With its soaring azure sky and stark landscapes, the American Southwest is one of the most hauntingly beautiful regions on earth. Yet staggering population growth, combined with the intensifying effects of climate change, is driving the oasis-based society close to the brink of a Dust-Bowl-scale catastrophe.
In A Great Aridness, William deBuys paints a compelling picture of what the Southwest might look like when the heat turns up and the water runs out. This semi-arid land, vulnerable to water shortages, rising temperatures, wildfires, and a host of other environmental challenges, is poised to bear the heaviest consequences of global environmental change in the United States. Examining interrelated factors such as vanishing wildlife, forest die backs, and the over-allocation of the already stressed Colorado River--upon which nearly 30 million people depend--the author narrates the landscape's history--and future. He tells the inspiring stories of the climatologists and others who are helping untangle the complex, interlocking causes and effects of global warming. And while the fate of this region may seem at first blush to be of merely local interest, what happens in the Southwest, deBuys suggests, will provide a glimpse of what other mid-latitude arid lands worldwide--the Mediterranean Basin, southern Africa, and the Middle East--will experience in the coming years.
Written with an elegance that recalls the prose of John McPhee and Wallace Stegner, A Great Aridness offers an unflinching look at the dramatic effects of climate change occurring right now in our own backyard.
William deBuys is the author of seven books, including River of Traps: A New Mexico Mountain Life, a New York Times Notable Book of the Year and a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize in general non-fiction in 1991; Enchantment and Exploitation: The Life and Hard Times of a New Mexico Mountain Range; The Walk (an excerpt of which won a Pushcart Prize in 2008), and Salt Dreams: Land and Water in Low-Down California. An active conservationist, deBuys has helped protect more than 150,000 acres in New Mexico, Arizona, and North Carolina. He lives and writes on a small farm in northern New Mexico.
So this has been a fairly long slog reading this one. I've been reading it on my breaks at work on my night shifts.
This starts off well with the first half of the book at least being interesting, engaging and rather worrying in its projections of the future for the arid regions of the US SW. Then it seems to descend into a statistical nightmare, with pages and pages of stats, tables of numbers and quoting of figures which completely made me lose interest. The writing (and I'm trying to avoid a pun here but oh well) became very dry (sorry! 😬)
deBuys lost me for a good while before I limped to the finish line in a bedraggled, underwhelmed state.
The state of play is severely concerning and one which US citizens should be shouting about. I doubt this book is the best method of teaching people however due to its in parts overly academic nature.
An absolutely excellent read. I picked this new book up at my library specifically because a decent chunk of the book dealt with the "Sun Corridor" of Arizona, which includes Tucson, where we lived for seven years. So I was particularly drawn into chapters 5, 6, 7, and 8. They were, in fact, the main reason I read this book.
Many important and familiar issues were addressed in these chapters, from the O'odham people of today, the issues of state land reform in Arizona, water shortage, climate change, and the phenomenon of the "urban heat island" that describes what is happening in Phoenix, water used for crops being diverted to supply mains of subdivisions, the foreclosure rate and the impact of the recession, the border wall a.k.a. "billion-dollar speed bump", and the impact on the natural environment.
Recommend.
"So this used to be a farming community," says Propst, "and now its last harvest is these homes, but the crop, for the time being, has failed." page 202
"Look at it," he said. "It's an ugly damn thing, it makes a lot of noise, it does a lot of damage, it costs way too much, and it doesn't work - that's how you know it's a federal project!" - Odle on the Border Wall page 228
This is a great book for anyone who cares about environmental issues in the southwest. While it does highlight climate change, it also explores supplemental issues such as grazing, water allocation, illegal border crossings, and more. Reading this book has given me a deeper appreciation of the desert southwest I love so dearly.
If you live anywhere in what could be considered the American Southwest this is your book. It is a must read for you. This is an excellent resource for the natural history, water history, water politics, border politics, and what desert ignorance will result in. I was born and raised in the southwest on borrowed water and I loved this book.
"The central issue of the region...is formed by the tension between 'the aridity that breeds sparseness and the denial of that condition, which leads to overdevelopment.'" (p. 310) If there is a single concern at the core of this wonderful book, the above passage probably states it most succinctly, though to reduce such a complex work to one statement seems almost a disservice. A Great Aridness is, perhaps, the best book I've read on climate change because it is so varied—it is a text that deftly balances extensive erudition, compelling writing, and a deep knowledge and passion for the American Southwest.
I spent a couple of months working through this book, in part because the information presented here is vast and convincing. DeBuys realizes that, even when examining climate change from the vantage point of a single region, the issues at hand are complex and multifaceted. Each chapter examines how we arrived at the region’s present state from a variety of angles—ancient history, culture, border conflicts, politics, fires, endangered species, and, of course, drought and water management—in hopes of glimpsing what the future may hold. The topics tackled, and amount of evidence put forth, in each chapter could justify an entire book, and, yet, deBuys presents all of this information in lyrical and potent prose that moves the reader along at an often dizzying clip. In other words, A Great Aridness at once reads like an encyclopedia of climate change issues in the Southwest as well as a cultural, environmental, political, and historical gloss on the region.
What draws me most to deBuys's writing, in this book and in others, is his deep commitment to the power of place. For all of the impressive research and convincing facts here, it's deBuys's passion for, and knowledge of, the land itself—this strange and wonderful region that can exert such a permanent and personal hold—that drives home the urgent need for us to act now if we are to adapt in a meaningful way to the challenges posed by climate change. In the second half of the book, there is a moving chapter about the havoc wreaked upon the tribes of Western Apaches in Arizona by the Rodeo-Chediski fire. The damage to the land was extensive and costly, ruining the livelihoods of many in the region. However, deBuys reminds us that, for people such as the White Mountain Apaches, the damage wasn't simply financial or environmental. Recounting the spiritual importance of place to the Apaches, he writes:
"...wisdom was deemed to 'sit' in places, and the knowledgeable individual, whether seeking insight, guidance, or reassurance, might go to a place and 'drink' from that wisdom and be helped...The right place, at the right time, could be a powerful ally. But then came Rodeo-Chediski. The fire blazed across the places where wisdom sat...The fire seemed to be an indictment of how people were living their lives, and it left them wondering where they might now turn for guidance." (p. 266)
Whether or not one draws an overtly spiritual fulfillment from place, deBuys feels that we all have an obligation to the land, one that is of moral concern. He reminds us that:
"There will be a lot to carry on with in the aftermath of the fires of the future. Reconstruction of homes and restoration of watershed stability will top the list of priorities. Right next to them, re-moralization of the landscape will deserve its own place, as people struggle...to find meaning in the events that changed the land...These ecological communities will develop in a new climatic environment, and we will be fortunate indeed if we discern that any kind of wisdom resides in them." (p. 267)
Returning to the larger issue of climate change, A Great Aridness continually reminds us that there aren't any easy answers. Yet, this isn't merely another doom and gloom treatise. DeBuys's text is a labor of love in the face of great odds—a very personal book about the place he has long called home. His passion for, and faith in, the region is most clearly evidenced in his belief that the very diversity and tenacity that makes the Southwest such a unique and compelling place is what will ultimately be drawn upon to save it. This text is essential reading for anyone who lives in, cares about, and or is fascinated by the American Southwest and the environment.
I decided to go ahead and start reading last night. Maybe I'll read this along with "The Long Goodbye". I'm one of those Southwest lovers. I lived in Colorado for about 17 years(Boulder/Denver) and have spent significant time in the 4 Corners area though not so much in the Utah part of it. Just a drive through of Monument Valley one afternoon in July of 1973. I've already read some of what's been predicted and is already happening out there. I have a dream... of finding a way to get to spend significant time in NM/AZ in the winter time instead of Maine but so far have only managed a two-week vacation in 2005 and 3 months in winter-spring of 2007. I'd love to go back... Tucson this time instead of Tempe. We'll see... By the way the intro is very well written.
Well into the book now and it's a scary story as far as the future is concerned. Especially if you live "out there". Just now I've finished a section about man-caused depradations of the past, includung some minor scale ones by pre-Columbian ancient ones. I did a summer of archaeology in the Mesa Verde area in 1973 and have a bit of experience and interest in that area.
Note: The author makes the common misstatement that we are descended from the apes. It is more accurate to say that humans and modern apes are descended from common ancestors; ape-like animals from millions of years ago.
The scary story keeps getting scarier. I enjoyed his descriptions of Arizona social and real estate history. Cleared a few things up. Phoenix is a mess but Tucson's trying to do things right. Still... 8 million PLUS people in that corridor in the next decades???? NOT enough water folks. Plus... it'll be too damned hot anyway.
Maybe finished tonight... One thing I just noticed is the author's favoring the human issues of the rest of nature. No, he's not anti-environmentalist at all, it's just thst this book is a warning to humans. In the part I just read he's talking about the incredibly expensive border fence and the now-huge Border Patrol. The fence is an environmental obscenity and disaster but he kind of skips over that to focus on the human issues. HUMANS?!?! The hell with them(us)... I hope the planet can kill off humanity before humanity kills off the planet.
Not as long as I'd though because of all the footnotes and bibliography after the main text. A great book but essentially depressing of course. In the Mt. Graham chapter he gets to focus on the "damned ecology"(a phrase I once heard a co-worker use) and it's a dicey forecast not only for the red squirrels on the mountain but the rest of the natural world. Big changes and challenges are coming. 4.75 rounds up to 5*
- As happens all too often these days he misuses the meaning of "begging the question".
- The stuff about the big fires reminded me of "The Road". THAT ain't a good thing.
This is an excellently documented and well written book about the environment of the Southwestern U.S. This area of the world, along with many other historically arid regions will feel the brunt of global warming, as heat and drought overtake the ability of water sources to provide for the still-growing population. DeBuys looks at the history of the area as far back as the 700s, evaluating tree ring data and concluding that peoples of the region always lived on the edge, eking a living from difficult terrain, and leaving when the rains failed. Great dam projects, pipelines, and other engineering feats have been able to maintain sufficient water over the past century, but the significant increases in population occurred during two decades of exceptionally high(for the area) rainfall. The southwest is now experiencing a drought that has lasted most of a decade, with temperatures gradually rising, increasing evaporation. Massive forest fires and insect infestations have destroyed ever increasing acreage, releasing more carbon into the atmosphere and destroying the land's ability to absorb carbon and decrease evaporation, not to mention the habitats of the animals threatened by these events. With the Colorado River parceled out between several dry states, including southern California, Lake Powell and Lake Mead evaporating faster than they can be re-filled, and lots of political issues, push will come to shove and sooner rather than later. Climate Change denial is no longer an option! But how can those states limit growth, when there's money to be had? There are lots of hard questions and few good answers.
This was a kindle daily deal that looked interesting, and after reading, I can say that it beat all expectations. It is a discussion around climate change and water usage in the Southwest and paints a pretty bleak (and probably accurate) picture of what we can expect as more people move to the Southwest and use a severely limited water resource.
This is an excellent survey of environmental problems facing the American Southwest, in all their natural, economic, and social dimensions, with a special eye to the ways the climate change will complicate thrm. If I’d read it two years ago, I’d likely have given it four or maybe five stars; but the book was published in 2011 and explores several of its topics with journalistic immediacy, as well as an historical long view. Some of the key stories, such as fights over growth patterns around Phoenix and Tuscon in the wake of the Great Recession, are now dated and incomplete. Still, there’s a lot of good information here, and it is worth a read for folks who want the history and don't mind doing some additional online research to bring the story up to date. Topics include the basic science of climate change; climate and the region’s pre-Columbian communities; the management of water, especially that of the Colorado River; water and rangelands; growth and land use; forests and fire management; and immigration and the Border.
One blind spot of the book is technologies for mitigation and adaptation - this is really a book about environmental problems and their social consequences, and sometimes their social solutions: changing grazing patterns, restoring rangelands and forests, planning growth. The longest technological discussion focuses on the ‘third straw’ at Lake Mead, and its main takeaway is that the massive engineering project (completed in 2013, with cost and time overruns) only delays the inevitable, or brings it sooner for other communities. There’s nothing here about renewable energy and similar technological solutions to minimize emmissions. That’s okay; a chapter on that would likely have aged even faster than the rest of the book. But the overall message of the book is pretty grim.
This book is not just about water. It's about how water and the lack of it in the Colorado river basin will affect AZ, New Mexico, and the Mexican boarder area. Utah, Colorado, Nevada, and California are talked about, but as they relate to the water pacts that affect AZ, N.M., and the Mexican boarder area. Chapters include migratory, bison, now cut off from their American grazing land, illegal immigration, fire, to much and to little rain and snow fall, California irrigation plumbing, AZ irrigation plumbing, how ancient peoples, Chaco Canyon people and a host of other topics. It is written in a very engaging style and tells a must read story. Yes even with the past year and the large amounts of rain and snow that has fallen from Washington to El Paso TX. Yes today Lake Mead is at 83 % capacity and I've seen it 15 feet above the spillway in 1984, but before last springs snows and rains Lake Mead was at 1045 ft, full is 1225ft or 84 % full but with continuing demand it still needs another two years of what last spring and the past summer looked like to get to 1225. And that, two more wet years is NOT guaranteed. This work looks at what can and can not be changed. Great primer for what is coming to the American SW.
This book was released in 2011 and is even more relevant today. As a research scientist focused on water issues in the Southwest, I found this book to hit on all the major issues facing the region. Reading this book 10 years after the release allows a reader to look at some of the predictions made by the scientists deBuys interviewed to be immediately checked. Not surprising, many of the predictions are unfortunately coming true. The book is accessible to a wide audience while still having much of the scientific discussions and citations needed to support the claims being made.
Great in-depth exploration of the battle over water rights and the impacts of future climate change in the American Southwest. Written about 15 years ago, and a lot of what is in this book has been pretty predictive of the current situation we're heading towards.
The writing style is good, but can switch back and forth from a more narrative nonfiction style to more of a technical writing style which can be a bit jarring sometimes. I recommend it to anyone who loves the outdoors in the Western US and has an interest in its future.
The book was written in 2012, so it is somewhat dated. On the other hand, it paints a very comprehensive view of climate change and the dearth of water in the Southwest. There are lots of statistics, scientific principles (a slog at times) but also cultural, immigration and indigenous considerations. If you live in the Southwest, you need to read this.
Really expansive and inclusive discussion of social, scientific, political and ecological issues around climate change in the Southwest. A compelling read. Interesting to see how issues that were written about in this book, reflecting the world about 10 years ago, are playing out today.
Beautifully written with a tough message. It paints a heartbreaking picture of the future for the part of the world I love the most. This doesn’t offer any easy answers or false hope but still ends up being an inspiring book.
In "A Great Aridness" William DeBuys tells the story of the American Southwest as it is being transformed by climate change. DeBuys deals in all scales of devastation while presenting numerous perspectives: anthropological, historical, sociological, and ecological.
Here, he writes about the threat of bark beetles:
"It is only natural for us to think that the greatest threats to our world will wreak havoc in stupendously dramatic calamities we are used to seeing are those that populate disaster films or play well in the evening news: floods, fires, volcanic eruptions, hurricanes, earthquakes. Few of us expect that tiny creatures in exoskeletons that gnaw or sip or drill their way through the world will be powerful agents of change, but they can be. And as our climate changes, they will be. They have the power of explosive, exponential reproduction, ad when conditions are favorable and they swarm into plagues of biblical proportions, they show the rest of us what being an opportunist really means" (45).
Later, he writes about the effects of wildfires on communities:
"Basso believes it is the meaning of the fire, the meaning of the destruction and loss, that they struggle with the most. The fire has bequeathed them not just a physical disorientation- in a landscape that no longer looks or functions as it did before- but moral disorientation as well...One of the legacies of so massive a change in the composition of the world, says Basso, is that it leaves behind a demoralized landscape, a world drained of meaning. For a people who have relied on the strength of the land to guide and buttress their own resolve, this is a grievous blow" (266-267).
While DeBuys maintains a balanced tone through the book, at times he seems to accept the inevitability of climate change to transform the Southwest, noting in the following passage a fundamental flaw in human nature to disregard future threats:
"Without a societal commitment to live within the limits of finite resources, in an environment where climate speaks last and loudest, the ultimate train wreck, the final reckoning with aridity, becomes a certainty. In the meantime, the most onerous consequences of inaction will be pushed off on the poorest classes of society, those least able to bear them, and the responsibility for balancing the water budget will be left to the next generation...This pattern of behavior may be quintessentially human. If one were to write a survey of instances in the history of civilization when societies accepted difficult medicine in order to spare their descendants worse pain in the future, it would make a very short book" (161).
Ultimately, "A Great Aridness" is a work of love devoted to the Southwest, dying now due to human excesses, ignorance, and short-sightedness. DeBuys seems to capture the layers of the land itself, using poetic language to show his appreciation for the Southwest's unique qualities:
"...the most definitive color of the Southwest, which is found not beneath the feet, but overhead. You can look straight up, almost any day of the year, and there it is: an intense, infinite blue, miles deep and beyond reach. It is not merely bluish, not the watery blue of Scandinavian eyes, not the black-mixed blue of dark seas or bachelor buttons, not the hazy blue of glacier ice or distant mountains, but an Ur-blue, an uber-blue, a defining quintessence. It is to other blues as brandy is to wine: pure and heady" (17).
Having spent five years of my own life in Arizona and New Mexico, I feel sadness at the thought of familiar landscapes slowly drying up and being replaced by something alien and barren. If the climate models are correct, the Southwest is a canary in a coal mine and a part of the world that will be one of the earliest indicators of what is to come.
While the most obvious effect of global warming is an increase in the overall surface temperature of the planet, the specific effects of climate change are going to be felt differently in different regions around the globe. In the desert southwest, an area defined by its aridity and high temperatures, climatology models predict an amplification of these conditions resulting in water shortages, crop failures, plant and tree die-offs and an increase in the severity and frequency of forest fires.
Given enough time, it is possible for plants, animals and humans to evolve and adapt to their changing environment. The problem is that ecosystems don’t always change linearly, instead they can quickly toggle between one steady state and another leaving its inhabitants scrambling to adapt (or failing that, moving on or becoming extinct). Throw water politics, economic displacement, reduced flow of already over-allocated rivers and streams and a flood of environmental refugees into the mix and the destabilization that occurs to our social institutions may even outweigh that which occurs in the environment.
A Great Aridness charts the gloomy forecast faced by the southwest assuming that humans fail to take meaningful steps to curb emissions of greenhouse gasses (an effort that seems increasingly unlikely). Along the way, deBuys examines: • The abandonment of many areas of the southwest by Native Americans in the late 1200’s and early 1300’s. • The effects of overgrazing, range management and techniques for recovery. • The Colorado River, water rights and water availability throughout the west. • The growth of western cities and the effect that rising population will have on the area. • Immigration and border politics (no story about the west would be complete without it). • The increase in wildfires in recent years that have been aggravated by drought and rising temperatures. • Disputes over construction of an ASU observatory in an area that destroyed red squirrel habitat on Mt. Graham.
In the end, deBuys believes that westerners are living on borrowed time and that the effects of climate change may prove to be the factor that pushes us over the edge. There’s no doubt that Phoenix and several other large western cities have only been made possible by means of large scale water diversion projects. If the worst effects of climate change are realized, human ingenuity may not be sufficient to overcome the resulting environmental challenges and Phoenicians could go the way of the Hohokam who came before us.
"A Great Aridness" draws on the latest science and recent and distant history (both human and natural) to explore how global warming is affecting the American Southwest and how it is likely to impact this region in the future.
Author William deBuys relies largely on the experiences and observations of people in the middle of these events, using a number of case studies separated in space and time to illustrate key points. As a result, the book serves not only as a primer for regional climate change but provides a valuable insight into the character of the Southwest and the forces that have made it what it is.
As the title suggests, this already dry place is likely to become much more dry. Given the explosive growth of water use, already drawing more than is naturally replenished even without climate change, a large part of our population will be facing devastating shortages without significant modification of our behavior. The changes in climate, coupled with growing human land use and carelessness (especially regarding fire), are changing ecosystems in dramatic ways, threatening to exterminate species not suited to rapid adaptation or escape, or able to survive foreign diseases.
The author's storytelling is convincing in its authenticity, detail, and insights from experience, but most of it is long – and requires patience to get through. Overall, it's well worth the read.
So I guess I will never move to the Southwest. Great book. Lots of insight into what the future holds for the American Southwest as effects of climate change go nonlinear. Pretty grim - massive uncontrollable forest fires, hundreds of thousands of acres of dead forests from beetle infestations, extreme water shortages due to unceasing growth, animals indigenous to "sky island" habitats seeing themselves pushed to extinction, the list goes on. The water shortage implications are astounding - apparently there are reservoir levels below which the Hoover Dam would be unable to produce power, much less allow for a full complement of water to flow down to the Lower Basin of the Colorado River. Good writing too - the passages about what the White Mountain Apaches lose when fire levels their forests are poignant and moving. One slight ding on the border control chapter - well-written and interesting, but linkage to climate change is thin, acknowledging of course that it is a serious pressure point that will be worsened as climate deteriorates.
William deBuys has created a work of high art, skillfully weaving a story of the unique qualities of the southwest U.S. and how climate changes and drought conditions over time have influenced the region and its people, flora and fauna. He presents the facts on the story unfolding today throughout the region in a compelling manner and the story he weaves makes rich and rewarding reading. He has done a great service to all of us who call the southwest home and I trust his work will have far-reaching influence on those in the southwest who read it. Sober people will be further sobered by reading this book but perhaps in a new way and with wider vision. Thank you Mr. deBuys.
Reviews both the archaeological record and contemporary ecological and environmental challenges facing the American Desert Southwest through an examination of such topics as water and food availability, energy, human and wildlife migration patterns, forest and wildlife health, and wildfires, all of which have been and are occurring without any pressure from "global change-type drought" and temperature increases. Now, assume for just a moment that the Keeling Curve of atmospheric carbon portends significantly higher temperatures and drought, and the book rationally concludes that the challenges that the Southwest already faces become that much more pronounced.
Read this for the second time, mostly while in New Mexico and SW Colorado in August, 2025. The intervening 13 years have made the message only more crucial, as conditions have gotten only worse in that time. "Taken together, the fateful combination of present inaction, rising energy and resource consumption, and climatic vulnerability make it difficult to envision a safe landing for humankind." Even truer today than when it was written. Although the book concentrates on the U.S. Southwest, it's lessons apply much more broadly.
DeBuys does a great job of explaining the complexities of modern environmentalism in general and global climate change in particular. His laboratory is the American southwest. His discussion of the Mt. Graham squirrel is a classific explanation of unintended consequences and the nuances of buraucracy. The books starts off powerfully and he keeps it going. Each chapter adds value. Nothing, of course, can actually compare to Sand County Alamanac, but his explations, crisp writing and powerful stories gets closer than I've seen in a while. I haave to add this to my library.
This is a fine read by aknowledgable writer who loves the southwest. If you know the southwest or care about it,you really ought to know the issues covered in this book. It slow in spots, but deBuys believes in narratives and community. The odds are very high that this region will face (or is the middle of now) a period of prolonged drought. The implications for citizens, governments, farmers and busineses are profound. Plus , it starts with seriously talented trackers. Check it out and see if it's your cup of tea.
William DeBuys offers an unsettling description of the developing climate crisis in the Southwest. It's especially disturbing as those events are indicators of future crises in other regions. His book is a heartfelt study of a distressing man-made and climate-made downward spiral of this beautiful and fragile land and its inhabitants. It's a poignant plea to take adaptive conservation action in the Southwest now. A must read for those who love the Southwest, and a should read for all others.
DeBuys manages to mix science, history, anthropology and speculation into an entertaining and enlightening tale. While the story he is telling is bleak, the telling is vibrant. My favorite corner of the world is rapidly changing, and the pace and direction of that change should (but probably won't) induce those who can ameliorate this change to act quickly and boldly. Personally, I am induced to visit the shrinking islands of pine as often as I can in our remaining years.