Alison Oatman

A Glimpse of Things to Come?

January 10, 2018 by Alison Oatman Leave a Comment

A little over a month ago, my cousin woke me up in the middle of the night. She led me outside where the horizon was in flames. Neighbors were milling about on the street in their bathrobes. Careful not to wake her girls, I returned to my bedroom to retrieve the two most precious things inside: my cat and my computer. Then began the big wait: should we evacuate or stay put? The girls slept through the night and the adults (their parents and I) fretted away the immediate hours, and then the days, and then the weeks. Everything smelled of ash and we took to wearing surgical masks. School was cancelled indefinitely. The television anchors spoke with urgency at first and then, when the initial excitement was over, their speech patterns slackened.

I had moved to California at the beginning of October with the intentionally vague fear of earthquakes (a.k.a. The Big One).

Now, today, the rain fell with a vengeance, killing at least thirteen people in our area.

Whenever I get down about climate change and the way the planet will probably shake the human race off like a coat of fleas, I then think (like a know-it-all Buddhist) that all we ever had was the present moment anyway. What’s right here, right now.

As Milan Kundera once wrote, “There would seem to be nothing more obvious, more tangible and palpable than the present moment. And yet it eludes us completely. All the sadness of life lies in that fact.”

Amen.

Environmental Article of the Day: “Going Negative” by Elizabeth Kolbert

November 20, 2017 by Alison Oatman Leave a Comment

In the November 20th edition of “The New Yorker,” Elizabeth Kolbert asks if carbon-monoxide removal can save the world:

Carbon-monoxide removal is, potentially, a trillion-dollar enterprise because it offers a way not just to slow down the rise in CO2 but to reverse it. The process is sometimes referred to as “negative emissions”: instead of adding carbon to the air, it subtracts it. Carbon-renewal plants could be built anywhere, or everywhere. Construct enough of them and, in theory at least, CO2 emissions could continue unabated and still we could avert calamity. Depending on how you look at things, the technology represents either the ultimate insurance policy or the ultimate moral hazard.

Is this technological innovation our last chance? Or is it foolhardy to put faith in a “quick fix”–simply because it would require immediate action on a global scale?

One of the reasons we’ve made so little progress on climate change he (the physicist Klaus Lackner) contends, is that the issue has acquired an ethical charge, which has polarized people. To the extent that emissions are seen as bad, emitters become guilty. “Such a moral stance makes virtually everyone a sinner, and makes hypocrites out of many who are concerned about climate change but still partake in the benefits of modernity,” he has written. Charging the paradigm, Lackner believes, will change the conversation. If CO2 is treated as just another form of waste, which has to be disposed of, when people can stop arguing about whether it’s a problem and finally start doing something.

If carbon monoxide were viewed as just another waste product such as sewage or garbage, we could turn this mental deadlock around. After all, “We don’t expect people to stop producing waste. (‘Rewarding people for going to the bathroom less would be nonsensical,’ Lackner has observed.) At the same time, we don’t let them shit on the sidewalk or toss their empty yogurt containers into the street.”

Spend It, Shoot It, Play It, Lose It

August 2, 2017 by Alison Oatman Leave a Comment

And don’t, let me beg you, go with that awful tourist idea that Italy’s only a museum of antiquities and art. Love and understand the Italian people, for the people are more marvelous than the land.

…And I do believe that Italy really purifies and ennobles all who visit her. She is the school as well as the playground of the world.

–Philip Herriton in E.M. Forster’s novel “Where Angels Fear to Tread”

Philip Herriton is in desperate need of a drenching rain to strip away all of his petty niceties. In the Italian, he sees a sort of coarse, tobacco-spitting “noble savage” who awakens a keen sense of pleasure in all those who come to his shores. (It is unclear whether the cringe-worthy depictions of Italians in the book belong entirely to the author himself.) “You’re without passion; you look on life as a spectacle; you don’t enter it; you only find it funny or beautiful,” a character says to Philip at the end of the book.

I have a great quote on my fridge: “Spend it all, shoot it, play it, lose it, all, right away, every time. Do not hoard what seems good for a later place. Assume you write for an audience consisting solely of terminal patients. That is, after all, the case. What could you say to a dying person that would not enrage by its triviality?”

That’s Annie Dillard speaking. Good advice for all of us terminal patients. I think that’s what Philip means when he says Italy is both the school and the playground of the world. He means, get into the thick of it, really feel life, engage and don’t hold back. Risk discomfort for the sake of all the pleasure you can stand and at the expense of everything you think you should be doing. I say this at the risk of sounding like a bumper sticker or a greeting card. “Spend it all, shoot it, play it, lose it, all, right away, every time.” I think Philip only feels like himself when he is in Italy.

A Marriage to Envy

July 10, 2017 by Alison Oatman Leave a Comment

The Woolfs had a routine that seldom varied. Every morning at about nine-thirty, right after breakfast (which Leonard always served Virginia in bed), they went to their separate rooms to write. They wrote from nine-thirty until one. The Woolfs had spent so many mornings of their lives in this way that by 1934 they had written more than a score of books between them. At one, they joined each other for lunch…After lunch the Woolfs would read their mail and the newspapers. Afternoons were usually devoted to typing out and revising that morning’s work or taking care of business related to the Press. When the weather was fine (and often even when it was not), Virginia liked to include a long walk in her afternoon schedule.
–from Mitz by Sigrid Nunez

Sigrid Nunez has written a perfect little book about the Woolfs’ marmoset Mitz. Told through the eyes of this little monkey, the novel’s real focus is the Woolf household and the comings and goings of Mitz’s guardians, Virginia and Leonard. Their marriage is an extremely directed and productive union couched in much tenderness.

There are other recent examples of married writers who work in their own little hives. Poets Donald Hall and Jane Kenyon used to scribble away in adjoining rooms in their New Hampshire farmhouse. Jonathan Franzen has written about his marriage to his college sweetheart and the intense bond that allowed them to write around the clock and discuss books and ideas at all hours. (Much better than an MFA program!) And how about Sartre and Beauvoir? (Whatever that means!)

Yes, the Woolfs (or Wolves?) were privileged but also extremely fortunate to have found in each other a real partnership, like perfectly matched tennis players. You could say their daily routine was rigid and unforgiving, but there is so much freedom that comes from discipline! No, the Woolfs weren’t closing bars most nights or dancing in fountains, but they were doing something just as exciting. Even a little girl like Mitz could see that while perched on Leonard’s shoulder or sitting snug inside his waistcoat. To Mitz, these humans were as singular as they were friendly–always providing fresh worms and a chin-scratch and as much endless entertainment as the biggest show on earth.

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