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wilsone8's review
adventurous
challenging
emotional
informative
inspiring
reflective
slow-paced
3.5
This is a fab book, but could be heavy at times as it's quite spiritual and at times jargon/stats heavy. But with the audiobook was really good and a lot more enjoyable!
Content Warnings
Moderate: Miscarriage
emk's review against another edition
adventurous
challenging
hopeful
informative
inspiring
reflective
sad
slow-paced
4.0
Content Warnings
Minor: Miscarriage and Abortion
emilyinherhead's review against another edition
adventurous
challenging
emotional
hopeful
informative
reflective
relaxing
slow-paced
4.0
This is a rambling nonfiction work that at its core is about the climate crisis. It covers loneliness, connection, mental and physical health, coronavirus, capitalism, nature, hiking, and more, but the larger aim is to connect all of it back to the health of our planet.
First, a couple of qualms (and the reason this wasn't a 5-star read for me):
• Sarah Wilson says some fat-phobic things that immediately made me bristle. I don't think her intention was to shame anyone, but rather to point out how capitalism and big corporations have damaged our health as individuals—and yet, her language around this leaves a lot to be desired. Weight does not equal fitness does not equal health. It's not a huge part of the book, but it did leave a sour taste in my mouth. If you're especially sensitive to this, step lightly.
• I also didn't love Wilson's sanctimonious tone regarding triggers and content warnings. She seems to see these as over-protective and coddling, and I strongly disagree. Attitudes like hers are harmful to folks who have experienced trauma and simply want a heads-up about certain subject matter so they can prepare themselves to interact with it. Even if she didn't intend to be condescending, this is how her words came across to me.
Despite these qualms, there was a lot in this book that I loved. Wilson has herself lived for a long time with anxiety and other mental illnesses, and many of her descriptions of how that feels really resonated with me. Her despair about the climate crisis and the cycle of worry-fear-powerlessness-paralysis was very familiar and relatable as well. As a wealthy, able-bodied white woman, she has a lot of privilege, which she acknowledges, and it's clear that much of what she says might not apply to everyone. But if you are in a place where you're able to devote time, money, and attention toward decreasing your own ecological footprint, you might find something helpful here.
The structure and tone are meandering and conversational, which can be off-putting at first, but this style was familiar to me from her previous book, First, We Make the Beast Beautiful. And while Wilson occasionally uses slang in weird ways ("how do you do, fellow kids?"), her writing can also be quite poignant and beautiful. I found myself pausing every few minutes to write down quotes. For example:
"That intertwined, despairing clusterfuck going on out there in the world is not the point. They're symptoms. Technology is an enabler. The erosion of democracy reflects our own separation. The climate crisis is an extension of our disconnect from life. And coronavirus exposed it all.
So here's the upshot. Life has been fundamentally interrupted and all of us here have been given the most glorious opportunity to take an inventory of it. We now have a choice — collectively and individually. We can go back to our old ways. Or we can move forward into something wild, mature and humanized."
I'd recommend this to readers who are worried about the state of things, struggling with a lack of connection, or doubting their direction—especially those who read and enjoyed First, We Make the Beast Beautiful. Just keep those caveats I listed at the beginning of this review in mind.
First, a couple of qualms (and the reason this wasn't a 5-star read for me):
• Sarah Wilson says some fat-phobic things that immediately made me bristle. I don't think her intention was to shame anyone, but rather to point out how capitalism and big corporations have damaged our health as individuals—and yet, her language around this leaves a lot to be desired. Weight does not equal fitness does not equal health. It's not a huge part of the book, but it did leave a sour taste in my mouth. If you're especially sensitive to this, step lightly.
• I also didn't love Wilson's sanctimonious tone regarding triggers and content warnings. She seems to see these as over-protective and coddling, and I strongly disagree. Attitudes like hers are harmful to folks who have experienced trauma and simply want a heads-up about certain subject matter so they can prepare themselves to interact with it. Even if she didn't intend to be condescending, this is how her words came across to me.
Despite these qualms, there was a lot in this book that I loved. Wilson has herself lived for a long time with anxiety and other mental illnesses, and many of her descriptions of how that feels really resonated with me. Her despair about the climate crisis and the cycle of worry-fear-powerlessness-paralysis was very familiar and relatable as well. As a wealthy, able-bodied white woman, she has a lot of privilege, which she acknowledges, and it's clear that much of what she says might not apply to everyone. But if you are in a place where you're able to devote time, money, and attention toward decreasing your own ecological footprint, you might find something helpful here.
The structure and tone are meandering and conversational, which can be off-putting at first, but this style was familiar to me from her previous book, First, We Make the Beast Beautiful. And while Wilson occasionally uses slang in weird ways ("how do you do, fellow kids?"), her writing can also be quite poignant and beautiful. I found myself pausing every few minutes to write down quotes. For example:
"That intertwined, despairing clusterfuck going on out there in the world is not the point. They're symptoms. Technology is an enabler. The erosion of democracy reflects our own separation. The climate crisis is an extension of our disconnect from life. And coronavirus exposed it all.
So here's the upshot. Life has been fundamentally interrupted and all of us here have been given the most glorious opportunity to take an inventory of it. We now have a choice — collectively and individually. We can go back to our old ways. Or we can move forward into something wild, mature and humanized."
I'd recommend this to readers who are worried about the state of things, struggling with a lack of connection, or doubting their direction—especially those who read and enjoyed First, We Make the Beast Beautiful. Just keep those caveats I listed at the beginning of this review in mind.
Content Warnings
Moderate: Ableism and Fatphobia
Minor: Infertility, Miscarriage, Panic attacks/disorders, and Abortion