What emerged as most important for my novel was the utopian non-fiction of the 1970s, books which I think were a manifestation of the hippie generation growing up, beginning to have kids and trying to plan how to live the ideals of the revolutionary sixties. These books made quite a bookshelf: The Integral Urban House, Progress as if Survival Mattered, Small is Beautiful, Muddling Toward Frugality, Appropriate Technology and so on. They are still worth reading, but they were all unaware of the coming Reagan/Thatcher counter-revolution, which would render them largely irrelevant in the following decade. ... They would make a portrait of the hopes of that era similar to the portrait created by the era’s science fiction; the two literatures would be complementary.I was really struck by this, because these are two of my favorite genres. I love utopian/dystopian science fiction (the distinction between utopian and dystopian is often not at all clear, and one person's utopia is another's hell), and I have this irrational love for those crazy 1970s books that littered the house when I was a kid, with their brown and tan covers and line drawing illustrations (example; another). The nonfiction dystopian books of that time, like The Population Bomb, haven't aged as well, now that we have mostly safely made it past their predicted apocalypses. But the utopian books, especially the shelter and appropriate technology how-to guides, have a charm that is, if not timeless, at least not at all dissonant with the present.
Is utopia art enough?
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I'd also add that while decarbonizing is nice, it's only a small picture of the impending-environmental-catastrophe puzzle. If we stop dumping carbon in the air but keep dumping nitrogen in the sea, we're just as screwed.
posted by mek at 6:40 PM on December 22, 2011 [1 favorite]