Well, sometimes I am listening. Just finished The Funeral Party. That link takes you to a rather lovely review on an excellently named blog so I'll not go into details about it. But I did enjoy it very much. And I have just started Linda Hogan's Solar Storms. Another link to a another review. Another suitcase in another hall. What happens now?
Indeed.
I am as shocked as poor Mr Blackbird to look up from the text and see another year rolling along with all the mishaps and mayhem that will surely ensue. Which parts of the world will be flooded? Which will burn? Where will war break out? How many right wing populist politicians will take power? How much CO2 will be in the atmosphere at the end of 2025? How many more species extinct?
How many years, do you think, until there are no more tigers, cheetahs, leopards in the wild?
The birds in the garden chitter and chase, fight and forage, sing and preen. The rat avoids poison one day only to be fooled the next. The bats, slow to sleep, huddle against the cold, as the fox jumps silently from the fence.
And the big read, well, listen, that I finished a week ago. The Deluge by Stephen Markley. This takes us up to 2040 when, pace Lyle Lewis, humanity is not extinct but the scale of the disasters has finally led nations to start doing something. I liked it - though I didn't really like any of the characters and I was disappointed that animals barely get a look in. Someone has a dog, someone has a cat. In contrast, Jonathan Frantzen cares deeply about critters and habitats. He was lambasted because he said that we can't stop climate change but we can protect some species, some habitats. Let's do that. He says there's no way humans will take the huge steps needed to get to net zero emissions. I agree with him. Humans can't even care enough to stop eating meat and dairy. To stop hunting.
Today, on my walk, a tractor with a trailer. In the trailer, pheasants strung up by their feet. In the woods, the echos of the shoot. Blood on their minds. Always blood.
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