetated. People had lived in these areas since time immemorial in clusters of huts away from the main rivers, because of the mosquitoes and wet season flooding. Near their huts they kept gardens that they protected from elephants and other raiders by beating drums throughout much of the night or firing muzzle-loading guns to frighten them off. The people hunted and trapped animals throughout the year as well.But the governments of both countries wanted to make these areas national parks. It would not do to have all this hunting going on, and all the drum beating, singing and general disturbance, so the government removed the people. Like Paine, we, in effect, removed the starfish. But in our case we put a different type of starfish back in. We replaced drum-beating, gun-firing, gardening and farming people with ecologists, naturalists, and tourists, under strict control to ensure they did not disturb the animals or vegetation.[2]

Todd Mitchell

Written by Charlie Malone
Monday, 27 December 2010

“The geeks let me be whatever I imagined.”

This realization gives teen-aged James Turner permission to become anyone he wants at his new high school. At any moment it seems James might get lost, damaged, or destroyed by his reinvention of himself. Young adulthood can be terminal. This truth gives The Secret to Lying its drive.

Aiming this book at high school-aged young adults, author Todd Mitchell has the vision to infuse the novel with mischief and humor. As James and his classmates at ASMA, the American Science and Mathematics Academy (cough, wheeze), awaken sexually, stage dramatic protests against cafeteria food, live with eating disorders unrelated to the quality of the cafeteria, cut themselves, struggle to shape their own identities, prank their dorm neighbors, experiment with alcohol or over-the-counter medications, and encounter very serious questions of when to ask for help, and how to get through stigmas associated with counseling, Mitchell balances the mood of the book carefully.

As the risks facing James grow more tangible, and more menacing, his own humor takes on a deliberately hollow sense. Meanwhile, other characters worry and distance themselves. Issues of mental health and identity development for young people are often the subjects parents and teachers struggle to talk about. Our best novels for young adults take risks and give these themes truthful attention and ways for readers to think through them. While being faithful to the importance of these topics, all the easy phrases describing well-paced novels that hook the reader still apply, (pick any three): gripping, engrossing, humorous, exiting, insightful, engaging, heartbreaking, page-turning, hard-to-put down...

Written by Jason Hardung for Boneshaker: A Bicycling Almanac 43-100
Monday, 13 December 2010

On July 2^nd, James Kaelan embarked on a journey up the Pacific Coast, from Los Angeles to Vancouver, British Columbia on his bicycle (one of the two Cannondales sent him pro bono). What makes a man do such a thing, you ask? Many reasons, hypothetically: his car was broke, he likes Canadian women, or he wanted to discover his country or himself. Those things might very well have happened on his journey, but one of James’ reasons was a book tour for his new novella, We’re Getting On, published by Flatmancrooked Publishing. Call it sustainability, or call it a gimmick, but the book cover is embedded with spruce seeds. So once you are done reading it, you can bury it in the ground and the very words you once held in your grubby little hands, your grubby little heart, will offset carbon emissions and someday shelter hundreds of birds and squirrels and maybe raccoons, depending on where you plant the book cover.

The other reason to tour like this was to show it could be done with zero emissions. He would ride his bike while an electric car with supplies followed. He would crash on people’s floors or camp, making due with the bare minimum, stopping in twenty-two cities along the way, not only to promote the book, but also to promote a selfless new idea. All in forty days. Well, it wasn’t totally selfless — he got press, a couple new bikes, witnessed some of the most beautiful scenery in the country, met some people he will never forget and surely discovered his country and himself along the way. But all of this zero emission stuff does tie in eventually. Most stories in the book deal with life just outside the grid — no electricity is a big theme, along with love and lust and youth, all wrapped in apocalyptic fears.