From the Oldest Cities to the Last Wilderness, What Dirt Tells Us About Who We Are
February 6, 2017
Hoping to encourage greater appreciation for soil, Bogard (The End of Night) considers both built landscapes and more natural ones in this diverse and engaging discussion on dirt. Examining urban areas such as New York City, he looks at “what’s gone missing, what remains, what may come to be.” The soil is “a trove of biodiversity” that we have yet to fully explore, and Bogard chats with an array of experts to learn how to dig deeper. He begins with a section on “paved places,” describing how Manhattan’s street grid was planned and layered over drained swamps, cleared woods, and leveled hills. In London, Bogard looks at the ambitious Crossrail project, which involves 10,000 workers, 40 construction sites, and 26 miles of tunnels that will sit alongside a complex maze of existing pipes, tubes, and utility lines dug deep underground. Discussing soils and farms, Bogard takes readers to Iowa, where 82% of the state is cropland (primarily corn and soybean). He bemoans the prevalence of these crops, arguing against an industrial agricultural system that seeks to maximize yield and leaves little space for wildlife. Highlighting current and future predicaments, Bogard ponders what humans have sacrificed in the name of progress.
February 1, 2017
An intriguing examination of the ground, which "holds the wild world in place."Books about single topics (salt, cod, blood) have become increasingly popular, and environmental journalist Bogard (Creative Nonfiction/James Madison Univ.; The End of Night: Searching for Natural Darkness in an Age of Artificial Light, 2013, etc.) contributes an expert if unsettling account of the "living ground." In the author's expansive view, the ground is whatever lies under our feet, and he explores the many ways humans exploit it until, ultimately, they pave it. As Bogard notes, "the amount of concrete being laid every year is probably twenty-five tons for every person in the world." In chapters on Manhattan, London, and Mexico City, the author describes life on and under the pavement, chronicling his interviews with activists trying to preserve bits of nature. Much of America's past remains in the earth; the author toured Civil War sites in northern Virginia and Gettysburg, where bones and artifacts continue to turn up until spreading commerce seals them over. America's greatest ground cover (after concrete and floors) is grass, a massive consumer of water and pesticides. Bogard also examines abuse below the ground--i.e., fracking. America's leading crop, corn, grows in what is not so much soil as a chemical soup of fertilizer, chemicals, and pesticides free of weeds but also of small mammals, insects, invertebrates, and birds. Ironically, industrial corn farming is a money-loser; our taxes subsidize it. Writers decrying destructive agriculture are required to find and admire an organic farm, and Bogard does his duty. He describes a flock of sandhill cranes, a dazzling sight; however, like all migratory birds, they are dwindling in numbers. The author also interviewed individuals fighting exploitation and traditional native people who constantly demonstrate their respect for nature. Islands of hope appear regularly in this insightful, wide-ranging, but mostly painful chronicle of our relations with terra firma.
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March 15, 2017
Is anything so underappreciated as the dirt underfoot? Bogard (The End of Night, 2013) rectifies this situation in this history of the ground below, looking to paved, farmed, and wild spaces to unpack a whopper of a cautionary tale. Gathering perspectives of historians and scientists, and traveling from New York to Treblinka, he reveals that a teaspoon of soil holds more microorganisms than there are people on Earth. The ground gives rise to every plant, animal, and human. Understanding dirt is important; protecting it is even more so. The Dust Bowl was caused by the destruction of tallgrass prairies, which left the precious soil loose and exposed. Paving over the land basically kills it, and given the pace of population growth, this destruction is not expected to slow. Under the weight of 21 million inhabitants, Mexico City has sunk 30 feet over the last 50 years. Beyond ecological concerns, Bogard asserts that pavement disconnects us from nature, making the land seem homogeneous and undermining our well-being. The fragility of the life-giving earth we call dirt is the fragility of us all.(Reprinted with permission of Booklist, copyright 2017, American Library Association.)