Abstract #4

[Jay Jay]

Sweet, Timothy.  “Projecting Early American Environmental Writing.”  Early American Literature.  45.2 (2010): 403-16.  MLA International Bibliography.  Web.  23 June 2011.

In order to successfully connect the concerns of early American environmental writing with the issues of later periods, Timothy Sweet proposes three different models: the contrastive model, the early American origins model, and the environmentally inflected origins model.  The essay addresses the concept of ecological-economics theory as a filter for these three models.  Eco-economic theory takes into account the differences of human-made capital and natural capital, unlike neoclassical economic theory.  Additionally, eco-economics makes a distinction between pastoral and georgic: pastoral is based on human alienation from nature and requires a “movement of retreat and return,” whereas georgic denies this movement because it claims we never left nature.  Sweet states “place-connectedness, regional identity, and the moral value of ‘nature’” can be located within the early American pastoral’s literary legacy (423).  Nostalgia can be revealed through a biogeographical approach because it takes into account  a global context, including America’s legacy of European colonization and its relationship to our growth narrative of “land of abundance” (425).  Sweet concludes with the necessity of aaplying the biogeographical frame to the field of natural history because American colonists utilized the genre.  The genre of natural history has since evolved to accommodate paradigm shifts in the ensuing centuries, including the shifting boundary between literary and nonliterary/subliterary.

Research Abstract: Searching for Sustainability in Early American Literature

[Blake's Abstract # 5]

Philippon, Daniel J. “Is Early American Environmental Writing Sustainable? A Response to Timothy Sweet.” Early American Literature 45.2 (2010): 417-23. MLA International Bibliography. Web. 30 June 2011.

Daniel J. Philippon says issues which Timothy Sweet raises in his article “Projecting Early American Environmental Writing” and his book American Georgics: Economy and Environment in Early American Literature deserve more critical attention because exploring ways in which humans and nonhumans can work together towards a sustainable future is increasingly relevant.  Critical studies of nonhuman nature is now accepted and expected among academics addressing cultural concerns.  Also, addressing environmental concerns from an academic perspective is relevant because a lack of sustainable living practices damages the environment and prospects for human and nonhuman survival.

Philipon identifies Sweet’s central concerns as determining what early American literature can add to ecocriticism and discovering how early American paradigms can help the ecocritical cause today.  Philippon argues that the humanities—including studies of early American literature—are as important to the ecocritical cause as the sciences because human behavior and beliefs are at the root of the damage to the environment; therefore, to truly find solutions to our environmental problems we must examine ourselves, our definition of “human,” and ultimately change our behaviors.  Looking back at early American writing is valuable to ecocritics because they can study trends in human behavior towards the environment and beliefs about nature over time and across the space of geography. 

Philipon notes that Sweet purposes a georgic focus, as opposed to a pastoral focus, for ecocritical analysis of early American texts in order to expose the fact that our economic system relies on ecological capabilities for its success.  However, Philipon cautions against prioritizing the economic oriented environment because it creates a hierarchy, which reduces the importance of noneconomic nature.  In this light, a georgic orientation seems reductive because all elements of sustainability must be addressed; in addition to economic concerns, social and ecological ones must be addressed as well.  For example, asking who are the labors working on the land and who else is affected by this labor can be one way of investigating economic justice perspectives.  Asking what role religious arguments for sustainability have in the ecocritical cause further necessarily complicate the georgic perspective by engaging with Puritan and Quaker philosophy. 

 While Sweet says that exploring the reoccurrence of beliefs about nature throughout history is important, Philipon adds that addressing the changing context in which these similar ideas are presented in is vital.  For example, technology is a contextual factor that must be taken into account when examining attitudes about nature because it not only transmits these beliefs but shapes them.  Technology is even valuable to the ecocritical because it can aid in the transmission of solutions for sustainable living.  In conclusion, Philipon admits that if Americans do still operate from a colonial paradigm, like Sweet believes, then ecocritical analysis of early American texts can reveal much about our current eco-economic relationships.  

Bartram the Gator-hater Update

After some old-fashioned research (well, not really—there was no card catalogue involved) I uncovered the 1998 naturalist edition of The Travels of William Bartram.  I compared this recent version with a micro film copy of the original text and the preface, introduction, commentary, and edited appendix seem to be the only editions; the original text reads the same. 

I opened Travels with the expectation of finding more (literal) animal bashing.  Based on the excerpt of Bartram’s travels in my undergraduate Early American Literature Anthology, I thought I could prove that though Bartram saw the natives with an unusually un-colonial eye he viewed nature as something to be conquered.  However, as far as I have read into this lengthy text I have only encountered Bartram’s deep appreciation and scientific observation of nature.  Bartram records his experience of Florida in great detail, even noting that “the Live Oaks are of an astonishing magnitude” and observing “the plunging and roaring of the crocodiles, and the croaking of the frogs” at night (54; 57). 

Though I do see how Bartram’s text can be used to further the pastoral myth that nature is America’s cultural capital.  At one point, he pauses to describe the land is a “retired spot of earth . . . where the wandering Seminole, the naked red warrior, roams at large . . .  sublime enchanting scenes of primitive nature . . . visions of terrestrial happiness” (69).  Though this passage uses the myth of the noble savage, it does what Bartram seems to do throughout his travel journal—actually view the land as other than empty. 

Though he sees Florida as a lush landscape, he does not stress that it is ready for colonization.  His tone is surprisingly genuine.  For example, when he remarks that “It is really astonishing to behold the Grape-Vines in this place,” I believe the excitement in his narrative voice (56). 

My findings lead me to realize that the excerpt chosen for the anthology seem to be the exception to a text full of nature-loving prose (I still need to finish the 300 page text).  Why was this one passage where it appears that Bartram has a dominating attitude towards nature used to represent the entire work in an anthology?  I believe that the alligator passage is not representative of the text as a whole and actually conveys Bartram as having a colonizing and superior attitude about nature.  However, once observing the rest of the text, I really do not think this is true.  Then, it seems that my problem is not with Bartram’s text but with the anthology.  Though they introduce Bartram as a naturalist and as respectful to natives the passage chosen seems to indicate otherwise.  I need know why this passage was chosen.  Was it chosen because the editors thought the sensational battle with alligators would intrigue undergraduates?  Did they realize that it is not representational of Bartram’s attitude about nature as a whole?

As an undergraduate, I certainly finished that passage thinking Bartram was a masculine explorer out to conquer nature and take no names.  I was sad for the alligator that he shot and viewed his “exploration” as invasion.  If the editors really wanted to show that Bartram was the patient naturalist (a more feminine profession in early America) they should not have chosen this passage.  I am excited to read the peer-reviewed articles that I requested through interlibrary loan to see what other scholars have said about Bartram. 

Well, I have finished my post and not even discussed this week’s reading.  I will post my formal reading response tomorrow.  Here is a preview:  

Nina Baym, in her book Woman’s Fiction: A Guide to Novels by and about Women in America 1820-70 describes writers of woman’s fiction as envisioning many different ideal relationships with nature.  The most interesting writers are the women who “imagined the new West as the eventual locale of garden cities, wherein urban life preserved greenery and natural pace of the country” (46).  Could these texts contain early American women imagining a respectful relationship between humans and nature? Could I find early American women engaging with concepts that for their time were eco-conscience?

~Stay Gator friendly ;-)

Weekly Reading Response #1

[Jay Jay]

Buell, Lawrence.  The Environmental Imagination: Thoreau, Nature Writing, and the Formation of American Culture.  Cambridge: Belknap Press, 1995.  Print.

Chapters read:

• “Introduction”
• “Pastoral Ideology”
• “New World Dreams and Environmental Actualities”
• “Representing the Environment”

In the introduction, Buell outlines three broad topics his book, The Environmental Imagination, will cover: environmental perception, the place of nature in the history of Western thought, and the consequences of imagining a more “ecocentric” way of being (1).  While we’re not reading the entire book, the sections that we’ve selected did an excellent job of covering a little bit of each of these three topics.  Rather than go through the chapters point by point, I’ll be pulling out the highlights that grabbed my attention.

Buell speaks about “environmental double-think” in America, illustrating the ways in which Americans and our culture is both nature-loving and resource-consuming at the same time (4).  We are able to enact these two contrasting ways of life because we compartmentalize our actions.  I’m sure each of us could provide examples of this environmental double-think from our own personal lives.  For example, my washer and dryer is certified energy efficient, but I’ll toss something in the dryer for 5 minutes to de-wrinkle instead of ironing it, which would be way more energy efficient.

What I loved about Buell’s book is the historical aspect; Buell provides a history of American literature in order to expose and explain the relationships that have been built between literature, theory, genre, and the environment.  The construction of American literature has actually occurred three times, something that to be honest, I had given very little thought about.  Buell describes the three constructions as follows: constructed in the image of old world desire, reconstructed in the image of American cultural nationalism, and finally, reconstructed in the image of American exceptionalism (5-6).  The idea of, and construction of American literature did not happen in a vacuum, and we must take into account influences from Europe.

Buell provides four criteria of an environmental text, describing it as a “rough” check list.  I’m including it here because I think it will be an invaluable tool for Blake and I throughout this course in identifying appropriate primary texts.

1. The nonhuman environment is present not merely as a framing device but as a presence that begins to suggest that human history is implicated in natural history.
2. The human interest is not understood to be the only legitimate interest.
3. Human accountability to the environment is part of the text’s ethical orientation.
4. Some sense of the environment as a process rather than as a constant or a given is at least implicit in the text.

As you can see, the list is rather short and it also illustrates, as Buell points out, how inclusive or exclusive the idea of “environmental” as a category can be.  It would be a mistake to say that all of an author’s works automatically fall within the category of environmental text—instead, scholars must look at an author’s works one by one and decide on an individual basis whether or not it meets enough of the above criteria.

The double-edged sword of new world pastoral writing: How do we truly “see” nature? (Weekly Reading Response #1)

As I sit down to write my findings for this week, I had to fight the urge to walk two blocks down and take pictures of the Crane family that frequents the retention pond near my apartments.  I am pretty sure they are Snadhill Cranes, and the little brown baby that stands only half the height of his parents’ legs is adorable. 

After writing this post, I had to go out and snap a shot of the crane family (http://www.allaboutbirds.org/ says they form mated pairs).  I was excited to find that there are actually two babies.  I worry about them living so close to a busy street, but aparently they have a long fossil record.  The crane family was across the street from their normal pond looking for what might be bugs, roots, or worms to snack on. 

Does it matter what humans call the animals around us? Certainly not to the animals.  So, it is harmless then for humans to use the power of language to name, divide, and classify the natural worlds around us—well, not really.  Buell describes the genre of New World pastoral writing as prose that “promotes the idea of vast territories of the actual globs subsisting under the sign of nature” (54).  This again sounds like a harmless thought that might even inspire ecocritical thought.  We live in nature.  However Buell says New World pastoral writing also, “lays the groundwork for developing the myth of the land as properly unspoiled, a myth that can give shape and impetus to more recent environmental restoration projects” (54).  Buell goes on to say that “contemporary new world pastoralists,” or modern environmentalists are challenged by needing to overcome this myth, the “green world, a dream, a concept” (55).   Basically, the danger of new world pastoral is that the colonizers of early America used it to describe the American landscape as a form of cultural capital, and this lead to the writers not seeing the actual environment that was there but instead what they imagined was there; Buell calls this “the aesthetics of the not-there” (68). 

Laura commented on my post from last week that it seems like William Bartram never actually saw the gators that he sketched.  I think her instincts were right on.  Bartram, who Buell says was writing settler pastoral travel non-fiction, imposed his imagined green dream on the landscape and his dragon-like vision emerged. 

There is a doubled edged-sword that seems to characterize new world pastoral writing though.  The writers are appreciating nature and lauding its beauty, but because they are looking at the world through colonizers’ eyes they see new lands as “empty” and ready to be filled by their classifications and interpretations.  The world is non-existent until the colonizer looks upon it and names it. 

Photo of William Bartram's drawing “View of the Alegator [sic] Hole,” 1790. Bartram’s note:

“Location of this sink was near the ancient Indian village and trading station of Talahasochte”

Image from www.floridamemory.com

So, yes writers like Bartram appreciate nature, but they are trapped in the colonizer’s ideology.  Bartram thought he was doing a good thing by categorizing and naming the Florida fauna, flora, and animals, but wasn’t he just colonizing it with his words?  Buell says that Bartram’s Travels in Florida, “is conquest in the guise of passive observation” (62).  I am not sure I would describe killing alligators as passive.  I still need to read the full text to make my final judgment.  Does Bartram kill other animals because they were in his way?  Buell mentions a snake that he had to kill, but I get the feeling that scholars who view Bartram as a one of the more sensitive, eco-friendly early American travel writers have excused some of his behavior toward nature because he was writing trapped in the colonial ideology.  But why excuse him and make excuses?      

I have personally been sucked in by the modern pastoral myth of a sublime, pure, green world unspoiled by humans.  However, I am beginning to try to see the “real” nature beyond this modern environmental rhetoric—though if it convinces people to be more responsible I am not sure it is a bad thing like Buell seems to suggest.  Is the crane family any less “natural” or pure because they like to fish and nest in the local retention pond?  I don’t think so. 

The retention pond that the crane family frequents most often.  They also like the park across the street and another pond next to a Walgreens.

This brings me back to Bartram and his Alligators.  I was surprised as I read more of Buell that he uses Bartram’s text as an example of early American non-conquest oriented pastoral writing. He claims, “Bartram’s excitement by the sense that the country in which he finds himself really seems like a pastoral Eden (despite mosquitoes and alligators) converts his intellectual ambitiousness into a defense of the region’s integrity, not an apologia for conquest” (63).  Buell focuses on how Bartram describes the Creeks and Seminoles with the same respect as the while settlers.  Ok, I see that, but what about how he describes the land, the animals?  He seems to have that “man is greater than nature; so, I have a right to be master of it” attitude.  Buell offers Bartram’s non-conquest pastoral writing and ingenious pastoral writing (used “as a weapon against cultural dominance” as alternate examples to the colonizing potential of new world pastoral writing.  I am just not ready to accept this until I explore the text more.  I fell that Bartram has an instrumentalist attitude (nature is to be used as an instrument for man’s benefit) that needs to be acknowledged.  I am not sure what this means for the text as a whole, or how scholars should look at new world pastoral writing differently.

Oryx and Crake Tangent

While reading Buell, I could not help but think of Oryx and Crake.  I have a feeling this will happen often because I spent last semester writing three lengthy papers on the novel and giving two presentations on it.  Anyway, I am now convinced that Crake’s problem is that despite his mathematical, scientific mind he wholeheartedly believes in a green dream, of nature unspoiled by humans and that is why he is driven to do what he does (I won’t give spoilers).  Also, I think this is why he insisted that the “perfect” humans that he created should all have green eyes.  It is a symbolic gesture—a  message that he wants them to see the world with green sight.