I have followed Saito's work on social media for years, and her monthly comics are one email I always open right away. This was one of those no-brainer pre-orders for me, and it lived up to all my expectations. The book itself is beautiful, worth every cent—it's cloth-bound with stamped lettering on the front, thick, luxurious pages, a coffee table-quality book that's also small and compact enough to fit on a regular bookshelf or in a backpack. In this digital age, I love when artists invest in analog details like this.
Of course, the content also bowled me over. In her bio, Saito describes herself as "a Christian and anti-capitalist," two camps I don't imagine most people associate together. But she's able to thread the needle between acknowledging the despair we can feel looking at the havoc humans have wrought on the environment, without giving in to the despair—her story ends, like the story of the Bible, with healing and wholeness and redemption. It reminds me of Gerard Manley Hopkins' luminous poem, "God's Grandeur:"
Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;
And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil
And wears man's smudge and shares man's smell: the soil
Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.
And for all this, nature is never spent;
There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
Like Hopkins taking comfort in the image of the Holy Ghost "brood[ing]" over the world, Saito concludes that we can have hope because, in her words, "God is in love with the world."
Some people will conclude that no loving God can exist in a world this broken; others will resist the phrase "climate crisis" and worry over the seeming softness of a God in love with a fallen world. This is why this book is so necessary—regardless of where you stand among the scientific, ethical, and political complexities of caring for the environment, there is a truth here for you.
The truth that some things really are broken—and some of it really is our fault (even if you don't agree that it's catastrophic or a net evil). The truth of lament.
And the truth that there is a loving Creator and Sustainer who gives us every breath and keeps every subatomic particle in place and cannot be thwarted by our mistakes (even if it's hard to square brokenness with a good and powerful God). The truth of hope and courage.
Anyway, this isn't a sermon or apologetic; it's a book review. As a book of "visual poems," this succeeds wonderfully. I thought the ratio of text to imagery was excellent—as a writer always tending to over-wordiness, I admire Saito's sparse, restrained language that stands out all the more brightly for its rarity. And her images are both soft and arresting. The play with shape, color, motifs, light and dark, sky and sea, roots and branches, flowers and skyscrapers is just delectable. The foursquare comic spread combined with watercolor-style art and poetic text is uniquely immersive. What a glorious piece of art.