A few thoughts on “The World Without Us”

Synopsis:

In The World Without Us, Alan Weisman offers an utterly original approach to questions of humanity’s impact on the planet: he asks us to envision our Earth, without us. In this far-reaching narrative, Weisman explains how our massive infrastructure would collapse and finally vanish without human presence.

In a time when we are being bombarded with both religious and secular doomsday prophecies, (not to mention a wide variety of lousy science fiction) devoted to worrying us about how exactly the doomsday will arrive and the world as we know it will cease to exist, Alan Weisman’s sensible scientific thought experiment provides a well-deserved breath of fresh air. Rather than being fearful and shocking, the approach is thoughtful and reflective – an interesting story brilliantly told to give us perspective.

The non-fiction piece, being lauded as one of the best in recent years, tells the hypothetical story of how the world would continue after its current caretakers are gone. How or why did they disappear, an Internet scholar of Nostradamus might ask, is almost beyond the point. In order to fully tap into the hypothetical scientific potential of the experiment, the author, Alan Weisman, takes it for granted that the humans have disappeared. And that’s it. No doomsday scenario, no terrifying anxiety as we attempt to consider all of the awful things that can happen to us. Just simply that we are not present in the thought experiment – so then, what happens?

And this is the crux of the book. Humans have been the librarians of the world for a long time, but considering how brief that time has been on the full scale of Earth’s existence is humbling, and how miniscule the Earth’s existence is on the full scale of the universe’s experience certainly can shift someone’s perspective dramatically.

The book does a fantastic job at analysing the somewhat tumultuous relationship that we have had with the planet: how have we used the resources given to us? how have we made an impact on our world? would alien invaders thousands of years into the future look upon our planet and realize that we were even here at all? All of these are fascinating ideas, and ones explored in a way that is never disheartening but always provocative.

I walk away from the book with one solid thought: that our time on this planet is borrowed. Nature is the true state of our world and one day it will return to it, no matter how much money we pour into conditioning it to fashion or our peculiar “needs.”

The implication of that idea establishes our place in the universe as guests. There are a thousand reasons, many of them outlined in this book, that we are only temporary guests here as opposed to temporary owners, and as being such we have an obligation to be good guests to our gracious hosts. To be polite and respectful to our home, cleaning up after ourselves, making sure that we leave our campsite looking exactly as we did when we entered it.

That last one’s likely impossible, but as long as we remain humble in our role here, respectful in our treatment of the world around us, we might just be able to live in a place of which we can be proud.

 

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To new beginnings…

... quintessential.

My topic of discussion for tonight will be the understated importance of opening lines. It is a memorable first sentence that is essential to any great book. These are three opening lines that have stayed with me for various reasons, but the common characteristics between them are that they are enigmatic, microcosmic and unforgettable.

Furthermore, I cannot even begin to express how highly I recommend the novels that follow these first lines. If you haven’t picked them up before, do it soon!

“In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice I’ve been turning over in my mind ever since.”

— The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald

This is one of the most oft-cited great opening lines in literature. It accomplishes everything that a great opening line should with the same flair and energy that Fitzgerald carries throughout the rest of the quintessential American novel. There’s a reason that Gatsby is one of the most iconic pieces of American literature ever written and forced upon sleeping Grade 11 English classes yearly – it is absolutely golden. And surely this sentence and the philosophies it represents are golden too.

“The winters of my childhood were long, long seasons. We lived in three places – the school, the church and the skating rink – but our real life was on the skating rink”

The Hockey Sweater by Roch Carrier.

The opening line to what is probably the most important Canadian story ever written is so iconic in Canada that it is currently printed on our five-dollar bill. I can’t imagine a stronger indication of a story’s importance to a culture. The story itself is important enough to deserve its own blog post (which will come in due time) but I will say that all of the spirit of the complete story is present in this one line. A single line, in its terse and simple prose, manages to capture the zeitgeist of an entire nation.

“You are about to begin reading Italo Calvino’s new novel, If on a winter’s night a traveler.”

– If on a Winter’s Night a Traveler by Italo Calvino.

I love this book. The exact moment I fell in love with it was when I read the opening sentence, which hits you the moment you begin like a proverbial gunshot. The brilliance of the post-modernist second person narrative approach is immediately apparent; right from the start you know that you are in for something completely different with this book. To say the very least, Calvino has given us a fantastic example of how a great opening line can set the tone for the rest of a novel, immediately showcasing his masterful storytelling and iconoclastic approach to literature.

This was certainly a short look at one of great fiction’s most important characteristics– forgive me for that. I would be interested to see what other great opening lines that you can offer to the discussion, and perhaps why they have stayed with you. And seeing as memorizing these things has little application at cocktail parties (and believe me, I have tried), you had might as well post them here.

Until next time,

Chris

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Just by means of an introduction…

Good morning interwebs,

You have stumbled upon the latest brainchild of Chris Long: “Where can I even begin.” It’s an adventure in books and why I love them so much.

So despite having thought about this project for some time, I find myself struggling with the same monumental question that has dogged me throughout my adolescence and early adulthood and happens to be the titular question that the blog hopes to address: Where do I even begin? Or rather, with a bit more urgency and enthusiasm, “Where CAN I even begin?”

Its a tricky question, certainly. Especially when posed by a newly minted 20-something with a lot to say but few forums in which to say it. So here I am, blogosphere. Introducing myself and my blog to a world that I don’t fully understand.

But what I DO know about can be best summed up by the final lines of Fitzgerald’s This Side of Paradise,

“‘I know myself,’ he cried, “but that is all–’”

So there it is. Literature and self-reflection. Or books and narcissism. That’s what’s in store within this little blog.

Stay tuned, bibliophiles.

Chris Long

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