My reading interests are rather eclectic. I like humor. I like adventures in the natural world, particularly in the far north. I like certain biographical and historical works, particularly first person narratives. I like explorations of the mind.
Not being a writer at heart nor very good at it, I've relied on the writers I read to provide most of the text for these blurbs about the books I've been reading. Generally I'll quote the first few lines from a book. If some passages grab me that I want to save and savor again, I'll include those too. And every once in a while I'll have something to contribute too.
To paraphrase Isaac Asimov, if an author doesn't get my attention in the first couple of pages, I'm gone. Life is too short to spend it on uninteresting stuff.
James Cameron was one of the great journalists of the 20th century. In Point of Departure Cameron vividly describes eyewitness accounts of his many adventures covering the mid 20th century's momentous events as foreign correspondent for some of Britain's notable newspapers. Superbly written.
I stumbled on the London Readers Union edition of this gem on the Free Books shelf at the Deming NM Public Library.
An excerpt beginning on page 205 of the 1968 Readers Union edition:
That night I bathed in a large tin tub and went into what in any other hotel would have been called a lounge, for what anywhere else would have been called a quick drink, before what in most other places would have been dinner. In no single particular was this purpose accomplished; rather, in every aspect did it materialize some ten times life-size. To call this room a lounge would have been ridiculous; it was a salon, a caravanserai, a large room crowded, as we saw with surprise, with a multitude of striking and picturesque people in richly-coloured costume and exceptional hairdressings; they were occupied not, as one might have thought, in being photographed for the National Geographic Magazine, but in a variety of pleasantly domestic occupations such as pouring tots of rum and knitting socks, and discussing questions of mutual interest in an animated and formal way. Most of them were Tibetans; there were also several people who might have been economics lecturers on vacation, refuges from Cheltenham Ladies College, and at least one who was quite evidently a Benedictine monk in disguise. Before our entry we had considered dubiously whether our appearance - unshaven, khaki-shirted, carpet-slippered - might have been thought indecorous. We need not have worried.
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March to Quebec, Journals of the Members of Arnold's Expedition, Compiled and Annotated by Kenneth Roberts During the Writing of Arundel. Roberts foreword begins: During the writing of Arundel I was obliged to consult all known journals written by members of Arnold's Expedition to Quebec. Many were difficult to locate; some almost impossible to obtain. In order to simplify the work of those wishing to consult these records, they have been brought together in this book for the first time.
A magnificent study of the journals of the Arnold Expedition was published by Professor Justin H. Smith of Dartmouth in his Arnold's March from Cambridge to Quebec - a book essential to a complete understanding of the subject. Another study was made by John Codman in his Arnold's Expedition to Canada. Codman's book is easier to read than Smith's, but Smith's is more accurate. Codman accepted hearsay evidence and local tradition, and occasionally went astray on his facts, whereas Smith worked with the meticulous accuracy of the historian. An amusing aspect of a study of source books of the Arnold Expedition is the irritation shown throughout Smith's volume at Codman's carelessness. Some of Smith's irritation is probably due to the fact that Codman's less scholarly work appeared while Smith's was being written, and any author is resentful when he thinks his thunder has been stolen.
Neither Smith's book nor Codman's, essential as they are as sources, show the peculiarities of the participants in Arnold's great march. Only from the journals themselves can the student gain an understanding of the ability of Arnold as a leader, the pomposity and painful nobility that descended on sixteen-year-old John Joseph Henry in the later years of his life; the distressing sanctimony of Abner Stocking; the bogus elegance and spurious philosophy of Morison; the popeyed gullibility of James Melvin in the matter of army rumors; the youthful erudition of Dr. Isaac Senter; the increasing faint-heartedness of John Pierce and his fellow New Englanders; the contemptible pettiness of those who, in the light of later events, wrote into their journals unjustifiable slurs on their brave and indomitable leader. ...
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In Collapse Jared Diamond uses geographic and environmental factors and a society's response to them to examine why ancient societies like the Viking colonies of Greenland and the Anasazi of the American Southwest fell apart and applies his conclusions to the stresses modern societies are facing.
Those past collapses tended to follow somewhat similar courses constituting variations on a theme. Population growth forced people to adopt intensified means of agricultural production (such as irrigation, double-cropping, or terracing), and to expand farming from the prime lands first chosen onto more marginal land, in order to feed the growing number of hungry mouths. Unsustainable practices led to environmental damage of one or more of the eight types just listed, resulting in agriculturally marginal lands having to be abandoned again. Consequences for society included food shortages, starvation, wars among too many people fighting for too few resources, and overthrows of governing elites by disillusioned masses. Eventually, population decreased through starvation, war, or disease, and society lost some of the political, economic, and cultural complexity that it had developed at its peak. Writers find it tempting to draw analogies between those trajectories of human societies and the trajectories of individual human lives - to talk of a society's birth, growth, peak, senescence, and death - and to assume that the long period of senescence that most of us traverse between our peak years and our deaths also applies to societies. But that metaphor proves erroneous for many past societies (and for the modern Soviet Union): the declined rapidly after reaching peak numbers and power, and those rapid declines must have come as a surprise and shock to their citizens. It the worst cases of complete collapse, everybody in the society emigrated or died. Obviously, though, this grim trajectory is not one that all past societies followed unvaryingly to completion: different societies collapsed to different degrees and in somewhat different ways, while some societies didn't collapse at all.
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On A Planet Sailing West is available at jlblue.com
Our cultural detachment from nature has made it almost impossible to recognize the depth of kinship among all living organisms. The growth rate of forests all over the world, for example, not only depends on the pollination of birds but on birdsong. "The singing of birds developed over thousands of years, helped plants to grow. The incredible die-off of bird species since the introduction of pesticides has had a tremendously negative impact on forest systems. The bird species whose function, in part, is to help trees and plants feed and form the atmosphere, are no longer there."[Stephen Harrod Buhner]
Our own bodies are already aware of the damage being done. When we smell things, we are ingesting small amounts of whatever might be in the air. On a summer day in the woods, we may breathe in a mixture of the essential oils of Douglas fir, aromatic shrubs, and wild herbs - all possessing healing properties and when we walk or camp among these trees and plants, we are constantly breathing in small amounts of their antibacterial, antiviral, antifungal medicine. Plants are medicines for all life on earth. Contrast this to the smells of car exhaust, paint, plastic, foam cushions, deodorant, floor cleaner, all the smells we ingest in our homes or in the city, that parallel the rise of chronic disease both in ourselves and in nature.
... It is entirely probable in this century that all fresh water will be contaminated by birth control drugs, athlete's foot remedies, Viagra, Prozac, Amoxicillin, Lipitor, Tamoxifen, Codeine, Aspirin, Ibuprofen, caffeine, and tons of personal care products like shampoos, sunscreen, mosquito repellent. ...
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During the winter of 1973 & 74 I received many nice letters concerning my book One Man's Wilderness and many times I felt guilty about receiving them in flat lander country. If Twin Lakes country was so nice, what was I doing in Iowa.
Babe phoned Merrill Tower to clear him with no receiver and we headed on the last leg of our long journey. Ft Nelson, B. C. to Anch. is a good hop for one day. Babe flew on home next day and I stayed to take care of last minute business. A few showings of my film and one of them for the National Park Service. They were very much interested and asked if I would shoot some film of Twin Lakes country for them. I would if we could agree on a deal. An easy outfit to deal with and it was soon settled. I purchased a new Bolex tripod for the project and Will Troyer loaned (wouldn't sell) me his good Miller fluid head. Another show for the Anch. Prospectors Club and I have never had a better audience.
Babe came to town and we flew to Port Alsworth Apr. 17. The usual small jobs to do at his homestead. The far side of the greenhouse roof to recover. Several axe and splitting maul handles to put in. A trip to the mission for a few small chores. He left me there to fly away with fare paying passengers. The girls and I took Sig & Leon on a picnic on the creek. "B" came for me in his Tri-Pacer. A nice quiet easy riding rig.
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On a November day Wyoming Game & Fish Warden Creel Zmundzinski was making his way down the Pinchbutt drainage through the thickening light of late afternoon. The last pieces of sunlight lathered his red-whiskered face with splashes of fire. The terrain was steep with lodgepole pine giving way on the lower slope to sagebrush and a few grassy meadows favored by elk on their winter migration to the southeast. Occasionally, when the sight lines were clear, he caught the distant glint of his truck and horse trailer in the gravel pullout far below. He rode very slowly, singing of the great Joe Bob, who was "... the pride of the backfield, the hero of his day"; in front of him walked the malefactor without hunting license who had been burying the guts of a cow moose when Creel came upon him. The man's ATV was loaded with the hindquarters. The rest of the carcase had been left to rot.
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