Catalogues

For a couple of years, for the book I wrote about the impending death of my mother, I also made notes of the sometimes terrible and terrifying, sometimes merely troubling forebodings of the future, climate change events I read about in newspapers. To make a catalogue of such happenings, to pay attention in this collective way, is habit-forming. In the book, the intimations of such warnings of dire happenings play along my sense of disbelief that my mother would soon die. It seems bigger than we can believe, to process how dire our anthropocenic times are, but to not believe also robs us of the hope inherent in paying attention, and stopping, to say Enough! to the politicans and billionares who profit from not making the changes we still can make to ensure a liveable planet for our children and grandchildren, and for all the non human entities who suffer daily from our action/inactions.

I return again to this cataloguing, this paying attention because how can any of us ignore it anymore? Three things, this week, in case you hadn’t read about them yourself (and honestly, who can blame anyone for turning away from the daily news in this moment in time? It is so, so much to digest.):

In France yesterday, 40 people drowned, trying to escape the highest temperatures since their temperature-keeping records began (at the fairly late date of 1947). These are temperatures of 40 degrees Celsius, in Western Europe and the UK.

“More than 150 of Australia’s native and unique bird species have been assessed as being at “very high risk” of extinction or major decline if they catch the deadly H5N1 bird flu strain, with Western Australia’s celebrated black swans among the most susceptible.” Graham Redfern and Lisa Fox, The Guardian 23.06.26

And, mere dozens of cuttlefish have turned up to mate in South Australia’s Spencer Gulf, an event usually attracting thousands and sometimes hundreds of thousands of cuttlefish. Scientists say this is almost certainly a result of South Australia’s devastating toxic algal bloom. The toxic algal bloom was what was occurring as I finished writing my book about anticipatory grief*.

I don’t know what we are supposed to do, but not looking away seems important. As does self-care.

Meanwhile, I keep daring to hope that I can write a novel. I keep up a reading practice. So many truly wonderful books this year. It just doesn’t stop, and I am very grateful. In this month of June, the one-year anniversary of my mother’s death, I needed these particularly special, beautiful books, Elizabeth Strout, Anne Patchett and Maggie O’Farrell (what a feast of a gorgeous book Land is!). These books (and so many more) remind me of what beautiful, strong and powerful things writing and books till are.

There are six days left to put entries in for High Country Words, in the categories of memoir/life writing, short story, and poetry. I am so looking forward to reading the entries. There is, of course, still time; if you have something that might be tied to the theme of ‘Wild’, we would love to see it!

Edited to add, I have been watching A Woman of Substance on Binge, based on the Barbara Taylor Bradford epic, starring the imitable Brenda Blethyn, and it reminded me so much of my Mum’s bookstacks, these doorstops, on which I cut my reading teeth. In our garage I possess her final such catalogue of books, ready to go to the second-hand bookshop here, though I will hold on just a little bit longer, and I still think if I picked up the book A Woman of Substance that I would love every minute of reading it. As long as I’m recommending things to watch, though, the remake of a remake of Cape Fear on Apple TV right now, directed by Martin Scorsese and produced by Steven Spielberg. OMG. So very good! It even has Juliette Lewis in a minor role, and Javier Bardem is there to give you the willies like nothing else as Max. Trust me, do yourself a favour.

*Said book, Preludes for an Ending, is currently looking for a home.