Interesting book. I liked much of it, but I think with essays, or ‘reflections’ like this, there is the risk of the writer - here, in a very personal text - sounding didactic, dogmatic and simultaneously exceptional, as if her care for the planet stands alone as a moral paragon in the face of climate catastrophe and apathy. I’m
torn… Does such a text like this necessarily require dogma to succeed? Must it be forcefully explicit? Must it ask us rhetorical questions, hit us on the head with discussion of not merely environmental devastation but a model for how ought to think and talk about it? I’m
not sure. Because environmental literature (fiction or otherwise) must call us towards movement, must make us think, must be didactic in some form towards action and preservation. Integrating philosophy and ethics with these real stories was compelling and important, but lines like “I remember… What about the land’s intrinsic value…? And what about the value and meaning… for Aboriginal peoples?” didn’t feel real or authentic. Not bad, not my favourite. I’m thinking more about my own response to the book than I am about the Black Summer Fires. Perhaps that’s an unfortunate reflection of my own anthropocentrism?