“Unsettled?” by Steven E Koonin

Nearly a year and a half ago, I ordered four books about climate change, aiming to fill gaps in my knowledge. I chose one that was very simple and straightforward, which I hoped would give me a good foundation; one that went into greater detail but seemed like it was pretty neutral (just the science and facts); one that I haven't read yet but I'm assuming takes a pretty hard turn towards insisting anthropogenic climate change is unquestionable and we must take drastic steps to combat it (because it consists of a bunch of essays collected by Greta Thunberg); and one that swings in the other direction--without espousing outright climate change denial, it definitely sows seeds of doubt about the current conventional wisdom: Unsettled?

I think I pretty much detested my way through reading it. In fact, I wrote this exact thing in my notes: "I'm on page 3 and I already hate this book." I didn't note why, though. Glancing back at that page now, I can guess it's because this is one of the pages Koonin uses to try to prove he has the necessary expertise to be its author. (He is a scientist, and I am sure he is very intelligent, and he has worked both in the US government and for British Petroleum as an advisor regarding the climate . . . but I find it hard to get past the fact that he is a physicist, not a climate scientist.) Even a dig at Trump on page 6 (a quote from John Lewis: "When you see something that is not right, not just, not fair, you have a moral obligation to say something, do something") is not enough to convince me to put my faith in Koonin. I mean, I feel like that quote was included just to try to get me to let my guard down. It seemed like a too-obvious signal that the author isn't one of those under Trump's sway. 

I think the loathing began with the blurb. "When it comes to climate change, the media, politicians, and other prominent voices have declared that 'the science is settled.'" Is that true? (Not that the science is settled, but that prominent voices are claiming so.) I don't recall anyone referring to climate science as "settled science." I am inclined to view this statement as a straw man. Not to mention it's not surprising if the media are getting it wrong. The media are always getting it wrong, or at least they rarely get it exactly right, no matter what "it" is. The media are reporting about climate change in black and white when the truth is more nuanced? When you're limited to a few column inches rather than a 700 page report, oversimplification is kind of a given. "The climate is changing, but the why and how aren't as clear as you've probably been led to believe." There's just something presumptuous and insulting about this statement. "Despite a dramatic rise in greenhouse gas emissions, global temperatures actually decreased from 1940 to 1970." Is this really true? I don't want to have to fact-check this whole book, but it's starting to feel like I may need to. "Unsettled is a reality check buoyed by hope"--sounds like it's pandering to climate change deniers--"offering the truth about climate science that you aren't getting elsewhere," which sounds like a red flag to me, as it is any time one person claims to be the sole bearer of the truth.

My overall impression of this book is that Koonin doesn't see the forest for the trees being cut down. I would summarize his position like this: past climate data is inadequate in scope and quality, and it doesn't show strong patterns. Climate predictions for the future are not reliable: how the climate is responding to our influence, and the impact our influence will have, are core questions that remain unanswered. We don't know for sure what will happen if we stay on our current course. If we take action to try to mitigate climate change, we don't really know what the result will be (if any). So why bother doing anything? We might as well just keep doing what we're doing, and learn to adapt to changes. 

To me, Koonin's logic seems circular. It's like he's saying our only really precise data is very recent, so we can't use it to predict what will happen with the climate in the future. But he also says we can't just extrapolate current trends--we also have to take past data into account. To put it more succinctly, it's like he's saying: We can't rely on past data. But look at the past data.

Here are just a few of the specifics that bothered me. 

• Koonin states that "heat waves are now no more common than they were in 1900... the warmest temperatures in the US have not risen in the past 50 years..." This shows either deliberate obfuscation or clear misunderstanding of climate change. The current definition of climate change is that global average temperatures are increasing. 

• A graph on page 39 clearly shows a dramatic increase in global ocean heat content since 1990. Koonin first tries to argue this away by saying we've only been thoroughly measuring ocean surface temperatures for the past 50 years, with deeper levels only measured since 2000 (hinting that the dramatic rise since 1990 is just the continuation of a trend that isn't seen on the graph because data from prior years is insufficient). Then he claims that the ocean has seen similar rises in temperature in the past, prior to human influence (and prior to the more thorough measurements that are being taken now). Which is it? Insufficient data from prior years not allowing for formation of a graph that doesn't make it look like ocean temperatures are rising precipitously? Or the data from prior years is sufficient, and we can see that the current rise mimics past rises prior to human influence? It seems to me like the data is sufficient when it fits Koonin's worldview, and it's insufficient when it doesn't. 

• On page 68, Koonin states what I've been thinking: yes, hundreds of millions of years ago the atmospheric CO2 levels were far higher than they are now--but there were no humans back then, and humans are not adapted to such high levels. He even admits that at current rates of increase, atmospheric CO2 will rise to levels high enough to cause drowsiness in humans . . . but not for "some 250 years." Right, no one alive today will be around for that. But does that absolve us of all responsibility? It won't affect us personally, so we don't have to care?

• On the same page, we learn that CO2 remains in the atmosphere for so long that reducing emissions "would only slow the increase in concentration but not prevent it." Isn't slowing the increase better than nothing?? Koonin gives the impression that there's no point in even trying.

• In the same vein, on page 165 we see that it should take 200 years for sea levels to rise enough that Honolulu is inundated. According to Koonin, because of this time scale, we should calm down and not worry. Whereas my thinking is: shouldn't we try to make changes with the aim of preventing this from happening? Or make changes to help us cope with the eventuality? 

My opinion: the recent rise in CO2 (and methane) in our atmosphere is undeniable, and its rapid rise is unequivocally caused by humans. (Koonin doesn't deny this either.) I guess I'm on board with the uncertainty of climate predictions. But I'm totally not on board with the idea that we shouldn't bother trying to course-correct. The bottom line is that our carbon emissions (pollution!) do have an effect on the climate, and that effect is not good. So we should be reducing carbon (and methane) emissions. Even if it turns out not to make any difference--we have to try. We have to do better.

Instead of reading this book, I think it would be much more helpful to explore Information is Beautiful. 

“The Hill Road” by Patrick O’Keeffe

Following closely on the heels of yesterday’s finally-concluded book and aided by a day off work, I’ve finished reading this collection of four novellas set in the Irish countryside. At a total of 225 pages, I should have come to the end far sooner than I did, but I suppose that's neither here nor there. 

When I first came across it, I didn't know anything about this book or its author, but I can tell you exactly why I bought it: it was on sale for $1 at Books-A-Million, and it was published by Penguin. And although I have no specific memory of this, I'm sure I also did the Dip Test to make sure the writing didn't suck (spoiler alert: it didn't). All this was years ago, though--who knows how long, exactly--and in the intervening time, this book languished on my shelves in a very un-Kondo-like way. (For those of you who have no idea what I'm talking about, see "The moment you first encounter a particular book is the right time to read it.")

This is the last of the slim volumes I brought with me on our April trip (though I obviously didn't read it during our April trip) with the idea of leaving a trail of books behind me. Having so nearly achieved its purpose (being read, obvs), I couldn't just re-shelve it, so it stayed in my TBR short stack. But when I finally got started, I found it slow going. I'm sure it didn't help that I was trying to read three other (non-fiction!) books at the same time. Each evening I would start with the one I was least interested in and force myself to read it for five minutes (which, in tangential but exciting news, has now brought me within 25 pages of the end of that one!) and would then cycle through the other two books until I allowed myself the treat of fiction. While this system will give me the (eventual) benefit of having read some books that are more good-for-me than enjoyable, I think it was detrimental to my reading of The Hill Road. Maybe for my next fiction selection I should try the "dessert first" method. (As I type this, I already know I won't allow myself to do that. If I do, it will end up being the "dessert only" method.)

The titular novella in this book comprises nearly half of the entirety, and I'm pretty sure it was my least favorite story of the four. It seemed to take me weeks to get through that one, and only a day or so for each of the others. That's not to say it wasn't well-written or worth reading, because it was both; but I don't feel like I settled into it the way I did with the other three. The central element that I remember is Albert Cagney's unraveling after his return from fighting in the Great War, as told through the memories shared with the story's narrator. Next was "Her Black Mantilla," about orphaned Alice Gilmartin who is sent to live with Lena Tarpey and her bed-ridden brother; Alice very nearly has a tryst with the man who had been in love with her older sister years before. Which, now that I think about it, is kind of a spoiler--oops, sorry about that. Then, in "The Postman's Cottage," Eoin O'Rourke's mysterious disappearance is ruminated upon years later, and although it's never clearly stated, by the end it seems that Kate Dillon knows what happened to Eoin. Lastly, in "That's Our Name," the death of the beautiful Yank found beaten and hanging in a tree is not such a mystery to Marty's mother. All four stories have secrets and memories and death, but maybe the first was a bit too sprawling or expansive compared to the other three.

“god is not Great” by Christopher Hitchens

I can’t believe it’s been more than a month since I last finished a book . . . okay, that’s not entirely true. It is a bit surprising given my typical reading habits, but when you know the specifics—I have been reading four books at the same time, and I’m not especially keen on any of them—it makes perfect sense. 

Anyway, one down, three to go. Unfortunately I didn’t give this book the most careful of readings, and now I’m wishing I had taken notes. 

Why did I choose this book in the first place? I don't remember even being aware of Christopher Hitchens until relatively recently. Maybe I first heard of him when Sam named him as one of the Four Horsemen of New Atheism; then Skeptics' Guide to the Universe talked about him in episode #336, following Hitchens' death in 2011. (I've been listening to their back catalog, and probably came across this episode in January of this year. Notably, I have just discovered that in 2.5 more episodes, I'll be hearing a SGU/Hitchens interview from 2007). Jay Novella specifically called this book a Must Read, and the provocative title piqued my interest. 

Hitchens has a very sharp and sarcastic tone in this book, and he refers to myriad people and historical events that I have no knowledge of. I could have spent ages on this book, going down all kinds of rabbit holes and learning many things I still don't know, but I was not prepared to spend that amount of time with it. My aim was to get a taste of the writer, not to intensely inspect all his claims and statements. But I do think I can sum up the main ideas of the book: all religions (and the god or gods of each) were created by man. Faith has been used as an excuse for many evils and abuses. And religious faith is not a prerequisite foundation for acts of kindness or a life of good moral character. Hitchens describes a focus on the afterlife and religion in this way: "It is as if someone, offered a delicious and fragrant out-of-season fruit, matured in a painstakingly and lovingly designed hothouse, should throw away the flesh and the pulp and gnaw moodily on the pit."