(Recently I attended a booksigning at Northshire books with local author Amy Seidl. It was a great experience and I was more than impressed with Seidl, I was genuinely moved. I don't always do “moved.” Anyway, I wrote the following largely at the event…)
On March 20th, I was fortunate enough to attend a reading and discussion by the author of the new book, Early Spring: An Ecologist and her Children Wake to a Warming World. Even more fortunate still, I gave the writer, Amy Seidl, a ride to and from the event in Manchester Vermont from her home in Huntington. Being thrust into 4 and half hours of driving with someone you’ve never met is a sketchy proposition at best, but Seidl and I hit it off well, and I was afforded the opportunity to get to know her a bit.
Seidl is described on her website as “a practiced ecologist, activist and mother of two girls… By drawing on her 20 year career studying ecology, evolution, and butterflies across the North American continent, she illuminates the historical significance and the everyday local impacts of global warming upon the 21st century landscape.”
At the event and during the car ride, Seidl speaks comfortably, clearly and with an elegant literacy. Speaking before a crowd of about two dozen, Seidl has a relatively slight voice, but its focus and clarity hold the crowd as well as another with a bullhorn might. Her style does not demand attention so much as it invites it through a distinctive intelligence and a warm, focused passion.
It’s also easy to tell this is her first book. The joy she takes in reading her words before a crowd is infectious, belying a newness to the process and to the text itself.
Fielding questions from the people in attendance, Seidl’s manner and message brings out a degree of honesty from the questioners not usually apparent at gatherings around the topic of global warming. Concerns about the expense involved in changing energy patterns at home. Requests for clarity about the climate and geologic history of the planet that might, to some, be interpreted as a tentative challenge to climate change mechanics, but that Seidl the researcher recognizes as genuine scientific curiosity.
As far as the particulars of her premise go, Seidl starts by saying nothing environmentalists haven’t heard before from others (or from themselves); the reality of climate change, the practical consensus among experts, and its inseverability from human-generated carbon – but her voice is uniquely personal. She is, in a sense, a scientist writing as the un-scientist – not in terms of her content, which is firmly grounded in research and empiricism, but in terms of the method she has chosen to communicate her message. Rather than leading with numbers, figures and data, she plants her message firmly in the personal, using the scientific as a supplement. Her writing is a series of narratives and ruminations around her own experience as an individual, as a member of a community, and as a mother. When her daughter enters the narrative, she moves to its center, contextualized against the changing environment, while the author herself becomes a supporting player.
Still, throughout her writing, the biology Phd wears her scientific foundation and technical training on her sleeve, and her wording is sprinkled with turns-of-phrase belying her academic background.
Seidl is concerned first and foremost with our individual perspective on, and role in, a greater view of life itself. It’s a view nested in a reverential aesthetic one would expect from an ecologist, but is also uniquely interlaced with an informed participant’s perspective on the process of evolution. The result is writing of a special beauty that feels at once subjectively personal and objectively concrete.
Seidl weaves narratives that flow seamlessly from her own perspective to that of members of her community, and to her children. At one point, her prose guides listeners from her perception of a caterpillar, to the caterpillar itself. It is a prose that flows almost organically, and without cleanly defined beginnings and endings. In this way, Seidl engages us in the conversation she has clearly been having with herself for some time, encompassing her role as mother and citizen, yet always placed within a bedrock of hard science. In fact, the real talent to her writing repeatedly shows itself when, just as the elegance of her narrative threatens to carry away listeners along its form at the expense of its message, Seidl picks the perfect moments to reground her listeners in the stark realities at the core of her book.
And it is the starkest reality of all that separates her book from the many others on the topic and makes it fundamentally different. Previous climate change discussions are universally situated against the context of prevention; of avoiding a carbon “tipping point” of no return, after which fundamental change to our environment cannot be avoided. To Seidl, that discussion is now moot. We have tipped and there is no going back. There is, of course, mitigating ongoing damage and minimizing its effects, but Seidl is here to tell us that the change is upon us regardless.
It’s a dark message, and yet Seidl accomplishes an amazing thing. She manages to deliver it in a way that is serious, but not fatalistic. Urgent, but not despairing. She reminds us that humankind has faced other, natural shifts in climate – and that some cultures have survived such transitions, and others have simply disappeared into extinction. Seidl the evolutionary biologist calls on us to recognize the empirical reality we face, and to learn from both types of cultures. Doing so highlights both the need and the approach to adapt our agriculture, energy use and lifestyle.
At the same time, Seidl the mother and storyteller calls on us to not simply accept the nature of our changing existence, but to internalize it. To define ourselves as individuals, as well as a species, that are in a period of evolution. Only by, as she says, “owning the meaning of this time” can we truly be prepared to survive the transition and make our destructive impact as minimal as possible.
Early Spring presents the urgent need for us to evolve or perish, and calls upon us to do so with a very human, personal – and reassuringly hopeful voice.