Into the wild: why more readers take comfort in nature writing
One judge of the Wainwright nature-writing noted that more writers and readers turned to nature writing. It won't confirm the long-standing suspicion about this genre being a cure to the sorrows of modern life. Movies and TV shows often feature a panorama of a breathtaking landscape. As a matter of fact, Peter Jackson's Lord of the Rings trilogy can be a 101 guide on how a country like New Zealand can guarantee a franchise (and early retirement). If you happen to be a news reader, then you can't miss the Travel Section. Last but not least, digital nomads who will outwit each other for your attention. We almost forgot authors like Henry David Thoreau.
"Walden", which was Thoreau's compilation of essays on life and what was beyond Walden pond, could pass up as one of the early works on nature writing. But Thoreau had a diary. It was written from 1837 to 1861, which would inspire the likes of Mark Cocker. (You must be a huge fan of nature writing to be able to guess Cocker's bibliography.) And more (contemporary) writers would look back at past works as their inspiration. Jack Kerouac's description of the Rockies would put some travel writers to shame. Solitude won't guarantee a poetic description of snow-capped peaks and a verdant landscape that was about to burst with (wild)life. In the case of this New Yorker, he wanted adventure. And a camera might have turned him into an average writer.
Figures from the book sales monitor Nielsen Book revealed a dramatic increased in sales. (426,630 books were sold in 2012. It would be 663,575 books in 2015.) More and more authors would attest that it was imperative to connect with the surroundings, but they weren't the first to preach this gospel truth. Let's have a look at some classic works:
Journey to the Center of the Earth (1864) by Jules Verne. The Frenchman might be the first to tell the world about the stunning beauty of the Icelandic landscape and the archipelago off the Italian peninsula. Volcanoes were lovely landmarks to look at, but writers like Pliny (the Elder) would warn readers about keeping a safe distance from it.
King Solomon's Mines (1885) by H. Rider Haggard. Ardent fans of nature writing would be inclined to include Haggard's other works, which were set in the remote areas in Africa. The unexplored terrain could be exciting if we chose to stay at home (and let writers like Haggard deal with any kind of danger). There would be a sense of nostalgia as lands like these would be dwindling. The Englishman may not like the idea of preserving everything in a zoo. Sadly, places like Gardens by the Bay may end up as ubiquitous sights.
The Old Man and the Sea (1952) by Ernest Hemingway. The Straits of Florida could be a captivating sight if you don't get sunburn. It will also be better to avoid it during the Atlantic hurricane season.
Born Free (1960) by Joy Adamson. This one would be for those who fancy African wildlife. Adamson, a naturalist from Silesia, Austria-Hungary, would describe how he brought up a young lioness named Elsa. It was a remarkable illustration of what compassion and determination could do, but it was rather a unique case. The young Roald Dahl would attest that living in such a place could put you in danger. In case you're wondering, Opava, Czech Republic is the modern-day Silesia.
The Terror (2007) by Dan Simmons. Captain John Franklin's doomed Arctic expedition was dramatized in this languorous novel. If you really want to see this unforgiving terrain, then don't let this book discourage you from doing it. You can check out those Arctic tours and trips.
If you can't get enough of it, then look for books by Helen Macdonald, Robert Macfarlane, and Stephen Moss. This might prompt you to purchase airline tickets. Don't say you weren't warned about wanderlust.
