As with previous years, Shepherd invited me to post my three favourite reads of 2025. These aren’t necessarily books published in 2025; just books I read in that year. Each time I do this, I find that, without conscious intent, my favourites fall under a general theme that have touched me that year. Past favourite reads included Feminist Eco-Fiction in 2023 and Cautionary Eco-Fiction in 2024.
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2025 yielded a non-fiction book theme; books that touch on humanity’s understanding—or lack of understanding—of our fragile environment and the importance of humility and collaboration to our survival on a changing planet. Here are my three favourites:
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Treeline (St. Martin’s Press, 2022) by Ben Rawlence
This book made me think. It made me cry. It made me despair. It also gave me hope. I was gripped by Rawlence’s honest and unflinching exploration on the moving treeline with climate change and what it will mean for humanity. Rawlence describes the forests of the world as the ‘heartbeat of the planet,’ the cycles of breathing and the pulses of life from the spike of oxygen in the spring when trees put out their leaves to the peaks and troughs over day and night that regulate plant photosynthesis and respiration. Their breaths are getting shallower, he writes. With more carbon dioxide in the air the trees inhale less and exhale less oxygen.
Beautifully written and rigorously reported, Rawlence invited me on a journey of the major treelines over the globe from Scotland, Norway and Russia, to Alaska, Canada and Greenland. Throughout his description of a warming world and a vanishing way of life, Rawlence meditates on the many repercussions on how humans live. There is warning. And there is optimism. This is an important book.
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The Mushroom at the End of the World (Princeton University Press, 2021) by Anna Lowenhaupt Tsing
Tsing’s colourful narrative drew me into a metaphoric study of humanity’s journey through the ecology and commerce of the rare Matsutake mushroom. Both treatise on industrial capitalism and parable of survival and renewal under post-capitalist ruin, Tsing’s brilliant storytelling uses the matsutake mushroom and its industry to explore our ecological crisis: how it came about, what drives its continuation and what the consequences may look like.
The matsutake mushroom is considered a weed, growing in human-disturbed forests in the Northern Hemisphere; yet it is prized for its gourmet value. Tsing’s investigation of this rare sought-after mushroom, serves as an excellent metaphor for the study of a post-industrialist world and the promise of life after ruin. Tsing draws together a web of interconnected human and natural ecologies—from the foragers in Oregon and the Hmong jungle fighters to the capitalist traders and Japanese gourmets—to tell a fascinating tale of intrigue, greed, and violence. Laced throughout the story, are her personal reflections on the possibilities of collaborative survival of human and nonhuman.
The book is simply brilliant. The writing riveting. The story important.
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The Invention of Nature: Alexander von Humboldt’s New World (Vintage, 2016) by Andrea Wulf
I was riveted by this fascinating and illuminating biography of a visionary German naturalist and polymath—mostly forgotten—brought back to life through vivid narrative and seamless research to interesting detail. Wulf’s storytelling style drew me into this man’s incredible life, a planetologist way ahead of his time, who predicted human-induced climate change, and formulated a radical concept of nature as both a complex and intertwined global entity—long before Lovelock and Margulis came up with the Gaia Hypothesis in the 1960s.
Humboldt was the first ecologist, practicing the science of ecology for fifty years by the time German scientist Ernst Haeckel created a name for it (ökologie) in 1869. Humboldt embraced Schelling’s naturphilosophie, which espoused an organic and dynamic worldview as an alternative to the atomist and mechanist outlook that prevailed at the time. He saw nature as a living organism, animated by dynamic forces. True to his holistic vision, Humboldt invented global temperature isopleths—still used today. It is no surprise that the world’s first ecologist would also predict humanity’s devastating effect on global climate.
I found Wulf’s biography of von Humboldt fascinating, surprising, often sad, and poignant. What struck me the most was how von Humboldt’s discoveries and predictions were lost to the world with devastating effect. He made the connection and warned of human-induced climate change 200 years ago. If civilization had only heeded his warning!
My own non-fiction book Water Is…The Meaning of Water—a celebration of water in all its facets—is offered here as fitting this theme of celebrating Nature and educating us on how to live more lightly and responsibly. Here’s what the publisher’s blurb says:
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Internationally published author, teacher and limnologist Nina Munteanu explores one of the most important substances of Earth. Nina Munteanu’s Water Is… The Meaning of Waterrepresents the culmination of over twenty-five years of dedication as limnologist and aquatic ecologist in the study of water. As a research scientist and environmental consultant, Nina studied water’s role in energizing and maintaining the biomes, ecosystems, and communities of our precious planet. During her consulting career for industry and government, Nina discovered a great disparity between humanity’s use, appreciation and understanding of water. This set in motion a quest to further explore our most incredible yet largely misunderstood and undervalued substance. Part history, part science and part philosophy and spirituality, Water Is… combines personal journey with scientific discovery that explores water’s many “identities” and ultimately our own.
Nina Munteanu is an award-winning novelist and short story writer of eco-fiction, science fiction and fantasy. She also has three writing guides out: The Fiction Writer; The Journal Writer; and The Ecology of Writing and teaches fiction writing and technical writing at university and online. Check the Publications page on this site for a summary of what she has out there. Nina teaches writing at the University of Toronto and has been coaching fiction and non-fiction authors for over 20 years. You can find Nina’s short podcasts on writing on YouTube. Check out this site for more author advice from how to write a synopsis to finding your muse and the art and science of writing.
In two excellent articles in Climate Cultures entitled “A History of Eco-fiction, Part 1 and 2”, eco-fiction author and critic Mary Woodbury starts out with several rather long definitions of eco-fiction—one provided by Jim Dwyer in his 2010 book Where the Wild Books Are: A Field Guide to Eco-Fiction.
She also includes simpler descriptions. For instance, Ashland Creek Press calls it “fiction with a conscience,” and co-founder John Yunker insightfully labelled it a super-genre.
Woodbury then muses: “I think of eco-fiction as not so much a genre than as a way to intersect natural landscape, environmental issues, and wilderness—and human connection to these things—into any genre and make it come alive.” Not a fan of labels, she argues that eco-fiction is broad and has a rich history (of existence long before its label was coined in 1971 in the preface to an anthology by Washington Square Press) and brings up examples such as The Stolen Child by Victorian author and poet WB Yeats. “Eco-fiction has no boundaries in time or space,” argues Woodbury. “It can be set in the past, present, or future. It can be set in other worlds…I think of eco-fiction as a way to bring alive the wild in any genre, whether romance, adventure, mystery, you name it.”
Eco-fiction—like climate change—is a hyperobject. In his 2014 book Hyperobjects, Timothy Morton explains that hyperobjects are immense, non-local entities that challenge our traditional understanding of objects; things so massively distributed in time and space that they defy human perception, given they exist beyond our immediate sensory grasp yet affecting us profoundly. Examples include anthropogenic global warming / climate change, but also pervasive phenomena, like plastic and oil, that have far reaching impacts beyond their simple physical presence.
My own definition (from a previous article in Solarpunk Magazine) embraces the hyperobject nature of eco-fiction: eco-fiction (short for ecological fiction) is a kind of fiction in which the environment—or one aspect of the environment—plays a major role in story, either as premise or as character. For instance, several of my eco-fiction stories give Water a voice as character. In my latest novel, A Diary in the Age of Water, each of the four women characters reflects on her relationship with water and, in turn, her view of and journey in a changing world.
Through its vision of our future, eco-fiction encourages conversations and an outward perspective. Eco-fiction can trigger a sense of wonder about the natural world; it may connect with our sense of loss or mourning—our solastalgia—for our changing home. Cautionary tales may nudge people to action and encourage alternative futures. By encouraging empathy and imagination, eco-fiction reaches deep into our souls, where we care. It is only when we care that we act.
A recent survey conducted by Woodbury revealed that, “Fiction exploring humanity’s impacts on nature is becoming more popular [and] has the distinct ability to creatively engage and appeal to readers’ emotions.” Woodbury’s 2020 survey showed that “88% of its participants were inspired to act after reading ecological fiction.”
A few years ago, I wrote an article entitled “Why Ecofiction Will Save the World” which appeared in Issue #1 of Solarpunk Magazine. In it, I mentioned how I’d noticed in my university science fiction course that more and more students were bringing in WIPs on ecological and global environmental issues. Many of the stories involved a premise of environmental calamity, but not in the same vein as previous environmental disasters that depict “man” against Nature. Instead, these works gave the Earth or Nature (or an aspect of Nature) an actual voice—as a character—and had a protagonist who learns to interact with the Earth/Nature character, often cooperatively. This represents a palpable and gestalt cultural awakening of what eco-feminists have called the “feminine archetype” by providing a voice for “the other” in story.
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This shift reflects what lies at the heart of eco-fiction.
Eco-fiction explores the world and the consequences of humanity’s actions on the environment and ourselves (by inference) through dramatization. The stories that stir our hearts come from deep inside, through symbols, archetypes and metaphor, where the personal meets the universal. In my short story “The Way of Water”(“La natura dell’acqua”), water’s connection with love flows throughout the story:
They met in the lobby of a shabby downtown Toronto hotel. Hilda barely knew what she looked like but when Hanna entered the lobby through the front doors Hilda knew every bit of her. Hanna swept in like a stray summer rainstorm, beaming with the self-conscious optimism of someone who recognized a twin sister. She reminded Hilda of her first boyfriend, clutching flowers in one hand and chocolate in the other. When their eyes met, Hilda knew. For an instant, she knew all of Hanna. For an instant, she’d glimpsed eternity. What she didn’t know then was that it was love.
In a world of severe water scarcity through climate catastrophe and geopolitical oppression, the bond of these two girls—to each other through water and with water—is like the shifting covalent bond of a complex molecule, a bond that fuses a relationship of paradox linked to the paradoxical properties of water. Just as two water drops join, the two women find each other in the wasteland of environmental intrigue. Hilda’s relationship with Hanna—as with water—is both complex and shifting according to the bonds they make and break. Hilda navigates her dystopia by learning meaningful lessons—lessons that pertain directly to our reader in their current world. This is because the premise of a dystopia lies squarely in the present world. Good dystopias enlighten and suggest possibilities; they can warn and herald. At the very least, they incite the necessary conversation.
Our capacity—and need—to share stories is as old as our ancient beginnings. From the Paleolithic cave paintings of Lascaux to our blogs on the Internet, humanity has left a grand legacy of ‘story’ sharing. By providing context to knowledge, story moves us to care, to cherish, and, in turn, to act. What we cherish, we protect. It’s really that simple.
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“Morton’s book is a queasily vertiginous quest to synthesize the still divergent fields of quantum theory (the weirdness of small objects) and relativity (the weirdness of big objects) and insert them into philosophy and art, which he notes are far behind ontologically speaking (page 150). Morton’s wager is that for the first time, we in the Anthropocene are able to see snapshots of hyperobjects, and that these intimations more or less will force us to undergo a radical reboot of our ontological toolkit and (finally) incorporate the weirdness of physics”—Cara Daggett
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Hirtle Beach, Nova Scotia (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)
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Nina Munteanu is an award-winning novelist and short story writer of eco-fiction, science fiction and fantasy. She also has three writing guides out: The Fiction Writer; The Journal Writer; and The Ecology of Writing and teaches fiction writing and technical writing at university and online. Check the Publications page on this site for a summary of what she has out there. Nina teaches writing at the University of Toronto and has been coaching fiction and non-fiction authors for over 20 years. You can find Nina’s short podcasts on writing on YouTube. Check out this site for more author advice from how to write a synopsis to finding your muse and the art and science of writing.
I love using the em dash. Along with the semi-colon, it’s my go-to punctuation. And before you ask—no, I don’t use AI in my writing.
Lately, I’ve discovered that use of the em dash has come under criticism by writers and discerning readers, given its apparently overwhelming use by AI. The appearance of em dashes in script is now considered a “tell” that a written work was AI-generated.
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I’m told that em dashes were deeply embedded in the AI learning algorithms—they were everywhere in human-generated training data such as books, articles, essays because we used them so often. Because they weren’t flagged as risky during training, they became a default. AI learns through pattern mimicry by sifting through massive text datasets (that have included my own works of fiction and non-fiction;by the way, I use the em dash a lot because I love what it does for a sentence). One theory suggests that em dashes are preferred by autoregressive models for waving tokens or providing structural breaks. Its use has its own name: the “ChatGPT hyphen.” The discussion alone has brought more attention to the em dash, mostly negative attention.
As a result of em dash’s association with LLM-generated text, some writers have started avoiding the use of em dashes altogether to prevent their work from being labelled fake—despite its legitimate appearance in human writing for centuries.
This is a real shame.
Because, the em dash is a visual and versatile tool to achieve an emphasized pause, the equivalent to a raised eyebrow, a dramatic mid-sentence shift in thought, or a noteworthy point to consider. Used correctly and with intention, the em dash provides depth, contextual complexity and three dimensionality within an otherwise unidirectional sentence. The em dash singles out a thought, raises it above the script to show its merit amid the greater sentence concept. What is often achieved is more complex and layered with additional meaning and clarity. The visual nature of the em dash—how it looks in a sentence—is also important. Because, as writer Bill Zinsser says, “Writing is visual—it catches the eye before it has a chance to catch the brain.” There’s a kind of aesthetic nature to how writing sits on a page; this is also why paragraphing—breaking up long text into shorter paragraphs on a page—is so important. The white space created by these breaks subliminally signals the reader, giving them a chance to breathe as they read. The presence of an em dash similarly signals the reader to read the enclosed phrase apart—yet remaining an important part—of the sentence.
Here’s how The Chicago Manual of Style explains it:
“The em dash has several uses. It allows, in a manner similar to parentheses, an additional thought to be added within a sentence by sort of breaking away from that sentence—as I’ve done here. Its use or misuse for this purpose is a matter of taste, and subject to the effect on the writer’s or reader’s “ear.” Em dashes also substitute for something missing. For example, in a bibliographic list, rather than repeating the same author over and over again, three consecutive em dashes (also known as a 3-em dash) stand in for the author’s name. In interrupted speech, one or two em dashes may be used: “I wasn’t trying to imply—” “Then just what were you trying to do?””
After announcing that the em dash is their favourite punctuation, Bavesh Rajaraman listed the several ways you can use this punctuation:
1. use it like how I regularly do, with bridging sentences, kind of like a longer comma, or a semicolon.
2. use it like a colon: “Some examples of transition metal atoms are — Co, Ni, Fe”
3. use it like a parenthesis, to add extra detail, or clarify. “The Wheel of Time has been an incredibly strong fantasy series — till book 6 where I’m currently at — with size and scope incomparable to its contemporaries”
4. use it to interrupt a speaker: “Melissa, I’m gonna be leaving for work, make sure to keep the door — “ as Klein heard the door thud, “I guess she understood the assignment,” he lampooned as he headed for work.
5. use it as something more important than demarcated in parenthesis. Here’s a snippet from Brandon Sanderson’s Essay “Outside”: “When you’re very young, it’s proximity — not shared interests — that makes friends. This often changes as you age. By fourteen, John had found his way to basketball, parties, and popularity. I had not.”— Brandon Sanderson, 2023
Celebrated poets and writers—including Emily Dickinson, Henry James, Virginia Woolf, and Stephen King—have used the em dash for emphasis, as bridge or interruption, or to set off parenthetical thoughts, create unique rhythms and cadence in their writing. The poet Emily Dickinson was known to use dashes instead of commas or periods to create pauses, express emotion and link ideas in her poetry. These celebrated authors used the em dash for emphasis and interruption, drawing attention to a phrase or to intentionally break a sentence’s flow. They used the em dash as appositives, to set off additional information with more impact. They used the em dash to create rhythm and pacing. They used the em dash to create a unique voice and style. The em dash is an uber-punctuation! And it’s been around since the early 1800s, adding style, pizazz, rhythm and depth to all types of writing.
I wish I had this quote from Rajaraman when I was submitting my fiction to editors, who seemed to like to remove most of my em dashes and replace them with boring commas:
“The em dash is a fiction writer’s spell-casting focus, it’s their ultimate pacing tool; used to fix the flow of a sentence. There’s no such thing as too many em dashes in literature.”
Canadian journalist Clive Thompson wrote, “Writers worry they overuse it. They shouldn’t—it’s awesome.”
All to say forget the internet conspiracy theories that em dashes are a telltale sign of AI writing; forget that ChatGPT can’t stop using them even when users tell it to stop. The em dash is not a sign of AI, but that AI was trained on good writing—good human writing. FVR at WellVersed.com adds that it’s “not a robot glitch—it’s a writer’s signature.”
So, I for one, will continue using the em dash liberally, as I have for the past forty years—long before ChatGPT hiccupped into our writing lives and long after.
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Robot copying the em dash
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References:
Csutoras, Brent. 2025. “The Em Dash Dilemma: How a Punctuation Mark Became AI’s Stubborn Signature.” Medium, April 29, 2025.
Rajaraman, Bavesh. 2025. “An Era to its Knee: An Em-dash Retrospective.” The Jabber Junction, July 29, 2025.
Nina Munteanu is an award-winning novelist and short story writer of eco-fiction, science fiction and fantasy. She also has three writing guides out: The Fiction Writer; The Journal Writer; and The Ecology of Writing and teaches fiction writing and technical writing at university and online. Check the Publications page on this site for a summary of what she has out there. Nina teaches writing at the University of Toronto and has been coaching fiction and non-fiction authors for over 20 years. You can find Nina’s short podcasts on writing on YouTube. Check out this site for more author advice from how to write a synopsis to finding your muse and the art and science of writing.
Not long ago, I went for a drive through the pastoral area of Lulu Island and ended up heading north along No. 4 Road in Steveston. As I wound my way toward Dyke Road, I found myself revisiting an old haunt from years ago: the little homesteader community—former Finnish fishing village—of Finn Slough. I remember first discovering this rather charming and eclectic settlement perched on stilted houses along the marsh of Finn Slough back in the 1980s when I briefly lived in Richmond. A sign by the bridge across the slough to Gilmour Island, where Number 4 Road meets Dyke Rd, provides a history of the Finnish community by Historian and Archivist David Dorrington who describes Finn Slough as a place “where nature and history gently coexist.”
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Finn Slough bridge to Gilmour Island, BC (photo by Nina Munteanu)
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The area was settled in the late 1880s by immigrant Finnish fishermen and their families, seeking a new life from the poverty and repression of the Russian empire in Finland. They built their buildings on pilings to accommodate the changing tides. One of the first and most important buildings was a sauna. The fishing community also built bluestone tanks, used to clean their linen nets. They also had rack floats and net sheds. In those days—when downtown Richmond didn’t exist—it would take an entire day to go one way from Finn Slough to Vancouver (now a 30-minute drive). Steveston was pretty much only canneries. Once a week, says the sign, the Finnish community would dress up in their ‘best clothes’ and take several boats to Steveston, Ladner or New Westminster to buy the week’s supplies. And if the weather was good, they would have a picnic on one of the river islands and sing along with accordion music. The homesteader village established without property boundaries, city ordinances, provincial regulations or any governing body.
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It was raining as I got out my camera to capture some of the eccentric houses on pilings, half-collapsed sheds, beached boats at low tide, old fishnet shacks with funky marine décor, scow houses, signs like “Don’t Mess with Nature”, and house boats floating with the tides. One stilted house featured an entrance way roof made by an inverted boat and a porch railing made of boat engines.
Finn Slough, BC (photo by Nina Munteanu)
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Marine-decorated houses on pilings in Finn Slough, BC (photos by Nina Munteanu)
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This settlement was built by Finnish fishermen over a hundred years ago. I had visions of people rowing their boats around the slough—to the various wharfs, boardwalks, houses on pilings, and shores. Fishing for various Pacific Salmon (Chinook, Coho, Pink and Sockeye), Steelhead, Lingcod, Halibut, and Sturgeon. I’m told that this relic fishing village was one of several fishing shantytowns scattered along the shores of the Fraser River. Around 70 households existed in Finn Slough in the ‘40s to ‘50s; 30 people live there now. Most, I’m told, are an eclectic mixture of artists, musicians, and actors. Dorrington writes: “This historic settler village and important natural habitat is an intertidal Slough—a place of transitions, with the ebb and flow of tides, migrating birds, indigenous plants and animals. This Slough is an important safe haven for juvenile Salmon and other wildlife, as with all wetlands, it is an important ecosystem.”
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Aerial photo showing Finn Slough in relation to the Fraser River (image by Google)
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Blogger Eve Lazarus contemplates the colourful history of this unique settlement that some call charming and others would describe as a chaotic decrepit mess of squatters in a drowning marsh: “the back-to-the-landers, the evil property developer from back east who wants to pave over the shanty town with condos and a park, and a few levels of government that would rather fill pot holes than be caught up in this drama. Ironically, it’s the red tape that seems to be the saviour in this story.”
I walked gingerly on the rickety wooden bridge that leads to several homes on Gilmour Island and stopped at the sign warning me that I was crossing at my own risk. I found myself thinking ‘who lives here? What kind of person chooses to stay here, in this uncertain environment where the direct effects of climate change relentlessly threaten?
I thought of this as I drove west along Dyke Road toward No. 2 Road and encountered the contrast of posh Steveston Waterfront Estate houses with safe river views from behind dykes.
Sign on history of Finn Slough, BC (photo by Nina Munteanu)
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New riverview subdivision of townhomes in Steveston, BC (photos by Nina Munteanu)
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Finn Slough & Climate Change
Finn Slough close to mouth to Fraser River (photo by Gordon Katic, CBC)
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Gordon Katic of CBC tells us that Finn Slough lies on the front lines of climate change. “Nestled on the banks of the Fraser River, this community will eventually be overcome by flooding as sea levels rise.” I’m not surprised; the slough community lies on the edge of a saltwater marsh, ninahere describe more about marsh system. Coastal erosion from increased tanker traffic in the Fraser River has also increased, impacting the marsh’s ability to act as a buffer for wave action.
As climate-change increases the frequency and severity of flooding and coastal storm surges, BC municipalities are preparing for the sea level to rise by half a meter by the year 2050. Actions include investment in protective dikes. But Finn Slough’s homesteader community sits outside the dike system. Several homes have already flooded from seasonal high tides. Even the boardwalks that connected the homes flooded, leaving people stranded. Tamsin Lyle, engineer with Ebbwater Consulting says bleakly, “It’s not a good news story. Probably 60-70 years from now, this entire piece of land is going to be underwater every single day.”
Meantime, the community is finding ways to cope with the rise. One is simply to raise the houses currently on stilts. Gus Jacobson, community elder of Finn Slough, told the CBC that over his lifetime living there, the water has risen at least 18 inches. Jacobson is helping others in the community to raise their houses, docks, boardwalks and bridge. According to Jacobson, Finn Slough’s motto is “sisu”, a Finnish word that roughly translates to “stubborn perseverance.” The sign in front of the bridge defines “sisu” as Finnish for: endurance, resilience, tenacity, determination, perseverance and strength of will.
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Finn Slough village sign on Dyke Road, Steveston, BC (photo by Nina Munteanu)
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Stephen Sheppard, professor of landscape planning at the University of British Columbia, noted that the best option is a managed retreat: “Managed retreat refers to a strategy where over time the community or infrastructure that is at risk to sea level rise would get pulled back—literally removed—or in essence, relocated, or they might relocate themselves.”
Finn Slough is one of the last tidal communities on the West Coast and the last working commercial fishing village on the Fraser River. For over a hundred years this community has existed without official status or land tenure.
Charmed or doomed by climate change? Will the community adapt and prevail or exodus in the frustration and defeat of a ‘managed retreat’? Lyle gave CBC her prognosis: “I suspect that Finn Slough is going to be our canary in the region [Lulu Island].”
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Finn Slough, BC (photo by Nina Munteanu)
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References:
Dorrington, David. “Finn Slough: where nature and history gently coexist,” sign located at Dyke Rd. at end of No. 4 Rd.
Katic, Gordon. 2017. “As a BC fishing village is slowly submerged, meet the people who refuse to leave.” CBC Radio, October 2. 2017
Lazarus, Eva. 2013. “Steveston’s Finn Slough.” Eve Lazarus Blog, September, 2013.
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Finn Slough old shed, BC (photo by Nina Munteanu)
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Nina Munteanu is an award-winning novelist and short story writer of eco-fiction, science fiction and fantasy. She also has three writing guides out: The Fiction Writer; The Journal Writer; and The Ecology of Writing and teaches fiction writing and technical writing at university and online. Check the Publications page on this site for a summary of what she has out there. Nina teaches writing at the University of Toronto and has been coaching fiction and non-fiction authors for over 20 years. You can find Nina’s short podcasts on writing on YouTube. Check out this site for more author advice from how to write a synopsis to finding your muse and the art and science of writing.
In her masters thesis published in November 2025 at the University of Graz, Austria, Şeyma Yonar uses my short story The Way of Water, along with several others to explore and discuss the importance of eco-literature in establishing ecological awareness and ultimately ecological and sustainable action.
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Ice-covered bay, Otonabee River, ON (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)
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Yonar draws on the work of Maria Löschnigg to argue that “as the environmental crisis encompasses not just physical challenges but also a crisis of imagination, posing questions about life in severely degraded environments, it becomes crucial to examine how literature can inspire interest in ecological issues and foster a deeper environmental awareness.” Yonar further draws on the works of Serpil Oppermann and Susan O’Brian to note that ecocriticism tends to neglect less conventional but equally meaningful speculative or experimental fiction in its critical gaze of relevant eco-literature and to question whether realism should be the dominant mode for ecological discourse.
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Ice-bubbles in a stream, Jackson Creek, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)
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“The Way of Water is a strong eco-story that possesses many layers and elements that strengthen its narrative while encouraging readers to engage with its world…The notion what water constitutes the essence of life is the central theme of the story … Munteanu’s knowledge as a scientist enables her to create a convincing scientist protagonist whom she embeds into a powerful fictional story. Water, particularly in this eco-story acts not only as a symbolic entity but also as a body of force…the agency of water is presented as a dynamic, living entity, central to the narrative’s ecological themes.”
“Munteanu’s impactful storytelling highlights her significant contribution to Canadian literature, particularly through her engagement with pressing environmental issues and her commitment to fostering ecological awareness through fiction.”
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Ice ‘pearls’ in Jackson Creek in winter, ON (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)
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Yonar draws on the work of Serpil Oppermann, who points out in her book Blue Humanities, that water is deeply connected to social and cultural realities, and stories that highlight its narrative role are both essential and impactful. “Non-human-centred narratives reveal the dynamic and active nature of water, making its agency understandable and natural to the reader.”
Yonar quotes beginning lines of the short story to demonstrate how a powerful metaphor can become surprisingly literal: In this passage the main character Hilda thinks: water is a shape-shifter. It changes yet stays the same, shifting its face with the climate. It wanders the earth like a gypsy, stealing from where it is needed and giving whimsically where it isn’t wanted: “A statement,” Yonar writes, “that initially appears to be metaphorical rather than literal description of water. However, as the story expands, it becomes evident that this ‘shape-shifting’ feature is not an unrealistic trait, but rather a reflection of water’s dynamic and transformative nature.” She adds that, “this characterization of water points out its agency, suggesting its ability to adapt and influence the narrative in ways that transcend traditional understandings.”
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Icy bay, Jackson Creek, ON (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)
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Yonar notes that intertextuality used in The Way of Water—such as wCard, iTap and Schrödinger’s Water is a useful way to “foreground notions of relationality, interconnectedness and interdependence in modern cultural life” (Graham Allen). Intertextuality in The Way of Water reflects capitalist industrialism: the monetization, commodification and control of water by national utilities represented by CanadaCorp: the “corporate dominance, digital dependence, and pervasive nature of technology.” Yonar adds pithily, “In a manner analogous to how Apple products have become indispensable instruments in contemporary existence, the iTap within Munteanu’s narrative operates as an emblem of hyper-connectivity and authority, thereby amplifying the novel’s critique of technological dependency in modern society.” Yonar ponders that the thought experiment of Schrödinger’s Cat, reimagined through the element of water as Schrödinger’s Water, “reframes the original paradox within an ecological and environmental context, emphasizing the fluidity and uncertainty of water’s role in shaping human and non-human existence.”
Yonar shares with Meyer and Oppermann “a unified perspective on the collaborative role of writers and scientists in addressing the shared challenge of climate change.” Yonar concludes that The Way of Water introduces a powerful human-made cooperation that is at the same time political, suppresses people, and takes advantage of the scarcity of water. Even “the rain belonged to CanadaCorp,” she quotes from The Way of Water.
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Various publications in which The Way of Water appeared
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The Way of Water was first published as a bilingual print book by Mincione Edizioni(Rome) in Italian (La natura dell’acqua, translated by Fiorella Moscatello), and English along with a recounting of what inspired it: The Story of Water (La storia dell’acqua) in 2016. To date, The Way of Water has been published and republished eight times throughout the world and translated into Italian and German. I think this success is less a reflection of my writing than the immediacy and importance of the topic covered: growing water scarcity, its commodification, and its politicization.
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I’ve written several articles on how The Way of Water came about. Briefly, it all started with an invitation in 2015 by my publisher in Rome to write about water and politics in Canada. I had long been thinking of potential ironies in Canada’s water-rich heritage. The premise I wanted to explore was the irony of people in a water-rich nation experiencing water scarcity: living under a government-imposed daily water quota of 5 litres as water bottling and utility companies took it all.
Latest publication of The Way of Water in Nova 37, translated into German as Der Weg des Wassers
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The Way of Water, in turn, inspired my dystopian novel A Diary in the Age of Water(Inanna Publications, 2020), which chronicles the lives of four generations of women and their relationship to water during a time of severe water restriction and calamitous climate change. The novel features the main character Hilda from The Way of Water and her limnologist mother; A Diary in the Age of Water is essentially the mother’s diary embedded in a larger story. Through a series of entries, the diarist reflects on the subtle though catastrophic occurrences that will eventually lead to humanity’s demise.
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Jackson Creek in the fall, ON (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)
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References:
Löschnigg, Maria. 2014. “The Contemporary Canadian Short Story in English: Continuity and Change.” Cultures in America in Transition, vol. 7, WVT.
Munteanu, Nina. “The Way of Water” Mincione Edizioni, Rome. 113pp.
Munteanu, Nina. “A Diary in the Age of Water.” Inanna Publications, Toronto, ON. 328pp.
Fi: Anthology #14. Edited by Bruce Meyer. Exile Editions, Toronto.304pp.
O’Brian, Susan. 2001. “Articulating a World of Difference: Ecocriticism, Post colonialism and Globalization.” Canadian Literature vol. 170-171: 140-158.
Oppermann, Serpil. 2023. “Blue Humanities.” Cambridge University Press.
Yonar, Şeyma. 2025. “Short Texts—Long Term Effects: The Canadian Eco-Story.” Masters Thesis, University of Graz, Austria. 70pp.
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Jackson Creek partially iced in winter, ON (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)
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Nina Munteanu is an award-winning novelist and short story writer of eco-fiction, science fiction and fantasy. She also has three writing guides out: The Fiction Writer; The Journal Writer; and The Ecology of Writing and teaches fiction writing and technical writing at university and online. Check the Publications page on this site for a summary of what she has out there. Nina teaches writing at the University of Toronto and has been coaching fiction and non-fiction authors for over 20 years. You can find Nina’s short podcasts on writing on YouTube. Check out this site for more author advice from how to write a synopsis to finding your muse and the art and science of writing. For more on her work as a limnologist and ecologist, see The Meaning of Water.
It was several years ago, in 2020, that Terry Birdgenaw approached me as a writing coach to look at his first novel. When he described its premise, I was hooked right away and agreed to give it an editorial review. It was the beginning of a wonderful and rich experience with Terry’s books, now a series entitled The Antunite Chronicles. From the start, I was impressed and fascinated with his imagination and accurate use of science to produce a diverting allegorical CliFi series about cyborg insects on a far-away planet that serves as metaphor to developing autocracies on Earth.
Terry has three books out, with a fourth upcoming. The three books in this YA series take place on a far-away planet and moon, serving as a political and environmental allegory of an evolving technological society and failed democracy. They include: Antuna’s Story; The Rise and Fall of Antocracy; and Antunites Unite. The theme of induced climate change and environmental destruction runs deeply through the first three books. The fourth book, soon to release, is Cyborg Contact, which returns us to Earth. I’ll let Terry describe the series in the following interview I conducted with him on November 26:
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Nina: Your background and expertise is in neuroscience and psychology with over 150 scientific publications. You are Harold Griffith Professor of Anesthesia Research at McGill University in Montreal and your main research focus is on the mechanisms underlying neuroplasticity and its influence on the perception of pain. What got you started writing this incredible series, an adventure story that embraces ecology and entomology? What gave you the idea to create this imaginative modern allegory on the evolution of a technological society using insects as your main characters?
Terry: Oddly enough, I was not originally planning to write fiction. My inspiration came from my school librarian wife, Ann Birdgenaw, when she began writing the second book of her children’s chapter book series, Black Hole Radio. Her series features fifth-grade kids who travel through a wormhole to different planets, aiding the inhabitants they discover. She was considering what kind of planet and civilization her explorers would encounter, and I gave her some ideas about a giant cyborg-insect world that she ran with. Having some skin in the game, I participated beyond my welcome, offering plotlines that were far too advanced for her 7- to 11-year-old readers. Graciously, Ann suggested I take my ideas and write the backstory for her book, Black Hole Radio – Bilaluna, but target my book at young adults and adults. Thus began my fiction writing adventure. It was a rough start, but with the help of a tolerant book coach, my planned novella rapidly expanded to a trilogy. Perhaps a quick study because of years of scientific writing, I still credit Nina with opening in me an imaginative creativity I never knew I possessed.
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Nina: The narrative of your stories is from the POV of various insects and in some way, the stories are dramatizations of real and accurate ecological relationships of insects with their environment and each other. How did you prepare for this—both in relaying accurate ecologies and in realizable dramatization and characterization of your main characters—all insects? How did you avoid what I would call the Disney-effect: anthropomorphising insect characters into human archetypes to achieve reader engagement? How did you create that balance between realistic representation and empathic portrayal?
Terry: Although my books are parodies with characters who face political and ecological problems and anthropomorphise human dilemmas, I did not want them to be simply furry or slimy stand-ins for the humans they satirize. Thus, I drew on my long-standing expertise as a scientific researcher to delve deeply into entomology, ecology and environmental science. Fascinated by the richness of insect activities and interactions and the similarity between insect and human behaviour, I endeavoured to exploit my newly acquired knowledge within the pages of my story. I was inspired both by Orwellian dystopias and works such as Bernard Werber’s Empire of the Ants and Laline Paull’s The Bees. But more than that, I learned to let myself be taken into the world my insects lived in, experiencing both their instinctive realities and the human predicaments I intended to lampoon in equal measure.
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Nina: I noticed some fun metaphoric descriptions and expressions that incorporated insect terms to represent human counterparts. Did these come to you easily or were they a lot of work over time? Can you describe the process you used? For instance, did you spend a lot of time watching ants on the sidewalk?
Terry: Some phrases like ‘she shook her antenna to tune her attention’, ‘I took that as a back-clawed compliment’, or ‘he is such a hindgut hole’ came easily to me as differences in insect and human anatomy necessitated them. Others, like the expressions explained in my dictionary of pheromonal insect emotions, took much more reflection. This literary technique was inspired by your writing guide, The Fiction Writer, when you described how to add colour to one’s writing by using word pairings that mix up the senses, like the well-known one ‘biting cold’. This excellent advice led me to develop an extensive lexicon of insect emotions/non-verbal speech, including word combinations such as abrasive aroma, bitter bouquet, frosty fragrance, and vacillating vapour. They were not all alliterations, but some, like ‘she emitted an effervescent essence, were clearly intended to be. I didn’t watch ants walking, but I thought a lot about how they might communicate their emotions pheromonally.
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Nina: One of the things I enjoyed throughout your series is how you seamlessly imparted interesting facts about insects on our planet in the storytelling. I learned a lot about various insects! Tell us a little about the process you used to achieve this so effectively.
Terry: As a long-time researcher, I have learned how to find and use facts from scientific literature and reliable web-based information on many subjects within and outside my scientific field. Insect behaviour is little known, but often fascinating, and I enjoyed both discovering many details and incorporating them into fiction scenes. Sometimes I was required to dig even deeper than I initially expected to make my stories scientifically accurate. One of these cases had a very significant impact on a critical component of my book’s key plot. In Antunites Unite, ants are separated into a hierarchy of castes based on exoskeleton colour. Although clearly an anti-racism story, I originally wrote it with black ants as oppressors of both brown and red ants. Perhaps influenced by previous literature and movies, where the bad guys are often dressed in black, I had a feeling that some readers might interpret my choice as having a racist underpinning. I convinced myself that readers would not take the colour choice as representative of human ethnicity. However, the last beta reader to comment on the book made such an interpretation and confirmed my fear that some readers might see it as the opposite of my intention. So, while I debated altering the colour schemes, I dug deeper into the entomological discovery of a phenomenon my story paralleled, involving what entomologists call slave-maker ants. When my extensive research confirmed that red ants are more often the ants using raids to steal the eggs of other ants to be raised as slave-like workers for the dominant reds, I knew I had to reverse the colours. And this was no easy task, because all the characters in each caste took names that reflected their colour, like Ruby and Obsidiant. There were also many humorous references to colour, such as black widow spiders and lava fields, that needed to be reworked. It was an editing nightmare: Rose became Raven, and Raven – Rose, while Cole gave way to Clay, and Jett morphed to Jasper, etc., etc., etc. But in the end, it was true to nature and avoided any unwanted racial interpretations.
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Nina: In your first three books—a political modern satire on developing autocracies and human-induced climate change—you explore the technological and biological evolution of an insect exo-community in which certain species—ants for instance—acquire the ability to become cyborgs, ANTs, growing in size and abilities to navigate their world more effectively with related achievements—and consequences. As an ecologist, I was fascinated by how you portrayed the changing relationship of these beings to their environment as they evolved. Do you see a parallel with human society? Can you elaborate on this?
Terry: Yes, on a macro level. That is, technology can benefit society immensely, but it can also cause significant harm when coupled with greed, wilful ignorance of scientific warnings, and leaders misleading the public. I highlight one line of poetry written by my narrator in The Rise and Fall of Antocracy: “Like Peter and the crows, tis science, truth and reality denied ere climate is crucified.” Cyborg insects were created to enhance the production of honey, which was their currency. Cyborg ants, who most craved both power and honey, deceived the public to the detriment of the environment and ignored the science that provided evidence of environmental changes, which most insectoids on the planet denied. Perhaps an obvious cataclysmic message to those in our world, but many on this Earth apparently need to be hit over the head to see where this all may lead.
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Nina: Tell us about your latest book, the fourth in the series, Cyborg Contact, in which one of the cyborg ANTs returns to Earth through a wormhole with an important mission. I found that, while the first three books served as satirical allegory to a developing technological society through the evolving insect communities, the fourth book—being a first contact—shifts into more of an exploration of ‘the other,’ its perception and treatment by humans and their civilizations. Can you expand on this? How does humanity’s perception and treatment of the ‘other’ factor into our treatment of our environment and the growing phenomenon of climate change?
Terry: I might disagree and point out that ‘exclusion of the other’ is a dominant theme in all four books. The difference is that in Cyborg Contact, the main character embodies ‘the other’, so it hits home more strongly. What could be more ‘otherly’ than an alien (from another planet) who is treated like an illegal alien and hunted by ICE agents? And, too, aside from being hunted, many other dangers the alien experiences on Earth, including hurricanes, droughts, mudslides, and forest fires, are all caused by climate change, which has accelerated in the near-future North America our hero traverses. It seems that for some world leaders, a lack of empathy for others is paired with a disregard for the environment.
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Nina: Who is reading your books? And who should be who isn’t?
Terry: They are read by both young adults and adults; sometimes by parents reading to their pre-teens. They are not New York Times best sellers, but are highly celebrated by those who have read them. They should be read by all sci-fi and fantasy readers aged 13 and up who enjoy a thought-provoking read, except those who support fascism.
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Nina: How have your books been generally received? I understand that your trilogy has won the Firebird Book Award. Congratulations! What are people saying about your books?
Terry: Editorial reviews have been stellar, and the books have received awards from most of the contests to which they have been entered. Awards for all three books include Gold Medal/Badge (Readers’ Favourite, Literary Titan), First Place Prize (Firebird, Entrada Incipere), Silver & Bronze Medal (Firebird, Bookfest), Honourable Mention (Readers’ Favourite), and Finalist (American Writing Awards, Chanticleer, The Wishing Shelf). Most notable review comments describe the books as: “soon-to-be a bestseller”, “takes speculative fiction to a new level”, “fantastical to a degree not seen elsewhere in any Sci-Fi dystopian fiction”, “as big in spirit as any literary giant in the genre” and “holds its ground next to Brave New World, Dune, Animal Farm, and 1984”. These reviews have “blown me away”, like an enthusiastic reader’s comment on Antuna’s Story.
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Nina: What’s next for Terry Birdgenaw?
Terry: Finish editing Book 4 and writing a dystopian novel featuring humans for a change.
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Nina: That sounds very intriguing! Thanks for coming out for the interview, Terry.
Terry: My pleasure, Nina.
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The first three books of the Antunite Chronicles series by Terry Birdgenaw
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You can find Terry’s books all over the place, including Amazon. Find out more about Terry on his website and check out Terry’s interview on SF Canada in which he talks more about his heritage and interests.
Terry Birdgenaw and one of his fans
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Terry Birdgenaw with Narrant at award ceremonies
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Nina Munteanu is a Canadian ecologist / limnologist and novelist. She is co-editor of Europa SF and currently teaches writing courses at George Brown College and the University of Toronto. Visit www.ninamunteanu.ca for the latest on her books. Nina’s bilingual “La natura dell’acqua / The Way of Water” was published by Mincione Edizioni in Rome. Her non-fiction book “Water Is…” by Pixl Press (Vancouver) was selected by Margaret Atwood in the New York Times ‘Year in Reading’ and was chosen as the 2017 Summer Read by Water Canada. Her novel “A Diary in the Age of Water” was released by Inanna Publications (Toronto) in June 2020.
Today, I’m sitting down with authors and writing coaches Suzanne Lieurance and Simon Rose to talk about their brand-new YouTube series, The Law of Attraction for Writers Podcast, which you can find at: https://www.youtube.com/@LawofAttractionforWritersPodca.
The show blends mindset, creativity, and practical writing advice — a combination that’s resonating with writers who want to manifest success and write with more ease.
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Nina: Welcome, both of you!
Suzanne: Thank you! We’re so excited to finally share this project.
Simon: Yes, it’s been in the works for a while, and we’re thrilled to see writers already responding so positively.
Simon Rose and Suzanne Lieurance
Nina: Let’s start with the big question. Why create a Law of Attraction for Writers podcast?
Suzanne: Well, over the years, I’ve coached so many writers who say things like, “I’ll feel successful when I get an agent,” or “I’ll write when I have more time.” But the Law of Attraction teaches us it works the other way around — you become the person who already feels successful, and the opportunities follow. I wanted to create a podcast that helps writers understand how their thoughts, emotions, and energy shape their writing lives.
Simon: Exactly. So much of writing is mental. You can have the best outline and still feel blocked if your energy is off. We wanted to show that aligning your mindset with your goals isn’t mystical — it’s practical. You’re essentially training your brain to focus on what you want instead of what you fear.
Nina: How would you describe the podcast to someone who hasn’t tuned in yet?
Simon: Each episode focuses on one key aspect of the Law of Attraction and how it connects to the writing process. We might explore a concept like visualization, vibration, or inspired action — and then show writers how to apply that directly to their writing routines.
Suzanne: We wanted to make it accessible. It’s not just theory or motivation. We give writers clear steps they can take right away — ways to shift their thinking, attract new ideas, or rekindle their excitement for a project.
Simon: We also share personal stories. Between the two of us, we’ve seen these principles in action — in publishing, in teaching, and even in everyday creative decisions.
Nina: I love that you connect mindset with the craft of writing. Can you say more about how that works?
Suzanne: Sure. A lot of writers separate the two — mindset on one side, writing craft on the other. But they’re intertwined. You might know every writing technique out there, but if you’re doubting yourself or constantly telling yourself you’re behind, you’ll block the creative flow.
Simon: That’s why the Law of Attraction is so powerful for writers. It’s not just about “thinking positive.” It’s about intentionally setting the tone for your writing sessions, deciding what kind of writer you believe yourself to be, and letting that belief guide your actions.
Suzanne: In one episode, we talk about “energetic alignment” — how your emotional state affects the words you put on the page. When you write from frustration, the writing feels heavy. But when you write from joy or curiosity, the story expands.
Nina: You’ve both been writing coaches for years. How has it been working together on this project?
Simon: It’s been wonderful. Suzanne brings a very intuitive approach to writing and mindset, while I tend to look at things through a more analytical lens. Together, we strike a balance between the spiritual and the practical.
Suzanne: Yes! We complement each other well. Simon often grounds the big ideas in real-world examples, and I love exploring how energy and focus shape results. It’s a true partnership — and we both learn from each other in every episode.
Nina: Without giving too much away, what are some of the themes or takeaways that keep coming up in your discussions?
Suzanne: One theme that runs through everything is trust — trusting yourself, your ideas, and the timing of your success. The Law of Attraction reminds us that everything unfolds when you’re ready to receive it.
Simon: Another recurring idea is momentum. Writers often stop when things get tough, but energy builds through consistent action. You don’t have to write for hours every day — just focus on showing up with intention. That small shift can open the door to much bigger results.
Suzanne: We also talk about how to handle resistance. Every writer faces doubt or creative slumps. The podcast offers ways to turn those moments into opportunities instead of roadblocks.
Nina: You’ve chosen YouTube as your main platform. Why that format?
Simon: We wanted to make it easy and engaging. YouTube allows us to connect visually and energetically with our audience. Writers can listen while they work, which adds a more personal connection.
Suzanne: And YouTube’s format fits how writers consume content today. Many of them already use it to learn about craft and publishing. This podcast adds another layer — the inner work behind writing success.
Nina: What’s ahead for the Law of Attraction for Writers Podcast?
Suzanne: We’ll keep releasing new episodes every Tuesday. Each one will build on the idea that your energy, focus, and beliefs create your writing experience.
Simon: We’re also exploring live Q&A sessions, where writers can ask questions and share how they’ve applied the principles we discuss. It’s exciting to see a community forming around these ideas.
Suzanne: Ultimately, we want every writer to realize they’re not powerless. They can create not only their stories but also their success.
Nina: That’s such an inspiring message. Any final thoughts for writers who might be hesitant to explore this side of writing?
Suzanne: Just start listening with an open mind. You don’t have to “believe” in anything right away — just try applying one idea and see what shifts.
Simon: Yes. Writing is already an act of creation — you’re manifesting something that didn’t exist before. This podcast helps you see that same creative power working in every area of your writing life.
Follow Suzanne Lieurance and Simon Rose for practical, inspiring ways to align your mindset, energy, and creativity — and manifest the writing life you’ve always imagined.
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Nina Munteanu is an award-winning novelist and short story writer of eco-fiction, science fiction and fantasy. She also has three writing guides out: The Fiction Writer; The Journal Writer; and The Ecology of Writing and teaches fiction writing and technical writing at university and online. Check the Publications page on this site for a summary of what she has out there. Nina teaches writing at the University of Toronto and has been coaching fiction and non-fiction authors for over 20 years. You can find Nina’s short podcasts on writing on YouTube. Check out this site for more author advice from how to write a synopsis to finding your muse and the art and science of writing.
Susan M. Osborn explores the nature, influence—and importance—of coincidence, synchronicity and serendipitous discovery in our lives.
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The book is laid out in ten chapters, each featuring some aspect of coincidence, synchronicity, and events of pure serendipity. Within each chapter, the narrative flows from biography to historic exposition or topical study, unraveling delicious facts, suppositions, dreams and fantasies coiled up in patterns and signs of potential significance.
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Locked between the many entertaining and enlightening examples of synchronicity experienced by famous and not-so-famous people, are gems of interesting and notable facts and astute observations—from the origins and history of the term synchronicity with Jung’s early work in archetypes to the origins of “serendipity” with Horace Walpole to the foundations and influences of the ‘I Ching’.
The latter part of Osborn’s title, “and Other Spooky Connections”, riffs off Albert Einstein’s famous quote about “spooky actions at a distance”, a reference to quantum entanglement, which describes how two particles may remain connected regardless of the distance between them. Einstein asserted that quantum entanglement violated the principles of a realistic, deterministic universe. And, yet, experiments have repeatedly verified the reality of quantum entanglement. This speaks to the power of connection. All the “spooky connections” described in Osborn’s book ultimately address a common theme of all life: to make meaning of our world. I believe that this is essentially the purpose of all life. It even has a term: biosemiosis, which describes how all life is involved in meaning-making.
I agree with Osborn when she writes, “we can solve many of our problems if we have more than one way to look at them.” And this is how she has laid out her book, offering “a way to look at the world from a wider perspective” to gain insight from an otherwise chaotic and seemingly random pattern. When we learn from chaos, we are making meaning and fulfilling what all life is doing. This too is biosemiosis: the notion that all life embraces a process of signification and meaning-generation—from mammals to bacteria—that recognizes its Umwelt (species-specific environmental reality) through the production, action, and interpretation of non-linguistic signs and codes.
Ultimately, Osborn’s stories, disclosures and explorations challenge the reader to become more mindful and ‘present’ in our world, to exercise curiosity, integrate more aspects of our reality to arrive at meaning so we can forge connections—even spooky ones—that open doors of possibility and fulfill us with purpose and joy.
References:
Barbieri, Marcelo. 2008 (ed). “Introduction to Biosemiotics: The New Biological Synthesis” Springer, Netherlands. 525pp.
Hoffmeyer, Jesper. 2001. “Seeing virtuality in nature.” Semiotica 134.
Kull, K. 2016. “The biosemiotics concept of the species.” Biosemiotics 9:61-71.
Lowenhaupt Tsing, Anna. 2015. “The Mushroom at the End of the World: On the Possibility of Life in Capitalist Ruins” Princeton University Press, New Jersey. 331pp.
Trewavas, Anthony. 2003. “Aspects of Plant Intelligence.” Annals of Botany 92(1): 1-20.
Uexküll, Jakob von. 1931. “Die Rolle des Subjekts in der Biologie.” Die Naturwissenschaften 19: 385-391.
Uexküll, Jakob von. 1940 (1982). “The theory of meaning.” Semiotica 42(1): 25-82.
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Nina Munteanu is a Canadian ecologist / limnologist and novelist. She is co-editor of Europa SF and currently teaches writing courses at George Brown College and the University of Toronto. Visit www.ninamunteanu.ca for the latest on her books. Nina’s bilingual “La natura dell’acqua / The Way of Water” was published by Mincione Edizioni in Rome. Her non-fiction book “Water Is…” by Pixl Press (Vancouver) was selected by Margaret Atwood in the New York Times ‘Year in Reading’ and was chosen as the 2017 Summer Read by Water Canada. Her novel “A Diary in the Age of Water” was released by Inanna Publications (Toronto) in June 2020.
From the rolling Prairies I ascended up the foothills of the Rocky Mountains in Alberta. As I neared the mountains, they seemed to cut the sky with jagged peaks of steely grey. Rugged and unabashedly wild, they teased my spirits into flight.
Rocky Mountains, Alberta (photo by Nina Munteanu)
Canadian Rockies, AB (photo by Nina Munteanu)
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The Rockies are such a wonder! I found myself thinking—well, wishing—that I had a geologist sitting in the passenger seat (instead of my companions Toulouse, Mouse and a car full of plants), telling me all about these stately mountains and their formations. All that folding, thrusting, scraping and eroding! So fascinating!
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Rockies west of Banff, AB (photo by Nina Munteanu)
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I did some research into The Canadian Rocky Mountains and discovered that they were formed through a combination of subduction and thrust faulting with an oceanic plate subducting beneath the North American plate.
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Sketch showing subduction of ocean plate beneath the North American plate with accompanying accretionary wedge and thrusting action (image by Earle and Panchuk)
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The Canadian Rocky Mountains were originally part of an ancient shallow sea half a billion years ago and formed from pieces of continental crust over a billion years old during an intense period of plate tectonic activity. Their jagged peaks of mostly sedimentary limestone (originally part of the continental shelf) and shale (originally part of the deeper ocean waters) belonged to an ancient sea floor; during the Paleozoic Era (~5-2 hundred million years ago), western North America lay beneath a shallow sea, depositing kilometers of limestone and dolomite.
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Rocky Mountains near Canmore, AB (photo by Nina Munteanu)
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The current Canadian Rocky Mountains were raised by the Cordilleran Orogeny, a process of mountain-building when tectonic plates started colliding ~ 200 million years ago during much of the Mesozoic Era, which extends over 187 million years from the beginning of the Triassic (252 Ma) to the end of the Cretaceous (65 Ma). This era, I’m told, was a particularly important period for the geology of western Canada. During the plate and land mass collisions, ancient seabed layers were scraped, folded and thrust upwards (through a process called thrust faulting). As plates converged, entire sheets of sedimentary rock were slowly pushed on top of other sheets, creating a situation where older rocks lie on top of younger ones.
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Castle Mountain overlooks the Bow River, Canadian Rockies, AB (photo by Nina Munteanu)
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According to Earle and Panchuk, several continental collisions occurred along the west coast over the Mesozoic, resulting in the formation of the Rocky Mountains and the accretion (addition) of much of British Columbia’s land mass. Starting in the early Triassic (~250 Ma) through to the Cretaceous Period (~90 Ma), continued subduction sent several continental terranes (land masses) colliding into and accreting to the western edge of North America. The Quesnel, Cache Creek, and Stikine Terranes formed the Intermontane Superterrane, which now forms BC’s interior plateau between the Rockies and the Coast Range. A hundred million years later, during the Jurassic Period, a pair of terranes—Alexander and Wrangellia—collided with the west coast to form most of Vancouver Island and Haida Gwaii as well as part of Alaska. During the Cenozoic Era, more terranes accreted with the western edge of North America.
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Model of the accretion of the Superterranes to the west coast of North America during the Mesozoic Era; red toothed lines=subduction zones; dark red triangles=volcanoes (images by Earle and Panchuk, 2019)
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In the Jurassic Period, the Intermontane Superterrane acted like a giant bulldozer, pushing, folding, and thrusting the existing Proterozoic and Paleozoic west coast sediments eastward and upward to form the Rocky Mountains. The same process continued into the Cretaceous as the Insular Superterrane collided with North America and pushed the Intermontane Superterrane farther east.
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Cross-section of the accretion of the Intermontane Superterrane to the west coast of North America in Jurassic and early Cretaceous, with resulting compression folding and thrusting of sedimentary rocks. Late Cretaceous Insular Superterrane further pushed against the Intermontane Superterrane to create massive folding and thrusting (image from Earle and Panchuk, 2019)
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Canadian geologist/author Ben Gadd explains the Canadian Rocky Mountain building through the metaphor of a rug being pushed on a hardwood floor: the rug bunches up and forms wrinkles (mountains). In Canada, the subduction (downward movement) of an oceanic tectonic plate and the terranes (slabs of land) smashing into the continent are the feet pushing the rug, the ancestral rocks are the rug, and the Canadian Shield in the middle of the continent is the hardwood floor. The Rockies, writes Gadd, were like Tibet: a high plateau, 6,000 metres above sea level. Then, in the last 60 million years, glaciers—creeping forward at 50 feet per year—stripped away the high rocks, revealing the ancestral rocks beneath and carving out steep U-shaped valleys to form the current landscape of the Rockies: jagged peaks of soft sedimentary limestone and shale overlooking steep gorges and valleys. You can watch an excellent video of the 200-million-year formation of the Rocky Mountains by Spark.
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Castle Mountain, Canadian Rockies, AB (photo by Nina Munteanu)
Rockies west of Lake Louise, Alberta (photo by Nina Munteanu)
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When I stopped in Canmore, Alberta, for the night, I found all the hotels solidly booked, except for a few very expensive rooms in high end hotels. It was the weekend of the Calgary Stampede and the crowds had spilled out this far, I was told. I also acknowledged that I was plum in the middle of tourist season too. But I was dead tired and it would be dark soon; so, I bit the bullet and booked an expensive room in an expensive hotel. I recalled that I was repeating my mother’s trip across Canada to settle in Victoria many years ago; she’d also driven through here in her old Datsun, brim with plants, like my Benny, and stopped in Canmore for the night. Only, she found very reasonable accommodations when she came through over four decades ago. Canmore is located in the front ranges of the Rockies, with a wonderful view of the Three Sisters and Ha Ling Peak from my hotel room.
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The Three Sisters, Canmore, AB (photo by Nina Munteanu)
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Temple Mountain, west of Lake Louise, Alberta (photo by NIna Munteanu)
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I gave Banff and Lake Louise a miss and opted for a breakfast at some remote viewpoint after crossing the border into British Columbia. As I ate my cereal from the tailgate of my car, I felt a strange but lovely warm joy spread through me like a deep soothing balm.
I was home…
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Faeder Lake, Yoho National Park, BC (photo by Nina Munteanu)
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I stopped at Faeder Lake, on the western side of Yoho National Park, with a view of the Ottertail Range and Mount Vaux. Faeder Lake’s clear tourquise water—a result of fine particles of rock dust called glacial flour—enticed me for a swim.
I stopped briefly for lunch in Golden in the Rocky Mountain Trench. The Rocky Mountain Trench is a long and deep valley walled by sedimentary, volcanic and igneous rock that extends some 1,500 km north south, spanning from Montana through British Columbia. The Trench is sometimes referred to as the “Valley of a Thousand Peaks” because of the towering mountain ranges on either side: the Rocky Mountains to the east and the Columbia, Omineca and Cassiar mountains to the west.
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Rocky Mountain Trench near Golden, BC
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The Trench is a large fault—a crack in the Earth’s crust—and bordered along much of its length by smaller faults. Major structural features resulted from the shifting and thrusting of tectonic plates of the crust during the early Cenozoic Era (65 million years ago) during mountain formation discussed above. The ridges of fractured crust pulled apart and the land in between dropped, creating the floor of the Trench. Major rivers that flow through the trench include the Fraser, Liard, Peace and Columbia rivers.
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The Rocky Mountain Trench features in two of my books: A Diary in the Age of Water (Inanna Publications) and upcoming novel Thalweg. In both novels, which take place in the near future, the trench has been flooded to create a giant inland sea to serve as water reservoir and hydropower to the USA. You can read an excerpt in my article “A Diary in the Age of Water: The Rocky Mountain Trench Inland Sea.” The article also talks about the original 1960s NAWAPA plan by Parsons Engineering to flood the trench to service dry sections of the US by diverting and storing massive amounts of Canadian water. Proponents are still talking about it!
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Mount Macdonald, Rogers Pass, BC (photo by Nina Munteanu)
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I entered Glacier National Park, driving through several snow & avalanche sheds at Rogers Pass, in the heart of the Selkirk Range of the Columbia Mountains. This part of the drive was spectacular as mountains towered close and steep above me like sky scrapers, fanning out as the bright green vegetation crept resolutely up their scree slopes.
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Selkirk Mountains and Mount Macdonald in Roger’s Pass; Google location (image by Google Maps)
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Selkirk Range at Rogers Pass, BC (photos by Nina Munteanu)
The highway followed the Illecillewaet River as it wound southwest to Arrow Lake from it’s the glaciers east. I soon reached Revelstoke National Park and stopped at the Giant Cedars Boardwalk Trail, located about 30 km east of Revelstoke, between the Monashee Mountains, west, and the Selkirk Range, east.
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Boardwalk through ferns, devils club and giant cedars, Giant Cedar Boardwalk, Revelstoke National Park, BC (photo by Nina Munteanu)
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The Giant Cedars Boardwalk Park is a rare inland temperate rainforest ecosystem, receiving significant precipitation from Pacific weather systems that rise over the Columbia Mountains and dump here. It is a lush and humid old-growth forest with rich diversity of plant and animal life that resembles a coastal rainforest. Dominated by Western Red Cedars and Western Hemlocks—with some Douglas fir, paper birch and Bigleaf maple—the forest floor is a rich understory of salal, devil’s club, several berry shrubs and a diversity of ferns—oak fern, sword fern, and licorice fern. All was covered with a dense carpet of mosses, lichens, liverworts and fungi.
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Above: moss-covered Red Cedar; Below: Devil’s club; Giant Cedar Boardwalk Trail, Revelstoke National Park, BC (photos by Nina Munteanu)
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I followed the boardwalk through a cathedral of towering trees, among ancient cedars, whose fibrous, thick trunks loomed high to pierce the sky. Some are over 500 years old. I found that one large cedar trunk beside the boardwalk was ‘smooth from loving’ as I leaned against it and stroked its bark, no longer fibrous but burnished smooth and shiny.
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Nina leans against a giant red cedar, fibrous bark smoothed from copious stroking of hands, Giant Cedar Boardwalk Park, BC (photo by Anne Voute)
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I reached Revelstoke just after 6 pm and, to celebrate, I booked a room at the Regent Hotel. After a walk through the ski resort town, alive with young tourists, I returned to the hotel restaurant, I treated myself to a celebratory salmon dinner with garlic mashed potatoes and mixed veggies. I even I had a dessert—Tiramisu with a cup of tea—and went to bed sated, happy and tired. As soon as my head hit the pillow, I was in dreamland.
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Revelstoke and the Regent Hotel; my celebratory meal there (photos by Nina Munteanu)
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Chaparral near Merritt, BC (photo by Nina Munteanu)
Two types of sage brush near Merritt, BC (photo by Nina Munteanu)
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The next day, I descended southwest from the Selkirk Range, passing through Kamloops and then arriving at Merritt, in the heart of the Nicola Valley, an area of dry forests, grasslands, sagebrush, alpine meadows, and wetlands. This was range country, dry, golden and rolling with the peppery scent of sage. The most visible and dominant vegetation included big sage (Artemisia tridentata) and bluebunch wheatgrass (Pseudoroegneria spicata) with the odd Ponderosa Pine (Pinus ponderosa) dotting the dry landscape.
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Sagebrush country at Merritt, BC (photo by NIna Munteanu)
Sagebrush country near Merritt, BC (photo by Nina Munteanu)
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From there, I drove south along the Coquihalla Highway in the Cascades Range to Hope, where I treated myself to an ice cream cone and ate it overlooking the mighty Fraser River. I followed the Fraser west to Vancouver, where it empties into the Pacific Ocean.
My last stop before reaching my good friend’s place in Ladner (where I would stay until I found my own place) was the Four Winds Brewery on Tilbury Road, where I bought a case of beer for the pizza we would share once I got there.
Earle, Steven and Karla Panchuk. 2019. “Physical Geology”, 2nd edition: Chapter 21: Geological History of Western Canada, 21.4, Western Canada during the Mesozoic.” BCcampus. OpenTextBC/Physical Geology
Munteanu, Nina. 2020. “A Diary in the Age of Water.” Inanna Publications, Toronto. 328 pp.
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Nina Munteanu is a Canadian ecologist / limnologist and novelist. She is co-editor of Europa SF and currently teaches writing courses at George Brown College and the University of Toronto. Visit www.ninamunteanu.ca for the latest on her books. Nina’s bilingual “La natura dell’acqua / The Way of Water” was published by Mincione Edizioni in Rome. Her non-fiction book “Water Is…” by Pixl Press (Vancouver) was selected by Margaret Atwood in the New York Times ‘Year in Reading’ and was chosen as the 2017 Summer Read by Water Canada. Her novel “A Diary in the Age of Water” was released by Inanna Publications (Toronto) in June 2020.
I emerged from the Lake of the Woods boreal forest into Manitoba’s true flatlands as I neared Winnipeg. Though, the eastern part of Manitoba was similar to the boreal hills of Ontario, it soon leveled out into flat stretches of prairie grasslands, and expansive fields of various crops including bright yellow fields of blooming canola.
Canola field in Saskatchewan (photo by Nina Munteanu)
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It was early July and I’d caught it at its peak in flowering. Bright waves of yellow continued from Manitoba into Saskatchewan, where canola seemed to take over the land. At times all I saw was lemon yellow all the way to the horizon in all directions. Canola accounts for the largest area of land dedicated to any single crop in Saskatchewan. I’m told that there are over 22 million acres of canola growing in that province.
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Train lumbers across a horizon of canola, west of Winnipeg, Manitoba(photo by Nina Munteanu)
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Canola is a member of the crucifer family; it is a cool season crop that grows particularly well on the prairies, where cool nights and hot days allow it to develop its unique fatty acid profile. The name Canola was registered as a trademark in Canada in 1978. The name is essentially an acronym for CANadian Oil Low Acid. Prior to canola oil, most of the oil Canadians used for food purposes was imported. The canola plant was developed by two Canadian prairie plant scientists, Dr. Baldur Stefansson and Dr. Keith Downey, who bred rapeseed populations to develop a crop that would meet consumer demand for a healthy, edible oil product. Harvested seeds are crushed to produce canola oil, with the remainder used to create a high-protein meal for livestock and human consumption. Canola is kind of cool, given its versatile use from cooking oil pant-based protein, biofuel, animal feed to possibly even clothing!
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Bridge across the Assiniboine River for the Trans Canada Highway
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Before reaching Winnipeg, I crossed the Red River at Selkirk. This large river floods almost every spring, covering large areas of flat land with muddy water. I touched on the Red River in an article I wrote about the impact of current agricultural practices on river dynamics and eventual flooding in the Niverville Citizen.
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Nina Munteanu talks about watersheds in the Niverville Citizen
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After passing through Winnipeg, near Portage La Prairie, Manitoba, I crossed the iconic Assiniboine River, as it flows from Saskatchewan and parallels the Trans Canada Highway as it flows east to Winnipeg to join the Red River.
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Train crossing the Trans Canada Highway in Saskatchewan (photo by Nina Munteanu)
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Driving through the prairies on the Trans Canada Highway, I often had to stop for a train crossing or slow down as a slow farm vehicle cut across my path on the highway. Here, the Trans Canada was just another country road and I was competing with tractors, farm vehicles and, in some cases, horse and wagon.
I made good time, driving the straight roads along flat and gently rolling landscapes sculpted by wind and water. This was big sky country, and I recalled that this was all a giant shallow and warm inland sea in prehistoric times.
Depiction of the prehistoric inland sea in Canada
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Called the Western Interior Seaway, this Cretaceous inland sea stretched from the Arctic Ocean down to the Gulf of Mexico, connecting the two oceans and separating the continent into eastern (Appalachia) and western (Laramidia) landmasses and covering what is now most of Manitoba, Saskatchewan and part of Alberta. Existing from about 100 to 66 million years ago, this shallow marine sea supported a rich and diverse marine life, including the shell-crushing durophagous Ptychodus mortoni, apparently 10 metres long. I thought all this as I raced across a giant dry ocean of grass waving in the wind. I imagined myself a crab scuttling along the ocean floor beneath 760 m of water as giant sharks, 13-metre long mosasaurs and other exotic creatures swam leisurely above me. Is that why I found myself speeding along the highway and crossing into Saskatchewan before I knew it?
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Sodium sulphate deposits of salt mine near Chaplin Lake, Saskatchewan (photo by NIna Munteanu)
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Near the village of Chaplin, Saskatchewan, I stumbled on a moonscape of white chalk-like hills. This was the sodium sulphate mine on the northern shore of Chaplin Lake, a salt lake that is a major stop over for migratory birds that feed on its brine shrimp. I discovered that the lake formed in the late Pleistocene when glaciers shaped the landscape and deposited salts and other minerals into the soil and bedrock. As the glaciers receded in the late Pleistocene, meltwater channels dried and left isolated depressions filled with meltwater and groundwater rich in dissolved salts from underlying glacial deposits. Hot, dry summers and persistent winds common in the Saskatchewan prairies increased evaporation and concentrated salts, leading to crystalline sodium sulphate deposits, which created the salt lake. The salt mine started in 1947 and today is one of the largest producers of anhydrous sodium sulphate in North America with production capability of 285,000 tons per year.
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Map showing Chaplin Lake
Salt deposits on the side of the road, near Chaplin, Sask (photo by NIna Munteanu)
Flat sage-grasslands plain under a darkening sky, near Piapot, Saskatchewan (photo by NIna Munteanu)
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I continued through the Great Plains, west toward Alberta, across a rolling grassland mingled with sage. Along the stretch from Chaplin Lake past Swift Current through Piapot, the terrain grew distinctly dry and chaparral-like. I spotted various types of sage everywhere.
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I saw two types of native sage: left is Artemisia frigida; right is Artemisia ludoviciana (photos by NIna Munteanu)
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Three types of native sage live in the grasslands of Saskatchewan: Pasture Sage or Prairie Sagewort (Artemisia frigida), Prairie Sage (Artemisia ludoviciana), and Silver Sagebrush (Artemisia cana). Pasture sage is an ‘increaser’ species; its population grows as rangeland condition deteriorates. It is a good indicator of overgrazing.
I also found ‘frothy’ clusters of pretty tiny white 5-petaled flowers that I finally identified as Prairie Baby’s Breath (Gypsophila paniculata), growing by the roadside and in the grasslands of Saskatchewan. The pretty tiny white 5-petaled flowers It’s a much branched perennial, the inflorescence often giving the plant a dome shape. Foliage is glaucous and plants are glabrous except for small hairs on the calyx. This plant has been designated a noxious weed in Saskatchewan.
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Bunches of Gypsophila paniculata in a Saskatchewan grassland (photo by Nina Munteanu)
Close up of Gypsophila paniculata, Sask (photo by Nina Munteanu)
Then, in no time, I crossed the border and was approaching Medicine Hat in Alberta. But that’s Part 4 of this journey.
Rolling prairie hills near Medicine Hat, AB (photo by Nina Munteanu)
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Nina Munteanu is a Canadian ecologist / limnologist and novelist. She is co-editor of Europa SF and currently teaches writing courses at George Brown College and the University of Toronto. Visit www.ninamunteanu.ca for the latest on her books. Nina’s bilingual “La natura dell’acqua / The Way of Water” was published by Mincione Edizioni in Rome. Her non-fiction book “Water Is…” by Pixl Press (Vancouver) was selected by Margaret Atwood in the New York Times ‘Year in Reading’ and was chosen as the 2017 Summer Read by Water Canada. Her novel “A Diary in the Age of Water” was released by Inanna Publications (Toronto) in June 2020.
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