In our current times of self-isolation it seems like digital media has become ever more important. Publishers are now realising the physical dependence of their products and are resorting to digital technologies in order to continue their business and are offering digital alternatives for their customers – to the unfortunate detriment of brick-and-mortar bookshops as the seriousness of the virus and the imposed lockdown is disrupting their usual business practices.

Trigger warning: this post contains discussion of the current climate crisis. If this is something that bothers you or contributes to your anxiety, you might want to exit this post. The term eco-anxiety was just recently accepted by the American Psychological Association in 2017 as a definer for the ‘chronic fear of environmental doom’ which is now felt by a considerable size of the world’s populations, both in the southern and northern hemispheres. This eco-anxiety stems, in grand part, from the increasing alarmism reported by the news media and the abuse of headline-grabbing threats of an environmental apocalypse that make people feel hopeless and panicked about their future on our planet. Like news media and journalism, books are also susceptible to the dangerous use of alarmism to cover such difficult topics, as is the environmental threat to our planet.

Almost a decade ago, a concerning report came out revealing a harsh decline of ‘nature’ content in children’s books. These presented a widespread representation of built environments and domesticated or anthropomorphised animals, rendering natural environments and wild animals invisible in children’s literature. In the report it was argued that the worrying phenomenon was due to the increased use of screens which were isolating people from the natural world and were causing a decline in general environmental concern. However, this increased connectivity might be the reason why in the last year there has been a radical change in children’s book publishing in regards to the environmental subject matter.

Despite the societal and economic collapse and the harrowing losses of life that has brought with it this unprecedented pandemic, it has been noticed by the environmentally concerned that there is a bright side to this story that is worth illuminating and sharing. With countries going into lockdown and the reduction of industrial activity and motorised transportation, there has been a noticeable change in the emissions of nitrogen dioxide and drastic drops in pollution rates have been reported throughout the continents of Europe and Asia. Moreover, some of the countries in lockdown have been experiencing a return of animals to areas which were previously too overcrowded with tourists or moving vehicles.

With the increasing spread and damage of this new mutation of coronavirus, people are being forced to stay at home and abandon their usual day-to-day activities. This period of impending self-isolation is particularly dangerous especially for people’s mental health as most individuals see themselves separated from their families and friends, and are unable to leave their homes unless for essential activities. As a result, levels of high stress and anxiety are being experienced on a global scale.

As discussed in the previous blog post, there is a specific stereotype of a ‘white male persona venturing into the wilderness away from the city and urban life’ that has been traditionally – and is still – constantly promoted throughout the nature writing genre. The belief that to find one’s truer, more authentic self one has to venture outside the limits of what constitutes urban life is plastered on page after page in these tomes, to then be bound in colourful leafy covers depicting forests and jungles. But what about the edgelands?

Whenever one thinks of nature writing, the image that one conjures up in their minds is that of the privileged white male environmentalist narrating his observations of a romanticised landscape, or, on the other hand, running into the wilderness where he can spend time reconnecting with his truer, more visceral and authentic, self. Whilst this voyeuristic conception of nature writing satiates our thirst for escapism from our everyday urban lives, we must reconcile ourselves with the idea that there is an underlying privilege to this formulaic narrative and a marginalisation of other diverse voices sharing a different experience of nature – if only to prevent the falling into irrelevance, and to ensure the endurance of nature writing as a genre.

Given the globalised and over-polluted times we live in, the climate crisis has inevitably become the ‘background hum that won’t go away’ to contemporary nature writing – as expressed recently by recognised poet Simon Armitage. This has and continues to influence the work of authors who are now having to balance and question their responsibility to record their environmental experiences and the bigger ecological dilemma in their writing.

It has been recently reported that Bertelsmann, the international media company, the parent company to Penguin Random House, announced its intention to drastically reduce its greenhouse emissions in its aim to become climate neutral by 2030. This has resurfaced the debate and general concern within the publishing industry of its practices that are damaging to the environment and its carbon footprint. Furthermore, with the current ecological and nature book publishing trends, it is becoming increasingly obvious and important that the industry incorporates these ideas into its business models.

With the increasing industrialisation of our society and the rise of new technologies and social media, it might come as a surprise the recent literary boom that nature writing is experiencing. This literary boom has led to the denomination of a new movement within the genre: the New Nature Writing movement. This new movement brings with it the delicacy of language and acute observation found in old-style nature writing, and promises a re-imagination of ourselves into purer, more authentic, beings in touch with nature; breaking down the shackles of our concrete jungles and running free into the wild, English countryside.