What to Read Next: The Case for Joy and Optimism

Issue #347, featuring Leif Enger and Noah Strycker

A Brandt's Cormorant with a Juvenile Crowned Night Heron, by Joris Hoefnagel, late 1500s. I saw plenty of both of these birds during our family trip to Moss Landing, CA this summer.

Happy Friday, readers!

Finally, finally, there’s a bit of autumn in the air here in Colorado. Even with highs in the 80s, there’s a coolness in the breeze that wasn’t there a week ago. Pumpkin beer is on hand and I’m ready for it, that’s for sure.

Today’s books heavily feature nature, in all its beautiful and sometimes terrible glory. The first is a new novel by an author I’ve long been meaning to read and the second is a non-fiction book about my new favorite hobby. I thoroughly enjoyed both of them.

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I Cheerfully Refuse by Leif Enger

Minnesotan author Leif Enger has been on my TBR for quite a while, so when I received a copy of his new book, I Cheerfully Refuse, I knew it was time to dive in. Of course it helped when a couple of readers pointed to this title in our acopalyptic books discussion last week.

Set in an unsettlingly vague dystopian future, mid-thirties couple Rainy and Lark are just trying to survive and bring a small measure of joy to their little town on the shores of Lake Superior. It soon becomes evident that the crumbling world will have a lot to say about their future. Eventually, Rainy is forced to embark on a hair-raising sailing voyage across the great lake.

There’s definitely a pastoral quality to the book that reminded me of authors like Wendell Berry, Kent Haruf, and Marilynne Robinson. Enger shines a spotlight on humble people, simple living, and the almost-sentient landscape.

Where I Cheerfully Refuse sets itself apart is in its equally dark qualities. The future that Enger paints is one of illiteracy, designer drugs (for both escape and subservience), freak storms, and an unbridgeable gap between rich and poor. It’s not spelled out how humanity arrived at this dystopia—which will surely annoy some of you—but the path was not really the point.

Enger’s chief aim, as I read it, is to show us that it’s always worth fighting for hope and optimism, despite the hardships and impossible battles that surround us. This line, in particular, is one I’m not soon going to forget:

“our job always and forever was to refuse Apocalypse in all its forms and work cheerfully against it.”

Despite its sometimes dire scenes, I Cheerfully Refuse is ultimately an ode towards embracing and foolishly fighting for the beautiful things in life rather than the dour: laughter, books, nature, people, baked goods, parties, wasted time.

I cheerfully refuse . . . to give in to despair and pessicism.

I cheerfully refuse . . . to cater to apocalyptic thinking, in whatever form it takes.

I cheerfully refuse . . . to always be perfectly practical.

I’m looking forward to reading more Leif Enger and I’m happy to recommend I Cheerfully Refuse to a wide range of readers.

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The Thing With Feathers by Noah Strycker

Most everyone who’s interacted with me in the last handful of months has heard something bird-related come out of my mouth—whether it’s identifying their calls on a walk, randomly sharing a cool fact (did you know: magpies are one of the few creatures besides humans who can recognize their own reflection!), or abruptly interrupting a conversation to follow a bird’s flight.

In the midst of a particularly stressful period at work, birding has become a delightful, anxiety-relieving diversion. Requiring nothing more than heading out on a trail with a pair of binoculars, it’s an activity that rewards meandering with no particular destination in mind. Stopping to carefully observe and listen is far more fruitful than rushing and keeping your eyes down.

As I always do when a new interest takes hold, I went to the books. First up: Noah Strycker’s 2014 love letter to the striking, jaw-dropping beauty of our winged friends.

Each chapter covers a specific bird and what it is about that bird that sets it apart not only within the avian category but among the wider animal kingdom, too.

Though not quite as good as Ed Yong’s An Immense World (read my review here), the books are similar in that The Thing With Feathers opened my eyes to a new layer of the natural world. I’m not likely to ever again walk outside in ignorance of the birds around me.

Even the common backyard birds that I hear and spot all around town—Blue Jays, House Finches, Black-Capped Chickadees, Northern Flickers, American Crows, etc., etc.—feel more miraculous and magical after reading The Thing With Feathers.

If you have any interest in reading about the natural world, this is a lovely book that is sure to stick with you. If nothing else, it’s guaranteed to supply you with more astonishing bird facts than you’ll know what to do with. Be prepared to annoy your friends and family.

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Thanks so much for reading. I deeply appreciate you.

-Jeremy