Burrington’s message is that by noticing the physical dependencies that make up the meteaphorical “cloud,” you will also notice a few other things.
This has rapidly become my go-to cookbook.
This collection of essays explores what we should call this new geographic epoch marked by fossil-fueled climate change.
In this, Butler’s last book, she returns to the notion of symbiosis so thoroughly explored in Lilith’s Brood.
This book has rewired my brain in ways I’m only just beginning to understand.
These three novels, Le Guin’s earliest, explore the experiences of visitors on three different planets.
Aurora follows a generational space ship as it travels to a far away solar system in search of a planet that can be safely terraformed.
Kolbert’s essays span Kyoto, Bush-era climate denialism, ocean acidification, Canadian tar sands, and melting glaciers.
This academic pamphlet from Donna Haraway describes dog writing as “a branch of feminist theory, or the other way around.”
A historical—and critical—look at the history of community development, locating its roots in dubious US-led efforts in India, the Philippines, and Vietnam.
This brief novel from Ursula K. Le Guin concerns a man named George Orr who has a most unwelcome ability: his dreams have the power to alter reality.
The conclusion of Ann Leckie’s Imperial Radch series is more madcap than the preceding books, and fiercely satisfying.
The second of Ann Leckie’s Imperial Radch series follows Breq as she’s given command of a ship—her first since she was herself a ship, before the Lord of the Radch destroyed it.
The first in Ann Leckie’s Imperial Radch series introduces Breq, an AI who once inhabited a starship and many of it’s formerly-human crew.
In 1840s Toronto, a woman named Grace Marks, just shy of 16 years old, escapes with a man after one or both of them murder their employer and his housekeeper-turned-mistress.
Jeong calls bullshit on the predominant stance that online harassment is an unsolveable problem.
Critical and flippant, funny and devastating, calming and maddening.
This hurried collection of short works by Fitzgerald from New Directions purports to be about booze but is really more steeped in it.
In a near future marked by rising sea level, two girls embark on ambitious ventures.
Helen Macdonald’s book is part memoir of grief, part close literary study, and somehow also a tale of rewilding—not of the landscape, but of the author herself.