Category: Nature (Page 1 of 2)

Timothy Isbell’s work shows the history and soul of ‘The Mississippi Gulf Coast’

By Scott Naugle. Special to the Clarion-Ledger Sunday print edition (September 16)

Writer and photographer Timothy Isbell accomplished a nearly impossible feat. In The Mississippi Gulf Coast, he showcases images of overwhelming beauty on the Mississippi Gulf Coast within the context and landscape of a region still recovering from Hurricane Katrina and the BP oil spill.

In fact, Isbell’s monumental work is a response to Katrina and the resiliency of our coastal institutions and residents. As a Pulitzer-Prize winning photographer, he chronicled the destruction of the hurricane for The Sun Herald, the Gulfport/Biloxi-based daily newspaper. Isbell explains in his introduction to the The Mississippi Gulf Coast that the work has “special meaning, as it was a therapeutic endeavor after the destruction from Hurricane Katrina.”

With The Mississippi Gulf Coast, Isbell adds to an impressive body of photographic work. His Sentinels of Stone project produced three books memorializing the monuments and scenery of Gettysburg, Vicksburg, and Shiloh and Corinth. His work also includes a photographic study of the Vietnamese people on the Mississippi coast.

The book begins with an inclusive history of the Gulf Coast noting significant events and people. Starting with the Biloxi and Pascagoula Native American tribes, Isbell recalls Bienville and D’Iberville, British rule, the War of 1812, The Native Guard, and the establishment of statehood.

Colorful and influential personalities are remembered and noted for their contributions to the economic and cultural expansion of the coast. Edward Barq is recalled for opening the Biloxi Artesian Bottling Works in 1897. By 1900, Barq was producing what we now know as Barq’s Root Beer.

More recently, he notes the establishment of legalized gaming in 1990. Isbell comments, “Casino gaming is now one of the economic engines that provides a steady nest egg for the state treasury.”

Beginning from the western part of the coast and moving east, each town from Bay St. Louis through Pascagoula is celebrated with pages of breath-taking and mesmerizing color images. The full-page photographs, the artistry of the images and the obvious talent of the photographer are what make this both an exceptional and enduring memorial to the Mississippi Gulf Coast and its residents.

In the photographic section devoted to Pass Christian, Isbell captures a bald eagle launching into flight from a bare limb. The wings are just spreading, and the beak, a bold yellow, is beautifully contrasted against the light blue sky. In studying the photograph, one feels strong, proud, and invincible.

The built environment is also highlighted in stunning profile. Gulfport’s Fishbone Alley, newly created in 2016, is photographed during a quiet evening moment. Framed in artwork created by local artists, splashed and brush-stroked on the decades-old brick walls of the buildings framing the alley, the eye is drawn the length of the space into the far-off darkness. It is night, and light bulbs strung across the walkway form a streaking comet against the black sky. Benches beckon and suggest respite for conversation. The inlaid storm drain, straight and long, suggests a track into infinity. The moment as captured by Isbell, though devoid of people, is alive, breathing, indicating activity and vibrancy.

Referring to The Mississippi Gulf Coast, Isbell commented to me several weeks ago that he “put heart and soul into the book.” It shows, through the insightful, nuanced and intensely heartfelt work of this interpreter.

Scott Naugle is a resident of Pass Christian and the co-owner of Pass Christian Books/Cat Island Coffeehouse.

Timothy Isbell will be Lemuria on Saturday, November 24, at 11:00 a.m to sign copies of The Mississippi Gulf Coast.

Author Q & A with Rachel Cobb

Interview by Jana Hoops. Special to the Clarion-Ledger Sunday print edition (October 28)

Award-winning New York-based photographer Rachel Cobb has spent years–decades, actually-chasing the wind.

And although such a pursuit would generally be considered fruitless for the rest of us, Cobb has defied conventional wisdom–she has captured the wind. What she has found, through the lens of her camera, is that this invisible force of nature is, at times, playful. Awe-inspiring. Destructive. Refreshing. Frightening. And utterly beautiful.

Cobb’s new book, Mistral: The Legendary Wind of Provence, is a photographic story of the relentless mistral, or strong wind, that evidence shows has likely blown through Provence, France, since before recorded time. Its impact on the area’s culture, architecture, agriculture, and social norms is revealed through stunning images of everyday life in the area.

What she discovered is that this phenomenon is clearly visible in the form of “a leaf caught in flight, a bride tangled in her veil, spider webs oriented to withstand the gusts,” to new a few revealing signs. Accompanying these visuals are excerpts from writings by Paul Auster, Lawrence Durrell, Jean Giono, Frédéric Mistral, Robert Louis Stevenson, and others, who attempt to make sense of the power of the mistral.

Rachel Cobb

Cobb has photographed current affairs, social issues, and features in the U.S. and abroad for more than two decades. Her work has appeared in The New York TimesThe New YorkerSports IllustratedTimeRolling StoneNatural HistoryStern, and Paris Match, among others. She has been recognized with Picture of the Year awards for her work during the 9/11 attacks in New York City and in war-torn Sarajevo; and a Marty Forscher Grant for Humanistic Photography.

Born and raised in Dallas, Cobb has lived in New York City since she graduated from Denison University in Ohio.

Please define mistral, and tell me what your book is about. How long did it take you to capture all of these images, start to finish?

The mistral is a cold, dry wind that blows down the Rhône River Valley through Provence and empties into the Mediterranean. It can blow 200 days a year. It is fierce–relentless, even. It can turn a summer day into a chilly affair. My book is an attempt to capture the feeling of wind, to make my audience experience this invisible force of nature and to show what it means to live in a place where wind is so often present.

The first photograph I made for this series was in 1998 on medium format transparency film using a 1959 Rolleiflex twin lens camera. I’d first imagined this series as a square-format, moody, black-and-white story of people enduring the wind, maybe inside while the wind beat against their houses.

Obviously, that idea had to go. Who would have understood it? Besides, color is essential to seeing the mistral. It clears the sky and turn sit brilliant blue. And red–locals say a red sky at night indicates a mistral will follow. My first image was of a vibrant red sky at night, and if you look carefully, you can see the trees already beginning to stir. The last image was made in September 2017. But is any photographer ever really finished with a project like this? It’s now such a part of me to look for and respond to wind, I can’t help but take photos.

Tell me how you came to know about the mistral that you have written about and photographed in this book. What was it about this wind phenomenon that heightened your interest so intently? 

I’d been going to this region of France since I was a teenager. Anybody who spends any amount of time in Provence is well acquainted with its most famous wind. You simply can’t escape it. And people talk about it endlessly. They predict, they complain, they repeat old adages about how long it will last, how strong it will be.

It occurred to me that the mistral is an essential part of Provençal life, and in fact, it defines many aspects of life there. The plants and trees bend to the wind. Farmers both try to control it by planting rows of trees tightly together to protect their crops, and they also make use of it, for example, when they tie plastic strips to their cherry trees. The plastic flaps in the wind and scares away birds. Houses and other buildings are built with the wind in mind, not the sun. Entrances are always on the southern, sheltered side. On the windward side, there are few or no windows. Even spiders build their webs to reduce the brunt of the wind. The mistral is the story of this place.

How hard does the mistral in Provence generally blow?

I used to carry an anemometer while I was working so that I could record exactly how hard the wind was blowing. The Beaufort Scale of Wind Force breaks down wind speed into a scale of 1 to 12, and it describes wind’s effects on sea and on land. During a strong mistral, gusts can reach 12 on the scale–that’s greater than 73 miles per hour–which is the start of hurricane strength. A more common sustained mistral might blow at 35-50 miles per hour.

Which photos did you find most challenging to capture?

I have a background in newspaper photography, which was wonderful training for working quickly, but this project really challenged me. I had to be there when the wind blew, and I also had to find ways of showing wind’s effect on things without repeating myself too much. It took longer than any story I’ve ever done. It took me 10 years to get the images of the wind-blown snow atop Mont Ventoux. Conditions have to be just right. There’s a snowfall on the mountain, then slightly warmer weather softens the snow, then wind blows and freezes the snow as it’s blowing.

I would follow the weather in Provence from New York, and when I would see there was a mistral, I would call people who worked on the mountain to see if the conditions were right, if there would be these strange snow formations. I walked up the mountain a couple of times before I got the photos I wanted.

The day I made the photos in the book, I recorded the wind at about 62 miles per hour on the mountain top. I would take off my gloves just long enough to make a frame or two, then I’d have to warm them and my cameras under my coats.

You state int he book that the people who live along the mistral’s path in Provence have a “complicated relationship” with the wind. In what ways?

Order and tradition are an important part of life in France. Farmers tidy their fields. People don’t leave the house disheveled. They’re more buttoned up than Americans. There are generally accepted rules of behavior that can be confining. Along comes the mistral. It’s a nuisance that slams car doors, loosens gutters, and upturns plants. Imagine you’re a waiter carrying a tray of glasses at an outdoor restaurant during a mistral. Things happen. Ten glasses go crashing to the ground, well… [French shrug]. The mistral happens. Chaos happens. It’s liberating.

Tell me about the writings in this book–how you chose them.

Many writers over the years have been moved to write about the mistral, and I felt their words would enhance my images. Of course, I wanted to include the work of the great French writers and poets like Frédéric Mistral, Alfonse Daudet, and Jean Giono, who were from the region. I found it surprising that so many foreigners have been charmed by and in awe of the mistral, from Paul Auster to George Sand to Robert Louis Stevenson.

What did you start out wanting to accomplish through this book, and did it change any as your work progressed?

A long project like this reveals itself slowly. I always thought the mistral could be a lens through which I could observe and describe Provence, but, in doing the work, I saw the mistral is essentially the spirit of the place.

Rachel Cobb will be at Lemuria on Monday, October 29, at 5:00 p.m. to sign and discuss Mistral: The Legendary Wind of Provence.

Author Q & A with Jack E. Davis

Interview by Jana Hoops. Special to the Clarion-Ledger Thursday print edition (August 16)

Pulitzer Prize-winning writer Jack E. Davis, author of The Gulf: The Making of an American Sea, will be among the more than 160 official panelists who will appear at the Mississippi Book Festival Saturday, where he is scheduled for two thought-provoking events.

Davis will sign copies of The Gulf on the Mississippi Capitol lawn at 9:45 a.m., followed by an appearance in the American History panel at 10:45 a.m. in the C-SPAN Room (the Old Supreme Court room) in the Capitol building.

At 2:45 p.m. he will participate in an informal, in-depth discussion with Dr. Melissa Pringle, senior principal scientist and vice president of Allen Engineering and Science in Jackson. Afterward, he will host a Q & A session with Festival goers. The dialogue will be held in State Capitol Room 202, and those interested are asked to arrive 30 minutes early. Details are available at msbookfestival.com.

Davis said he wrote The Gulf because he was interested in restoring what he calls “an American sea,” to the conventional historical narrative of America.

“Look at any general history of the U.S.,” he said, “and you are not likely to find the Gulf in the index, and, at the most, mentioned in passing in the text.”

He wants his readers to realize that the Gulf of Mexico is important to every American, not just “Gulfsiders.”

“All Americans . . . have a historical and ecological connection to the Gulf, and I sought to reclaim the Gulf’s true identity, which I believed had been lost to the BP oil spill and Hurricane Katrina,” he said. “I wanted people to know that the Gulf is more than an oil sump or hurricane alley – that it is an ecologically vibrant place with a rich, interesting, and informative history, meaning it speaks to who we are as a people.”

The author’s fascination with the Gulf began at age 10, when he spent much of his childhood along the Gulf Coast towns of Fort Walton Beach and the Tampa Bay area of Florida. After undergraduate school in Florida, he completed a doctoral program in history at Brandeis University, near Boston.

It was research opportunities for his dissertation at Brandeis that brought him to Jackson in the early ‘90s – a two-year stint that resulted in his first book, Race Against Time: Culture and Separation in Natchez Since 1930, which won the Charles S. Sydnor Prize from the Southern Historical Association for the best book in Southern history in 2001.

Davis said he came to realize “that I needed to write the dissertation in Mississippi to capture the sense of place that I wanted to convey,” adding that he “also met a lot of nice people in Jackson,” some of whom would become close friends.

He later pursued studies in environmental history, realizing it had become his “true passion.” Today he teaches classes in American environmental history at the University of Florida, including courses like The History of Water, The History of Sustainability, and History by Nature.

Among other books by Davis are An Everglades Providence: Marjory Stoneman Douglas and the American Environmental Century, (a biography of Douglas which won the gold medal in nonfiction from the Florida Book Awards); and Only in Mississippi: A Guide for the Adventurous Traveler, which he co-wrote with his friend Lorraine Redd.

In the process, Davis acknowledges, he learned things about the Magnolia State that have stayed with him.

“I’ve said more than once that Mississippians are the nicest people I’ve ever met,” Davis said. “One of things I love about Mississippians is that they are always looking for some type of connection to you. ‘Where are you from and who’s your people?’ they’d often ask, and, more often than not, (they would) find a connection.”

Below, he shares a bit of inside information about the writing of his Pulitzer Prize-winning eighth book.

The Gulf: The Making of an American Sea is an exhaustive history of the Gulf of Mexico and its enormous impact on the human species – throughout the United States and beyond. How did you develop your strong interest in this topic?

Jack E. Davis

Having grown up on the Gulf coast, spending a lot of time in and on it, I developed an intimate relationship with the Gulf. Whenever I was away from it, when I was in the Navy after high school, enrolled in graduate school, living in Birmingham, where I taught at UAB for six years, I missed it. I missed it not being a short drive from me, its smell, and its weather, not to mention its sunsets.

After finishing the Marjory Stoneman Douglas book, which is really a dual biography of a person and a place (the Everglades), I thought about writing another biography of a place. Given my background, the Gulf was a natural fit, and when I explored the topic I learned no one had written a comprehensive history of it. I spent five to six years researching and writing the book.

How has your Pulitzer win impacted your life?

It has taken over my life for now. I didn’t expect that. Didn’t know what to expect. Every day I’m fielding requests to speak or to write something. I have two dozen talks on my calendar for the fall, and 2019 is filling up. Receiving the prize is a great honor. I never in my wildest dreams thought the book could win – even after it received the Kirkus Prize in November and was chosen as a finalist for the National Books Critics Circle Award – or that I would ever be a Pulitzer Prize-winning author.

People ask what it feels like to win a Pulitzer, and I say it feels like someone else’s life. But as I see it, the recognition is not for the author but the work, as Faulkner once said. In this case, it is also recognition for the sea itself. It has been heartening to see positive attention for a change come to this wonderful body of water, attention turned toward the Gulf for something other than a horrific hurricane or oil spill.

Considering the depth of this book, what prompted you to take on such a substantial project?

My last book was 200 pages longer than this one, so writing this book felt something like downsizing. That said, I was initially daunted by how to organize and compose a book about a sea. I knew I wanted the natural environment, not human events, to guide the story, the biography, of the Gulf. I wanted to show nature as an agent in the course of human history, as it indeed is but as it is not regarded by most historians.

To bring nature to the forefront, I organized the chapters around natural characteristics of the Gulf – birds, fish, estuaries, beaches, barrier islands, weather, oil – and integrated nature writing with historical narrative, saving human stories to shape the narrative and illuminate the relationship between civilization and nature.

Your mention Mississippi often in The Gulf, describing many historical events (hurricanes, man-made interventions to its shoreline, seaside development, tourism, etc.), and devoting an entire chapter to the creative drive and devotion to nature that defined the life of artist Walter Anderson. As a Gulf state, how are we doing environmentally and in respect to conservation efforts? How do we compare to other Gulf states?

Mississippi is pretty representative of the other Gulf states. They’ve all engaged with the environment in both wise and unwise ways. All the states have squandered the biological wealth of the great estuarine environment that the Gulf is, mainly by destroying it needlessly, sometimes unwittingly but other times knowingly.

Places like Ocean Springs have been smart about controlling growth, and Jackson County has been thoughtful about protecting its coastal wetlands and the Pascagoula River.

We have to attribute these measures to a lot of people who understand the connection between a healthy natural environment and a healthy human population. They are the heroes in this book, thousands of volunteers and underpaid staff of nonprofit or government organizations, and they are in every Gulf state, and we who enjoy the Gulf and its waters and wildlife owe them much.

In the book, you say it’s common to cry “natural disaster” after weather events “carry away beaches” and destroy property, and you explain the role of “human behavior” in such occurrences. Can nature and local economies in Gulf cities work together successfully?

Absolutely. In the 1970s, most of the bays and bayous and sounds around the Gulf were edging toward ecological collapse from unrelenting pollution, mainly industrial and wastewater discharges, and careless engineering projects. But we’ve since cleaned up those bodies of water, brought them back to be thriving places again.

Tampa Bay was a mess when I was growing up. It is clean and full of life now, hosting bird species I never saw growing up, and the economy around the bay is as robust as ever. Two decades ago downtown Pensacola was a desolate place, but after the water utility removed its broken-down worthless wastewater treatment plant out of the area, downtown quickly came alive. It’s booming, a major draw for locals and tourists. I end the book telling the story of Cedar Key, Fla., and what the people there have done to coexist successfully, to its economic benefit, with the estuarine waters surrounding it.

Your skill as a writer is breathtaking, as you weave history and ecology with the wisdom and reflection of great writers and artists while examining the past and future of the Gulf, an inimitable force of nature. Explain how you’ve developed your unique and powerful style of writing.

I read good writing and pay attention to the composition of paragraphs and the construction of sentences and the selection of descriptive words, and how the author tells a compelling story. I study the writing as I read. In my own writing, I am as interested in getting the words right as I am in getting the history right. I’m a slow writer, a plodder, and I revise, revise, revise.

Writing the opening paragraphs of the book, the last words I wrote for the book, took a month of false starts and endless revisions. As important as anything, I have a writing partner, Cynthia Barnett, author of the superb book Rain: A Natural and Cultural History. She reads in draft everything I write, and I read everything she writes, and we trust and listen to each other.

As I tell my students, identifying your intended audience at the outset is essential, and once you do, imagine them beside you as you write, asking yourself constantly, “Will they understand what I am saying here, will I bore them with the way I am speaking to them, or will my writing keep them engaged?”

Please tell me about your next book you are working on now.

My next book is titled Bird of Paradox: How the Bald Eagle Saved the Soul of America. It is a cultural and natural history of the bald eagle, which lives exclusively in North America, that looks at the historical relationship between people and the bird, from pre-European native cultures to modern American society.

I am interested in how this bird came back from near population collapse in the lower 48 states in the 1960s and in how the American rendezvous with it serves as an allegory of the American relationship with the natural world. That includes how our country originally planted its national identity in the continent’s rarefied natural endowments, then lost its connection to that identity, but now, as the eagle thrives again, it might regain it.

Story of Cat Island resonates in prose, photographs

By Don Jackson. Special to the Clarion-Ledger Sunday print edition (May 20)

Southern storytelling is a beautiful art form. Through the ages it has been the glue that has bound us across generations. Although facts are always subject to questioning, the truth is always there. It becomes a shared truth that gives us strength and meaning within a framework of profound identity, and as a people with a common heritage.

discovering cat islandSuch is the wonder and the power of Discovering Cat Island by John Cuevas. It gives us the story of a unique and fascinating place on the Mississippi Gulf Coast, and of the people who have been part of its history. It brings us light and shadows, and allows the reader to fill in the colors, both in prose and in photography.

This is not a scholarly work created for academics, although it is rich in information and required extensive research. Rather, it is a story that will hold the reader transfixed, with wonderfully-written, almost poetic, prose. A word of warning here… Do not sit down with this book unless you are prepared to sit where you are for at least a couple of hours. You will not be able to put it down. You very likely will read the entire text in one sitting. I certainly did.

Typically I consider books like Discovering Cat Island as coffee-table books that allow one to leisurely pick up the volume and thumb through the photographs… easy to pick up… easy to put down. They provide opportunity for light, transient entertainment. They’re on the table as fillers, just there as something to do, while other things are going on. Interruptions don’t matter. Accordingly, I’m more inclined to spend time with the photographs in such books than I am with their text. Rarely will I even bother with the text.

But with Discovering Cat Island, it was just the opposite. The photography was excellent. But it was the text that kept me spellbound. I’m not sure why, but I broke my rule and started reading the text when I first got a copy of this book.

Once I did that I could not take time to look at the photographs as I desperately turned the pages to get beyond the photographs and to where the story continued.

Only afterward did I go back to look at the gorgeous black and white photography of Jason Taylor. And when I did this, those photographs provided rich seasoning for the story I’d just read. The echoes of the story reverberated deeply within me as I went page by page, slowly catching the spirit of each one of Taylor’s masterpieces.

I strongly suggest that this be the sequence for future readers of this book. Start with the story. But, don’t just read the story. Listen to it! After you’ve heard the story then, as it resonates within you, go back through the book and let the photographs etch this powerful story deeply into your heart.

It is, after all, your story too. Soon thereafter you will realize that this story must be shared with those near and dear to you… with a daughter, son, grandchild, or good friend… together in a porch swing, or out under a live oak, or in front of a fireplace, or wherever your special place may be.

Cat Island is and has for been for generations such a special place for so many people. So, why not just go there with that special someone and share the story there, together. Become part of that story, right there where it all happened and is happening. Pass it along through the tumbling generations for whom, in their hearts, the Deep South and its Gulf Coast is home. It really doesn’t matter whether or not you live here. Cat Island is part of your story. Come discover it.

Donald C. Jackson is the Sharp Distinguished Professor, Emeritus at Mississippi State University. He is Past President of the American Fisheries Society, Past President of the Mississippi Wildlife Federation, and has worked extensively with fisheries resources along the Mississippi Gulf Coast. He is the author of three collections of outdoor essays: Tracks, Wilder Ways and Deeper Currents.

Signed copies of Discovering Cat Island are available at Lemuria’s online store.

Pioneering conservationist Fannye Cook was truly a Mississippi hero

By Jim Ewing. Special to the Clarion Ledger Sunday print edition (November 27)

fannye cookFor many outdoors enthusiasts in Mississippi, Dorothy Shawhan’s book Fannye Cook might be described as one about the most influential person you never met.

The term “hero” is often overused, but in this case, Cook lives up to the label, as Shawan details.

Approximately 150,000 people (mostly children) annually stream through the Mississippi Museum of Natural Science, says former director Libby Hartfield, who contributed to the book. And that is directly due to Cook, who founded it and served as its director until her retirement in 1958.

Of import to hunters, fisherfolk, birders, conservationists, and others, however, Cook was instrumental in creating what is now the Mississippi Department of Wildlife, Fisheries, and Parks.

Her impact goes even beyond that.

As Shawhan describes, Cook, a graduate of what is now Mississippi University for Women, began her lifelong study and promotion of Mississippi’s natural resources in 1926. The wildlife population in Mississippi—including its most popular game species—was threatened by lack of habitat, overhunting, and overfishing.

“The forest resources that had covered 95 percent of the state in 1800 were practically gone by 1930,” Shawan reports.

Cook, with the help of the federal Depression-era Works Progress Administration, conducted a comprehensive plant and animal survey in Mississippi that she designed. Traveling across the state speaking to local groups and schools, she spearheaded a successful effort for public education and scientific research of wildlife resources.

The results of her efforts were twofold:

  • After her pushing for seven years, the state Legislature approved creation of a state game and fish commission in 1932 to regulate and conserve natural resources;
  • To house the enormous data she amassed, she was instrumental in opening the state’s first natural science museum in 1939 for the survey’s “28,732 fish, reptiles, birds, plants, amphibians, and mammals collected.”

It was an incredible turnaround in the public’s appreciation and support for habitat that lives on today.

Subtitled “Mississippi’s Pioneering Conservationist,” the book delves into the obstacles that stood in Cook’s path both personal and professional, as a woman in a “man’s” field, as well as her achievements and friendships along the way.

It’s full of recognizable names, including author Eudora Welty, with whom she lived as a boarder in Welty’s Jackson home, and Aldo Leopold, considered by many the father of wildlife ecology in the United States, with whom she collaborated.

Cook serves as a role model not only for women, but for all who have a dream and are willing to work tirelessly to achieve it.

Cook’s work and memory live on with the museum, the state’s largest, that now houses more than 1 million scientific specimens, along with creation of the 2,600-acre Fannye Cook Natural Area in Rankin County soon slated to open to the public. It’s the brainchild of Wildlife Mississippi, which also helped underwrite this book.

Shawhan, a Delta State University professor, died during course of writing the book and the manuscript was completed by Marion Barnwell, professor emerita at Delta State, and Hartfield. It’s a fascinating account of a most extraordinary Mississippian.

Jim Ewing, a former writer and editor at the Clarion-Ledger, is the author of seven books, and serves or has served on numerous state, regional and national boards involving wildlife conservation, forests, agriculture and food.

Marion Barnwell and Libby Hartfield will be at Lemuria to sign and read from Fanny Cooke on Sunday, December 3, at 11:30 a.m.

Come Check Out My Spring Display (Pt 1)

Despite all the rain of the past few days, spring means a number of very sunny and happy things to me. So in honor of this most wonderful time in Mississippi, during the two-week period when we don’t all feel like we will surely die from wretched, wet cold or suffocate from the stifling heat, we can all walk outside our homes and just say “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 Jacket

 

I have built a display. This display is what spring means to me and essentially all of the things it makes me want to do. I feel certain I’m not the only one who gets the planting bug in the spring. I have a particular fondness for succulents and terrariums. Why you might ask? Well that is because they are low maintenance, they are clean and fresh looking, and depending on your arrangement, they can look rather elaborate. I like to appear like I know what I’m doing, people. And I truly, to goodness do not. I was not blessed with the green thumb of father and mother. It is not necessarily a black thumb; I fondly call it my gray thumb. So in this situation everyone wins…including the plants. If anyone feels so inclined, I’ve placed a book on this display for each of these loves. One is called Terrarium Craft, the other Hardy Succulents. Another favorite is Tiny Terrarium. If you are interested ask me and I’ll show it to you! Essentially you create scenes inside your terrarium with people and any manner of thing. I know Joan Hawkins Interiors had the makings for these things.

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Anyhow moving on…spring also makes me want to spruce my house up. Justina Blakeney’s new book The New Bohemians makes me want to completely rethink my entire decorating scheme – just completely start all over again. I love the clean lines of a mid-century furniture, but lord knows I can cram a lot of stuff in a space and hang a lot of art on the walls. So does this make me a modern bohemian, as a section in her book suggests? I have many questions left on this matter, but honestly this book is a feast for your eyes. Blakeney has gotten quite a lot of acclaim for design aesthetic over the past few years, and this book only further proves why. Now if I really want to build on what I’ve got (which my mother would say is my best option), I should really invest in the new Apartment Therapy Complete + Happy Home. This book pulls from a little bit of everywhere just like their incredible blog of the same name (Apartment Therapy…in case you missed that part). I mean this book talks about it all, down to the frames you use for your art, without being overwhelming and nitpicking. Oh I almost forgot to mention that The New Bohemians has great DIY projects in it which segues into my next desire of spring…CRAFTING.

I pretty m9781617691751uch always love to make something, but I think the whole new life thing that comes along with spring really does something to me. A book I’ve been drooling over for quite some time now is The Modern Natural Dyer. Not only is it a gorgeous book, but it also tells you how to dye fibers with flowers, vegetables, and spices. Basically head on over to the grocery store and make a mess because I love to make a mess. It’s the cleaning up that presents a problem for me. This book has twenty projects for your home and your wardrobe, including knitting and sewing. Pretty amazing if you think about it. “Oh, why yes, I did make this! I dyed it as well. Eat your freaking heart out!!!” Next up on the docket we have Materially Crafted: A DIY Primer for the Design-Obsessed (that’s me). So this book’s projects are broken down into sections of spray paint, plaster, concrete, paper, thread, wax, wood, and the list goes on. I could definitely get into a modern looking concrete cake stand or some precious wax bud vases. There is more to come about this display, but I feel like I am close to losing all of you so I will leave you here

2015, I’d like to kiss you on the mouth.

dbdb37f2-a00d-4114-b5d6-1e42a0bc65cfThis year was a doozy. I consumed everything from nonfiction about animal consciousness to the modern classic Fates and Furies by Lemuria’s new best friend, Lauren Groff. I can’t even get into the second paragraph without telling you that The Godfather was hands down my favorite read of the year. You can read my blog about it here. I had the chance to sit down and talk to Garth Risk Hallberg about his meteoric rise in the literary world. Jon Meacham made me cry.

I personally made the move from the hub that is Lemuria’s front desk to the quieter fiction room, where I now am elbows deep in the mechanics of our First Editions Club; and am coincidentally even more in love with fiction than I was before. My TBR pile has skyrocketed from about 10 books to roughly 30 on my bedside table. It’s getting out of control and I love it.

[Sidebar: This year, I fell even more in love with graphic novelsNimona surprised us all by making one of the short-lists for the National Book Award, and we were so pleased to see it get the recognition that it deserves. Go Noelle Stevenson! You rule!]

As a bookstore, we were able to be on the forefront of some of the most influential books of 2015 (see: Between the World and Me– when we passed that advance reader copy around, the rumblings were already beginning). Literary giants Salman Rushdie, John Irving, and Harper Lee put out new/very, very old works to (mostly) thunderous applause, and debut novelists absolutely stunned and shook up the book world. (My Sunshine Away, anyone? I have never seen the entire staff band behind a book like that before. We were/are obsessed.) Kent Haruf’s last book was published; it was perfect, and our hearts ache in his absence.

We marched through another Christmas, wrapping and reading and recommending and eating enough cookies to make us sick. We hired fresh new faces, we said goodbye to old friends, we cleaned up scraggly, hairy sections of the store and made them shiny and new. We had the privilege of having a hand in Mississippi’s first ever book festival. We heaved in the GIANT new Annie Leibovitz book, and spent a few days putting off work so that we could all flip through it. In short, this year has been anything but uneventful; it’s been an adventure. So here’s to 2016 absolutely knocking 2015 out of the park.

Read on, guys.

 

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Gifting the Perfect Book: Passionate Environmentalists and Animal Lovers

I love animals. All of them. The cute ones, the dangerous ones, the ones that sleep in our houses, and the ones that hide in remote rainforests, only ever exposing themselves to a few, lucky sets of human eyes.

I’m guessing you probably love animals too. Maybe you have a couple of dogs, cats, or goldfish at home; or maybe you take your nieces and nephews to the zoo when they’re in town; or maybe your computer wallpaper features a sleepy-eyed koala front and center (mine is a snow leopard). Regardless of how it manifests itself, a love for animals is shared by three out of every four Americans.

Jacket (1)Well, guess what… They’re all dying… or at least a lot them are. So says Elizabeth Kolbert in her Pulitzer Prize-winning book The Sixth Extinction.

Kolbert, author of the acclaimed Field Notes from a Catastrophe and a staff writer at the New Yorker since 1999, spent several years traveling the globe learning from scientists in various fields who study the changing environment and its effects on Earth’s animal and plant life. Her conclusion? By the end of the century, 20 to 50 percent of all species will be extinct.

The first several chapters of the book cover the five mass extinctions chronicled in the fossil record, including the most recent extinction that wiped out the dinosaurs 65 million years ago. From mollusks to mastodons, Kolbert handles the dearly departed species with delicacy, and presents the science behind their disappearance in a way that is easily digested for the layperson. She also describes the gradual acceptance of mass extinctions among scientists of the 18th and 19th centuries led by the likes of Cuvier and Darwin. The idea that an individual species could disappear from the earth entirely was hard to imagine only three hundred years ago. The idea that a force could eliminate species en masse was totally unthinkable.

Jumping to the present, Kolbert travels from Central America, where beloved frog species have disappeared in a matter of years, to the coast of Australia, where coral reefs home to thousands of species are receding due to increased ocean acidification. She introduces the idea that we are living in a new epoch called the Anthropocene in which human activity has become the dominant factor impacting the natural world. Since the extinction of the dinosaurs 65 million years ago, scientists estimate that around one to five species went extinct each year. Fast-forward to the Anthropocene, and the rate is now more than a dozen species each day!

In one of the most memorable anecdotes of the book, Kolbert explains the arrival of the brown tree snake on the island of Guam via military ships in the 1940s. Devoid of any natural predators, the snake “ate its way through most of the islands native birds” lacking any natural defense from the foreign predator and reduced the island to one native species of mammal. “While it’s easy to demonize the brown tree snake, the animal is not evil; it’s just amoral and in the wrong place,” says Kolbert. It has done “precisely what Homo sapiens has done all over the planet: succeeded extravagantly at the expense of other species.”

For such grim content, the book remains surprisingly upbeat. From chapters entitled “Dropping Acid” to a detailed scene of a zookeeper sticking a gloved hand up the rectum of a rhino, Kolbert does her best to maintain a sense of humor throughout. Most importantly, she ends on an optimistic note, focusing on the successful efforts that can and are being done to save species. “People have to have hope. I have to have hope. It’s what keeps us going.”

Here’s to hoping that the koala on your screen will be around for generations to come.

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The Invention of Nature by Andrea Wulf

invention of natureAndrea Wulf’s The Invention of Nature tells the forgotten story of Alexander von Humboldt of Prussia (1769-1859). Some of our counties, cities, rivers, lakes and mountains are even named after Humboldt.

Alexander von Humboldt was an energetic learner, a bold adventurer of the natural world and the most famous scientist of his age. Through study and courageous expeditions through the Americas and Russia, Humboldt discovered the relationship between vegetation zones and climate zones by examining the similarities between plants on different continents.

Through his travels, Humboldt also became the first to predict and discuss climate change. Many North American settlers argued that every virgin tree that was cut down improved the air quality and increased the winds that blew across the continent. Other outspoken settlers believed that the wilderness was actually “deformed” as a cesspool of decaying leaf matter, parasites, and venomous insects. Humboldt was the first to see the larger picture of nature, to see how all of the parts worked together.

Humboldt reported how deforestation through mining and farming in America and Europe caused springs to dry up entirely or rivers to rage out of control causing erosion. He saw another upset in the balance of natural environment when Spanish monks harvested turtles eggs without leaving hardly any for the next generation. It’s no wonder Humboldt is regarded by many as the father of environmentalism.

Wulf’s story of Alexander von Humboldt is a page-turning read. She brings Humboldt to life through his relationships with familiar figures like Henry David Thoreau, John Muir, Thomas Jefferson, Charles Darwin, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, and Simón Bolívar. Through her sensitive and passionate eye for detail and her gift of story, Wulf makes Humboldt’s scientific contributions vibrant and appealing to a broad range of readers.

Sit down. It’s time to talk about consciousness.

My husband is falling asleep across the table from me, in full view of the bar.

In his defense, we have just left a giant party that we attended in order to raise money for The Jackson Free Clinic, an incredible organization for which he regularly busts his ass. He is tired. He took a test today to end a rotation, and “only made a B” [insert my eye rolling here]. Tomorrow he starts a new rotation at the hospital and he is already dreading the all-night shifts, and here am, at this loud bar, making him drink whiskey and eat fish tacos because I just had to find out why there were so many movie trailers outside, and the only way to be cool about it is to pretend we were already planning on coming here anyway, and “oh, what are these trailers doing here? Filming a movie? How inconvenient!” (It’s a horror movie, by the way, and I am very disappointed that I am not now fast friends with at least one of the Affleck brothers.)

JacketTo top all of this off, I will not shut up about octopuses. You heard me right, I cannot shut my pie hole about the spineless cephalopods crawling around on the ocean floor, and my poor, exhausted husband is trying so hard to pay attention. In his defense, he really does care because he is, after all, a man of science. Circumstances are simply preventing him from giving me his full attention. Why do I have such a wealth of knowledge about the ageless octopus, you ask? It is because I am still coming down from the book high that came from finishing Sy Montgomery’s new masterpiece The Soul of an Octopus: A Surprising Exploration into the Wonder of Consciousness (which was just longlisted for the National Book Award in the nonfiction category).

Montgomery, author of several acclaimed books like The Good Good Pig, brings such a personal element to this book about ancient cephalopods that it is impossible to not be swept away on the journey with her. Early on in the book, Montgomery explains the history in the scientific community of ascribing consciousness to animals. Until recently, scientists have been wary to put too much stock behind attributing specific and complex personalities to animals due to the fear that we would simply project our own human ideas of what consciousness is, and completely misunderstand the science behind why animals do what they do. If an animal like the octopus shows extreme intelligence, it is so tempting to assume that they have the same complex feelings that humans do, and that is a big no no.

So how is it possible to go on an incredibly personal journey when your writing is prefaced with this giant warning about not getting too emotional? Surprisingly (or maybe not surprisingly at all), setting aside our ideas of human consciousness and making room to understand a completely new and alien kind of intelligence is transformative. Montgomery was able to learn to love the octopuses that she came into contact with in a fresh way, a way that made room for an unfathomable, yet nevertheless emotional, bond.

Although it is impossible to completely detach and not project at least some human feelings onto the octopus, several things were made clear to me throughout reading this book. Octopuses are each unique; shy, adventures, solitary, grumpy, or playful. They get itchy. They get bored. Octopuses remember. They seem to take comfort in the presence of an old friend, relaxing and asking to be petted when visited by someone that they like. They forget things in their old age. Their arms contain roughly two thirds of their neurons, meaning that each of the eight arms kind of does have a mind of its own. They taste with their skin, which is how they recognize the humans that they fear/enjoy, and how they hunt the waters around them.

Sy Montgomery fell in love, specifically with two or three of the giant Pacific octopuses housed at the New England Aquarium in Boston. The aquarium is a sprawling, magical complex with exhibits ranging from feisty penguins to grumpy eels, and a webcam fixed in their Giant Ocean Tank, which you can watch here (I have had trouble doing anything else today, especially when Myrtle, the ancient sea turtle who lives in the tank, swims up the camera and rolls around flirtatiously in the water). Montgomery also forged friendships with the volunteers, regular members, and staff that surrounded her, and tenderly peeked into each of their lives, making the book both rich and sad at times. These people bonded over their love of the mysterious octopuses that brought them together, and they left each day mystified and changed.

This nonfiction book about octopuses and the cosmic questions that surround consciousness made me cry. CRY. And I laughed, too, totally in love with how little I know, and at the intoxicating thirst for knowledge that this book gave to me.

It’s hard to explain this strange combination of new facts and the overwhelming feeling of smallness that this book gave to me over drinks while my husband is falling asleep. But don’t worry, I’ve already bookmarked about 100 articles and videos on the miracle that is the octopus, and we’ll be exploring them very soon. To my husband: hope you weren’t planning on reading the Sunday Times this weekend, because I’ve got other plans for us. Time to talk cephalopods.

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