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Tuesday, September 15, 2020

Net Loss: The High Price Of Salmon Farming, by Mark Kurlansky, The Guardian

When a fish is in crisis, the public wants to blame the fishermen. It is preferable to blaming ourselves. But a fish whose only problem was overfishing, a fish stock that could be saved simply by a ban on all commercial fishing, would be very rare. It would be an enviably easy problem to fix.

The salmon is as magnificent an animal as anything on the Serengeti – beautiful in its many phases; thrilling in its athleticism; moving in its strength, determination and courage – and it would be a tragedy if it were to disappear. All that is true, but a more important point is that if the salmon does not survive, there is little hope for the survival of the planet.

The Pandemic Reminded Me Life Is Short And The Best Thing To Do Is Live It, by Maggie Smith, The Guardian

In many ways, Covid changed the stakes. It reminded me that life is short and the best thing I can do is live it – not endure it, but really live it. Even though days in isolation often feel very long, this life is a one-off. It’s not ideal, but it’s all we have.

Review: The Long-awaited Followup To 'Jonathan Strange" Is Even More Magically Immersive, by Hillary Kelly, Los Angeles Times

Clarke has explained that chronic fatigue syndrome kept her from embarking on another 800-plus page enterprise. But “Piranesi,” out this week after 16 years between novels, is a little imp of a book that packs a punch several times its (relatively) meager page count. I’d worried that, all these years later, Clarke might have grown timid, seeking a breather from all the grand historical world-building. Instead, she creates a dazzling world of infinite fascination inside the musings of one very simple man.

In Jorie Graham’s Poetry, The End Of Days And The Pleasures Of The Flow, by Jeff Gordinier, New York Times

From its opening page until its final lines, Graham’s 15th collection of poetry has the heightened urgency of a young writer’s debut. True to its title, it hurtles forward. Poems pour forth, frothing and pooling and threatening, at times, to overflow their banks.

The Falling, by Laura Scott, The Guardian

all those girls
their paper knees
folding under them