What strikes me most when I listen to teens talking about the environment is the degree of fear and anxiety they express. While Earth Day is a time for focusing on environmental education and protection, it is sadly ironic that at a time when more young people than ever have little connection to or direct knowledge of the natural world, they are also terrified for its future in a way that is unprecedented.

As a recent Washington Post article reports, “ ‘Eco-anxiety’ or ‘climate depression’ is playing out in real terms among young people, sometimes in extreme ways.” An Alabama teen expressed her generation’s fears succinctly: “It’s like, the ice caps are melting and my hypothetical children will never see them, but also I have a calculus test tomorrow.”

There is an abundance of dystopian environmental disaster fiction for teens but relatively little about enjoying the natural world. For a generation raised in front of screens, often with little unstructured time and lots of fear about unsupervised outdoor play, this is perhaps not surprising—but it is very sad. The mental and physical benefits of time spent in nature are well documented. And the sense of belonging that comes from knowing a natural space intimately is priceless.

A desire to protect the environment that emerges from a deep love for and connection with nature feels qualitatively different from sheer terror for one’s own survival. Severe anxiety can easily tip over into a sense of hopeless paralysis—whereas love can motivate us to action. I’m hoping to see more books that focus on the pleasures of the natural world, especially those featuring teens of color who are often written out of rural stories.

Joseph Bruchac (Nulhegan Abenaki) wrote Found (7^th Generation, Jan. 28), in which Nick, an Abenaki teen who is on his way to work at a First Nations summer youth nature camp, encounters a murderous stranger on a train who ends up chasing him through the wilderness. In this taut thriller, Nick puts his knowledge of natural history and outdoor survival to use as he attempts to elude his pursuer. His ingenuity, appreciation of the beauty of the natural world, and connection to the grandparents who taught him critical skills add texture and interest to the story.

The final volume in Mildred Taylor’s multigenerational Logan family saga, All the Days Past, All the Days To Come (Viking, Jan. 7), beautifully expresses the clear sense of being grounded in the land that is a hallmark of her work. The African American family whose forefather struggled in post–Civil War Mississippi to purchase land where he could put down roots has, several generations later, succeeded in doing just that. Even though by the 1960s many younger Logans have moved north, their land in Mississippi—every inch of it familiar and comforting—remains their anchor.

Land of Fences (Text, 2019), which concludes the Wilder Trilogy by Mark Smith, might seem like a strange choice, focusing as it does on the aftermath of a virus pandemic that sweeps across Australia. However, Smith contrasts the ugliness of human actions—enslavement of refugees, among them—with the abundant beauty of the land and sea. As the story opens, Finn, a white Australian boy with intimate knowledge of the natural world, and Kas, the Afghani girl he loves, are reveling in a paradise nearly devoid of people—an interlude soon to be shattered.

Notes From My Captivity by Kathy Parks (Katherine Tegen/HarperCollins, 2018) perfectly captures the mystical, spiritual, healing qualities of nature. When, following the death of her stepfather and the rest of their party, a white American teen is held captive by an eccentric Siberian family living off the land, it seems like a recipe for tragedy. However, the story is a surprisingly gentle one that leaves an indelible mark on readers who follow suburban Adrienne’s adjustment to a life based on the rhythms of the seasons and her growing appreciation for the natural beauty that surrounds her.

Emily France’s Zen and Gone (Soho Teen, 2018) is a love letter to the Rocky Mountains. City boy Oliver meets nature-loving Essa when he leaves Chicago to stay with his aunt in Boulder. He experiences culture shock in this laid-back, outdoorsy setting, but the two white teens develop a relationship that is mutually supportive and healing, thanks in part to the mountains, the wilderness survival games Essa plays with her friends, and the peaceful gardens at the zendo where she introduces him to meditation. Family crises and mental health struggles work out against this majestic backdrop.

Laura Simeon is the young adult editor.