Place as Character in Literature

August 2, 2026July 12, 2026 / thealiennextdoor / Leave a comment

Place ultimately portrays what lies at the heart of a story. Place as character provides an archetype that story characters connect with and navigate in ways that depend on the story’s theme, particularly in allegories that rely strongly on metaphor. Theme is essentially the “so what part” of a story; what is at stake for the character on their journey. Theme is the backbone—the heart—of the story, driving characters to journey through time and place toward some kind of fulfillment. There is no story without theme. And there is no theme without place.

When place is the environment—a forest, meadow, swamp or heathland—the author has an opportunity to go beyond simple backdrop, even beyond deeper metaphor, to intimately portray the voice of ‘the Other.’ Eco-literature brings awareness to environment as ‘Other’; eco-literature intimately explores humanity’s role in defining ‘the Other’ by portraying environment on a journey as character with agency and sometimes with voice—often through character coupling. Nineteenth Century author Thomas Hardy recognized the tenuous position of wilderness during Victorian Britain with increasing industrialization and urbanization. Taming Nature to achieve ordered beauty had become an obsession; Hardy recognized this and mourned the loss of pre-industrial agrarian landscapes to human greed and modernization.

Thomas Hardy’s Heath: Return of the Native

For Victorian author Thomas Hardy, trees, meadows, winding brooks and country roads were far more than back-drop for his world and his stories. Elements of the natural world were characters that impacted other characters in a world dominated by nature.

Perhaps best known for his melancholic stories of fatalistic, ironic tyrannies, Thomas Hardy wrote with a tender and poetic sensibility about Nature, and particularly the heath where he grew up. All of Hardy’s writings embody a strong sense of place. Nature—like his omniscient narrative form—lies beyond the scope of humanity: vast, amoral, and unfathomed; and yet, inextricably linked to the feckless actions of its humans. Egdon Heath in Return of the Native remains one of Hardy’s most enduring characters and best examples of the power of place in story.

Author D.H. Lawrence evocatively personified Hardy’s bleak heathland: “Egdon, whose dark soil was strong and crude and organic as the body of a beast.”

Egdon Heath is a metaphoric black hole from which no light escapes. None of Hardy’s characters escape the embrace of this behemoth. Dark, swarthy and associated with the night: “The face of the heath by its mere complexion added half an hour to evening; it could in like manner retard the dawn, sadden noon, anticipate the frowning storms scarcely generated, and intensify the opacity of a moonless midnight to a cause of shaking dread.” Each character is touched by the heath’s brooding grip and each feels its power differently: hapless Wildeve; idealist Clym; desperate Eustacia and suffering Thomasin.

Cixin Liu’s Forests: The Three Body Problem

Cixin Liu’s The Three Body Problem—set against the backdrop of China’s Cultural Revolution—follows Wenji Ye, disillusioned by the massive environmental deforestation in the labour camps she is sent to work:

Her company wielded hundreds of chain saws like a swarm of steel locusts, and after they passed, only stumps were left. The fallen Dahurian larch, now bereft of branches, was ready to be taken away by tractor. Ye gently caressed the freshly exposed cross section of the felled trunk. She did this often, as though such surfaces were giant wounds, as though she could feel the tree’s pain … The trunk was dragged away. Rocks and stumps in the ground broke the bark in more places, wounding the giant body further. In the spot where it once stood, the weight of the fallen tree being dragged left a deep channel in the layers of decomposing leaves that had accumulated over the years. Water quickly filled the ditch. The rotting leaves made the water appear crimson, like blood.

Frank Herbert’s Desert: Dune

Frank Herbert’s Dune chronicles the journey of young Paul Atreides, Duke Leto’s son, who according to the indigenous Fremen prophesy will eventually bring them freedom from their enslavement by the colonialists—The Harkonens—and allow them to live unfettered on the planet Arrakis, known as Dune.

But, as the title of the book clearly reveals, this story is about place—a harsh desert planet whose 800 kph sandblasting winds could flay your flesh—and the power struggle between those who covet its arcane treasures and those who wish only to live free from slavery. Place—and its powerful symbols of desert, water and spice—lies at the heart of this epic story about taking, giving and sharing. When he thinks of Dune, the newly placed Duke Atreides uses water metaphors: “He sighed, glanced back at the dry landscape where the flowers were gone now—trampled by the dew gatherers, wilted under the early sun.”

“The desert stretched out like a static ocean. [It] lay there full of moon-silvered waves—shadows of angles that lapsed into curves and, in the distance, lifted to the misted gray blur of another escarpment.”

The immense sandworms of Frank Herbert’s Dune are strong archetypes of Nature—large and graceful creatures whose movements in the vast desert sands resemble the elegant whales of our oceans:

It came from their right with an uncaring majesty that could not be ignored. A twisting burrow-mound of sand cut through the dunes within their field of vision. The mound lifted in front, dusting away like a bow wave in water.

Annie Proulx’s Forest: Barkskins

The opening combines subtle to obvious images of an “unwelcoming” wilderness—as dark behemoth—and foreshadows the forest’s eventual destruction by settlers intent on conquering Nature. Proulx’s 300-year saga starts with the arrival of the Europeans in Canada’s pristine forest

Within the first ten pages we gain a rich and potent collage of first impressions by the settlers of “the moody darkness” of the New France forest, previously only seen by the “sauvages.” The barkskins “tramped up the muddy path toward a line of black mist … In a few hours the sodden leaf mold gave way to pine duff. Fallen needles muted their passage, the interlaced branches absorbed their panting breaths … evergreens larger than cathedrals, cloud-piercing spruce and hemlock. The monstrous deciduous trees stood distant from each other, but overhead their leaf-choked branches merged into a false sky, dark and savage …They walked on through the dim woods, climbing over mossy humps, passing under branches drooping like funeral swags,” hearing pines hissing in the wind,” and crossing “snarling water,” and “swarms of mosquitoes in such millions that their shrill keening was the sound of the woods.”

These bleak impressions of a harsh environment crawling with pests such as bébites and moustiques underlie the combative mindset of the settlers to conquer and seize what they can of a presumed infinite resource. By page seventeen, we know that mindset well. René asks why they must cut so much forest when it would be easier to use the many adequate clearings to build their houses and settlements. Trépagny fulminates: “Easier? Yes, easier, but we are here to clear the forest, to subdue this evil wilderness.”

For them, the vast Canadian boreal forest was never-ending and for the taking: “It is the forest of the world. It is infinite. It twists around as a snake swallows its own tail and has no end and no beginning,” Trépagny claims.

Richard Power’s Forest: The Overstory

Richard Powers’s The Overstory follows the life-stories of nine characters and their journey with trees. At its heart is the pivotal life of botanist Patricia Westerford, whose work resembles that of UBC’s Suzanne Simard. Westerford is a shy introvert who discovers that trees communicate, learn, trade goods and services—and have intelligence. When she shares her discovery, she is ridiculed by her peers and eventually loses her position at the university.

Like the marcescent beech, Patricia finds herself asynchronous with the rest of the forestry department at Purdue, in fact with the entire forestry discipline in the country. She disagrees with their edict of needing to “clean the forest of snags and wind throw to improve forest health.” She disagrees with their use of terms like thrifty young forests and decadent old forests, mean annual increment and economic maturity—not ecological but economic terms based on exploitation and human utility.

Patricia’s early conviction that these silent trees are social creatures, sets her on a singular path that will push the boundaries of doctrine and a hegemony of human utility. She assiduously sets out to prove her premise of social trees and in so doing, becomes the forest. “She works all day in the woods, her back crawling with chiggers, her scalp with ticks, her mouth filled with leaf duff, her eyes with pollen, cobwebs like scarves around her face, bracelets of poison ivy, her knees gouged by cinders, her nose lined with spores, the backs of her thighs bitten Braille by wasps, and her heart as happy as the day is generous.” Like Ovid, she is becoming.

Patricia writes in her book The Secret Forest:

There are no individuals in a forest, no separable events. The bird and the branch it sits on are a joint thing. A third or more of the food a big tree makes may go to feed other organisms. Even different kinds of trees form partnerships. Cut down a birch, and a nearby Douglas fir may suffer … Fungi mine stone to supply their trees with minerals. They hunt springtails, which they feed to their hosts. Trees, for their part, store extra sugar in their fungi’s synapses, to dole out to the sick and shaded and wounded. A forest takes care of itself, even as it builds the local climate it needs to survive.

Delia Owens’s Swampland: Where the Crawdads Sing

The swampland is beautifully and evocatively portrayed as a living character; its ‘journey’ is closely linked to the Kya, the main protagonist, as development encroaches both swamp and girl through commercial logging, and wetland drainage to build resort hotels. Kya lives with an unbiased understanding of a quiet biological life, surviving through natural instinct in a circle of life and death: a swamp knows all about death, and does not define it as a tragedy or a sin, thinks Kya who sees the swampland as her mother, teacher and sanctuary, embracing her with a protective mantle of natural beauty and wonder. Whenever she stumbled, it was the land who caught her. When the town marginalizes Kya, calling her “The Marsh Girl”, the swamp shields her from the prejudice and cruelty of the human world, providing an intimate protective barrier. In turn, Kya uses her book advance to buy several hundred acres of marsh as a protected wildlife refuge.

In her article on Great Ecology, Liz Clift writes, “During the period in which Where the Crawdads Sing is set, wetlands were typically seen as a nuisance—and that comes through in the story-telling, when developers want to drain the marsh for a development. Wetlands were also seen as mosquito-infested, buggy, smelly, or even an eyesore. A significant number of wetlands around the world, including in the US, have been lost due to land development and agriculture, which is unfortunate because wetlands are rich with biodiversity and play a key role in maintaining both freshwater and saltwater fisheries, support water quality, and protect against flooding.” This is not a phenomenon or attitude of the past; it unfortunately remains prevalent, particularly in North America.

What Delia Owens achieves in Where the Crawdads Sing is two-fold: 1) the reader knows more about the value of the marsh but also gains a sense of its beauty as seen through the eyes of Kya; and, 2) through the strong connection with the main character and use of evocative metaphor, Owens transforms the marsh into a real character.

Why Make Place a Character…

Why is this important? Think of a place you know. I’ll use the house I grew up in. To any passerby, the house is just another two-storey cornflower-blue house with veranda on a quiet residential street, lined by trees. But for me, the house carries memories of my childhood, of running up and down the creaky foot-worn stairs, or sharing ghost stories with friends on the back porch as the waning twilight revealed the winking fireflies outside. Playing dolls with my sister in the stuffy attic. The sweet pungent aroma of my father’s pipe smoke in the livingroom and my mother’s thrush-like voice resonating from the kitchen as she baked German sugar cookies. I loved that house, with all its idiosyncratic groans and whistles in the wind and the echoes of cheerful laughter over the years. That house was a character.

Once this happens, once place becomes a character, we find ourselves caring for it.

In story, it is the characters we care about; it is the characters that we cheer for and follow on their journey of loss, redemption or victory.

This is why writers of eco-fiction depict environment as a character. We must first relate and connect before we care; we must first care before we act. Eco-fiction authors also use the device of character-coupling to help readers care. The examples above provide this method through their ‘othered’ characters, who, in turn, relate to the ‘othered’ environment. In another article, I provide more examples of character-coupling in the literature that enable readers to connect to otherwise arcane aspects of their environment through their connection to a character they can relate to.

Parts of this article are excerpted from The Ecology of Story: World as Character.

References:

Munteanu, Nina. 2013. “The Ecology of Story: World as Character.” Pixl Press, Vancouver. 200pp.

Munteanu, Nina. 2024. “The Use of Character-Coupling in Eco-Literature to Give Voice to the Other, Part 1: Introduction” February 18, 2024.

Munteanu, Nina. 2024. “The Use of Character-Coupling in Eco-Literature to Give Voice to the Other, Part 2: Types of Character-Coupling in Seven Examples of Eco-Literature” February 2024.

*Beaver Pond just before a rainstorm, BC (photo by Nina Munteanu)*

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. For the lates on her books, visit www.ninamunteanu.ca. 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. You can read her just released eco-fiction thriller Gaia’s Revolution by Dragon Moon Press.

“The Girl Who Was Only Three Quarters Dead” Featured in The Best of Metastellar, Year Five

July 26, 2026July 21, 2026 / thealiennextdoor / Leave a comment

Metastellar Magazine is putting out its “Best of” anthology for this year and my good friend and writing colleague Craig H. Bowlsby has a story in it. It’s one of my favourite stories of his and it has a fetchy title: “The Girl Who Was Only Three Quarters Dead.”

Bowlsby’s story was original published in the April 2022 Issue of Mystery Magazine and won the Crime Writers of Canada Award of Excellence for Best Crime Short Story for 2023. It was then reprinted in Metastellar Magazine and now appears in their 2026 “Best of” anthology, coming out later this summer.

This noir/dystopian story, set in Vancouver, BC, finds Suki prematurely awoken from an induced suspension between being alive and dead. With her retinas deactivated and her Government persona suspended, it’s up to her long-time friend and private investigator, Gabe, to uncover why she was brought back early and the way forward to recover her identity. Through the gritty and flooded streets of East End Vancouver and the mega corporations who control their entire existence, Gabe and Suki scheme to claim what is rightfully Suki’s.
Crime Writers of Canada

The story is set in the near-future in a post climate change Vancouver when sea level rise has water lapping decrepit buildings north of The Oak Street Bridge on Oak and 77th, Amazon owns entire roadways, and people pay corporate credits as currency.

One of the aspects of this mystery story that I found particularly attractive and interesting was Bowlsby’s use of cross-genre (mystery with science fiction), for which he indicated he has an affinity in his interview with Erik D’Souza with Crime Writers of Canada. I was reminded of the eco-techno thriller style of Hayden Trenholm’s detective series The Steele Chronicles, also set in the near future in Alberta Canada where biotechnology strays into the hands of corporate moguls and fundamentalist cults.

Bowlsby manages to cram both rich and seamless world building in his story (a feat in any short story), addressing mundane aspects of life, including the nuances of language (e.g. swear words suited to the time and place). Deadland, for instance, is a slang word that describes a government program that allows people to temporarily commit suicide, allowing them to place their lives on hold to supposedly help them escape their problems and supposedly better cope later (Bowlsby tells us rather pithily that it doesn’t really work).

When I asked Bowlsby in an interview what inspired this story and its post-climate change Vancouver setting, he said, “the germ … of this story came from a discussion I had with a friend, twenty years ago, who felt that everything in our society should be available for sale. For him that represented a pure state that would fix all our problems … I disagreed, but I wondered what it would be like if we started on that path. So as a social background, the characters are acting within a stage created for such a system—a system just starting to find its own steady legs. I don’t say it’s bad or good—I just give it free rein. The story itself came from other elements, but the characters’ difficulties are complicated by the hyper-capitalism. As for the climate change problem, and the flooding, that came naturally with the near-future time period; I’m afraid it’s going to happen no matter what we do.”

The Green New Wave of Science Fiction

July 5, 2026June 12, 2026 / thealiennextdoor / Leave a comment

There’s a New Wave out there in science fiction. It’s growing. It’s green. And, yes, I’m on it.

In her 2023 PhD thesis out of Liverpool John Moores University, Victoria Crozier explores the metamorphosis of science fiction from stories primarily focused on human adventure and heroism to ‘New Wave’ stories of green science fiction. Far from celebrating the achievements of a super-capable humanity, these ‘New Wave’ eco-conscious narratives, which began with the environmental movement of the 1960s, reveal humankind as an environmentally destructive force.

Pre-1960s: Anthropocentric Androcracy

Pre-1960s science fiction largely featured scientific and technological developments and associated impacts on humans; stories that evoked a sense of wonder and involved heroic adventures of humans in unfamiliar worlds. Stories focused on the need to overcome harsh environments and conquer treacherous alien elements as humans prevailed through various androcratic strengths. I read many of them, mostly written by men. Despite generating excitement and inspiration, these narratives advanced a patriarchal and imperialistic conceit that drew from anthropocentric androcracy.

The 1930s and 1940s spawned narratives focused on social justice—responses to both world wars. Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World (1932) and George Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four (1949) and Animal Farm (1945) represented the height of this exploration with a focus on totalitarian rule, surveillance technology, and genetic modification. Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451 (1953) explored censorship as an important aspect of mind-control by an oppressive rule.

Drawing on a Cartesian directive, science fiction remained largely anthropocentric, typically ‘othering’ Nature and objectifying it. Writers treated the non-human world with fear or disdain; Nature was a device that challenged brave human explorers to exert their superiority through subjugation or annihilation. The environment was seldom portrayed as a character with agency and sensibility. Never something to be admired. Something to love.

The 1960s: Rachel Carson’s Revolution

Rachel Carson and her seminal book Silent Spring

In 1962, Rachel Carson published her book Silent Spring, regarded by some as the single most important contributor to the environmental movement of the 1960s. Her book warned of our declining bird and bee populations and impacts to human health from unregulated pesticide/herbicide use (such as carcinogens and hormone disruptors).

I was just a kid when Carson’s book came out. But it was already apparent to me that environmental imbalance and destruction were global concerns and we were on the brink of an environmental crisis. Unchecked deforestation was destroying forests around the world, including the boreal and old-growth forests of my own country Canada. Brazil had already begun cutting down trees and burning forest at an alarming rate. Unregulated use of pesticides, herbicides and growth hormones created toxic contamination of our natural world and our food and water supply—despite Carson’s dire warning with Silent Spring. Our waterways were being contaminated by mining wastes and industrial effluents. Killer smog. Noxious algal blooms. Oil spills. Dead zones. The list kept growing.

By the time I was in college, I’d concluded that a hegemony that follows the economic system of late capitalism inevitably commodifies and ‘others’ with ruthless purpose. Once something (or someone) is commodified, they are given a finite value and purpose outside their own existence. They become an object, a symbol to use and trade. They become a resource to manipulate, exchange, and dispose of with impunity. And through this surrender to utility, they become ‘othered.’ The consumer. The trees of the forest. Water. Homo sacer*. Each has a role to play in the late capitalist narrative of digital abundance and physical scarcity.

Liu Cixin begins his 2006 science fiction novel The Three Body Problem in the 1960s, during China’s Cultural Revolution. The novel follows astrophysicist Ye Wenji, disillusioned by the massive environmental deforestation in the labour camps she is initially sent to work after witnessing the execution of her scientist father in a brutal cleansing at the height of the revolution. Already cynical about humanity’s failed culture and science—Wenjie acquires a contraband copy of Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring. The book and revelation she experiences from it sets in motion a frightening notion linking the mindset behind the Cultural Revolution and destruction of the environment.

Post-1960s: Ecocentric Gylany

On the heels of the environmental movement of the 1960s, the New Wave of eco-science fiction, or what Crozier calls ‘green science fiction’, took hold with science fiction authors and literary fiction authors. Ursula K. LeGuin helped pioneer feminist science fiction as well as eco-fiction and climate fiction. Left Hand of Darkness (1969) introduced ambisexuality, no fixed sex, and The Word for World is Forest (1972) critiqued extractivism by human colonists. The Mars Trilogy by Kim Stanley Robinson (1992-1996) debated the rights of humans to alter a pristine planet, overlooking the intrinsic rights of an alien environment. N.K. Jemison’s The Fifth Season (2015) portrayed the physical Earth as active and angry about its abuse by humanity.

Subtle changes in the portrayal of non-humans and Nature have emerged.

In his 2025 PhD thesis, Steven L. Ogden (University of Albany, State University of New York) explored the concept of “Heterogenous Being”¹ linking the sciences with humanities to address the precarious realities of Earth’s ecological and environmental conditions. Entitled, “Heterogenous Being: The Inhumanities and the Creative-Scientific Aesthetic.” Ogden’s thesis acknowledges the influences and agented potentialities of nonhuman subjects in narrative, both in fiction and nonfiction. Including my own portrayal of water as character in my eco-fiction novel A Diary in the Age of Water, Ogden writes,“… these inhuman² examinations not only provide the nonhuman with a comparable or more profound existence alongside our own; they also illustrate the immense and consequential scope of our collective realities.”

Ogden is, of course, referring to the prevalent historic use of ‘othering’ vs. providing agency to environmental ‘characters’ in novel writing. I write about this in my two articles on character-coupling.

Othering in Science Fiction & Other Genres of Literature

The rhetoric of ‘Otherness’ in most fiction is typically portrayed through the singular point of view (POV) and discourse of a protagonist on a journey.³ In most forms of literature the POV ‘voice’ represents the Self, the inclusive ‘us’ (worldview) in its encounter with the Other, which in turn is the ‘not us.’ In his book Orientalism: Western Conceptions of the Orient Edward W. Said contended that for there to even be an ‘us’, there has to be a ‘not-us’. The resulting power dynamic of “them and us,” of Other and Self, is created and controlled by perceptions of the singular POV voice.

In most genres of literature—and certainly in science fiction—the Other is often relegated to this dichotomous portrayal. In post-apocalyptic and metaphoric journey stories the Other may be the harsh environment or a calamity through which the protagonist must find their own strength to survive; in military stories it is clearly the enemy, seldom portrayed with compassion or understanding but there to test our hero; in coming-of-age stories it may be the oppressive rule or established world the hero must overcome; in some science fiction it is the hostile or unknowable aliens who must be defeated.

Ogden clarifies the irony of this way of thinking: “like René Descartes, many today still consider the mind or “rational soul” of humanity to be entirely exceptional to and independent of animality, and believe no part of Man (as master and possessor of nature) could derive from the “potentiality of [nonhuman] matter.”

Crozier argues that, “Eco-science fiction is an essential cultural instrument with which to understand and respond to our planet in an epoch of environmental crises.”

Eco-Science Fiction: Animating & Empowering Nonhuman Subjects

Eco-science fiction is poised to make meaningful character-couplings between mostly human protagonist and environmental characters or representatives. This is because the protagonist provides relatable qualities for easy reader empathy, while the Othered character is often less relatable—often an arcane aspect of the environment, such as water (Memory of Water or A Diary in the Age of Water) or a forest (The Overstory).

The protagonist’s link to the Other—often as avatar—provides a readable map for the reader to follow and make their own connection.⁴ In Character Coupling Part 2, I provide examples from several works of eco-science fiction and general eco-fiction, such as The Overstory, Barkskins, The Breathing Hole, The Windup Girl, The Bear, Memory of Water, Dune and my own A Diary in the Age of Water.

Through these linkages, environmental abuse of jingoistic hubris can be felt on a profound and personal level. Eco-science fiction can raise issues of human intersectionality, misogyny, marginalization, oppression of class, privilege, sexuality and race, and misuse of power. Violent acts perpetrated on environment—when environment is personified as ‘character’ and/or coupled directly to a character—elicit powerful emotion and clearly demonstrate how social/human injustice reflects environmental injustice.

The ‘New Wave’: A Changing Narrative

*Various green-science fiction and general eco-fiction novels worth reading*

New Wave green science fiction took shape in the 1960s with J.G. Ballard and Ursula K. LeGuin who spearheaded a transformation toward ecocentric views. New Wave science fiction has burgeoned in the last several decades with highly pertinent narratives to the environmental and climate concerns of our current world. These narratives clearly challenge our political, religious and social worldviews, and patriarchies.

*Three non-fiction books that celebrate nonhuman life*

Acknowledging the early influences of animal studies rooted in biocentricity, Ogden notes that non-fiction representation of nonhuman life has also increased exponentially in the last ten years. Ogden includes the following notable examples: Merlin Sheldrake’s Entangled Life: How Fungi Make Our Worlds; Robin Wall Kimmerer’s Gathering Moss, and Peter Wohlleben’s The Hidden Life of Trees.

Ogden argues that “Westerford (a scientist in Richard Powers’s The Overstory) understands that climate and biodiversity are ‘failing precisely because no [story] can make the contest for the world seem as compelling as the struggles between a few lost people.’” Westerford realizes that her peers believe that plants live an inanimate existence, whose rooted immobility points to a kind of “unfreedom” that represents an “archetype of inert matter.” According to poet David Hinton, this devaluation of plant life relates to the human-nonhuman duality, “a Western dichotomy that relegates the vegetal world to a space of ‘linguistic silence.’”

This is the also the silencing of ‘The Other.’

I further explore this specific narrative (of non-human agency, particularly of birds, plants, bryophytes and algae) in my upcoming novel (Re)Genesis.

References:

Carson, Rachel. 1962. “Silent Spring.” Houghton Mifflin, Boston. 304pp.

Crozier, Victoria. 2023. “The Brave New Worlds of Green Science Fiction: Ecocritical Discourse in The Three-Body Problem and The Long Earth Series.” Doctoral Thesis, Liverpool John Moores University, UK. April, 2023. 265pp.

Descartes, Rene, et. al. 1998. “Discourse on the Method; and Meditations on First Philosophy.” Hacket Pub.

Hinton, David. 2012. “Hunger Mountain.” Shambhala.

Munteanu, Nina. 2020. “A Diary in the Age of Water” Inanna Publications, Toronto. 328pp.

Munteanu, Nina. 2024. “The Use of Character-Coupling in Eco-Literature to Give Voice to the Other, Part 1: Introduction” NinaMunteanu.me February 18, 2024.

Munteanu, Nina. 2024. “The Use of Character-Coupling in Eco-Literature to Give Voice to the Other, Part 2: Types of Character-Coupling in Seven Examples of Eco-Literature” NinaMunteanu.me February 2024.

Ogden, Steven L. 2025. “Heterogenous Being: The inhumanities and the Creative-Scientific Aesthetic.” Doctoral Thesis, University at Albany, State University of New York. Spring, 2025. 220 pp.

Powers, Richard. 2018. “The Overstory.” W.W. Norton & Company, New York. 502pp.

Said, Edward W. 1978. “Orientalism: Western Conceptions of the Orient.” Vintage, London. 432pp.

Footnotes:

Ogden describes “Heterogenous Being” as a way of being that recognizes and incorporates humanity’s pluralized configurations with the nonhuman world by uniting the studies of science and humanities into an interdisciplinary hybrid creative-scientific aesthetic.
Ogden explains the use of “inhuman” here by referring to Jeffrey Jerome Cohen’s notes in Stone: An Ecology of the Inhuman, which uses inhuman to “emphasize both difference (‘in-‘ as negative prefix) and intimacy (‘in-‘ as indicator of estranged interiority).” This is akin to the practice of “othering”.
The Other has often been metaphorically portrayed in SF by aliens that lack a distinct voice or viewpoint; some portrayal has reflected a fearful imperialistic colonialism by representing Other as adversary such as an invading monster with no regard for humans (e.g. Robert Heinlein’s The Number of the Beast; H.G. Wells’s War of the Worlds). Kerslake argues that the traits of the Other “fall characteristically—and conveniently—into those spaces we choose not to recognize in ourselves, the ‘half-imagined, half-known: monsters, devils, heroes, terrors, pleasures, desires’ of Said’s ‘Orient’”. The Martians of Ray Bradbury’s Martian Chronicles—who also have no voice—reflect our indigenous peoples under the yoke of settler colonialism and an exploitive resource-extraction mindset. The monster of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein —also with no voice—exemplifies the disabled/deformed unsavory departure from our ‘perfect’ self-image; to be chased, destroyed and nullified.
In some stories the protagonist is Othered in some way, providing a more direct link to the experience of being the Other or being Othered. For instance, in Mishell Baker’s Borderline, disabled protagonist Millie provides the connection to the greater theme of Othering “lesser beings.” In Costi Gurgu’s Recipearium, the protagonists are not human; they are alien creatures that dwell inside the dead carcass of a monster, representing Other as main character.

Glossary:

Androcracy: a form of governing system in which rulers are male.

Gylany: a social system based on equality of men and women.

Homo sacer: a figure from Roman law denoting a person excluded from society who is outside human law (can be killed) and divine law (cannot be sacrificed). The term represents “bare life”: stripped of political rights, legal protection, and social value. Philosopher Giorgo Agamben popularized the term to describe individuals excluded from the political community, such as refugees, stateless persons, or camp detainees. The term illustrates the power of a sovereign in deciding which lives are worthy of protection and which are not.

Nina Munteanu’s Climate Thriller Gaia’s Revolution Wins The Literary Titan Silver Book Award

June 28, 2026July 4, 2026 / thealiennextdoor / 2 Comments

Every year Literary Titan celebrates the “brilliance of outstanding authors who have captivated us with their skillful prose, engaging narratives, and compelling real and imagined characters. We recognize books that stand out for their innovative storytelling and insightful exploration of truth and fiction. Join us in honoring the dedication and skill of these remarkable authors as we celebrate the diverse and rich worlds they’ve brought to life, whether through the realm of imagination or the lens of reality.”

My climate thriller Gaia’s Revolution was honoured with Literary Titan’s Silver Book Award for 2026.

Read more about the book on Goodreads and my various articles here and on other sites, including The Meaning of Water. Gaia’s Revolution is Book 1 of The Icaria Trilogy.

*The Icaria Trilogy by Dragon Moon Press*

Green Science Fiction and Nina Munteanu’s “A Diary in the Age of Water”

June 7, 2026May 31, 2026 / thealiennextdoor / Leave a comment

I recently encountered Victoria Crozier’s intriguing PhD thesis and ecocritical discourse out of Liverpool John Moores University entitled “The Brave New Worlds of Green Science Fiction” and found my eco-fiction novel “A Diary in the Age of Water” mentioned alongside other notable eco-fiction works I so enjoyed reading such as Liu Cixin’s The Three-Body Problem, Chen Quifan’s The Waste Tide, Kim Stanley Robinson’s New York 2140 and Emmi Itäranta’s Memory of Water. Crozier calls these “green science fiction,” an appropriate term that I may start using.

The Diverse Impact of Gaia’s Revolution

May 24, 2026July 20, 2026 / thealiennextdoor / Leave a comment

“Gaia’s Revolution is a chlorophyll-stained argument about power, survival, and the peril of holy certainty.”
Literary Titan

“Munteanu seamlessly blends real-life history and technology with tantalizing glimpses of the future’s drugs, diseases, and evolving concepts…Frighteningly plausible…”
Kirkus Reviews

My eco-fiction political thriller Gaia’s Revolution—released March 10 of this year—has already made quite an impact on readers and reviewers: from amazing accolades to outright pans.

I love the controversy!

The book that follows ambitious twin brothers and the woman who plays them has rightly caused a ruckus from its questionable and controversial main characters to a thrilling though notorious plot. Understandably, some readers hated the book, even as others thoroughly enjoyed it. Either way, the book can’t be accused of being mediocre or mundane (something I would detest in my writing).

The Prairies Book Review accurately describes the novel:

Gaia’s Revolution “is a politically incendiary portrait of a civilization unraveling under climate collapse, historical trauma, and ideological extremism. Berlin, 2022. In a country destabilized by climate catastrophe and political extremism, activist Damien Vogel becomes the target of a violent state crackdown after protesting with Letzte Generation. As he uncovers long-buried truths about his family, he is drawn into conflict with his estranged twin Eric, whose ruthless plan for humanity’s survival threatens to sacrifice freedom itself.”

Literary Titan adds that the story “widens into a future history of revolution, ideology, biotech, enclosed cities, and ecological control…The novel is Part 1 of The Icaria Trilogy, and it reads like both an origin story and a warning flare.”

The Prairies Book Review calls Gaia’s Revolution: “Dense, unsettling, and intellectually ambitious.” They describe the novel as “bleak, intelligent, and emotionally explosive.” They add that, “Munteanu crafts the novel as both climate thriller and philosophical inquiry, weaving ecological science, German history, and political paranoia into a narrative charged with dread and moral instability…Munteanu refuses simplistic moral binaries, presenting climate collapse as a force that destabilizes not only ecosystems, but democracy, ethics, and identity itself.”

Reader Neha Shukla writes on Goodreads that Gaia’s Revolution has a “strong message with emotional depth.” Shukla noted that “the emotional side of the story is very well handled.” Lily Thomass wrote on Goodreads that “what stood out to me was the emotional honesty of the story.”

Costi Gurgu, author of Recipearium and The Cursed writes: “Gaia’s Revolution may be the most extensively researched SF novel I’ve ever read…[the book is] so close to reality that it’s frightening.” Claudiu Murgan, author of Water Entanglement, enjoyed the “dynamic plot and interesting, well-defined characters.”

Steve Stanton, Canadian speculative fiction author of Freenet writes: “I love it when novelists tackle the big issues and take on big opponents, and in these perilous times there is no bigger issue than global climate change, and no bigger opponent than patriarchal capitalism. Gaia’s Revolution by Nina Munteanu begins in present-day Germany, where ecological activists are setting the stage even now. In Munteanu’s inspired vision, radical racism, anti-immigration activism, and ultra right-wing security forces will be a crucible fomenting world catastrophe.”

Stanton adds, “The author uses some subtle stylistic variations for those readers who pay attention to details. The pace is varied, and the plot twists drive the narrative forward. I felt the beginning was a bit wordy with backstory and political philosophy, but Munteanu masterfully dovetails current political unrest and eco-activism into the worldwide dystopia of The Icaria Trilogy. As a prequel, this novel is an embellishment of sci-fi concepts developed very early in Munteanu’s career, but it is also the culmination of a body of work. For me, Gaia’s Revolution has been a delightful rediscovery of a talented Canadian voice.”

Reviews weren’t all positive; some oozed acid in their negative wrath. Why is Gaia’s Revolution eliciting this diversity of polarized reactions?

Sophia Wasylinko of The British Columbia Review in part suggests why in her negative review: “The book hooked me at first with its look at a world hostile to environmentalists and deep ecological concepts. Unfortunately, once the brothers cross paths with deep ecologist Monica Schlange, things get messy. Both for them and for the book.”

Wasylinko particularly took exception to Monica’s character.

Literary Titan describes Monica’s mercurial shapeshifting character as “a zealous deep ecologist, [who] becomes one of the book’s most dangerous engines: part savior, part tyrant, using damaged people…as instruments in her plan to remake humanity’s relationship with the natural world.” Wasylinko emphatically disliked Monica, which impeded her enjoyment of the book. The reviewer found that, “…as the story progressed, the more irritated I became with [Monica’s] sexual antics and ‘Tears for Fears’ references. While I probably wasn’t supposed to like her, I didn’t care for her at all.” Wasylinko ended with: “I won’t be continuing with the trilogy…I cannot cope with any more of Monica’s crooning Tears for Fears’ big hit of 1985, ‘Everybody Wants to Rule the World.’”

Literary Titan provides another possible reason for the polarized reactions: “the book refuses to make climate politics tidy. It doesn’t give us a simple contest between virtuous activists and corrupt institutions; instead, it shows how righteousness can calcify into doctrine, how grief can become governance, and how ecological thinking can be twisted into a new authoritarian grammar.” The reviewer found that what unsettled them the most, “was the book’s interest in compromised people [who are not] arranged into neat moral bins. They are products of abuse, ideology, scientific ambition, terror, tenderness, cowardice, and survival.”

Kirkus Reviews adds that: “Political ideals clash as the world falls into chaos … the ongoing political war is frighteningly plausible, and some readers may struggle with deciding who the villains are. The author serves up lively discourse in which the characters offer no easy answers; Munteanu seamlessly blends real-life history and technology with tantalizing glimpses of the future’s drugs, diseases, and evolving concepts.”

In describing the diametrically opposed trajectories of twin brothers Eric and Damien, Prairies Book Review adds that, “Eric’s eco-authoritarian worldview is chilling precisely because it emerges logically from the same environmental realities driving Damien’s activism.”

The book follows six key characters and a handful of minor characters—all with associated archetypes—and their journeys during this catastrophic time are complex and messy; a function of the chaotic time itself. I make no apology to Wasylinko for the messiness. Revolution is messy. In a time of hard choices, innocence is the main casualty. This becomes evident for all the characters in the novel—particularly the children—as fiction reflects non-fiction. In the end, no one is innocent and all are changed.

Gaia’s Revolution is best described as an exploration of violent change and its associated impact and paradoxes. This is something we will face or already are facing with the growing unruliness of global warming, environmental destruction, and planetary change. Gaia’s Revolution ultimately explores the diverse impact of revolution in an unsustainable world; perhaps it is only apt that its reception by readers is equally diverse.

Paradox and irony drive Gaia’s Revolution. Says Wasylinko: “Gaia’s Revolution shows how quickly utopia becomes a dystopia. Nowhere is this more evident than the [revolutionary] Gaian Army adopting the Technocratic government’s weapons, including terrifying clones, and … book burning.”

According to Literary Titan, Gaia’s Revolution “has the grain of a manifesto smuggled inside a thriller, a story with roots sunk deep into Rachel Carson, chaos theory, surveillance states, and the bad old habit of deciding that humanity must be saved from itself.”

Kirkus Reviews described Gaia’s Revolution as: “a bleak but fascinating portrayal of a near-future dystopia.”

Literary Titan recommends Gaia’s Revolution “to readers of climate fiction, eco-dystopian fiction, biopunk, political fiction, and science fiction readers who like their futures thorny rather than sleek. Readers who enjoy Margaret Atwood’s MaddAddam books or Kim Stanley Robinson’s climate-minded fiction may find familiar pleasures here, though Munteanu’s novel is darker, more doctrinal, and more intimate in its wounds.”

Gaia’s Revolution is Book 1 of The Icaria Trilogy, available in quality bookstores near you and, of course, on Amazon. Check out readers’ reaction to Gaia’s Revolution on Goodreads.

“We must first destroy before we can create. We must be unruly like climate. We must be relentless like climate. We must ride that wave before we can become the wave.”—Eric Vogel, Gaia’s Revolution

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. For the lates on her books, visit www.ninamunteanu.ca. 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. Her latest eco-fiction novel Gaia’s Revolution was released March 2026 by Dragon Moon Press.

Nina Munteanu at Northern Fan Con, Prince George BC

May 17, 2026May 7, 2026 / thealiennextdoor / Leave a comment

*Various ‘characters’ ply through the dense crowds of Northern Fan Con (photos by Nina Munteanu)*

Last weekend I drove north to Prince George to join publisher/writer Lynda Williams and her team at Reality Skimming Press at the Northern Fan Convention. Held at the CN Centre, the con and trade show was very well attended, with booths that held anything from realistic light sabers to anime figurines and collectible cards–and so much more. The con also featured shows with media celebrities, cosplay, workshops, and–of course–the obligatory costume contest.

*‘Dante’ and ‘Hornet’ join an AT ST making rounds at Northern Fan Con* *(photos by Nina Munteanu)*

I helped man the publisher’s table where we were selling books in the Okal Rel series; I also sold out on my two latest novels A Diary in the Age of Water and Gaia’s Revolution.

*Lynda Williams with a book buyer at Northern Fan Con (photo by Nina Munteanu)*

*Nina Munteanu selling out her books at Northern Fan Con*

Oh! And I got to play with a Stars Wars storm trooper and tai fighter. Not bad for one weekend!

Nina Talks to CBC About Solarpunk (in Toronto and Elsewhere)

May 3, 2026April 16, 2026 / thealiennextdoor / Leave a comment

*Solarpunk city imagined (image by Imperial Boy)*

A short while ago, I was approached by a CBC reporter to discuss Solarpunk and the solarpunk movement in Toronto, specifically.

Given that my writing has significant solarpunk elements in it and I teach at the University of Toronto, in Toronto where I participated in several solarpunk initiatives, I was happy to discuss the subject with Louna Marchet.

The interview, which will air in French on CBC Radio, covered a wide range of a very interesting discussion on solarpunk generally and below, I’ve highlighted a few parts.

What is Solarpunk? Solarpunk is basically an optimistic, action-oriented subgenre of speculative fiction or art that has evolved into a social movement. The movement imagines a sustainable, post-capitalist future where humanity lives sustainably relying on renewable energy, DIY ethics, community resilience and a decentralized technology. It’s a radical hope alternative to dystopian narratives of gloom and doom.

On Eco-Fiction: I mentioned that I write mostly eco-fiction and hopeful dystopias (dystopias with solarpunk elements to them). 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. Eco-fiction—whether told as dystopia, post-apocalypse, cautionary tale or hopeful solarpunk—can help us co-create a new narrative, one about how the Earth gifts us with life and how we can give in return. By encouraging empathy and imagination, eco-fiction reaches deep into our souls, where we care. It is only when we care that we act. I write more about this in my article “Why Writing and Reading Eco-Fiction Will Save the World—From Clifi to Solarpunk.”

On Changing the Narrative: I offered that we need to change our (North American society’s) current (capitalist) narrative of separation, “othering”, and exploitation toward one of participation, inclusion, and a nurturing spirit. Storytelling forms a key part of that overall narrative. That shift is happening in the emergence of a strong eco-voice by marginalized groups, those who would be most affected by things like habitat destruction and climate change. Centering the voice of the ecological other as a sympathetic character is a main feature of eco-fiction.

What we cherish, we protect.

I write more about this in two articles that discuss character coupling to provide voice to the ‘other’, from excluded minority to the silent environment.

On the Emerging Solarpunk Movement in Toronto: When asked about whether there is a solarpunk movement in Toronto, I said absolutely! Solarpunk Toronto is an emerging movement focused on building a sustainable, equitable future through community action, green architecture, and renewable energy, specifically tailored for the city’s urban environment. It includes initiatives like sustainable fashion shows, community meetings, and innovative storytelling, aimed at merging environmental activism with optimistic technology. The mantra is to achieve a regenerative sustainable urban future.

I mentioned Lindsay Jane of the Solarpunk Scene (Youtube videos on Solarpunk projects in Toronto) and Ariel of Solarpunk Presents with podcast interviews on solarpunk efforts. People can find community on the Solarpunk Facegroup group. I also talked about the Toronto Solarpunk Meetup at the Centre for Social Innovation, where they practice “prefigurative life’: living as if the sustainable future already exists. Which it does, though not everywhere.

This reminds me of cyberpunk science fiction author William Gibson’s famous quote: The future is already here; it’s just not evenly distributed.

Examples of solarpunk initiatives practiced by individuals and small communities include the use of community gardens, setting up and looking after rooftop gardens or raingardens. Tenants can have a pollinator garden on their patio and set up a balcony solar panel (now very affordable). People are going electric; some are setting up solar rooftops or balconies. Groups and individuals are engaging in clothing swaps and sustainable fashion runways. Community-led trusts are involved in repairing items for reuse instead of adding to the throw-away culture. In my book A Diary in the Age of Water the diarist’s mother Una rides her bike all over the community, repairing all kinds of things for a community that has lost its ability to do so; something we’re losing in this digital age.

On a Solarpunk Future: We discussed the feasibility of a city like Toronto becoming 100% solarpunk. My response was a wary yes. Of course it was possible. But, in my opinion, two things have to happen for this to succeed: 1) the willingness of individuals in a community to give up a consumer-led capitalist lifestyle and adopt a lighter gentler footprint; and 2) community and city leaders to be on board with it. The enthusiastic cooperation of leaders cannot be overstressed for a paradigm shift toward a solarpunk future to succeed.

*Artist’s concept of the marsh of the Jim Tovey Lakeview Conservation Area*

I gave two examples of small projects that succeeded because a community and its leaders cooperated to make it happen. One was the adoption of several climate solutions in Paul Hawken’s Drawdown by the Richmond Hill community, led by Liz Couture. The second example is Mississauga’s Morphology Project of 2017 to build a 26 hectare park and marsh creation (naturalization of shoreline and extensive marsh environment), inspired by Councilor Jim Tovey.

*Councillor Jim Tovey and Lieutenant Governor Elizabeth Dowdeswell (photo by John Stewart)*

A true visionary, Tovey ensured the project’s success and potential spread to other jurisdictions by documenting the stages of the marsh creation and changes to the waterfront. Aside from regular press releases and interviews, etc. he invited eleven professional photographers to photograph and exhibit how the marsh evolved over the years.

Tovey invited me to contribute quotes from my book Water Is…The Meaning of Water and A Diary in the Age of Water to accompany the photos in each exhibit. The Jim Tovey Lakeview Conservation Area project was a huge success, largely because—apart from the obvious ecological benefit—it captured the imagination and interest of several communities and showed how the blending of environmental benefit and good-living can co-exist and flourish.

*Quote from “A Diary in the Age of Water” at the photography exhibit*

References:

Hawken, Paul. 2017. “Drawdown.” Penguin Books. 256pp.

Hawken, Paul. 2021. “Regeneration: Ending the climate crisis in one generation.” Penguin Books. 256pp.

Munteanu, Nina. 2016. “Water Is…The Meaning of Water.” Pixl Press, Delta. 584pp

Munteanu, Nina. 2020. “A Diary in the Age of Water” Inanna Publications, Toronto. 328pp.

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. Her most recent novel “Gaia’s Revolution” was released in March 2026 by Dragon Moon Press (Calgary).

Ecologists, Deep Ecologists & Eco-Terrorists in Literature

April 26, 2026May 24, 2026 / thealiennextdoor / Leave a comment

I’m an ecologist. So, when I read books, particularly eco-fiction, I enjoy various authors’ representation of ecologists in literature. Portrayals have ranged quite a bit too. I’ve encountered ecologists, deep ecologists and eco-terrorists. Like real ecologists, these characters are often misunderstood, disrespected or even oppressed for their message of science. This is often by governments, organizations and individuals ruled by agendas of personal or institutional greed. These characters may become morally compromised, driven by righteous anger, on a terrible mission…

Below are six examples. Some have explored political representations such as environmental technocracy (aka: Rogue Harvest, Gaia’s Revolution). Others have featured radical environmentalists and eco-terrorists (e.g. The Overstory, A Diary in the Age of Water), and even anti-humanists (e.g.: Three Body Problem).

Dune (Chilton Books, 1965) by Frank Herbert:

Dune chronicles the journey of young Paul Atreides, who according to the indigenous Fremen prophesy will eventually bring them freedom from their enslavement by the colonialists—The Harkonens—and allow them to live in ecological harmony with the planet Arrakis, known as Dune. As the title of the book clearly reveals, this story is about place—a harsh desert planet whose 800 kph sandblasting winds could flay your flesh—and the power struggle between those who covet its arcane treasures and those who wish only to live free from slavery. Place—and its powerful symbols of desert, water and spice—lies at the heart of this epic story about taking, giving and sharing. This is nowhere more apparent than in the fate of the immense sandworms, strong archetypes of Nature—large and graceful creatures whose movements in the vast desert sands resemble the elegant whales of our oceans.

The subtle connections of the desert planet with the drama of Dune is most apparent in the actions, language and thoughts of the Imperial ecologist-planetologist, Kynes—who rejects his Imperial duties to “go native.” He is the voice of the desert and, by extension, the voice of its native people, the Fremen.

Quotes: (Kynes thinks to himself as he is dying in the desert, abandoned there without water or protection): The highest function of ecology is understanding consequences.

Rogue Harvest (Red Deer Press, 2005) by Danita Maslan:

Sometime in the future, Earth is recovering from a devastating 50-year plague that has destroyed most of its natural forests and grasslands and killed two out of every three people. Environmental technocrats now run the world under strict rule: while virgin ecosystems are re-created from original templates through genetic engineering, no human is permitted to set foot in these sanctuaries. As sanctuaries grow ever larger, humanity is pressed into over-crowded cities where boredom and strife dominate.

The preservationist organization Emerald Coalition is run by (deep) ecologists who hire reclamation company EcoTech to “recreate the world their great, great grandparents lost.” Main characters wish to open-up the protected nature preserves to regular folk—creating a long-standing conflict between preservation (wilderness not accessed by humans) and conservation (areas where humans extract resources with some environmental risk): demonstrating that, given responsibility for actions within an ecosystem, not all humans behave as they should.

The Overstory (Vintage Canada, 2021) by Richard Powers:

The Overstory is a Pulitzer Prize winning work of literary fiction that follows the life-stories of nine characters and their journey with trees—and ultimately their shared conflict with corporate capitalist America. Like all functional ecosystems, these disparate characters—and their trees—weave into each other’s journey toward a terrible irony. Each in their own way battles humanity’s canon of self-serving utility—from shape-shifting Acer saccharum to selfless sacrificing Tachigali versicolor—toward a kind of creative destruction.

At the heart of The Overstory is the pivotal life of botanist/ecologist Patricia Westerford, who inspires a movement. Westerford—whose work resembles that of Diana Beresford-Kroeger (author of The Global Forest) and UBC’s Suzanne Simard— is a shy introvert who discovers that trees communicate, learn, trade goods and services—and have intelligence. When she shares her discovery, she is ridiculed by her peers and loses her position at the university. But, just as with Lynn Margulis and her theory of endosymbiosis, Westerford is finally validated. She is the archetypal ‘mother tree’, the metaphoric Tachigali versicolor, who ultimately brings the tangle of narratives together through meaning. What follows is a fractal story of trees with spirit, soul, and timeless societies—and their human avatars.

Quotes (Westerford writes in her book The Sacred Forest): There are no individuals in the forest, no separable events. The bird and the branch it sits on are a joint thing. A third or more of the food a big tree makes may go to feed other organisms. Even different kinds of trees form partnerships. Cut down a birch, and a nearby Douglas fir may suffer…Fungi mine stone to supply their trees with minerals. They hunt springtails, which they feed to their hosts. Trees, for their part, store extra sugar in their fungi’s synapses, to dole out to the sick and shaded and wounded. A forest takes care of itself, even as it builds the local climate it needs to survive…A tree is a wondrous thing that shelters, feeds, and protects all living things. It even offers shade to the axmen who destroy it.

Three Body Problem (Tor, 2014) by Liu Cixin:

Cixin Liu’s The Three Body Problem—set against the backdrop of China’s Cultural Revolution—follows astrophysicist Ye Wenji, disillusioned by the massive environmental deforestation in the labour camps she is initially sent to work after witnessing the execution of her scientist father in a brutal cleansing at the height of the Cultural Revolution. Already cynical about humanity’s failed culture and science—Wenjie acquires a contraband copy of Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring. The book and revelation she experiences from it sets in motion a frightening notion linking the mindset behind the Cultural Revolution and destruction of the environment. Looking from Nature’s perspective, these were indistinguishable: Is it possible that the relationship between humanity and evil is similar to the relationship between the ocean and an iceberg floating on its surface? Both the ocean and the iceberg are made of the same material. That the iceberg seems separate is only because it is in a different form. In reality, it is but a part of the vast ocean.…It was impossible to expect a moral awakening from humankind itself, just like it was impossible to expect humans to lift off the earth by pulling up on their own hair. To achieve moral awakening required a force outside the human race.

Wenjie is sent to the Chinese version of SETI where a secret military project sends signals into space to establish contact with aliens. Wenjie succeeds in amplifying their message to aliens on the dying planet Trisolaris. Despite a warning that the Trisolarians mean only to invade, Wenjie invites them to Earth. To ensure the arrival of the Trisolaris aliens, she collaborates with radical environmentalist Michael Evans—an oil billionaire’s son who is disgusted with humanity’s destruction of Nature. Wenjie believes the aliens will somehow ensure humanity’s transcendence; Evans, however, applauds the coming invasion as the best route to achieve the eradication of humanity and the survival of the rest of the planet and finances the ETO (Earth-Trisolaris Organization) in eco-terrorist activities to protect non-human life—by essentially annihilating humanity.

Quotes: (Wenjie observes the deforestation of an Inner Mongolian labour camp where she was sent to work): Ye Wenjie could only describe the deforestation that she witnessed as madness… Whatever they laid eyes on, they cut down. Her company wielded hundreds of chain saws like a swarm of steel locusts, and after they passed, only stumps were left. The fallen Dahurian larch, now bereft of branches, was ready to be taken away by tractor. Ye gently caressed the freshly exposed cross section of the felled trunk. She did this often, as though such surfaces were giant wounds, as though she could feel the tree’s pain… The trunk was dragged away. Rocks and stumps in the ground broke the bark in more places, wounding the giant body further. In the spot where it once stood, the weight of the fallen tree being dragged left a deep channel in the layers of decomposing leaves that had accumulated over the years. Water quickly filled the ditch. The rotting leaves made the water appear crimson, like blood.

A Diary in the Age of Water (Inanna Publications, 2020) by Nina Munteanu:

A Diary in the Age of Water follows the climate-induced journey of Earth and humanity through four generations of women, each with a unique relationship to water.

Centuries from now, in a dying boreal forest in what used to be northern Canada, Kyo, a young acolyte called to service in the Exodus, yearns for Earth’s past—the Age of Water, before the “Water Twins” destroyed humanity. Looking for answers and plagued by vivid dreams of this holocaust, Kyo discovers the diary of Lynna, a limnologist from a time just prior to the destruction. The diary spans a 40-year period in the mid-21st century and describes a planet in the grip of severe water scarcity. Lynna, in her work for an international utility that controls everything to do with water, witnesses and records the disturbing events that will soon lead to humanity’s demise.

Lynna Dresden is an aquatic ecologist (specifically a limnologist), who’s personal philosophy and world view overlaps with deep ecology. However, she demurs from activism through a fear for reprisals on her and her young daughter. This backfires for her as her daughter later embraces eco-terrorism in her radical behaviour.

Quotes: Lynna Dresden: “The slow violence of free-market capitalism isn’t so much the deliberate and focused actions of a few evil men as the accumulated negligence of an undiscriminating collective of unimaginative humans.” “When you look at a quiet deep pond, you don’t see the bottom, you see yourself reflected there. The calmer the pond the more you see of you; the less of the pond.” “Water—Nature’s herald—is talking loudly to us in the language of irony.”

Gaia’s Revolution, Book 1 of The Icaria Trilogy (Dragon Moon Press, 2026) by Nina Munteanu:

Monica Schlange is orphaned by the technocratic corporation, and with a vengeful heart turns to deep ecology and eco-terrorism. A remaining relative helps put her through the University of Toronto, where she studies environmental ethics under Aisha Habib, herself a deep ecologist but also a powerful member of the Technocratic Party in Canada. Schlange’s thesis topic is entitled Ethical Considerations on the Ecological Impact of Corporation Farm Anthropocentrism on the Stability of Gaia Through Ten Metrics. A techno-wiz, Schlange orchestrates a viral social media fiasco that reveals very compromising intel on the Canadian prime minister. She also exposes the environmental minister’s role in a terrible fishing scandal on the central coast of British Columbia that causes the deaths of two Heiltsuk women. Intending covert mischief, Schlange shacks up with a corporate oligarch, looking to bring him and his biotechnology firm down. After the revolution, she garners a position in the governing triad in which she fanatically promotes a ruthless deep ecology agenda.

Quotes (After dispatching a fearsome techno-clone—cloned weaponized hybrid-human): Monica straightens, panting out sobbing breaths, and manages a predatory smile. Ambitious men are always underestimating her. Even Techno-clones … Especially Techno-clones.

(after putting down her oligarch-lover in a late-night skirmish when he catches her stealing documents): “Don’t get up…Next time I see you, I will kill you.”

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. For the lates on her books, visit www.ninamunteanu.ca. 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. Her most recent eco-fiction thriller Gaia’s Revolution (Dragon Moon Press) released March 2026.

A Diary in the Age of Water Featured in PhD Thesis on Heterogenous Being

April 19, 2026June 23, 2026 / thealiennextdoor / Leave a comment

My eco-fiction novel A Diary in the Age of Water was recently discussed in a 2025 PhD thesis by Steven L. Ogden out of the University of Albany, State University of New York entitled: “Heterogenous Being: The Inhumanities and the Creative-Scientific Aesthetic.” I was fascinated by his stirring, well-researched dissertation that explored the dichotomous narrative separating human with non-human. A narrative that is changing—though very slowly.

Ogden’s PhD thesis advances a hybrid form of inquiry on “Heterogenous Being”¹ that links the sciences with humanities to address the precarious realities of Earth’s ecological and environmental conditions; he does this by acknowledging the influences and agented potentialities of nonhuman subjects in narrative, both in fiction and nonfiction. “… these inhuman² examinations not only provide the nonhuman with a comparable or more profound existence alongside our own; they also illustrate the immense and consequential scope of our collective realities,” writes Ogden.

Othering in Literature

In most genres of literature, the Other is often relegated to this dichotomous portrayal. In post-apocalyptic and metaphoric journey stories the Other may be the harsh environment or a calamity through which the protagonist must find their own strength to survive; in military stories it is clearly the enemy, seldom portrayed with compassion or understanding but there to test our hero; in coming-of-age stories it may be the oppressive rule or established world the hero must overcome; in science fiction it may be the hostile or unknowable aliens who must be defeated.

The irony of this way of thinking is made clear in Ogden’s introduction. Ogden writes that “like René Descartes, many today still consider the mind or “rational soul” of humanity to be entirely exceptional to and independent of animality, and believe no part of Man (as master and possessor of nature) could derive from the “potentiality of [nonhuman] matter.” He quotes Donna Haraway (author of When Species Meet) who said that “to exist as an individual is always to become with many.” She is talking about the thousands of species living symbiotically inside us and around us that keep us alive. This is what philosopher Levi Bryant refers to as a democracy of objects in which “humans are no longer monarchs of being, but are instead among beings … and implicated in other beings.” We are entangled in beings. We are implicated in other beings.

Through this new paradigm and approach, Ogden contends that “no longer can anthropogenic issues of climate change, trash vortices, deforestation, synthetic pollution, effluence, nuclear waste isolation, or species extinction be concealed from the majority of literary imaginings. Because as the trajectory of once passive, ancillary things and forces find an arena of greater articulation, the Anthropocene becomes an epoch whose hazards affect more than its namesake. Readers are afforded a larger moral and literary connectedness to a greater variety of relatable nonhuman subjects in the throes of this crisis, with that inhuman accordance likewise enlarging the terrains of their own ontological and epistemological perspectives as an ecomimetic strategy furthers the understanding of the nonhuman with each varied literary elaboration.” He adds that the “massive temporal and spatial persistence/distribution of anthropogenic nonhuman ‘hyperobjects’ like plastics, polychlorinated biphenyls (PCBs), per- and polyfluoroalkyl substances (PFAS), or nuclear waste expands the probable aesthetic and political/ethical dimensions of the creative arts.”

Ogden concludes that in such a space of consideration (an allied creative-scientific aesthetic), an intermediacy is established between the literary arts and sciences in which “principal methods, qualities, and philosophies are openly exchanged, and a multimodal expression links the realms of simplified rationalism with pure allegory into a compounded composition of metaphor and description, myth and science, characterization and cause-and-effect, and poetic reveries and empirical rationalism.” This greater perspective expand dynamic probabilities for the inhuman world to experience agency and greater and more meaningful presence, what Ogden calls “a necessary heterogenous representation of both humans and nonhumans within the collective scientific and literary imagination…towards a more meaningful and affective realization.”

How Eco-Fiction Empowers & Animates Nonhuman Subjects

While eco-literature overlaps with many genres, it appears to differ from SF and other genres portrayal of Other through its unique intention to give voice to otherwise voiceless characters, and it often does this through masterful use of character-coupling. Mary Woodbury defines eco-literature or eco-fiction as literature “made up of fictional tales that reflect important connections, dependencies, and interactions between people and their natural environments.” The environment—or an aspect of the environment—plays a major role in eco-literature, either as premise or as itself a character on a journey.

Eco-literature may go beyond raising awareness to link environmental abuse with concepts of jingoistic hubris; it may raise issues of human intersectionality, misogyny, marginalization, oppression of class, privilege, sexuality and race, and misuse of power. Violent acts perpetrated on environment—when environment is personified as ‘character’ and/or coupled directly to a character—elicit powerful emotion and clearly demonstrate how social/human injustice reflects environmental injustice.

Eco-literature is particularly poised to make meaningful character-couplings between mostly human protagonist and environmental characters or representatives. This is because the protagonist provides relatable qualities for easy reader empathy, while the Othered character is often less relatable—often an arcane aspect of the environment, such as water (Memory of Water) or a forest (The Overstory). The protagonist’s link to the Other—often as avatar—provides a readable map for the reader to follow and make their own connection.⁴ In Character Coupling Part 2, I provide examples from several works of eco-fiction, such as The Overstory, Barkskins, The Breathing Hole, The Wiindup Girl, The Bear, Memory of Water, and Dune.

A Changing Narrative

Acknowledging the early influences of animal studies rooted in biocentricity (e.g. Carl Safina, Ogden notes that non-fiction representation of nonhuman life has increased exponentially in the last ten years. Ogden includes the following notable examples: Merlin Sheldrake’s Entangled Life: How Fungi Make Our Worlds; Robin Wall Kimmerer’s Gathering Moss, and Peter Wohlleben’s The Hidden Life of Trees.

In fiction, Ogden focuses primarily on the narrative of Overstory by Richard Powers but touches on other works such as Jeff VanderMeer’s writing. Says Ogden: “What moves The Overstory’s utilization of personification (of trees) … beyond some simple allegorical misconception of dendrological and botanical being is that the provided anecdote of a tree’s agency in the development of soil, weather, and atmosphere is entirely factual.”

Ogden notes that “Nina Munteanu’s A Diary in the Age of Water brings the seemingly mundane and inconsequential (what Emanuele Coccia refers to as “residual” objects) to the imaginary forefront within creative-scientific writing…In Munteanu’s limnological characterization of freshwater bodies…[this] creative-scientific work of literature enlarges and redevelops the hierarchy of the taxaonomic ranks originally set out by animal studies. [It] increases the principal tenet of the discipline’s genealogy to include the greater part of all biological (and even inorganic) life in its inhuman narrative.”

Giving Voice to Plants ‘Othered’ to Silence

On looking more closely to the multiform agencies of plants, Ogden returns to Powers’ reference of a “gospel of new forestry”, and asserts that “whether it’s the writings of Suzanne Simard, Robin Wall Kimmerer, Emanuele Coccia, Michael Pollan, or Peter Wohlleben, the assumed contemporary bibliographic references in Powers’ novel alone illustrate the author’s appropriation of this gospel of new forestry. Ogden then adds: “These are creative-scientific hybrid forms and metamorphic figurations that have allowed the agency, narrative, and story of the plant world to become more meaningfully articulated, recognized, and appreciated in the modern moment. They are the informed meldings/hybridities (the issuances of comparative figurations, temporalities, and subjectivities of nonhuman agency) that stand as the antecedents of new and emergent metamorphic texts like The Overstory, and which “shift the terms of representation away from human subjectivity” by embedding new species into the storytelling process.”

Ogden argues that “Like Richard Powers and other creative-scientific writers, Westerford (Powers’s own character in The Overstory) understands climate and biodiversity are ‘failing precisely because no [story] can make the contest for the world seem as compelling as the struggles between a few lost people.’” She realizes that her peers believe plants live an inanimate existence, whose rooted immobility points to a kind of “unfreedom” that represents an “archetype of inert matter.” According to poet David Hinton, this devaluation of plant life relates to the human-nonhuman duality, “a Western dichotomy that relegates the vegetal world to a space of ‘linguistic silence.’”

This is the silence of ‘The Other.’

I further explore this specific narrative (of non-human agency, particularly of birds, plants, bryophytes and algae) in my upcoming novel (Re)Genesis. You’ll hear more about that book in later posts.

Footnotes:

Ogden describes “Heterogenous Being” as a way of being that recognizes and incorporates humanity’s pluralized configurations with the nonhuman world by uniting the studies of science and humanities into an interdisciplinary hybrid creative-scientific aesthetic.
Ogden explains the use of “inhuman” here by referring to Jeffrey Jerome Cohen’s notes in Stone: An Ecology of the Inhuman, which uses inhuman to “emphasize both difference (‘in-‘ as negative prefix) and intimacy (‘in-‘ as indicator of estranged interiority).” This is akin to the practice of “othering”.
The Other has often been metaphorically portrayed in SF by aliens that lack a distinct voice or viewpoint; some portrayal has reflected a fearful imperialistic colonialism by representing Other as adversary such as an invading monster with no regard for humans (e.g. Robert Heinlein’s The Number of the Beast; H.G. Wells’s War of the Worlds). Kerslake argues that the traits of the Other “fall characteristically—and conveniently—into those spaces we choose not to recognize in ourselves, the ‘half-imagined, half-known: monsters, devils, heroes, terrors, pleasures, desires’ of Said’s ‘Orient’”. The Martians of Ray Bradbury’s Martian Chronicles—who also have no voice—reflect our indigenous peoples under the yoke of settler colonialism and an exploitive resource-extraction mindset. The monster of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein —also with no voice—exemplifies the disabled/deformed unsavory departure from our ‘perfect’ self-image; to be chased, destroyed and nullified.
In some stories the protagonist is Othered in some way, providing a more direct link to the experience of being the Other or being Othered. For instance, in Mishell Baker’s Borderline, disabled protagonist Millie provides the connection to the greater theme of Othering “lesser beings.” In Costi Gurgu’s Recipearium, the protagonists are not human; they are alien creatures that dwell inside the dead carcass of a monster, representing Other as main character.

References:

Descartes, Rene, et. al. 1998. “Discourse on the Method; and Meditations on First Philosophy.” Hacket Pub.

Haraway, Donna Jeanne. 2008. “When Species Meet.” University of Minnesota Press.

Hinton, David. 2012. “Hunger Mountain.” Shambhala.

Latour, Bruno. 2017. “Facing Gaia: Eight Lectures on the New Climatic Regime.” Polity.

Marder, Micheal. 2013. “Plant-Thinking: A Philosophy of Vegetal Life.” Columbia University Press.

Morton, Timothy. 2013. “Hyperobjects: Philosophy and Ecology after the End of the World.” University of Minnesota Press.

Munteanu, Nina. 2020. “A Diary in the Age of Water” Inanna Publications, Toronto. 328pp.

Munteanu, Nina. 2024. “The Use of Character-Coupling in Eco-Literature to Give Voice to the Other, Part 1: Introduction” February 18, 2024.

Munteanu, Nina. 2024. “The Use of Character-Coupling in Eco-Literature to Give Voice to the Other, Part 2: Types of Character-Coupling in Seven Examples of Eco-Literature” February 2024.

Ogden, Steven L. 2025. “Heterogenous Being: The Inhumanities and the Creative-Scientific Aesthetic.” A Dissertation submitted to the University at Albany, State University of New York in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the Degree of Doctor of Philosophy. 207pp.

Powers, Richard. “The Overstory.” W.W. Norton & Company, New York. 2018. 502pp.

Said, Edward W. “Orientalism: Western Conceptions of the Orient.” Vintage, London, 1978. 432pp.

Woodbury, Mary. “What is Eco-fiction?” Dragonfly.eco. 2016. https://dragonfly.eco/eco-fiction/ Accessed September 15, 2022.