The appalling truth of nature writing since the 1960s, when the impact of contemporary climate change began to become widely recognised, is that it has all been about survival—the survival of nature. Even when celebrating works written before the Sixties, it inevitably draws attention to our current sick Earth. And this affliction is, of course, the work of a single species, the planet’s apex species—do I need to name it?
Another truth of nature writing is that it encapsulates hope, and is a literal/literary example of humans doing something material to reverse or stop climate change. This is worth celebrating. But let’s be realistic, it’s not enough. Not nearly enough. We can do more, like change our buying habits, ensure our super is not supporting climate change-generating companies, and vote for the best possible political choice.
Those who are doing the most to save our planet are climate-change activists, aided by organisations that have actually changed their ways to support a healthy environment. They are at the edge, like many of the stories in this collection of recent nature writing. Adam Nicolson and Wyl Menmuir have their own edge in the littoral, AKA the edge between land and sea, making their
