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magazine / oct11
BOOK REVIEWS
Might as well jump
SUSTAINABILITY
THE LEAP
How to Survive and Thrive in
the Sustainable Economy
By Chris Turner
Random House
384 pp.,
$29.95
hardcover
The best thing about Chris
Turner’s new book is the way
he addresses the greatest
conundrum about any transformation
to sustainability: now that we
know the dire extent of the problem fossil
fuels and our profligacy have caused, now
that we have the amply proven technologies
to solve it, now that we have the
means … how do we find the will? How,
in a world economy in meltdown with
a politics in dysfunction, can we manage
the necessary transition to a fully sustainable
planet?
Turner’s answer, in an argument of considerable reach and subtlety, is to demonstrate that the
transformation can be made without massive subsidies, without the burden of gratuitous taxation,
without draconian social engineering, but with a simple conceptual shift, a new way of looking at the world (thereby
bypassing the cumbersome structures of the present). His conclusion? Just do it. Others are. He shows that the transformation
is not about escaping from but moving toward. “I’ve seen first-hand the exhilaration the Great Leap Sideways
inspires,” he writes, “and I can see no good reason why anyone wouldn’t want to be where this leap lands us.” Indeed,
much of the book is a guided tour of people and places, businesses and communities (and, in the case of Germany, a whole
nation) that are, in his words, “already thriving in the sustainable 21st-century world order.” In this way, The Leap is an
extension and amplification of his earlier book, 2007’s The Geography of Hope.
Turner, a Calgary-based writer who
has made sustainability his specialty, is an
engaging tour guide, mixing reportage
with conversation, anecdote and artfully inserted research. He shows how communities
all over the planet are bypassing the
sterility of current policy debates. He is
very good on decentralized energy generation,
and his is the best exposition of a
“smart grid” — the energy-transmission
equivalent of social networking — that
I have seen. In some of the most involving
passages, he shows how communities
such as Copenhagen and the German
city of Freiburg, designed to human scale
and human needs, can encourage trust
and so entrench experiment and innovation.
He also shows,
conclusively I think, that
“alternative energies” can
compete in price and
reliability with the oilindustrial
complex.
Still, there are caveats.
I mistrust some of his
numbers. Turner believes
that wind and solar power could quickly
replace fossil fuels and provides multiple
examples of multi-megawatt wind and
solar farms coming on stream. But the
scale of the challenge is missing. While
it is true that globally renewable energy
provides almost one-fifth of our electricity,
most of that is hydro power. Wind
provides 1 percent of electricity, solar
only 0.1 percent. Renewables may be
experiencing exponential growth, but
from a laughably tiny base. Even James
Hansen, the pre-eminent exponent of
rapid change, is dismissive: “Suggesting
that renewables will let us phase rapidly
off fossil fuels … is almost the equivalent
of believing in the Easter bunny.”
For example, Turner writes that “all
told, the U.S. Southwest has flat, sunbaked
land in sufficient abundance all
by itself to host an estimated 7,000 to
11,200 gigawatts of solar thermal energy
production — somewhere between
twenty and forty times the amount currently
generated by all of America’s coal
plants.” But even getting to the 7,000-
gigawatt figure would mean covering
nearly half a million square kilometres
(almost twice the size of Arizona), edge
to edge, with generating panels.
My other caveat is Turner’s too easy
dismissal of the nuclear option. In a few
paltry paragraphs, he suggests nuclear
energy is typical of an obsolete powergenerating
paradigm. But nuclear power
is the only non-fossil fuel with sufficient
energy density that emits no greenhouse
gases at all, and if we really want to stop
burning coal, it should be endorsed, not
dismissed. Turner argues that nuclear
power is too expensive (which is no longer
true) and that its toxic legacy is too unsafe,
perhaps forgetting that beyond the deaths
from coal mining and burning, even hydro
power is more hazardous than nukes.
These criticisms aside, The Leap is well
argued, well researched, well written and
persuasive. Its wide dissemination would
do us all a favour.
— Marq de Villiers
Marq de Villiers is the author of 14 books,
including Our Way Out: First Principles
for a Post-apocalyptic World and Water:
The Fate of Our Most Precious Resource,
winner of the Governor General’s Award for
Non-Fiction. He lives in Eagle Head, N.S.
City slicker
URBAN
WALKING HOME
The Life and Lessons
of a City Builder
By Ken Greenberg
Random House Canada
400 pp.,
$29.95
hardcover
Subtitled The Life and Lessons of
a City Builder, Ken Greenberg’s
Walking Home is more about lessons
than life. Although the book is part
memoir, the reader learns little about
Greenberg the person. Bits of the award-winning
urban designer’s life experience
— such as a childhood split between city
and suburb, between Europe and America
— are woven into the text. But the
personal elements are purely functional,
existing mostly to explain key ideas, much
like a university lecturer’s use of anecdotes
to make complex concepts easier to grasp.
This approach works well, because 1944-
born-Greenberg’s life spans major shifts in
the way we think about cities and because
he has acquired more than enough
knowledge in his career to pull it off.
Walking Home is written for layperson
and expert alike, and certain passages cater
more to one than the other. Greenberg
devotes much of the first 100 pages to
distilling the big ideas of urban planning
into plain, concise language. Ideas such
as Le Corbusier’s proposal to level much
of Paris and replace its ornate buildings
with soaring nondescript high-rise apartment
blocks are unthinkable today, but
they are an important part of how our
cities and suburbs came to look as they
do. Those with a budding interest in the
evolution of urban planning will find
many of the ideas that drove the development
of the modern city explained briefly
and effectively.
Those already well versed in the discipline’s
literature, however, will likely skim
through the early pages and find that
later chapters hold more interest. There,
Greenberg looks back on his career,
speaking to specific urban developments
in which he played a role, such as the
creation of Berczy Park, a parking lot that
was transformed into a vibrant public
space tucked inconspicuously behind the
triangle-shaped Gooderham Building in
downtown Toronto. Greenberg brings to
the table perspective from both the public
and the private sector, and he doesn’t shy
away from drawing conclusions based on
his past. His own take on urban planning
is always latent in his storytelling and
analysis but becomes explicit when he
discusses barriers to good planning, such
as the Ontario Municipal Board, a quasijudicial
tribunal that he views as an
impediment to creative planning. His
well-placed, thoughtful criticisms are
reason enough to give the book a read.
— Tyrone Burke
Ottawa-based writer and editor Tyrone Burke has a master’s degree in geography from Toronto’s York University.
Down to earth
MEMOIR
EATING DIRT
Deep Forests, Big Timber,
and Life with the Tree-Planting Tribe
By Charlotte Gill
Greystone
264 pp.,
$29.95
hardcover
When Charlotte Gill first heard
about tree planting, she pictured
“girls running barefoot
through meadows tossing seeds from their
aprons.” She soon learned first-hand that
it takes a toughness of mind, body and
spirit to make it in the tree-planting tribe.
From climbing slashed mountainsides on
Vancouver Island to boating toward the
mainland through inlets so deep that
anchors barely scrape the ocean floor, Gill
spent 20 years travelling to remote corners
of Canada to plant trees. In Eating Dirt,
the Vancouver writer takes readers into
a world of extreme beauty, devastation,
adventure and boredom, exploring the
pain and pleasure of a half-wild life.
Gill describes tree planting as a beating
for which the body was made: battles with
the elements and insects, encounters with
cougars and grizzlies and days that pass not with the ticking of a clock but with a
shovel sinking into the ground. It’s a world
of contradictions — slow-growing plants
are juxtaposed with frantically paced
planting and planters get cabin fever in
vast spaces. Her snapshots of characters
drawn to the deep woods leave indelible
impressions, but what we really get to
know are the intricacies of the forest.
While rooted in the West Coast, Eating
Dirt spans the globe to weave in humanity’s
evolving relationship with forests,
from the days of Roman shipbuilding to
the devastating effects of deforestation.
In her thoughtful style, Gill contemplates
the different ways forests have been valued
and wonders whether, in the face of
climate change, their ability to store water
and carbon dioxide will make them worth
more if left standing.
— Claudia Goodine
Claudia Goodine is a master’s of journalism
student at UBC in Vancouver.
The skittish invasion
ENVIRONMENT
EMPIRE OF THE BEETLE
How Human Folly and a Tiny
Bug Are Killing North America’s
Great Forests
By Andrew Nikiforuk
Greystone
240 pp.,
$19.95
softcover
While his gut-wrenchingly astute reporting from the darkest corners of Alberta’s oil sands continues to loom large in
The Tyee, Andrew Nikiforuk’s fifth book demystifies the other massive scourge taking root in the Calgary-based environmental
journalist’s home province. The front line of the mountain pine beetle’s epidemic attack
on lodgepole pines is pressing toward Saskatchewan and into the boreal forest, having
breached the Rockies and razed 16 million treed hectares of British Columbia — an area as
large as the province’s entire park system. Nikiforuk investigates what hatched the invasion
and the rich history of the beetle’s pivotal role in regenerating the forest, turning the image
of a mountain valley blanketed by dead red trees into a mirror. Not surprisingly, the
problem started with an economically misguided view of the insect as a pest devouring profit, and the dogma
of modern forestry led the devastation to balloon.
Nikiforuk makes broad, incisive leaps
to connect a range of ailing ecosystems.
The handful of major infestations that
has hit western North America in the
past quarter-century (see “Unbeatable
beetles” ) is vividly framed
by dissident entomologists and ecologists,
whose work highlights the futility
of aggressive prevention and the beetle’s
remarkable talents. The “prowess” and
“marvels” of these “engineers of decomposition
and global protein renewal” are recalled through antiquity, wherein
beetles have always preserved “the
common wealth of trees and other
plants by safeguarding diversity,”
making room for fresh growth by
“gardening, dissembling, pollinating,
boring, pruning, killing, recycling
and refuse eating.”
Although we now have an amazing
arsenal of chemical weapons at our
disposal, humans have fought the same
Sisyphean battle with beetles since the
1700s, when Germans started singlespecies,
high-yielding tree plantations
that would eventually render so many
forests as vulnerable to plague as any
other monoculture
crop. In British
Columbia, an epidemic
was inevitable,
especially with beetles
thriving in a warming
climate. By 1990,
more than half the
province’s forest volume
was a “uniform,
dense and expansive
patch of aging lodgepoles,”
planted
about a century ago.
Containment measures
were exacerbated
by deep government
cuts to forest services
and ill-fated strategies
such as arsenic injections,
which killed a
lot of woodpeckers, a
bird that preys on the
beetle. Nonetheless,
Nikiforuk writes that
“trying to prevent a
bark beetle from doing
its anointed work in an aging forest is
about as fruitful as trying to stop a flood
or an avalanche.”
Empire of the Beetle recontextualizes
the beetle as a “sentinel of climate
change,” an unparalleled global custodian
and communicator. Concisely and
thoughtfully, Nikiforuk translates the
insect’s message as a warning to heed,
rather than a threat to engage.
— Eric Rumble
Eric Rumble is a freelance writer and editor
based in Montréal and a regular contributor
to Canadian Geographic.
BRIEFLY NOTED
BACK TO THE WILD
The Photographs and Writings
of Christopher McCandless
Twin Star Press
239 pp.,
$25 softcover
On April 20, 1992, a young man
with the nom de plume Alexander
Supertramp posed for a highwayside
photograph beneath the ramparts of
Castle Mountain in Alberta’s Banff
National Park. Wearing bright shorts
and a colourful T-shirt, smiling and
waving, he looks like a goofy kid on a
holiday road trip with his family. Two
days later, another picture shows him
sitting in the steaming waters of Liard
River Hot Springs, in northern British
Columbia. Again, the smile stands out.
Alex, whose real name was Christopher
McCandless, was on his way to Alaska,
on a quest to turn his back on modern
society and live as one with nature.
That’s an oversimplified description
of a much more complex journey.
Indeed, the story of McCandless’s
adventurous life and slow death alone
in the northern wilderness has fascinated,
troubled and inspired millions
— it’s the subject of Jon Krakauer’s
best-selling non-fiction book Into the
Wild and Sean Penn’s Academy Awardnominated
film of the same name.
Now, the haunting photographs and
diary entries left behind by McCandless
have been released in a deeply engrossing
collage of a book as a fundraiser for
the foundation launched by his parents,
Billie and Walt McCandless, who have
honoured the memory of their son by
working to help needy parents with
young children and other worthy charitable
causes. For more information
and to order a copy of the book, go
to www.backtothewildbook.org.
— Dan Rubinstein
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