A writer and translator explores the relationship between human presence and place.
Some call the current era the Anthropocene, emphasizing the way humans have altered the planet, but others call it the Eremocene, or “the Age of Loneliness.” For Marris, this second name is especially apt because of all the manmade ecological losses that are occurring globally on a daily basis. In the essay “Cancerine,” she observes that horseshoe crabs, once prized for the nitrogen-rich shells farmers use as fertilizer and later for the blood scientists use to test for vaccine safety, have slowly declined in Long Island Sound. “Is it possible,” she asks, “to pinpoint the moment an ecosystem becomes a stage set in a vast passion play among people, and if so, can this anthropocentrism be reversed?” As we manage to carry on in a hostile world, while the living things that have helped us survive go extinct, we have all grown increasingly lonely. The Earth itself—the air, the water, the land—also bears the brutal mark of human predation. Airplanes compete for space with birds in the sky, “ingesting” them while most air travelers, isolated from this truth in lonely, human-centric worlds, remain largely unaware of the damage caused. All over the world, natural spaces, like the once dangerously polluted Love Canal area near where the author lives, carry traces of old toxicities. Yet as Marris comes to understand in her essay “The Echo,” despite being mostly abandoned for the suffering it caused, the land—which is gradually being restored—is still worthwhile not just for the hope of planetary healing and human redemption it offers, but also for the promise of home and the “closeness [and] company” of others, which are fundamental to living a meaningful life in a changing world.
A satisfyingly complex and profound collection.