what i'm reading: four fish: the future of the last wild food

After reading a review of Paul Greenberg's Four Fish: The Future of the Last Wild Food when it was published in 2010, I added the title to The List. When I read it recently, more than 10 years later, the subject matter had become so much more relevant to me, in a way I could not have imagined in 2010.

In Four Fish, Greenberg unpacks the histories of the salmon, bass, cod, and tuna -- the physical and biological histories of those animals, and the cultural, social, economic, and political histories of human's interactions with them. 

Each fish's story is told through a human element that brings it to life, and through Greenberg's personal connection to fish and fishing, making the stories accessible and engaging. 

And each story is complex and circuitous. Greenberg has a deft touch for imparting the salient bits, (mostly) without getting too bogged down in detail.

I live in salmon country

In the chapter on salmon, Greenberg travels to a remote area of Alaska, where an Indigenous nation is involved in the wild-salmon trade, attempting both sustainability and profitability. 

The story could have taken place in my own community. Living on Canada's far west coast, the salmon and the many ways people's lives are linked to it are ever-present.

Indigenous fishers; non-Indigenous fishers, both commercial and sport; the aquaculture (fish-farm) industry; government regulatory bodies (almost universally hated); conservationists; the tourism and hospitality industry; the food industry; casual environmentalists -- all have a stake in the future of this iconic fish, and each has a different perspective. And other than rapacious Food Inc companies whose practices are completely unsustainable, none of them is wrong. It's complicated, and there are no easy answers. 

Bluefin is the new whale

Greenberg argues passionately that the bluefin tuna should be a protected species, the way whales and dolphins are -- animals no longer thought of as legitimate targets for either hunting or food. The bluefin -- which is but a distant relative of the tuna many of us (including me) eat -- is almost extinct. 

The bluefin conservation advocates, often former tuna fishermen who have been able to pull themselves away from the lure of tuna's silver-ingot bodies and marbled-sirloin flesh, have tried all manner of spells to get those who eat tuna or those officials who legislate over them to somehow sit up and take similar notice -- to abstain from eating them or to pass enforceable regulation for the sake of their preciousness. It is this often-futile battle that is the most telling part of the tuna fishery today. It is the battle with ourselves. A battle between the altruism toward other species that we know we can muster and the primitive greed that lies beneath our relationship with the creatures of the sea.

Greenberg reviews how hunting whales -- how humans' very concept of the whale -- has changed over time, culminating in the end of whaling.

It was the broadest and most far-reaching act of kindness humanity has ever bestowed on another group of species. Though contested and embattled and fraught with disagreements that result in violations, this kindness has persisted. The whaling moratorium remains in effect to this day.

Shifting baselines

Four Fish gave me a name for a concept I have thought about many times: shifting baselines. Greenberg credits marine biologist Daniel Pauly with the term, and says he was struck by

both the profound significance as well as its relative invisibility in the contemporary news cycle.

The idea of shifting baseline is this: Every generation has its own, specific expectations of what "normal" is for nature, a baseline. One generation has one baseline for abundance while the next has a reduced version and the next reduced even more, and so on and so on until expectations of abundance are pathetically low.

Before Daniel Pauly expressed this generational memory loss as a scientific thesis, the fantastical catches of older fishermen could be written off as time-warped nostalgia. But Pauly has tabulated the historical catch data and shown that the good old days were in fact often much better. This is not nostalgia on the part of the old or lack of empathy on the part of the young. It is almost a willful forgetting -- the means by which our species, generation by generation, finds reasonableness amid the irrational destruction of the greatest natural food system on earth.

I can think of a dozen other applications of shifting baselines, from the price of gas to the health of public services to originality in writing and music. Applied to the wild, it is very, very sad.

Q: Which fish should you eat? A: It hardly matters.

Greenberg notes that the issues of the future of fish cannot be managed -- or even significantly impacted -- on the consumer level. I share this perspective on most environmental issues, and I appreciated the validation. 

If you eat fish and care about the planet, you are probably familiar with the Seafood Choices Alliance ratings of fish: fish designated environmentally safe to eat, fish that are on the brink of danger and should be eaten only rarely, and fish you should not eat at all. Greenberg reviews the positive impact this has made and concludes:

For in the end, this somewhat passive response to the global crisis in fisheries robs the conservation movement of the will to stage more radical, directed, and passionate action. Daniel Pauly, the author of the shifting-baselines theory and frequent critic of the limited views of the sustainable seafood movement, said as much in a recent paper. "The current faith in the magic of free-market mechanisms must be questioned," Pauly wrote. "Consumers should not be misled that a system of management or conservation based on purchasing power alone will adequately address the present dilemma facing fisheries globally."

Greenbery notes that when he would say he was writing a book about the future of fish, people everywhere would inevitably ask, "Which fish should I eat?" 

His conclusion: it doesn't much matter. Action must be taken far upstream, and on a much grander scale.

Practical suggestions and solutions

Greenberg closes the book with a set of principles that could steer humans away from the total destruction of the world's fish, while allowing us to harvest and consume fish sustainably. He writes:

For too long it has been entrepreneurs who have decided which species to domesticate and which to leave wild. Their decisions have been based on market principles and profit, and they have historically not consulted with the managers and biologists who study wild-fish dynamics. This is senseless. If we continue along this pathway, we will only destroy one food system and replace it with another, inferior one, just as we have already done in most of the world's freshwater lakes and rivers. We therefore need a set of principles that guide us forward with domestication, one that is inclusive of impacts on wild oceans. 

He then sets out five principles that would guide aquaculture into a new era. Much of it is already taking place, in tiny enterprises scattered around the globe. Will this trend reach a point of global sustainability? Is it even enough to be considered a trend?

The giant web that holds us all

Similar to another book I recently read and reviewed, Animal, Vegetable, Junk by Mark Bittman, Four Fish speaks to the interconnectedness of all living organisms on our planet. Both books reveal the utter foolishness of humans' attempts to interfere with that connectedness, and of the human belief that only more interference, often in the form of technology, can solve the problems that humans have created. 

Like Animal, Vegetable, Junk, Four Fish reveals the breadth and depth of how humans have poisoned the Earth, or as Greenberg writes, "the loss of abundance and the greedy privatization, monopolization, and industrialization of fishing that caused it."

rotd: feminism is an endeavor to change

Revolutionary thought of the day:

Feminism is an endeavor to change something very old, widespread, and deeply rooted in many, perhaps most, cultures around the world, innumerable institutions, and most households on Earth -- and in our minds, where it all begins and ends. That so much change has been made in four or five decades is amazing; that everything is not permanently, definitively, irrevocably changed is not a sign of failure. A woman goes walking down a thousand-mile road. Twenty minutes after she steps forth, they proclaim that she still has nine hundred ninty-nine miles to go and will never get anywhere.

-- Rebecca Solnit, from "Pandora's Box and the Volunteer Police Force", 2014

things i heard at the library: an occasional series: #34

A customer said this.

I tell my daughter I love her every day. I told my mother on her death bed, I'm not going to do what you did. I'm going to raise my daughter with love. 

My mother told me she hated me. She told me I ruined her life. She told me I was worthless and stupid. This is what they told her in the residential school. This was all she knew.

She would make me clean. She would force me down on my hands and knees to scrub the floor with my bare hands. She would push my face in the bucket with detergent and yell that it wasn't clean enough yet, push my face into the floor, and shout, look what you did, look what you did, you worthless slob.

To this day the smell of Pinesol turns my stomach. It can trigger my PTSD. My house is very dirty! I don't care. My daughter and I clean it together once in a while. We try to make it fun.

It took a lot of therapy and reading and hard work to find my way past that. But I am determined not to pass this to my daughter. I raised her with love.

things i heard at the library: an occasional series: #33

As I sat down to write this, I searched for the last "things i heard at the library" post, to get the number. Amazingly, today's post turns out to be a follow-up to the previous TIH! That was a surprise! And it makes writing this much easier.

July 2020:

I just heard a heartbreaking lament from one of our regular customers, who was here for curbside.

She told us that most people she knows do not have internet access or any TV service, and many do not have phones. They rely on library staff to suggest and order materials for them.

We assured her that we can still do that. We asked her to encourage folks to show up during curbside hours and we will find books and DVDs for them.

Then she said, "It's not just the boredom. It's the isolation. It's the friendship. We are a poor community, and this library is our lifeline. I would work on the jigsaw puzzle or read a magazine, but that was just an excuse to be among people, to see friendly faces, to connect. The other place we would hang out is the Salvation Army – also closed. Many people go to church for that reason only, to connect with people – also closed. We've been cut adrift. People are depressed and they're suffering."

She understands why we can't open our doors yet. She just wants us to know how much the library space is missed.

I share this [with library management] as a reminder, both of the great need for physical materials – a need not likely to go away, and of the service we provide that cannot fit through the takeout window.

July 2022:

I hadn't seen that customer again -- until yesterday. I hustled over to her, and greeted her warmly. We chatted a bit, and when it seemed appropriate, I reminded her of that conversation.

LK: Last time I saw you, you mentioned how difficult it was not to have the library and other places to hang out. All during the lockdown, I thought about you, wondered how you were doing. How did you end up getting through covid?

Customer: Do you know what I did? I adapted. I started watching Kanopy, I used all the stuff you can use at home. I started learning Spanish on Mango, looked for crafts in Creativebug, watched The Knowledge Network. I just started doing all the at-home library things I could find. It's still really hard. People have died. Our old routines are gone. But keeping my brain active -- that has really helped a lot. 

I could scarcely express how happy that made me! 

I knew that many library customers turned to online services and e-resources during covid. But although that occured throughout our regional system, I've always wondered if customers in our remote locations shared that experience. (I do see statistics, but that can't account for individual customers.) While our most vulnerable customers -- people without internet at home, and people without homes -- couldn't, this woman is not among the affluent and well-connected. And somehow, she did this. Our library helped her get through. So, so, so wonderful.

I told her we have in-person programming again, and invited her to stop by on a Wednesday night, when we always have something for adults -- a movie, or board games, puzzles, sometimes a special event. She was skeptical, unsure if she was ready for that -- which was also good information for me to have -- as we struggle with low turnout. But wow, did this ever make my day!

so many left behind: the ever-widening digital divide

Last year, while attempting to get a parking pass during our vacation -- without a phone, my phone having been fried by an update -- I got caught in circuitous and frustrating encounter with information and technology gaps.

About a year later, navigating the brave new world of do-it-yourself airport screening, I used quite a few resources -- skills, devices, time, and patience -- to find, navigate, and complete the covid requirements for both US and Canada cross-border travel.

I deal with technology every day, and I'm about as confident a tech user as you will find. Yet each of these experiences was complicated, time-consuming, and frustrating.

The digital divide is an abyss

How do people without digital skills get by? What happens to folks who can't navigate these mazes?

There are some analog workarounds, required by accessibility laws, but can you find them? How do you find them if you aren't online?

There are people you can hire to expedite these steps for you. But if you're not digitally literate, you probably can't find them and you almost certainly can't afford them.

There may be someone in your life who can ask for help. But what if everyone in your life is from a similar background and social standing, and also lack these skills?

If you're lucky, someone will suggest you go to the public library. You can try that, and hope that resources haven't been slashed to such an extent that no one has the time and focus to help you. (Remember the scene in "I, Daniel Blake", where other library users help Daniel get online?)

These not-really-options don't factor in the shame and embarrassment that, for so many people, comes with asking for help, and they certainly don't factor in anxiety, mental confusion, and the exhaustion of poverty.

The digital divide is not about age

In library school, we talked a lot about the "digital divide" -- the gap between those who have access to technology and those who don't. As time goes on, this gap has become a canyon, and it's getting wider and deeper all the time.

There's a mistaken impression that the digital divide is one of age, with seniors on the have-not side. This is an ageist assumption that should have been retired a long time ago. Baby boomers are in their late 60s and 70s now!

Research (in a US context) shows the percentage of tech users over 65 is still slightly lower than that of other age groups, but the gap is shrinking all the time. In Canada, the percentage of people over the age of 65 using the internet doubled between 2007 and 2016. Stats Can notes (emphasis mine):

The findings suggest that age is a primary determinant of Internet use among seniors, but that differences in educational attainment and other demographic characteristics are also important. . . .

Among young seniors with more advantaged characteristics, Internet use is presently at near-saturation levels and is comparatively high among their counterparts in older age groups as well. Among disadvantaged seniors, Internet use is far lower among younger seniors and sharply declines among older groups.

There's also an assumption that "young people" are somehow born knowing how to use technology. This assumption is even less valid than the one about seniors. Ask anyone who teaches in a low-income area.

Knowing how to use a smartphone and check Facebook does not constitute digital literacy.

None of us are born with skills. If you grow up in a home without internet access and computers -- or you don't even have a home to grow up in -- how would you become digitally literate?

The American Library Association defines digital literacy as "the ability to use information and communication technologies to find, evaluate, create, and communicate information, requiring both cognitive and technical skills." This includes:

How to type on a keyboard

How to use a basic word-processing program

How to save a document and how to find it later

How to search the internet – not Facebook. Indeed, understanding the difference between the internet and Facebook requires digital literacy. Facebook has capitalized on the general lack of digital skills by creating an environment that requires skills to leave

It's all the same divide

The digital divide is the same divide that plagues all aspects of our capitalist society. It all comes down to money.

For a time I worked in a library in one of the lowest-income areas of Ontario. Families would rush to the library after work -- because the children's homework was only available online.

Every day, I would watch in horror and frustration as children and teens would lose their work because they didn't know how to save a document, or didn't remember that their work wouldn't be saved on a public computer. Of course library staff tried to help, but there are many customers, not many staff.

Analog shouldn't be dead, but it is

Obviously, services of every kind have moved online. This has many positive impacts, as the internet has expanded our reach in ways unimaginable only decades earlier. But at the same time, analog options have disappeared, and this trend continues to accelerate and expand. Some more recent developments include:

Two-step verification, requiring internet access and a mobile phone. These are both expensive propositions, out of reach of many.

Needing an email address to open an email account. What do first-time emailers do? Librarians have collected some solutions, but most people don't have that information.

In Canada, printed tax forms are no longer available publicly. They are available by special request only.

To enter Canada from another country (including if you are Canadian), you must use an app. Not can use an app; you must use it. Using the app requires a truckload of embedded competencies: you have to scan your passport and upload your covid passport, among other things. Like most apps, there are recursive pieces, opaque bits, decisions to be made -- and frustration, including for the most adept users.

The analog tax: making a flight reservation or booking a rental car by phone costs more than booking it yourself online.

Pay-for-tech-help. Have you bought a TV lately? You can't just plug it in and watch TV. You need an app, an account, and -- if you're not careful and savvy -- you are giving a tech giant access to all your data. Without digital skills, chances are you can't even navigate the landing page, and think you have access only through the tech company's portal.

And of course, covid. As public schools went online, what happened to students without home internet access? Mostly, they disappeared.

This is a safety issue, as people without digital skills are infinitely more vulnerable to phishing and other fraud.

This is a poverty issue, as children from less advantaged families will fall ever-farther behind, until the gap is simply insurmountable to all but the extremely gifted. This is the creation of a new kind of underclass.

This is a labour issue, as companies find ever more ways to hire fewer people and force consumers to do unpaid work. You may be so accustomed to this that you don't even realize it's happened.

People used to answer the phone and ask "How may I direct your call?".

Self-checkout would have been unthinkable. Who wants to work as an unpaid cashier?

But more than anything, this is an issue of social exclusion. Those without digital skills are increasingly confined to a smaller range of options, and that sphere only continues to shrink.

I am not anti technology. I'm anti exclusion and anti poverty.

Those of us who use computers as part of our jobs, and are privileged to have leisure time, have picked up our digital skills over time, often barely registering that it was happening.

People who don't encounter computer skills on a regular basis, and whose use is limited to time in a public library -- or not all -- don't get the sustained, daily repetition that builds solid competencies. These may be tradespeople, people who work outdoors, or people who grew up in homes where parents did not use technology.

In a society that valued all people equally, it would not be difficult to change this. It would be complex and multifaceted, but we could significantly shrink the gap.

We would need:

Public-utility internet access. In 2016, the United Nations declared that access to the internet is a human right. In North America, this could be more closely achieved if internet access was a public utility, rather than a for-profit commercial concern.

Double or triple or quadruple funding for the public library, and use most of it for high-speed internet and public-use computers.

Require governments and companies to always retain analog options, and provide disincentives to do otherwise.

Require businesses to maintain minimum staffing levels at touchpoints that currently assume that everyone is DIY.

As a librarian, I am aware of many programs, funded by sources such as the United Way or directly from the province, that address these issues. They are excellent and important programs, but they are short-term, and very limited in scope and reach. They are a tiny drop in an ocean of need.

electoral reform is way overdue (but ranked ballots won't help)

Canada's 2021 federal election made the case for proportional representation very plain. 

While Canada's electoral system isn't as insanely nondemocratic as the US's winner-take-all (or "first-past-the-post")  by state, with the antiquated and antidemocratic electoral college intervening, it is still FPTP by riding.

For US readers, ridings are roughly the equivalent of congressional districts. So while a 51% vote doesn't rake in all of Ontario, Saskatchewan, or Quebec, it does win a seat in any given riding. And the other 49% of you can all go to hell.

A recent disastrous election in Ontario underscored this further. 

With slightly less than 41% of the vote, Doug Ford and the Progressive Conservatives were able to declare a "majority" government, meaning they have carte blanche to do whatever the hell they want. 

And in this case, what they want is ever more privatization -- of Ontario's healthcare system, education, transit, and any public service that can possibly be privatized. 

And that means higher fees for every taxpayer, lower-quality service, less oversight in how finances are managed, and a great increase in profits for a well-placed few. Those few will have connections to Conservative governments and to the Ford family personally. In other words, a transfer of wealth from the public to already-wealthy private shareholders.

It also means drastic cutbacks in services and cancellations of many planned programs -- in a province that where public services are already tissue-thin.

This is from an analysis of the 2022 Ontario election from Fair Vote Canada (in part, emphasis added):

-- The PCs got a landslide majority with just 40.84% of the vote. They won a whopping 83 seats ― that's 7 more seats than 2018 with only 0.34 points more of the popular vote. 

-- The Liberal Party earned more of the popular vote than the NDP ― 23.85% vs 23.73%―but the NDP’s voters elected 31 MPPs and Liberal voters only elected 8. 

-- 54% of voters ― 2,531,087 ― cast wasted votes that elected no-one.

-- Thresholds of 3-5% are common in countries with proportional systems and any PR system for Canada wouldn't deliver perfectly proportional results. For example, see here how smaller parties would have fared in the recent federal election.

-- In an Ontario PR system with a 3% threshold, the results would have been:

Progressive Conservative: 53

Liberal Party: 31

NDP: 31

Green Party of Ontario: 8

Independent: 1

-- Voter turnout fell to 43.54%. That means the current "majority" government is supported by 17.78% of eligible voters. In a winner-take-all electoral system, many people feel they must vote for the lesser evil, or are discouraged from voting at all. 

--- The Ontario Liberal Party's proposed "reform"― a winner-take-all ranked ballot ― wouldn't have solved any of the glaring problems with Ontario's voting system. A simulation shows that a winner-take-all ranked ballot would have led to the same outcome: a PC "majority" with only a minority of the popular vote. Australia has been using winner-take-all ranked ballot for 100 years and almost always elects a false majority government.

In May of this year, Members of Parliament from the Green and New Democrat parties called for a Citizens' Assembly on proportional representation. I was so pleased and proud that my own MP, Rachel Blaney, is one of those. Rachel said, in part:

When we talk about things like proportional representation, we really are talking about making sure that every vote counts, that the voices of the collective are reflective in our House of Commons.

As a person who, as I said earlier, really represents rural and remote communities, we wanted to make sure that there were opportunities for those voices to be heard and that the process of a proportional system would not lose those voices. They want to see that the local representation and that those voices are heard in the House of Commons. They want it to be fair.

There is room to have those discussions, but sadly, the Liberals ignored that opportunity. I really feel, and I have heard this after every election, that there is a sense of cynicism that we are never going to get to a place where those voices are heard and where we actually create a system that is more proportional.

The member for Elmwood-Transcona did put forward a motion in PROC to discuss the important idea of having a citizens' assembly on electoral reform in the last Parliament. It passed, but unfortunately, because of the election called, a completely uncalled for election in my opinion, the study never happened. We now have to go back to the writing board.

What is so important about having a citizens' assembly on electoral reform is we need to see citizens engaged. We need to hear those voices and maybe we need to take it out of the political realm and give voices to people across this country.

What I think is so important, and what I have heard from constituents across the board, is they want to explore this. They want to make sure their vote counts. They want to be able to vote as they feel, even if that vote will not get them a seat in Parliament. They do not want to feel like that vote is something they throw away.

Constituents also want to make sure that areas are represented fairly. For my riding, like I said earlier, they do not want to feel like the cities of our country are the ones making the decisions. The realities for rural and remote communities can be very different than those of larger cities. That is not to dishonour any one of them, but it is to make sure that those voices are heard.

You can watch Rachel's full speech here. 

Rachel also supports lowering the voting age to 16, which we urgently need.

I was surprised to learn that the Toronto Star published an editorial calling for electoral reform -- surprised, that is, until I realized that this time around, Ontario's Liberal Party was negatively affected by FPTP. During the 2007 Ontario referendum on electoral reform -- when the Liberal Party was in power -- the Star, always a Liberal mouthpiece, opposed reform, citing "the way we've always done things," don't you know.

Therein lies the reason Canada doesn't have proportional representation: because the two governing parties are more interested in getting in power and keeping that power than in the people they are meant to serve. And obviously more interested in power than in democracy.

Although moving to a proportional representation system often seems like an impossible dream, it's a dream worth fighting for -- a dream we must never give up.

in which i remember the pitfalls of creating rules, or, painting myself into a corner (again)

In our last episode of Laura's Reading Plan, I posted a very long list for 2022. On that 2022 reading plan post, I wrote:

This year's plan is much longer. This is probably a bad idea.

I also wrote: 

One thing is obvious: this plan is too long! I hope I can use it without feeling defeated, because I can't narrow it down any further right now.

Well, I called it. The overly long reading plan has become a problem in ways that are very recognizable to me, if not downright predictable. ("Problem" in the #firstworldproblems sense of the word.)

* * * *

To review:

May 2017: a list of authors and titles that keep appearing on The List* but which I haven't read.

December 2017: sub-lists of The List: a more focused to-read list, which led to. . . 

January 2019: my first reading plan.

March 2020: extending the reading plan for a second year; reading plan, part two.

September 2020: reading plan, part three. This worked less well, because it was a little too vague. That led to...

January 2021: reading plan for 2021. This worked beautifully. It was motivating, and I enjoyed the focus, the way having a plan drew me from one book to the next. I also read off-plan, and that was fine, too. 

When something works, why not do more of it? Bzzzt! Mistake. Which brings me to. . . 

* * * * 

January 2022: a reading plan for 2022, plus how the 2021 plan fared

As I said above, I called it.

I felt pressured. Felt like I had to read faster, read more, and worst of all, read exclusively from the plan. As in, I'm not "allowed" to read a book that's not on the plan. 

This is ridiculous. Why take something that is pure pleasure and a great passion, and turn it into a pressured obligation? 

Why indeed. Although it's been a while since I did this, I am all too familiar with this pattern. I create a rule -- my own rule -- then feel pressured to adhere to it, and feel I have failed if I don't. In my 20s I called it painting myself into a corner. Well here I am, in my freaking 60s, at it again! 

The ludicrous nature of this inflexibility became crystalline when I thought, It's time to finally read Thomas Piketty! Then immediately thought, But he's not on the plan. Can I do that? 

"Can I do that?" Well, of course I can! It's entirely up to me! Why do I need permission?

With that thought, I hereby release myself from the plan becoming An Obligation. The plan must go back to being a guide, an idea, a focus -- but not An Obligation, and certainly not A Rule.

* * * 

This is what I've read so far on the 2022 reading plan.

I did not finish every book that is crossed off, especially the fiction. That's not a reflection of the book; it's a my own personal threshold for when I do or don't continue reading a book. I'm always glad to try a book and know something about it, even if I don't finish it, both as a reader and as a librarian. Reading is never wasted time.

Nonfiction

A Mind Spread Out on the Ground, Alicia Elliott

Men Explain Things to Me and The Mother of All Questions, Rebecca Solnit essay collections

The Uninhabitable Earth: Life After Warming, David Wallace-Wells (review)

A Primate's Memoir, Robert Sapolsky

Say Nothing: A True Story of Murder and Memory in Northern Ireland, Patrick Radden Keefe (review)

The Other Slavery: The Uncovered Story of Indian Enslavement in America, Andrés Reséndez

Four Lost Cities: A Secret History of the Urban Age, Annalee Newitz (review)

Killers of the Flower Moon: The Osage Murders and the Birth of the FBI, David Grann (just finished, review to follow)

The Turning Point: 1851: A Year That Changed Charles Dickens and The World, Robert Douglas Fairhurst (review)

Animal, Vegetable, Junk: A History of Food, from Sustainable to Suicidal, Mark Bittman (review)

Galileo and the Science Deniers, Mario Livio

Nine Nasty Words: English in the Gutter: Then, Now, and Always, John McWhorter

Four Fish: the Future of the Last Wild Food, Paul Greenberg (review to follow)

The Doctors Blackwell: How Two Pioneering Sisters Brought Medicine to Women and Women to Medicine, Janice P. Nimura

Hate: Why We Should Resist It with Free Speech, Not Censorship, Nadine Strossen

Permanent Record, Edward Snowden

Bob Dylan: Behind The Shades Revisited, Clinton Heylin

The Trials of Nina McCall: Sex, Surveillance, and the Decades-Long Government Plan to Imprison "Promiscuous" Women, Scott W. Stern 

Made in China: A Prisoner, an SOS Letter, and the Hidden Cost of America's Cheap Goods, Amelia Pang

Gods of the Upper Air: How a Circle of Renegade Anthropologists Reinvented Race, Sex, and Gender in the Twentieth Century, Charles King

The Escape Artist, Helen Fremont

The Last Job: "The Bad Grandpas" and the Hatton Garden Heist, Dan Bilefsky

Republic of Detours: How the New Deal Paid Broke Writers to Rediscover America, Scott Borchert

Natural Causes: An Epidemic of Wellness, the Certainty of Dying, and Killing Ourselves to Live Longer, Barbara Ehrenreich

Fiction 

Charlie Savage, Roddy Doyle

The Resisters, Gish Jen

Girl, Woman, Other, Bernardine Evaristo

Razorblade Tears, S. A. Cosby

Marley, Jon Clinch

Christine Falls, John Banville as Benjamin Black

Stay and Fight, Madeline ffitch

Gods With A Little G, Tupelo Hassmann

The Memory Police, Yoko Ogawa

The Electric Hotel, Dominic Smith

Against the Loveless World, Susan Abulhawa

Simon the Fiddler, Paulette Jiles

Station Eleven, Emily St. John Mandel

Moon of the Crusted Snow, Waubgeshig Rice

Damnation Spring, Ash Davidson

The Other Black Girl, Zakiya Dalila Harris

The Weight of Ink, Rachel Kadish

The Goldfinch, Donna Tartt

The Night Watchman, Louise Erdrich

The Stone Angel, Margaret Laurence

YA

One of Us is Next, Karen M. McManus

Children's

Gone to the Woods: Surviving a Lost Childhood, Gary Paulsen (review)

The Leak, Kate Reed Perry

Kaleidoscope, Brian Selznick

Pumpkinheads, Rainbow Rowell 

Look Both Ways: A Tale Told in Ten Blocks, Jason Reynolds

To give my brain a break (I let both of these go. I am just not interested in reading series.)

Harlem Detective series, Chester Himes

John le Carré re-reads

Long-term goal (I am doing this! Loving it! Post to follow, eventually.)

Weekly chapters of Gotham: A History of New York City to 1898 (Edwin G. Burrows and Mike Wallace) and Greater Gotham: A History of New York City from 1898 to 1919 (Mike Wallace).

I still want to use an annual reading plan. I enjoyed it in 2020 and 2021, so I'll continue, but with less of it, and without obligation.

-----

* The universe of books I might read; the central list. The place to go for "what to read next" but not a To Read list.

the end of roe: a day we expected for so long still has the power to shock and stun us

We've been expecting this for 20 years.

More than forty years of anti-abortion legislation, escalating every year and every decade, then Trump, then finally, the leaked draft. 

So I thought I was prepared -- mentally, emotionally. Hell, for more than 15 years I've been saying that Roe is irrelevant for millions of American women. 

We all thought we were prepared.

We were wrong.

Every progressive person I know, every feminist, every advocate for justice -- every message board, every private Facebook page, everyone -- has said the same thing. We are raging. Grieving. Stunned. Horrified.  

I cannot express how angry I am. I'm far too angry to be eloquent. I'm going to the stupid and lazy thing, and capture my postings on Facebook.

Attribution omitted

I had to take a break from Facebook when I started seeing posts blaming the repeal of Roe on people who didn't vote for Hillary Clinton in 2016. 

For sure, voting Americans had a stark choice in 2016, a referendum on Trump or not-Trump. About 74 million voters still voted for Trump, and another 88 million (give or take) chose not to vote. A second Trump presidency was the final nail in Roe's coffin.

But for gods' sake, widen your lens. 

The Democrats caused this every bit as much, or more, than the Republicans. 

One party did everything in its power, on all levels, to chip away at abortion rights in preparation for the eventual repeal of Roe v. Wade. They spent untold millions of dollars, unleashed dozens of strategies. Took over one state legislature after the next. Took over school boards. Stacked the judiciaries. Passed the legislation that led to Webster, Rust, Casey, and Carhart II. They were relentless..

The other party couldn't even utter the word abortion. The Democrats' plan to defend Roe boiled down to this: "You must vote for us, no matter what -- no matter what we do or don't do -- because the other party will take away 'a woman's right to choose'." That was never going to be enough. 

As the Republicans turned increasingly radical, the Democrats became what the Republic used to be. The handful of passionate liberals in the party are accused of class warfare and blamed for the success of the radical right.

Perhaps if the Democrats were interested in something beyond getting elected -- if the party actually cared about defending liberal democracy -- we wouldn't be where we are now. Or at least we would have stood a fucking chance.

How can you defend a right you can't even fucking say? 

rotd: the actual status of the poorest woman is the possible status of every woman

Revolutionary thought of the day:

“The actual status of the poorest and most unfortunate woman in society determines the possible status of every woman.”

From the mission statement of the Illinois Women's Alliance (1888), quoted by Susan Faludi in "Feminism Made a Faustian Bargain With Celebrity Culture. Now It’s Paying the Price"

getting home: horrific customer service from pacific coastal airlines

On the way home, I flew from from San Francisco (SFO) to Vancouver (YVR) on United Airlines, then from Vancouver to Port Hardy (YZT) on Pacific Coastal. Pacific Coastal flies out of a separate terminal, not connected to YVR proper. You need a shuttle or a taxi to get there.

This part was my fault

I didn't wake up as early as I'd like -- very unusual for me -- so I was rushing to get out. In my haste I must have picked up the wrong address on Google Maps. I was driving along when the directions told me to get off the highway and take a detour. I thought there was an accident or some other obstruction, and that Google Maps was taking me on some alternate route to the airport. Bad move.

I followed directions for a while, driving in circles, unable to figure out what was going on, getting more tense as the time ticked away. At one point I got back on the highway, followed directions from a later exit, and found myself back where I had first gotten off. Oh my god.

Now I was flustered. I pulled over and looked at Google Maps on my phone, and realized what had happened. I got back on the highway and drove like hell to the rental car return.

Thus ends the portion of this episode that was my fault. 

Note to United Airlines: Canada is not in the U.S.

At the rental car return, of course there is a huge long line of people returning cars. Nice rental car person checks my now not-quite-full-gas-gauge (from driving around in circles) but says, "OK that's full". Thank you! 

Then he's telling me how to get to the airport -- with a mask, and an accent, and talking fast (because he probably says this 10,000 times on every shift). I had to say, "I'm sorry, I'm not understanding you." After two repeats, I finally got it.

Up elevator, down escalators, through various doors, jump on the air train, get off at International terminal. Can't find United. It is now 7:20. Flight leaves 8:30. Cannot find United. Cannot see flight on departure board. Ask three more people. I'm at Aisle 12, United is Aisle 2. Run. I'm not a runner. Run run run. Almost cannot breathe.

There's a long line, but I cut to the last agent on the counter and ask for help. She decides to take me. Yay!

ID, vaccine check, then wait wait wait. Long wait. She calls over a supervisor. They mutter to each other. I hear the supervisor say, "That's because it's too late, the flight has closed." Oh noooo!!!

I'm like, are you sure, can I run there, etc. Nope, you would never make it, it's in a different terminal. Different terminal? Yes, it's been changed to the domestic terminal. Flight to Canada. Domestic terminal.

At that point I realized that even without the 15 minute detour driving around random San Francisco streets, I would not have made the flight. Damn.

She says I'm confirmed for an 11:00 pm flight, standby for a 7:00 pm flight. 

There are only two flights each day from Vancouver to Port Hardy at this time of year -- at 8:30 am and 3:10 pm. So if I'm on either of those flights, I'm staying over in Vancouver. Which means another hotel, change fee for the Pacific Coastal flight, plus I have work on Tuesday and really want to be home on Monday. 

Then wait, wait, wait, wait... long wait. Agent goes to another terminal, wait, wait, wait, then... "OK, I have you on an 11:05 a.m. flight to Vancouver." I actually said, "I love you." She might think I am a stalker.

Then I walk a long long loooong way to the domestic terminal. The security line is 30 minutes. So there is absolutely no way that I would have made that 8:30 flight, even without my driving screwup. This made me feel better.

The worst possible customer service

My 11:30 flight was on time and I cleared customs with almost two hours (1:45) before my flight to Port Hardy.

Then I waited. Everyone waited. Hundreds of passengers were waiting -- for their luggage. I was waiting at the luggage carousel watching the time tick down, wondering if I was going to miss my flight to Port Hardy. 

(Please don't tell me "This is why I don't check my luggage." That is nice if it works for you. It does not work for me, especially when I travel alone.)

I tried to check in online, but got error messages. The Pacific Coastal website would not let me check in. 

After an hour, I finally got my luggage, and jumped in a cab, arriving at the South Terminal 30 minutes before my flight. 

And I was told that I “missed” the flight because I arrived 30 minutes before the flight, rather than 40 minutes. 

Another passenger was going through the same thing. He was late because the shuttle from the Main Terminal to the South Terminal did not arrive.

The counter agents kept repeating they were sorry, but I would have to fly the following day. It was an issue of “weight and balance”. This is hard to believe, since I had reserved a seat and paid for luggage to be checked – thus weight and balance were already accounted for.

I'll tell you right now. I was crying. I was not yelling – I would never do that – but I was crying and pleading. One of the counter agents laughed at me and mocked me for crying.

And then, while this was happening, I heard the first boarding call.

Yes, exactly no passengers had boarded the plane. 

The counter staff made it sound like the airplane’s doors were already locked – while in fact no passengers had boarded at all! 

The plane is empty, passengers are just lining up to board, I am 30 minutes early, and told I “missed” my flight?! There is no rational reason for this.

Mocking Agent told me he had booked me for the first flight the following day, and said, sarcastically, “The flight leaves at 8:30. Try to be on time.” 

It was not enough to refuse to let me board when the plane is empty, he had to make snide comments, too. A person who sees a customer crying and distraught and chooses to mock them should not be working front-of-house.

Then, Pacific Coastal charged me a $105 “reservation reactivation fee”. 

It took the agent less than three minutes to book me on another flight. And they charged me $105 for the inconvenience and indignity.

And then... they called standby passengers. Seriously. They were able to take a handful of standby passengers, but not two passengers who had reservations and were 30 minutes early, rather than 40 minutes early, because of airport issues.

The terminal was packed and very noisy. I am sound-sensitive at the best of times, but in the state I was in, the noise was unbearable. I went outside, called Allan for the millionth time, sobbing like a child. Then I managed to get a grip, and booked the last room in an airport hotel. 

So in addition to the $105 change fee, Pacific Coastal’s inflexibility also cost me another $325 for hotel accommodations and dinner.

As I said in my complaint letter to Pacific Coastal:

I understand that a 40-minute window for check-in is Pacific Coastal policy. The policy states, “Failure to be checked-in prior to closing may result in the cancellation of your entire reservation.” It may result – not will result. May means it’s a possibility – not a hard rule. 

Since the first boarding call hadn’t even been announced, the staff could have been flexible. They could have acknowledged that I had waited an hour to retrieve my luggage in the Main Terminal. They might have admonished me, reminded me to arrive earlier next time, and then checked me in. It was certainly possible to do.  

It’s not like I had cut it close, showing up a few minutes before takeoff. Nor was I late because of negligence or poor planning. Those 10 minutes were completely out of my control.

To refuse a customer who is 10 minutes late, through no fault of their own, then charge them a “reservation reactivation” fee, and force them to spend the night in a hotel and fly the next day, and to mock them in the process, is some of the worst customer service I have ever seen. 

If another airline served Port Hardy, I would certainly never fly Pacific Coastal again. Much to my dismay, I will have no choice to continue to use this airline – which is why your staff can get away with this terrible customer service.

I'm not expecting much in the way of response, but I'll let you know what happens. 

can you give a few dollars to help a giver in need?

From a wmtc party: clockwise: P, Chelsea,
Jericho, Diego, Kim, Tala.

Some of you may recognize an occasional wmtc commenter "Dharma Seeker". Dharma Seeker -- whose name is Kim -- is a terrible situation right now. One of her dogs has been stolen, she will soon have nowhere to live, and her car has broken down.

I have organized a fundraiser in her behalf.

I  have known Kim since 2007, when she answered my ad for a dogwalker and we instantly became friends.

Kim is a steadfast protector and defender of animals. One of my treasured memories of Kim is when my partner and I were getting ready to say goodbye to our dog Cody. Our other dog, Tala, was very sensitive, and not used to being alone. I asked Kim if she could come over and walk Tala while we took Cody to the vet this one last time. Kim lived 30 minutes away. She dropped what she was doing, drove over, picked up Tala's leash and went out walking. Just like that. That's the kind of person she is.

Kim started a pet food bank, so people in crisis wouldn't have to give up their animals. She did this completely on her own -- she saw a need and she took action. 

She has given so much to the world, especially to animals and the people who love them. I'm hoping some of that giving can come back around to her.

Like many people, Kim struggles with mental health issues. She has had challenges over the years in finding stable housing for herself and her dogs and cats, but she has never, no matter how difficult the situation, given up on an animal.

This year Kim found herself in an abusive living situation. There was verbal, emotional, and physical violence. (This was not from a partner.) One day Kim came home to find an empty crate. Her housemates had taken her beloved dog River. They have refused to say what they did with him or where he is. Can you imagine such a nightmare??

Now Kim has nowhere to live, doesn't know where her dog is, and on top of all that, her car broke down -- the car she may soon be living in. Social services are working on finding her pet-friendly housing, but that may take months. Kim has missed a lot of work from the stress of this ordeal, and is worried about retaining her job.

Kim needs $1500 for car repairs, and if we could get her an additional $500 she could have a tiny bit of security until social housing comes through for her. Any amount will help. $5 - $10 - anything. It will all help and be deeply appreciated.

Go here to donate. 

Thank you in advance for your generosity.

the day in the oakland area

[Written after being home for a week.]

On the way out of Shelter Cove, I stopped at the general store, just to see it. It is tiny. And it is the only store in town. 

After that, back on the long and winding road, ending at Highway 101. From there, I drove south to San Pablo, in the East Bay, outside of Oakland and Richmond. This portion of Highway 101 doesn't have spectacular views, but it was still scenic and relaxing. 

I had booked a little Airbnb a few blocks from where another nephew J, his partner C, and my grand-nephew (now five months old) live. (The nephews and nieces and partners I visited are my brother's adult children; my sister's adult children live in New York State and New Jersey.)

I had approximately the same amount of time in San Pablo as I did in Shelter Cove: dinner and the evening, a full day, then leave the following morning. J, like me, is an intrepid urban explorer and tour guide, and he showed me several really interesting spots in the Richmond-Oakland area. Previously I had been to Oakland for baseball, but hadn't seen anything else, so this was a real treat. Here are some highlights.

Point Molate is one of many "points" in the East Bay, little peninsulas that each have their own character. That character is often very pricey real estate and upscale shopping. Point Molate, however, is completely undeveloped. 

The area has been the subject of a decades-long, ongoing land dispute. (A series of articles on Point Molate's "unique and colorful history" begins here.) While the land is being fought over, it's been left wild. There are miles of hiking and bike trails, with some interesting landmarks: abandoned, boarded-up barracks, and Winehaven Castle, a fortress-like brick complex that was once the largest winery in the country. The empty buildings give the area a haunted, dystopian look. (In this aerial view, the barracks are on the right, the fortress on the left.)

At the very tip of the peninsula is San Pablo Harbor, a tiny, funky outpost of counterculture. Floathouses and sculptures constructed for Burning Man share the space with a flock of goats and a "pirate" barbeque joint. On the weekends there is live music. The website makes it seem more developed and commercial than it looks -- but also has great video views, if you're interested.

These are some not-very-good cell phone pics of San Pablo Harbor. As I've mentioned, I purposely didn't take our camera on this trip, but I did occasionally miss it!

The pirate himself, at the smoker

Later in the day, this time with C, we walked around Lake Merritt, a human-constructed lagoon in downtown Oakland. From the LakeMerritt.org website:

Lake Merritt in Oakland, California is one of the most unique urban spaces in the United States. Its three mile shoreline in the center of an exceptionally diverse city is a special place where nature and nurture migrate and mingle daily. This tidal lagoon is home to the United States' oldest designated wildlife refuge dating from 1870. 

If you love cities and public space, this is an amazing place. On our three-mile walk around the water, we passed a huge drumming circle with all manner of percussion; a long row of vendors selling Caribbean food, crafts, and mushrooms; boat rentals; gardens; lots of birds (herons, egrets, pelicans, several different kinds of ducks); a nature centre, and lots more. It was super interesting. (Also super sunny, and for the second time on this trip, I wasn't wearing sunscreen. After my sunburn in Shelter Cove, I meant to buy some... but did not.)

Earlier in the day, J and I also stopped at the site of a former factory that has been brilliantly converted: the Ford Motor Company Assembly Plant, now a National Park Service site. It's used for performances, craft fairs, and all kinds of cultural events. While we were there, it was the finish line for a community 5K.

The giant building is adjacent to Rosie the Riveter WWII Home Front, where the Rosie the Riveter concept and image were born! We were too early to tour this, but it is absolutely on my list for the next time I'm in the Bay Area. 

We also had a great breakfast in Berkeley, and Ethiopian food, a mainstay of Oakland, for dinner. This was in a neighbourhood that J and C used to live in, now clearly a hipster haven.

The biggest highlight of San Pablo -- Asher, my grand-nephew -- was with us the whole time, world's happiest and most chill baby. In keeping with my work on being more comfortable sharing photos of myself, here you go.

I've also added more pics to the post about Shelter Cove.

the day in shelter cove

View from Wedding Point, Shelter Cove

Yesterday was amazing and so special.

My niece E took me on a tour of the little community and local topography. We went to lookout points and beaches; saw seals lazing in the sun, sea lions throwing back their heads and barking, and a few whale spouts; took a few short walks. 

We saw all the local spots. A little volunteer-run library that looks and feels like a used bookstore -- really well organized -- and they have storytimes! The three restaurants in town -- two only open on weekends. The little general store. An abundance of natural beauty that is just off the charts. All of this in a 5 or 10 minute drive from their home. In fact, we stopped at the house for a quick lunch -- homemade, organic, vegan, and delicious -- on the deck, then resumed our tour.

I purposely didn't bring the camera on this trip, but I did take a couple of quick cell-phone pics. Unfortunately and not purposely, I forgot to pack sunscreen and am now quite red. I don't normally let that happen, but oh well.

We had dinner at the one open restaurant with some family of T's that lives in town. They were super friendly, warm people, and it was a treat to meet more of E's world. The restaurant has -- of course -- a spectacular ocean view. After dinner, E, T, and I stayed up late talking, which was really fun, and a great opportunity to get to know T better. This is a beautiful home filled with so much love.

It was so wonderful to spend the day with E. It's been many years since we've done that, and we are as close as ever. So much love. 

Here are a few more cell-phone pics from Shelter Cove. They're not very good, but the scenery is very forgiving!

Today I drive to the Bay Area!

greetings from shelter cove, california (look it up!)

On the 101

I am at the home of my niece E and her partner T, in a remote part of California known as the "Lost Coast". It is so beautiful and peaceful and quiet here -- not unlike where I live. The Lost Coast has much in common with the North Island, more like living in Port Alice or Quatsino than what most people associate with California.

So, to catch up.

* * * *

I had an easy trip from Port Hardy to southern Oregon. It's a multi-stage journey, and everything clicked. 

I spent the next four days hanging out with (in various combinations) my brother, sister-in-law, nephew, nephew's partner, grand-niece (now 7 years old), and mother (soon to be 91) -- eating amazing food, drinking in amazing scenery, soaking up the love.

It was especially wonderful to get to know my grand-niece Sophia a bit more. Seven is a magical age, and I really enjoyed her company. I hope that, despite being long-distance, I am able to cultivate a relationship with her as time goes by. I had a special relationship with a great-aunt, and I'd love that to be part of my life and Sophia's.

My mother is declining. She is in very good physical health, but her cognitive health is beginning to fail. Or more accurately, the decline that has been happening gradually over years has accelerated. So far, with the ongoing (and often heroic) efforts of my brother and SIL, she lives independently. We monitor, and discuss, and wonder when that will no longer be possible. It's sad, but it's not tragic. She has a very good quality of life and seems very happy.

* * * *

I stayed in Ashland/Talent for four-plus days, then yesterday I drove six hours to Shelter Cove. The drive itself is a highlight of this trip that I was really looking forward to.

I picked up Highway 5 in the Medford area, following it west to Grant's Pass, then drove the length of Route 199 from Grant's Pass to Crescent City, California. 

The road snakes through deep forest and mountain passes, touching tiny, remote communities. I passed quirky folk art, myriad cannibis sellers, and several flags from the "State of Jefferson". I stopped in lovely, quiet rest areas and ate at shaded picnic tables, checking my progress on the posted maps. 

After the road crosses California's rural and remote far north, it meets the ocean at Crescent City. From there, I followed the famed US Highway 101 -- called, depending on where you live, 101, The One-Oh-One, the Pacific Coast Highway, the PCH, Pacific Highway, or the Freeway (and maybe some other names I haven't run into). Allan and I have driven this coastal route several times -- including once the entire length from the Olympic Peninsula to Mexico. But no matter, there is nothing quite like arriving at the Pacific. It is always majestic and breathtaking. I stopped several times for views. 

The 101 snakes through redwood forests -- giant, old-growth trees growing right beside the roadway, on both sides, giving the drive a sense of mystery and wonder.

At Redway, I left the 101, and drove a long, windy road full of switchbacks, hairpin turns, and sharp changes in elevation, for about a hour, before arriving at Shelter Cove. Check it out on Google maps. It is indeed the Lost Coast.

My niece and her partner live a low-impact life in this remote coastal community. After a vegan dinner, we walked less than five minutes down the street and watched the sun set on the ocean. On the way back we saw fox and skunk. 

This morning we ate breakfast on the deck, where you can hear the sound of the surf, and with a view of a beach and the King mountain range.

if you're going to live in a small town, it's good to find one with an airport

I'm grateful this tiny airport exists!

Today begins my solo trip to visit family in Oregon and California. I'm super excited! Traveling from Port Hardy, here's what it entails:

• Fly from Port Hardy to Vancouver. The plane is tiny and the view is spectacular.

• Stay overnight in an aiport hotel in Vancouver.

• Fly from Vancouver to San Francisco, and San Francisco to Medford, Oregon.

Travel is very different when you don't live near a major airport! And I'm also traveling to a town without a major airport. The way home is less complicated, because I'm flying from San Francisco -- SF to Vancouver, Vancouver to Port Hardy, in the same day, without staying over in Vancouver.

I'm not complaining! I love travel and I'm always happy to be going anywhere. Unlike many people, I don't even hate air travel. Travel = good.

I'm very happy there's a small airport in town. Otherwise it would take an entire day of travel to get to Vancouver: drive for five hours, arrive at ferry at least an hour in advance, then a two-hour ferry. Then a bus or cab to the airport. 

This is a strictly family-visit trip, in keeping with my intention to only travel to visit friends and family for some years.