From the Desk Recommends... Finding Hope in Honesty

The monthly roundup of links, plus a playlist and book giveaway.

I was listening to the “Between the Covers” interview with writer Amitav Ghosh about his new nonfiction book Smoke and Ashes: Opium's Hidden Histories. David Naimon’s show notes had come through in an email over the weekend, and I was immediately excited:

It's pretty rare, though fortunately, increasingly less so, for writers deeply engaged with questions of plant intelligence, nonhuman points of view and ways to use poetry or narrative to engage with climate apocalypse to be the same writers who are confronting questions of empire, capital, colonial dehumanization, and finding ways to decolonize the ways we tell history.

The interview itself brought a lot to consider about these issues, the issues that are constantly stirring around my head—I’m also always talking about mangroves…—and one thing that Ghosh said that has stuck in my head was the notion that it’s absurd under our current political conditions to seek out “solutions.” In terms of my work, I am often asked by editors to write something “solutions-oriented,” and I just don’t know what that means anymore.

I’ve been reading about barley and hops production, how changing weather conditions are leading to shortages in Europe and the U.S. There are “solutions”—winter barley, new varieties—but for how long do those solutions solve the problem if nothing else changes about ways of life so dependent upon fossil fuels and extraction? Ways of life obsessed with the appearance of false abundance, from burgers to Budweiser? (In true-to-me and my AIM away message generational status, it brings to mind the lyrics of songs by favorite bands: “Change” by Exsonvaldes; “No Snow on the Mountain” by Nada Surf…)

I’ll admit to being in quite a pessimistic state of mind lately, but I’m also energized by people being vocal about and actively chronicling the truly terrifying circumstances in which we find ourselves. (And when I say “we,” I mean we—all of us.)

Shocking, yes: The person who brought you the essay “Climate Nausea” is now rounding up some stories about how the climate crisis is here and changing how people live, how places look, and how the world and foodways can operate—among other things. I don’t mean to make anyone feel ill, but this is where my attention has been of late.

A martini and 3 important-to-me books.

“‘Bethlehem’ Tells the Story of a People,” Eater

My friend Charlotte Druckman talks to Fedi Kattan about his fantastic cookbook, Bethlehem: A Celebration of Palestinian Food: “A few days ago, I managed to get the first copies of the book. I really wanted to give it to the people in the book because they make the book. One of the people who’s not in Bethlehem is [restaurateur] Abu Mohammad, who I did the musakhan [dish] with in Sebastia, which is up north between Jenin and Nablus. But I actually couldn’t go to give them the book because the roads up north are dangerous.”

“California cracked down after a crash killed 13 farmworkers. Why are workers still dying on the road?” CalMatters

“On any given day, passenger vans whiz by rows of almond trees, carrying farmworkers to the orchards and vineyards that stretch across Fresno and Madera counties. On Feb. 23, a van carrying eight workers collided head-on with a pickup truck, killing all but one of them.”

“What are ‘Food Barons’— and Why Should You Care?” Bittman Project

I haven’t gotten into Barons yet, but I enjoyed this interview between the author, Austin Frerick, and the great journalist Charlie Hope-Danieri: “The more concentrated a market is, the easier it is to gouge shoppers. I’d argue that there is no industry more concentrated than America’s food markets.”