ENVIRONMENTAL STORIES

Defining “environmental stories” is like trying to hold dark matter in your hand, or knowing the national debt. Or it’s like Janet Malcolm trying to profile the artist, David Salle. Meaning, it’s a little mysterious, hard to put in a box or wrestle into a paragraph because the word “environment” itself contains pretty much everything. But we’ll try. In the simplest terms we can muster,

Environmental stories investigate, illuminate, and interpret relationships between and amid living beings and non-living beings and their surroundings.

Science writing, nature writing, climate writing, environmental justice writing, investigative journalism— all important genres—but are not necessarily what we consider an environmental story.

Environmental stories can contain science, or thoughts about nature, but they must contain a story at their heart. For example, we love insects, and books that explain the habits and lives of insects—but we don’t consider them environmental stories. If these insects, for example, ruled the rainforests and spoke a language that a hungover trapper started to learn as he exorcised his alcoholism, as Rafael Bernal’s 1947 book, His Name Was Death does, that’s more in line with our aims. (Translated from Spanish by Kit Schluter). Or The Wall by Marlen Haushofer/ translated by Shaun Whiteside. Or Convenience Store Woman by Sayaka Murata. Or Night of the Living Rez by Morgan Talty. We’ve listed more titles on our Bookshop.org page. The similarities between works like these is that they contain plot, characters, structure, adjectives, and hold emotions like love, loathing, jealousy. They can contain facts, but ask more questions than answers they provide. They have beginnings, middles, and ends that don’t always follow a traditional timeline. They combine the best of all the other kinds of environmental texts.

Environmental stories connect us with each other, or reinforce empathy, compassion, generosity, and cooperation. They connect the dots between the past and present. They ignite imagination and curiosity. They can fit in the palm of your hand or lodge itself in some small place in your throat or your heart. Environmental stories can make bridges instead of moats.