Well, That Escalated Quickly!

My daughters were nine and eleven when Al Gore’s An Inconvenient Truth was released, and we were in the midst of the camping, ice skating, stargazing, flower arranging, leaf pressing, and pumpkin carving phase. There was no time for news about the end of the world, there was barely time to pack sandwiches and apples for lunch.

My experience of finding out about climate change followed the grieving process, more or less. First shock. What? The planet is warming up – what are the implications of that? They were catastrophic, and we were doomed. Next, I hung out for a while in disbelief, which took the form of minimizing. The science behind this whole theory might be flawed, It will pass, like the Cold War. They’ll figure out how to fix it, before it can affect me, my children, or my grandchildren.

Then anger, where I would argue many of us latter-day hippies are stuck. We could use some ecological counselling. Earth rapists! They can take their fucking profits and shove them up their collective ass.

2006 and An Inconvenient Truth was over a decade ago. Things have escalated quickly, particularly quickly if you set ten years against the history of the planet, or even the history of the modern world. At first there were jokes about how we could happily anticipate palm trees in every yard, bananas and mangoes in Canada. That was before the hurricanes, the flooding, the superstorms, the freak weather incidents.

Time to move on to bargaining, where there’s room for human ingenuity and creativity. The optimists are already at bargaining. They’re developing hybrid and electric cars, installing wind turbines, harnessing tidal power. They’re living zero-waste lifestyles, engineering public transportation, building eco-homes and Earth Ships, planting trees and starting up community gardens. The more of us stuck at bargaining, the better, because the final phase of grief is acceptance.

Retrospective Diary of a Writer’s Environmental Angst

I have written three novels. The first of these, Resurrection Tour, is an unedited manuscript on my hard drive. There are also ten photocopied, cerlox-bound copies extant, distributed to my most literature-loving friends.

I self-published my second novel, The Bears, through Amazon’s CreateSpace platform. The Bears was inspired by a politico-ecological crisis in my backyard, and I use the term ‘backyard’ in the Canadian sense, our vast and glorious provinces encompassing broad tracts of varied wilderness. The impetus I felt to write became an imperative in the face of an environmental threat, a pipeline proposal to transfer Alberta tar sands crude bitumen through pristine, precious coastal rainforest, then on to China via a preposterously dangerous tanker route.

I wanted to slap the greedy faces of everyone responsible for hatching this colossally stupid plan. I wanted to show them exactly how their plan would impoverish us – not just our species, but every living thing on Earth. The more I thought about it, the more presumptuous it seemed for a few corporations to risk the homes of so many living things, all for filthy lucre.

I’m working on my third novel. It’s about bees, and vanishing acts.

I write about nature suffering from the meddling hands of humans.