Published in June 2011, the second Dark Mountain book reflects on what it means to face the end of things we have taken for granted. Does the experience of loss on a human scale help us make sense of the ecological grief which confronts us, as we face the loss of species and languages, of ways of being in the world?
Among the stories, essays, poems, images and conversations which make up this collection, Naomi Klein visits the Gulf of Mexico, a year on from Deepwater Horizon; David Abram talks about wonder, boundaries and living with loss; Vinay Gupta writes about the Indian tradition of the “kapilika” or “bearers of the skull”; Paul Kingsnorth reflects on the experience of living with suicide. There’s also the final interview with the late Glyn Hughes, a fine poet and a friend of Dark Mountain from its earliest days, who faces the reality of his own death with stoicism and peace of mind.
These encounters with mortality sit alongside explorations of language, history, love and place. Luanne Armstrong writes about farming in rural Canada and Charles Hugh Smith gives a self-described hick’s perspective on the fantasies of “survivalists”. Wilfried Hou Je Bek discusses the history of ape-human language experiments, while Venkatesh Rao speculates on “the return of the barbarian” and Warren Draper revisits the Luddite rebellion, two hundred years on. Darren Allen invites us to fall in love, Catherine Lupton wonders around with words, and Tom Keyes offers a recipe for Black Isle Pheasant Stew.
There are extracts from Jay Griffiths’ forthcoming novel about the life of Frida Kahlo, Melanie Challenger’s book on extinction, and Antonio Dias’ novel ‘Something for Nothing’, as well as new short stories from Nick Hunt, William Haas and Simon Lys. There’s also new poetry from Albert Pierce Bales, Antony Lioi, Em Strang, Joel Moore, Mario Petrucci, Adrienne Odasso, Robert Walker, Benjamin Morris, Stephen Wheeler, Andrea Dulberger, Heathcote Williams, Gerry Loose and Paul Kingsnorth.
Despite the theme of loss, this is not a book which is headed into despair. It ends with an essay from Dougald Hine, ‘Remember the Future?’, which offers a Dark Mountain attitude to how we meet the unknown with hope.
Oh, how does one sum up a book that tests the deepest depths of contemporary societal values and principles without spending the 19,800 something words available for this review.
Quite frankly, I will leave this book's review to some simple words.
We must question all things in our lives, especially the things that are currently going unchecked. We must be aware of the actions taking place "for" our economy, our consumerism, that may be having detrimental physical effects on our world and the future generations to whom we hope to leave it to.
To be ignorant only exacerbates the issue at hand.
This book will open your eyes to important questions that we must all be asking NOW. Questions we need to ask our governments, questions we need to ask our friends and family, and most importantly questions we need to ask ourselves.
I've been with the Dark Mountain Project for almost a year and a half now. The words, the stories, and the art presented by this project have undoubtedly reaffirmed a feeling I had already been having for some time now.
My favorite part of this group has nothing to do with their insistence that we may be heading down a dark path as a creature of this planet, but that they hope, and many believe, that it isn't too late to change our direction.
I think one of my favorite quotes can sum up this book.
"If all the insects were to disappear from the Earth, within fifty years all life on Earth would end. If all human beings disappeared from the Earth, within fifty years all forms of life would flourish." -- Jonas Salk (not 100% sure on who said it unfortunately)
Why must this be true? It is up to us to write new stories--of humans "progressing" with their environment, not by sacrificing it.
But after we write these stories, we have to live them.
Again, I'm impressed by the breadth of work that Dark Mountain has amassed, and though a lot of it whooshed right past me (most poetry tends to do that), the essays were stellar, particularly Naomi Klein's and a fascinating short history about the Luddites.