Last August I was invited by the University of Saskatchewan to give a talk at 20/21 Vision, their conference on Speculating in Literature and Film in Canada. My presentation was entitled “The Power and Relevance of Diary in Near-Future Mundane Science Fiction.”
The use of mundane realism through setting and events—particularly through letters or diary—creates powerful narrative that uniquely engages the reader with metaphor, allegory, and archetypes through additional sensibilities and personal connections. Devices such as POV, tense, and voice help create this form of storytelling.
What Is a Diary?
Diaries are first person accounts of real events relevant and meaningful to that person’s life experience. They are written in casual conversational language, usually a chronological account of daily life over lifetime, have wide scope; and are autobiographical.
If the scope is more narrow and focused, we have a memoir. The memoir is often focused by theme (e.g., addiction, loss, parenting, war, etc.). Memoirs are usually written in scenes and may trade accuracy for dramatic effect (emotional truth over historical truth). Anne Frank’s diary is a mundane account of her tragic short life in Nazi Germany; Yoko Ono experienced Hiroshima during World War 2.
If the focus is by topic, we get a journal (e.g. nature journal, grief journal, travel journal). Henry Henry David Thoreau’s journal became a manifesto for living simply with Nature; Sister Gargi’s journal was an ode to a spiritual movement.
Examples of memoirs and journals
Non-Fiction in Fiction
The play of non-fiction in fiction is achieved through several tools. This includes:
use of point of view such as first person or second person; writing as an epistolary novel—or a series of letters—such as The Colour Purple
displaced narrative such as The Great Gatsby
detached autobiography such as To Kill a Mockingbird
interior monologue such as Finnegan’s Wake.
Examples of fictional diaries
Fictional diaries play on historical truth through emotional truth through narrator voice and use of metaphor. This provides authenticity, meaning, relevance, and impact to the story. Reality and fiction blur through realized premise that provides a gritty realism to the dramatization and intensifies the experience The diarist’s ability to introspect provides great insight for the reader to the protagonist’s inner voice, their eccentricities, and self-delusions. These provide great intimacy with the character.
Most fictional diaries are memoir-like because they are usually based on THEME which carries the meaning of the story. In The Poisonwood Bible, Barbara Kingsolver effectively uses several first person voices—of the mother and her four daughters—to provide more perspectives of the story.
Mundane Science Fiction
Mundane science fiction is a niche literary movement from 2004 focused on near-future realism—also called speculative fiction or literary SF. The focus is on already existing technology and plausible extensions—no ray guns, warp drives or time travel. The premise lies in existing circumstances and events. It has similarities with hard science fiction, cyberpunk, ecopunk, ecofiction and climate fiction. Mundane science fiction incorporates elements of literary fiction and mainstream fiction to achieve a strong sense of realism.
Examples of mundane science fiction
Mundane science fiction is the literature of near-future realism that explores how environmental and technological changes will change our lives. Christopher Cokinos calls mundane science fiction the “science fiction that functions more as compass than chimera.” Examples include cautionary tales and dystopias, all predicated on and launched from real events and phenomena—and including my own recent climate fiction “A Diary in the Age of Water.”
“A Diary in the Age of Water”: Mundane SF with Fictionalized Diary
“A Diary in the Age of Water” is the climate-induced journey of 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 grips of severe water scarcity. Lynna in her work for the international utility that controls everything to do with water, witnesses and records in her diary the disturbing events that will soon lead to humanity’s demise.
The story begins and ends in the far future with the blue being Kyo, who finds the diary of the limnologist, Lynna. The story is hard SF with a strong basis in science. This is obvious through the narrator, who is a scientist, and the form of the diary itself, in which each entry has an epigraph from a science textbook related to the experience in the entry. Lynna also includes sketches, formulas and other references to science and these appear in the entries.
The diary portion of the book is a first person narrative nested within the larger 3rd person narrative of Kyo in the far future. Its SETTING is based on many real events with dramatized fiction stitched in. This blurs what’s real and what’s fiction. VOICE and POV are used to achieve differing scope and time perspectives between the diarist’s world and that of the future being. We get insight into the inner voice of the diarist through 1st person voice; this is contrasted with the 3rd person voice of the future being—they remain on the outside, looking in. The PLOT is essentially that of a young future human “in discovery”, a metaphoric coming of age for humanity.
The diary format includes the use of:
short entries with epigraphs and quotes from fact
conversational voice of intimacy with introspection, opinion, and judgment
outer conflict with family and colleagues
inner conflict with motivations and truths
metaphoric connections with water
illustrations embedded in the diary entries
Two pages with illustrations in ‘A Diary in the Age of Water’
The diarist is a real and flawed protagonist—this makes her more like us and we are more likely to empathize with her despite her considerable flaws … Lynna makes mistakes and does some terrible things, but the diary allows the reader to find out more about why she does these things, what motivated her and how she feels, including remorse and regret. This allows the reader to forgive Lynna, even as her own daughter cannot, even as she cannot. This becomes key to the story, which is about forgiveness. The diary abruptly ends with pages torn out and Kyo is anxious to know what happened to both Lynna and her world. So is the reader.
Responses to “A Diary in the Age of Water”
Readers and reviewers had interesting responses, some paradoxical:
The blur of real events/history and fictional action brought the story into living colour. Several readers confided in me that they often did not know what was non-fiction and what was fiction and that this confusion made the book more gripping. Several reviewers, caught up in the blur of non-fiction with fiction, accused the book of being overtly polemic, when it was the fictional diarist who was proselytizing and being protective and narrow-minded; one need only look to the diarist’s daughter and her actions to see another voice).
In their analysis, reviewers gave the following visceral responses:
In her review of ‘A Diary in the Age of Water’ in The Temz Review, Marcie McCauley writes:
Munteanu “invites readers to recognize themselves in the ‘historical’ story and to project themselves into her imagined future…the diary…operates as a doorway…Munteanu combines methodologies, familiar literary motifs with text and images from non-fiction…She does not appear to view fiction and non-fiction as separate territories; or, if she does, then this book is a bridge between them.”
That blur with reality makes readers both love and hate the novel and it is precisely this that makes them read on. They are thoroughly invested. They need to know how it turns out, as though this is real lives at stake.
Red maple leaf sits on mossy log of old growth forest, ON (photo and rendition 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. 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.
Pine-cedar forest in Jackson Creek Park, ON (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)
The early fall breeze stirs with the pungent vanilla scent of pine as I walk the damp forest.
Giant white pines rise high above me like columns of a sacred cathedral. Their deep green canopies sway and creak in the breeze as they strain toward the heavens. Below, at my feet, a profusion of ferns and forest plants lie in the dappled light of the understory. My boots crunch and squelch on the spongy ground.
A sound stops me. I halt to listen.
It’s the song of a bird. The ethereal trill of a hermit thrush offers its tender ode to the forest. A pure song that opens from a singular note into successive waves of pure light. The light of heaven.
Hermit thrush
The hermit thrush (Catharus guttatus) is a reclusive indistinct brown bird that lurks in the understories of northern forests; yet its echoing flute-trill celebrates the forest like no other sound. It is a prayer to beauty, stirring one’s heart into celebration. This aptly named bird is not often seen, though its flute-like song carries far into the forest. It is the unseen messenger. Some call her haunting song melancholy; others think it heavenly.
The song of the thrush fulfills the herald archetype of catalyst. They enhance whatever stirs you at the moment. If you are sad, they might stir you to tears. If you are feeling joy, they will stir you into ecstasy. If you are neutral—of little mind and emotion—their song will stir you to feel deeply alive.
When I was growing up as a child, I remember every spring looking forward to the sweet fluting song of the robin–another thrush. The robin was my herald of spring. It still is. I adore this bird for all it evokes of my glorious childhood, filled with the wonders of thrilling adventure.
Robin’s egg, left by mother far from the nest to deter predators, cedar forest, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)
Just fledged robin resting on a patio chair, Mississauga, ON (photo by Merridy Cox)
Nature’s Archetypes
Psychology mavens suggest that the existence of archetypescan only be deduced indirectly through story, art, myths, or dreams. This is because an archetype is linked to a universal (subconscious) understanding that is often best expressed through metaphor, icon and symbol. Carl Jung understood archetypes as patterns and images that originate from and are shared within the collective unconscious (e.g., mother archetype or mentor archetype). Archetypes are the psychic counterpart of instinct.
Old growth eastern hemlock, Catchacoma Forest, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)
Instinctive behaviour (behaviour in the absence of learning) expresses an innate inclination toward a complex behaviour or pattern. Newly hatched sea turtles automatically move on the beach toward the ocean; honeybees communicate by dancing in the direction of a food source without prior instruction; a marsupial, once born, climbs into its mother’s pouch. Imprinting is another instinctive behaviour. Shaking water off fur is an instinctive action. Other examples of instinct include animal fighting, animal courtship behaviour, internal escape functions, and building nests.
Psychologist Michael McCollough argues that environment plays a key role in human behaviors, such as forgiveness and revenge. He theorizes that various social environments cause either forgiveness or revenge to prevail. McCollough relates his theory to game theory. In a tit-for-tat strategy, cooperation and retaliation are comparable to forgiveness and revenge. The choice between the two can be beneficial or detrimental, depending on what the game partner (or organism) chooses. The brain’s limbic system processes external stimuli related to emotions, social activity, and motivation; these then propagate an instinctual behavioural response. Examples include maternal care, aggression, defense, and social hierarchy; these behaviours are influenced by sensory input, such as sight, sound, touch, and smell.2
Old growth eastern hemlock forest, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)
The world of fairy tales and myth (which most stories use in some form) is peopled with recurring character types and relationships. Heroes on a quest, heralds and wise old men or women who provide them with “gifts”, shady fellow-travelers—threshold guardians—who may “block” the path, tricksters who confuse and complicate things and evil villains who simply want to destroy our hero. Jung adopted the term archetypes, which means ancient patterns of personality shared by humanity, to describe these as a collective unconscious. This is what makes these archetypes, or symbols, so important to the storyteller. Assigning an archetype to a character allows the writer to clarify that character’s role in the story as well as to determine the overall theme of the story itself. Archetypes are therefore an important tool in the universal language of storytelling, just as myth serves the overall purpose of supplying “the symbols that carry the human spirit forward.” (Joseph Campbell).1
Given their relationship to the “story” of a whole system, Nature’s ecosystem components may correspond loosely to archetype in story. We already use some of these in classic stereotyping, based on habits and general qualities we’ve (often erroneously and ignorantly) assigned to representative species. For instance, pigs are associated with slovenly behaviour, sharks with sociopathic predation, horses with unquestioning service, foxes with clever and crafty manipulation, and sheep with gullibility. George Orwell used animal stereotypes to create archetypal characters in his allegorical satire, Animal Farm.2
Scholar and mythologist Joseph Campbell drew on Jung’s archetypes to provide seven main archetypes in the mythic hero’s journey. These include: hero, herald, threshold guardian, mentor, shape-shifter, trickster, and shadow. The journey acknowledges archetypes in story and embedded within each archetype is a role in moving the story toward its inevitable conclusion. In this way we see how important world and place are. They too can serve as archetypes in story, particularly if personified.2 The most powerful of these are always drawn from Nature.
Nature’s archetypes in story express metaphorically and literally through functions and niches. An example is the strong solitary oak versus a young social stand of beech. The oak honestly comes by its iconic symbol of solitary strength, resistance, and knowledge.
Oak wood is very dense (about 0.75 g/cm3), providing great strength and hardness. Its wood resists insect and fungal attack because of its high tannin content. Its bark is strong and coarse, easily withstanding outer wounds, such as lightning strikes. “Whereas beeches last barely more than two hundred years outside the cozy atmosphere of their native forests, oaks growing near old farmyards or out in pastures easily live for more than five hundred,” writes forester Peter Wohlleben in The Hidden Life of Trees. “Even severely damaged [oak] trees with major branches broken off can grow replacement crowns and live for a few hundred years longer … a storm-battered beech is able to hang on for no more than a couple of decades.”
Alan Bates plays stalwart Gabriel Oak in Thomas Hardy’s “Far from the Madding Crowd”
Metaphoric “roles” may provide an allegorical association with a major character in something as simple as a name: the solitary strong-minded shepherd Gabriel Oak in Thomas Hardy’s Far from the Madding Crowd. Gabriel Oak not only embodies the metaphoric characteristics of an oak; he is also, like the oak, strongly connected to the land. The metaphor may carry through into a character’s very nature and journey: in Barbara Kingsolver’s Flight Behaviour, Dellarobia Turnbow reflects the title on several layers, from her own “flight” to her discovery and connection with the flight of the monarch related to climate change.2
Monarch butterfly (photo by Merridy Cox)
A small shift between cloud and sun altered the daylight, and the whole landscape intensified, brightening before her eyes. The forest blazed with its own internal flame. “Jesus,” she said, not calling for help, she and Jesus weren’t that close, but putting her voice in the world because nothing else present made sense … The mountain seemed to explode with light. Brightness of a new intensity moved up the valley in a rippling wave. Like the disturbed surface of a lake. Every bough glowed with an orange blaze. “Jesus God,” she said again … Trees turned to fire … The flame now appeared to lift from individual treetops in shows of orange sparks, exploding the way a pine log does in a campfire when it’s poked. The sparks spiraled upwards in swirls like funnel clouds … It was a lake of fire, something far more fierce and wondrous than either of those elements alone … She was on her own here, staring at glowing trees. Fascination curled itself around her fright. This was no forest fire. She was pressed by the quiet elation of escape and knowing better and seeing straight through to the back of herself, in solitude. She couldn’t remember when she’d had such room for being … Unearthly beauty had appeared to her, a vision of glory to stop her in the road. For her alone these orange boughs lifted, these long shadows became brightness rising.
Flight Behavior by Barbara Kingsolver
Eastern hemlock forest, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)
Herald as Catalyst
The herald brings in a new force, usually in Act One of the story. This force is usually a challenge for change. Heralds announce the coming of significant change, whether the hero likes it or not (and usually s/he doesn’t).
In Act One, we usually find the hero struggling, getting by in her Ordinary World; yearning, like Luke Skywalker on Tatooine, for “more”. Often not even realizing it. The herald is a new energy, a catalyst that enters the story and makes it impossible for the hero to remain in status quo. The herald tips the scales, so to speak. This could be in the form of a person, an event, a condition or just information that shifts the hero’s balance and changes her world, as a result. It is a turning point, obvious or subtle. Nothing will ever be the same. The herald delivers the call to adventure. In Star Wars, Ben Kenobi, who also serves as Luke Skywalker’s mentor, issues the call when he invites Luke to join him on his mission to Alderaan. The herald also provides the hero with motivation. In Romancing the Stone, the herald for Joan Wilder comes in the form of a treasure map in the mail, and a distressed phone call from her sister.1
Nature’s heralds can be as subtle or as wild and brash as Nature herself; this will depend on the plot and theme of the story. How the writer weaves in the natural elements in storytelling depends on the type of story and the role Nature plays. Nature’s heralds may brood and simmer in dramatic irony like Egdon Heath and its microclimates in Thomas Hardy’s Return of the Native or the giant Douglas firs in Richard Power’s The Overstory. Or they may descend in a bluster of violence as in Margaret Atwood’s Year of the Flood or in startling beauty like the sea of monarch butterflies in Barbara Kingsolver’s Flight Behavior.
The opening of Annie Proulx’s Barkskins combines subtle to obvious images of an ‘unwelcoming’ wilderness—as dark behemoth—to foreshadow (herald) the forest’s eventual destruction by settlers intent on conquering Nature. The forest is a potent character.
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.”2
Rachel Carson and her iconic book Silent Spring
In Cixin Liu’s The Three Body Problem, a herald for main character Ye Wenji was not so much Nature as a book on Nature: Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring. Ye Wenjie is already cynical about human behaviour from the violence and destruction of the Cultural Revolution. Yet, it is a contraband copy of Rachel Carson’s book Silent Spring and its revelations that set in motion the pivotal shift in her life trajectory:
More than four decades later, in her last moments, Ye Wenjie would recall the influence Silent Spring had on her life. The book dealt only with a limited subject: the negative environmental effects of excessive pesticide use. But the perspective taken by the author shook Ye to the core. The use of pesticides had seemed to Ye just a normal, proper—or, at least, neutral—act, but Carson’s book allowed Ye to see that, from Nature’s perspective, their use was indistinguishable from the Cultural Revolution, and equally destructive to our world. If this was so, then how many other acts of humankind that had seemed normal or even righteous were, in reality, evil?
As she continued to mull over these thoughts, a deduction made her shudder: 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.
This thought determined the entire direction of Ye’s life.
The Three Body Problem by Cixin Liu
Apex Issue #128 and 2021 anthology
A profoundly terrifying herald from nature in my short story Robin’s Last Song occurred when the birds suddenly began falling from the sky.
Robin’s Last Song first appeared in the #128 Issue of Apex Magazine in 2021. It tells the story of Robin, a blind elder whose digital app failed to warn the world of the sudden global loss of birds with disastrous ecological consequences. After years of living in self-exile and getting around poorly on sight-enhancing technology, a discovery gives her new hope in rekindling her talents in the field of Soundscape Ecology:
May, 2071
I rock on the cedar swing on my veranda and hear the wind rustling through the gaunt forest. An abandoned nest, the forest sighs in low ponderous notes. It sighs of a gentler time. A time when birds filled it with song. A time when large and small creatures — unconcerned with the distant thrum and roar of diggers and logging trucks — roamed the thick second-growth forest. The discord was still too far away to bother the wildlife. But their killer lurked far closer in deadly silence. And it caught the birds in the bliss of ignorance. The human-made scourge came like a thief in the night and quietly strangled all the birds in the name of progress.
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.
Nina scoping her shot with her iPhone (photo by Merridy Cox)
You see something breathtaking and say to yourself: I have to take a picture of that! You snap it with your camera or phone, happy that you’ve captured the moment. When you return home and review your shots on the computer to share, you get to that breathtaking scene and your first thought is: why on Earth did I take a picture of that?!
The shot is nothing like what you remembered. That dull and lifeless scene is the farthest thing from breathtaking. What happened?
Nina checks her photo on her iPhone (photo by Merridy Cox)
When Your Mind and Your Camera Don’t Agree
We see with our eyes, but we feel and process meaning with our brain. And it’s the brain that determines what we finally see. What we see is our brain’s interpretation of the scene. We adjust what we see with meaning.
The camera doesn’t interpret. It is a tool that works based on principles of light, focus, depth of field, breadth of field, and resolution & detail. What a DSLR camera set on automatic, a compact camera and a smartphone have in common is that they are all set to capture the best shot, given the right conditions of light, contrast and motion. If you shoot with a camera set on automatic, it is acting as your brain, but without the interpretation of meaning. You’ve given away that power. Like a benevolent dictator, the camera/phone is boss of your shots, dictating what it was designed to do to get the best shot in those particular conditions. The trouble with that is the camera doesn’t see with your brain. It’s idea of the ‘best shot’ is based on a set of criteria created by a manufacturer. It works great only in certain conditions—those best anticipated by the manufacturer (e.g. optimum light and distance). But, make no mistake: you will not get what your brain sees. You might think so, but you won’t.
A short while ago, when I was visiting a good friend in British Columbia, we got into talking about photography and I mentioned how I had returned from using a tablet and phone (for convenience) to my Canon DSLR camera (for quality); I’d ditched the camera in favour of the light convenient iPhone, which I found easy, particularly when travelling. But I soon became frustrated and disappointed at not achieving what my brain saw. Returning to the DSLR camera allowed me to significantly improve my shots. My friend’s daughter—an avid picture taker with her mobile phone—challenged me: “Are you sure your camera takes better pictures?” I wanted to laugh, but then I realized that she was serious, born from the confidence of her own pictures—which I’d seen and must acknowledge are very good for composition and sharpness. Closer inspection reveals that these were all achieved within a boundary of conditions. The lighting was optimal, the distance was good, the composition sufficiently simple to accommodate the camera’s limitations; so what her brain saw, the camera reflected, at least fairly well.
Nina (decades ago) with her Minolta SLR and long lens (photo by H. Klassen)
But it is impossible for a smartphone or any automatic camera to achieve certain effects that only my DSLR camera set on manual or semi-manual can provide (e.g. setting my depth of field, adjusting for that right bokeh, playing with exposure, achieving natural light and a high resolution image in a low-light situation, getting very close or zooming far away with a dedicated lens). In addition, DSLR cameras outperform smartphone cameras because their sensors are much larger, let in more light, and produce more dynamic range in low-light scenarios. This allows them to capture greater detail than smartphone cameras or compact cameras. Ultimately, as Smartframe acknowledges, “the gap between what’s possible on the smartphones and dedicated cameras remains significant.” The argument is similar for a regular camera set on automatic vs one set on manual or semi-manual.
I’ve been there. Automatic settings on a camera and smartphone (which is basically like a camera on automatic) can only do so much to match what your brain sees. And they can be mighty annoying—particularly when the camera’s brain prefers to focus on the wrong thing.
Above: automatic setting went for background focus; below, setting corrected for foreground focus(photos of Earthstars in a cedar forest by Nina Munteanu)
If you truly want to get what your brain sees, you have to take over the brainpower of the camera. That means either tricking the automatic setting or going off automatic to manual or semi-manual on a camera (no smartphones currently come with manual settings, nor will they; although they may have some correcting software, which isn’t the same thing.) For the past decade the market is changing for phone cameras and compact cameras—there is Nikon’s Coolpix S800c, which combines an Android OS with a long zoom lens and touchscreen-based interface and Panasonic’s Lumix CM1 blends a traditional smartphone with a 1-inch sensor. Samsung’s Galaxy Camera 2 integrates an Android OS with 3G capabilities and a 21x optical zoom. They all remain limited with respect to matching what your brain sees to what your camera takes.
Getting Your Camera To Agree with Your Brain
Successfully getting your camera (or smartphone) to match your brain-sight starts with recognizing the various aspects of a captured image. These include:
focus (sharp or soft): what’s in focus and what isn’t in focus
depth of field: how deep the focused region is
lighting: colour saturation and contrast
resolution (sharpness)
motion (or lack of it)
composition (what is in focus and what isn’t and where everything sits)
bokeh (the look of the unfocused part)
All of these, once recognized, can be manipulated on your camera. On a smartphone or auto-camera, most of these factors must be addressed as best as you can by shifting your position or aim, changing the time of day or lighting when you take your picture, or changing your subject and surroundings. In other words, by manipulating what your brain sees.
I won’t lie; it’s not easy to manipulate what the camera takes to match what your brain sees. It takes dedication and time. But it starts with recognizing what needs manipulating: training your eyes and brain to really see what you’re taking a photo of and understanding what your camera has to do to achieve it.
Nina photographing a tributary of the Otonabee River, ON, with her Canon DSLR (photo by Matthew P. Barker, Peterborough Examiner)
How Our Eyes and Brains See
It helps to understand how our eyes see and how our brains process what we see, particularly what is different from what a camera does. This includes angle of view; resolution and detail; and sensitivity and dynamic range.
Angle of View: Our angle of view isn’t straightforward like a camera with a particular lens with set focal length (e.g. wide angle vs. telephoto lens). Cambridge in Colour tells us that “even though our eyes capture a distorted wide angle image, we reconstruct this to form a 3D mental image that is seemingly distortion-free.” Our central angle of view—around 40-60º—is what most impacts our perception. “Subjectively, this would correspond with the angle over which you could recall objects without moving your eyes,” says Cambridge in Colour.
Rendition of what eye / brain focuses on (image from Cambridge in Colour)
Resolution and Detail:Cambridge in Colour tells us that 20/20 vision is mostly restricted to our central vision; we never actually resolve that much detail in a single glance. Away from the centre, our visual ability decreases and at the periphery we only detect large-scale contrast and minimal colour. A single glance, therefore, mostly perceives the centre in resolution. Because our brain remembers memorable textures, colour and contrast (not pixel by pixel), our eyes focus on several regions of interest in rapid succession, which paints our perception. “The end result is a mental image whose detail has been prioritized based on interest.” It is our interest that dictates what we see and ultimately informs our memory of that image.
How our eye / brain integrates depth of field and exposure for background and foreground (image by Cambridge in Colour)
Sensitivity & Dynamic Range: According to Cambridge in Colour, our eyes have the equivalent of over 24 f-stops. This is because our brains integrate background and foreground to create a mental image that integrates these.
Matching the Camera to Our Brain
The next step is to learn how to manipulate the camera to achieve these. This means learning how to use the f-stop, how to manipulate the shutter speed, how to change the ISO setting, and what all these, in turn, produce in terms of focus, depth of field, lighting, exposure, saturation, resolution, bokeh and more. Taking a course in photography is a good way to start. Experiment with settings. Learn about the equipment. Lenses. Filters. Tripods. Go on a camera shoot with a photographer who knows about these. It promises to be ultimately rewarding and fulfilling.
I wanted the entire foreground group of Shaggy Main mushrooms to be in focus and the background less focused but recognizable; I therefore set my f-stop at 18, which gave me a slower shutter speed (and I had to stabilize my camera) with sufficient depth of field (photo by Nina Munteanu)
I used a higher speed and smaller f-stop of these cardamom pods and seeds to create a more shallow depth of field that focuses attention on a particular aspect of interest and keeps the image from looking flat (photo by Nina Munteanu)
A medium f-stop allowed me to freehold my camera and capture a crisp shot of the person and sled but a motion-blurred shot of the dog–achieving a sense of motion in the shot (photo by Nina Munteanu)
I oriented my camera for a portrait (vs landscape) shot to showcase the height and gigantic size of these red cedars in Lighthouse Park, Vancouver, and ensured a person was in the shot for perspective (photo by Nina Munteanu)
I used a low f-stop (which in good light does not appreciably reduce depth of field) to achieve high speed in capturing the three divers off the cliff (photo of ocean cliff in BC by Nina Munteanu)
I used a high f-stop and stabilized camera to achieve a softer look to the moving water and also get higher depth of field to see both stationary foreground and background (photo by Nina Munteanu)
I’ve been on my journey for over a decade and I’m still learning. From my son, from others, from my own experiences. That’s the fun part, after all. It’s an adventure of discovery…
My Canon camera on its tripod (photo taken with tablet 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. 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.
My guest today is Calgary author Simon Rose and we’re looking at his latest release, Revenge of the Witchfinder, the third novel in the Stone of the Seer series. Simon has published eighteen novels for children and young adults, eight guides for writers, more than a hundred nonfiction books, and numerous articles on a wide range of topics.
Although this is the final part of the Stone of the Seer series, remind us of what the series is all about?
The Stone of the Seer is young adult historical fantasy series. It’s mostly set in the mid-seventeenth century during the English Civil War. In The Stone of the Seer, the first book in the series. Lady Elizabeth Usborne, Kate, and Tom encounter a magical stone, mysterious parchments and manuscripts, and an incredible time viewing device. In part two, Royal Blood, Lady Elizabeth, Kate, and Tom are in London, witnessing the political turmoil at the time of the Civil War, including the king’s trial and execution. In both novels, the main characters are threatened by the witchfinder, Daniel Tombes. There are numerous twists and turns, until the story’s cliffhanger ending, but all is resolved in the final installment.
Sounds amazing. How much can you tell us about the story’s conclusion?
Well, without giving too much away, Revenge of the Witchfinder takes place in multiple time periods. The story features weird dreams, disturbing visions, parallel lives, and a bewildering identity crisis, as the lead characters discover to their horror that not even the passage of centuries can prevent a bloodthirsty witchfinder from the 1640s from seeking his deadly revenge. Readers will consistently be engaged and unable to put the book down until they reach the dramatic conclusion.And of course, people will now be able to buy all three books in the series.
And there’s quite a story behind the story, isn’t there?
The story and main characters in the series may be fictional, but they’re based on real events and characters. In the 1640s, Charles I and Parliament went to war over how the country should be governed. The English Civil War led to the king’s defeat, trial, and execution in 1649. There was no monarchy for eleven years, but then Charles II, son of the former king, was restored to the throne in 1660. However, things were never the same again and it had been established that an English king or queen had to have the consent of Parliament to rule the country.
As with the first two books in the series, did you engage in a great deal of historical research for this one?
I did lots of research into the English Civil War, Charles I, the trial of the king and so on, as well as into the other time periods that are a part of the overall story, such as the Viking era, for The Stone of the Seer and Royal Blood. For the third installment, I researched things such as archaeology and excavations, how London has changed from how it looked during the Civil War compared to today, how some areas were damaged or in some places totally destroyed during the Blitz in World War II, all of which was vital to ensure that the story was as perfect as possible.
As I did in The Stone of the Seer and Royal Blood, I’ve included a glossary at the end of Revenge of the Witchfinder. Readers can learn more about the historical events, settings, and characters that feature throughout the story. On my website, there’s a page dedicated to each book in the series, along with links to separate pages featuring information regarding each book’s historical background and links to many online sources. All of this should be even more fascinating for readers, now that the entire series is available for them to enjoy.
Do you have any current projects?
Right now, I’m working on another historical fantasy novel series, this time set in the early years of World War II. I’m also working on another story that takes place in the later stages of World War II, as well as more books in the same genre as my previously published paranormal Flashback series. You can learn more about those books at www.simon-rose.com. I also continue to work on the adaptations of my Shadowzone series into screenplays for movies and TV shows, as well as teaching writing courses at the University of Calgary.
Anyone interested in keeping up to date with the projects that I’m working on is always welcome to subscribe to my monthly newsletter, which you can do at www.simon-rose.com.
You still do other work related to writing and publishing, right?
Yes, I offer coaching, editing, consulting, and mentoring services for writers of novels, short stories, fiction, nonfiction, biographies, and in many other genres, plus work with writers of scripts and screenplays. I’m also a writing instructor and mentor at the University of Calgary and served as the Writer-in-Residence with the Canadian Authors Association. You can find details of some of the projects I’ve worked on with other authors, along with some references, at www.simon-rose.com.
Where can people buy Revenge of the Witchfinder, Royal Blood, and The Stone of the Seer?
I’ll be making some personal appearances at local events in the fall, where people can buy autographed copies of all the books in the series, as well as all the other novels. The latest series can also be purchased at most of the usual places, as follows:
Thanks Simon, for being my guest here today and the very best of luck with Revenge of the Witchfinder, and indeed with the entire Stone of the Seer series. I hope that all the books sell thousands and thousands of copies in the coming months.
You can learn more about Simon and his work on his website at www.simon-rose.com, where you can also link to him on social media and at other locations online.
Later stage of hallucinogenic Witch’s Hat mushroom (Hygrocybe conica), as the ‘hat’ blackens (photo by Nina Munteanu)
Collared Earthstar (Geastrum triplex) on mossy cedar growing on rotting cedar logs of Trent swamp forest, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)
Earthstar lived in a verdant cedar forest, under a soft dappled light, where the fresh smell of moss and loam mixed with the pungency of cedar. It was a good life, thought Earthstar, gazing up at the tall canopy of green above her. She lived among many like her, scattered on and between old cedar logs that had piled on the ground and rotted into a rich woody ‘soil.’ It was just right for earthstars who grew deep in the warm, moist rot, covered in a carpet of moss and ferns. Cedar saplings had even sprouted on the rotting log piles, and grown into large mature trees. That was not surprising, given the number of caches the red squirrels left on the spongy rotting logs.
Red squirrel on a tree (photo by Nina Munteanu)
Fully opened Earthstar and sister buds in mossy humus of rotting cedar logs, Trent cedar forest, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)
When she was just a young bud, Earthstar had pushed herself up from her parent mycelium through the woody humus then cracked open her outer shell to reveal her inner spore sac and beaked mouth. The outer shell formed arms of a ‘star’ that pushed back, raising her up to meet the world. When she surveyed her mossy terrain, she noticed that she was one of the earliest earthstars to emerge. Most of her sisters were still budding through the moss and duff. She was eager to fulfill her path. Soon she would be ready to deliver her precious spores to the world—
“Hey there!” a beaky voice called to her.
Earthstar recognized a Beaked Earthstar ambling along the rot pile using its outer skin ‘legs.’ She herself was a Collared Earthstar, and although she had long dislodged from the woody soil and become independent of the ground she sat on, she didn’t normally walk about like this Beaked Earthstar, known for its itinerant lifestyle. He was a rare and somewhat mysterious earthstar, not often seen, and somewhat of a legend. In fact, it was the first time she saw him and she felt tickled that he’d stopped in his wanderings to greet her.
Beaked earthstar, showing many arms that keep it upright, Trent cedar forest, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)
“I’m on my way to town,” said Beaky cheerfully. “Want to come along? There’s so much more to see than this silly forest.”
“No thanks,” said Earthstar, overcoming the flush of excitement at being invited by this exotic drifter. She’d heard about ‘the town’ but knew nothing of it—and decided she didn’t want to. Besides, the forest wasn’t silly, she thought peevishly. It was her home. It nourished her. It was where her family was. Earthstar was content.
“Suit yourself,” said Beaky. “But you don’t know what you’re missing! There’s a river out there, and strange but wonderful creatures and moving things on wheels that carry them from place to place. And the fine ladies have something called ‘High Tea,’ which is quite splendid.”
“I think this forest is quite splendid enough,” she retorted a little rudely.
“Ah… But you won’t truly know your place until you’re out of place,” Beaky said. Then with a slight nod of his beaky head, he left her and soon disappeared along the forest path that wound its way into somewhere.
What did Beaky mean by his last comment? wondered Earthstar. How can one be out of place? And why would one wish to be? As time went by, Earthstar began to wonder about that ‘somewhere’ and those wonderful creatures and fine ladies and that thing called ‘High Tea.’ And before she realized it, she was no longer content. She became very curious about that ‘somewhere’ that lay beyond her forest home.
In a sudden thrilling act, Earthstar decided to leave the forest to see the world. And once she thought of it, she did it. That’s the way of earthstars. So, within moments, Earthstar was wandering along the same forest path that Beaky had earlier taken. She took Moss with her, tucked safely inside her ‘legs’ as companion.
Path, damp from a morning rain, through cedar swamp forest in Trent Nature Sanctuary, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)
Earthstar rests on small root snag on leaf-strewn trail through Trent cedar forest, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)
Path through Trent cedar swamp forest with ash and poplar in early fall, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)
The path wound through dense cedar forest, mixed with birch, ash, poplar and the occasional oak and maple tree. Earthstar passed many relatives. Flaming waxcaps dotted the rotting logs and ground, looking like dance partners. Graceful Fairy Fingers thrust up through the duff on either side of the path along with Ashen Coral fungi, whose delicate ‘fingers’ reached up like praying hands. By the feet of one poplar tree, Earthstar saw a party of Scaly Ink Caps loitering on one side and Striate Bird’s Nest fungi having a party on the other. Stalwart boletes towered majestic, anchored to a mossy slope. A single shield mushroom with its smart lilac cap had burst out of a cedar stump and leaned into the sun with joy.
Waxcaps on decaying cedar wood in Trent forest, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)
Fairy Fingers in cedar duff in Trent forest, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)
Ashen coral fungi on ground of Trent cedar forest, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)
Scaly ink caps growing at the base of a poplar tree in Trent forest (photo by Nina Munteanu)
Striated Bird’s Nest fungi at the base of a poplar tree in Trent forest (photo by Nina Munteanu)
Bolete on mossy hill of Trent cedar forest, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)
Shield fungus grows out of rotting cedar stump in Trent forest, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)
A group of Scaly Pholiota graced an old maple tree and not much farther a gaggle of Wolf’s Milk spread orange fungus joy over a decaying log. Conifer Tufts created a fairy ring around an old ash tree. Witches hats stood at the feet of a huge cedar tree, bowing with shy wisdom to her. There was a cheerful family of brilliant Scarlet Fairy Helmets tucked in the mossy undergrowth of a buckthorn thicket. She even saw a crowd of her closest relatives, Lycoperdon puffballs clutching a rotting birch log, and waved to them.
Scaly Pholiota on an old maple tree in Trent mixed cedar forest, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)
Wolf’s Milk slime mould on rotting log in Trent forest, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)
Conifer Tufts form a fairy ring around an old ash tree in Trent cedar forest, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)
Witches hats nestled at base of a cedar tree, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)
Scarlet Fairy Helmets in mossy undergrowth of cedar forest, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)
Lycoperdon puffballs on decaying birch log, Trent cedar forest, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)
Eventually, the forest opened into fields and thickets and the path became rocky. The dense cool cedar-scented air of the deep forest gave way to a fragrant floral breeze and the warmth of the sun touched Earthstar with rays of good tidings.
Earthstar on rocky path out of Trent cedar forest into open area, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)
Earthstar negotiates the rocky path on her way out of the Trent forest (photo by Nina Munteanu)
Soon Earthstar reached a road and thought to follow it to town. Within moments a huge thing on wheels barrelled toward her! She froze in terror. But the cheerful wind whisked her out from under the wheel in the nick of time.
Earthstar almost gets run over by a car!
Earthstar thanked the wind and continued down the road, certain that the thing on wheels was what Beaky had mentioned and that she’d soon find the town and the river and those wonderful beings at the end of the road. And perhaps there she would encounter this marvelous “High Tea.”
Earthstar keeps to the side of the road with busy traffic
Countryside near Otonabee River, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)
The road took Earthstar through an open countryside of meadows, flowers and trees. Earthstar kept to the side of the road to avoid getting squashed and soon found the river Beaky had mentioned. The river was magnificent. Sparkling in the radiant sun, it danced and lapped against the shore with the gurgling rush of laughter around the rocks and reeds.
The shallows of the Otonabee River, showing diatom-froth, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)
Earthstar on Rotary Trail as bicycles bear down on her(photo by Nina Munteanu)
Sensing the lateness of the day, Earthstar continued her journey in search of “High Tea.” She wasn’t quite sure where she’d find it and followed the river on a trail through a black walnut forest.
Earthstar passed a large building with an open lawn just as a loud bell sounded and large beings with legs spilled out onto the trail. They chattered about their lit class and laughed as Lillie, one of the students, recounted her scifi story about flying giant tardigrades that terrorized human cities for destroying the planet.
Attack of the giant tardigrades (image by Ramul in Deviant Art)
“Tardigrades are the coolest creatures,” Lillie went on. “Some people think they’re from outer space and lived among the stars. They can handle extreme temperature, the vacuum of space, and radiation, after all. And water bears can even survive a bullet impact!”
The students didn’t notice Earthstar below them. She was so tiny after all!
Earthstar (and her moss companion) gets underfoot near the high school(photo by Nina Munteanu)
Just as the dark shadow of a giant foot loomed over her, someone shouted, “Wait, Marcus, STOP! Look!”
Earthstar was snatched off the ground before Marcus could step on her and gently cupped in the girl’s hand where the little fungus felt finally safe. “It’s an earthstar!” said the girl holding her. “How cute! See the bit of moss clutched in its arm? How adorable!”
“But, Emily, what d’you think it’s doing here on the trail by the school?” Marcus asked the girl holding Earthstar. “How did it get here?” Marcus suddenly grinned with inspiration and turned to Lillie, eyes sparkling. “Or did your giant space tardigrade drop it here? Which means we’re in your story–“
Lillie elbowed him and said something Earthstar didn’t understand.
Emily looked down at Earthstar, who sat quietly in her palm. “They’re the only mushrooms that move. Earthstars. I’ve read about them.” Emily then bent low and carefully set Earthstar on the grass by the trail, out of harm’s way.
“Maybe it’s on ‘walkabout,’” Lillie suggested, inspired by the thought of travel.
“You mean floatabout!” Marcus laughed. “If it came all the way from Australia it’d have to float across the Pacific Ocean!”
The students giggled, visualizing little Earthstar floating on a leaf and braving the vast ocean then hitchhiking across the North American continent into the Kawarthas. Still discussing the earthstar’s epic journey, they went on their way, leaving Earthstar on the grass.
Earthstar continued her journey, wondering what ‘walkabout’ meant. She found another large building and thought this might be where she needed to go. When one of the giant beings walked out through a door, she slid inside.
Earthstar and her Moss companion make it inside the condo complex(photo by Nina Munteanu)
She found herself in a wonderfully lit atrium with many more doors and lost herself among the indoor plants under large skylights. Within moments, as if sensing her presence, one of the large beings stepped out from a doorway and immediately saw Earthstar, perched by one of the indoor gardens.
“Well, well, what do we have here? A wandering earthstar and her little moss companion!” The being picked Earthstar up and gently cupped Earthstar in its hand. “Would you like to join me for tea?”
Earthstar in lady’s hand(photo by Nina Munteanu)
The magic word! Tea!
Earthstar jiggled on her ‘legs’ with joy. Was this being one of those fine ladies? As if sensing her excitement, the lady smiled and brought Earthstar inside her apartment.
The lady brought them outside to the patio for tea, where she had laid out tiny sandwiches, cheeses, crackers, scones with jam, and lovely pastries. Of course, Earthstar did not partake in these strange foods—being a saprophyte, she fed exclusively on decaying matter. But she enjoyed the ambience of this civilized celebration. And, of course, the tea!
Lady serving the tea (photo by Nina Munteanu)
When the lady went inside to replenish the tea, Earthstar explored the patio. Mistake! Moments after Earthstar dropped to the patio bricks with the help of a little breeze, a very large dog (well, a rather small dog for you and me) came bounding to her and gave her a lick. The dog might have eaten her but the lady returned and rescued Earthstar.
Poppy the dog licks Earthstar!(photo by Nina Munteanu)
“Oh, my! Don’t mind Poppy, the neighbour’s shiatzu,” the lady said to Earthstar. “Poppy is harmless and only eats dog treats. I don’t think you’re a dog treat, are you?”
Earthstar dipping her feet into the water of the bird bath(photo by Nina Munteanu)
Thinking to get her to safety, the lady placed Earthstar on the edge of the birdbath where Earthstar dipped her tired feet. Within moments a mischievous wind pushed Earthstar into the water! Luckily, Earthstar floated. She was accustomed to deluges of water that filled her ‘collar’ and raised her spore sac to better deliver her spores. Water was an earthstar’s friend; earthstars counted on the beating drops of rain to help release their spores. After the initial shock, Earthstar rather enjoyed the swim.
Earthstar swims happily in the birdbath(photo by Nina Munteanu)
The lady thought she ought to rescue Earthstar again and put her back down on the patio. Then the whistle of the kettle inside drew the lady away to the house. In that short time, a clever black squirrel, who had been spying from the silver maple tree nearby, leaped forward and seized her!
Earthstar about to be snatched by the black squirrel (photo by Nina Munteanu)
“Mine!” he shouted to himself and bounded away with her clutched in his mouth. After waiting for an oncoming bicycle, he raced across the trail–just inches in front of the zooming bicycle (squirrels are daredevils at heart)–and entered the little wood by the river.
Earthstar screamed. But no one heard her, because it was a silent scream.
The black squirrel took his prize to a huge old willow tree by the river. The tree bowed over a small path as if reaching down to say hello. The squirrel left Earthstar on the bowing tree to dry like he would any mushroom for later caching. Then he scurried away to look for more food. What this city squirrel didn’t know was that—unlike most other mushrooms—earthstars can move!
Old willow of the riparian forest by the Otonabee River, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)
Earthstar let the wind blow her off the branch to the ground where she used her six arms to carry her back to the trail and back to the lady’s place. “Where have you been?” asked the lady when Earthstar got there. Her eyes seemed to wink. “I suspect you were on a small adventure with squirrels.”
Driving Earthstar home to the forest (photo by Nina Munteanu)
They continued their tea and when it was finished, the lady took Earthstar in her car and drove Earthstar home to the forest. Earthstar didn’t wonder how the lady knew where Earthstar’s home was; there is only one place where earthstars grew in the region. And no doubt the lady—being a true lady—knew where that was and respected the earthstars place in the world.
Cedar trees covered in moss, growing on ancient rotting cedar logs of the cedar swamp forest, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)
Fern-like moss grows on cedar roots that dig into old decaying cedar logs of the forest, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)
When they reached the deep forest where the tall cedars covered the sky with green and the air stirred with the breaths of cedar and birch, Earthstar felt the exhilaration of coming home. She did not need to rely on the vagaries of a capricious wind to deliver her safely home; the kind hand of the lady set her down on the soft downy surface of woody loam. The lady set Earthstar right beside her sisters, her tiny moss companion still with her, tucked under her arm.
Gently placing Earthstar back home by several earthstar buds in moss of decaying cedars, cedar forest, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)
The forest was her home. It nourished her. It was where her family was. Earthstar was content. And this time she really was…
~~The End~~
Moss-covered red bark of cedar tree in the cedar swamp forest, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)
The Trent Nature Sanctuary
Located in the southeast corner of Symons Campus of Trent University, the Wildlife Sanctuary Nature Area includes many types of ecosystems and a network of trails. Wetlands of the area are deemed Provincially Significant by the Ontario Ministry of Natural Resources and Forestry. The cedar/maple swamps of the sanctuary support a rich diversity of fungi and lichen amid a rich ecosystem of plants and animals of the forest. It is within this area that I keep discovering interesting life each time I visit. Virtually all the images of the forest and fungi in this article come from this sanctuary, including the Collared Earthstar.
Mossy cedars in the cedar swamp forest of the Trent Nature Sanctuary, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)
Information on the Collared Earthstar (Geastrum triplex)
Eight stages of the Collared Earthstar life cycle, Trent Nature Sanctuary, ON: 1) buds emerge in late summer; 2) the outer layer begins to crack in early fall; 3) the bud cracks open; 4) then spreads open; 5) forming a ‘flower’; 6) the outer layer cracks; 7) to form the ‘collar’ by early fall; 8) the outer layer shrivels by early winter (photo by Nina Munteanu)
Collared Earthstar Life Cycle
The Collared Earthstar (Geastrum triplex) is a Gasteromycete or stomach fungus, since it produces and releases its spores inside a saclike structure. The earthstar spends most of the year as a network of fungal cells (mycelia) that penetrate the soil and digest decaying organic material. When they are ready to reproduce, the mycelium develops the “earthstar” above ground. New earthstars emerge as ‘buds’ and develop in late summer and autumn through into winter. The matured fruiting bodies will survive the winter to be discovered the following spring by curious explorers like me.
Spore sacs of Collared Earthstar in the frosts of winter (photo by Nina Munteanu)
Geo means earth and astrum means star. The species name triplex, which means ‘having three layers,’ refers to the way the ‘star’ arms of the outer layer crack when they peel back, making it look like the spore-sac is sitting on a dish. The three layers allow the earthstar to do something no other fungus can do: move. When it rains, the two outer layers of the peridium split and peel back, forming a ‘star’ with 4-12 rays. The rays spread with enough force to push aside leaves, raising the spore-filled sac above the surrounding debris. The rays often lift the earthstar high enough to break the connection to the parent mycelium, releasing the earthstar from its sedentary position. Detached, the earthstar can move with wind or rain to better spread its spores.
Finger poking the spore sac helps release the spores (photo by Nina Munteanu)
Fruiting bodies are large, 5-10 cm in diameter. Spores escape from the apical pointed hole (peristome) as breezes blow across it. Much larger puffs are released when raindrops hit and compress the spore-sac—or an interfering finger depresses the sac. What escapes is a powdery gleba (which distributes the tiny spores). The sides of the peristome ‘beak’ are fibrous and appear slightly ragged.
Several stages of the Collared Earthstar, from buds to opening ‘flower’
Early budding stage of Collared Earthstar (photo by Nina Munteanu)
After a late summer / autumn rain, the collared earthstar emerges from the leaf litter looking like a Hershey’s kiss or a fancy bulb-shaped truffle dusted in fine cocoa. Only the outer layer (exoperidium) is visible, peeking out of the litter and loam. The outer layer eventually cracks open, looking like a coconut husk and splits into five to seven ‘arms’ to form a star. Inside is revealed a tan to grey-coloured spore-sac (endoperidium) with a fringed beak (peristome) and its opening (ostiole). The endoperidium, or spore sac, is more like an elastic membrane resembling rubber that holds the gleba (spore-bearing mass). The star arms peel back and down, eventually cracking to form the ‘saucer’ which the round fruiting body (spore sac) sits on. The spore sac contains a mass of spores and fertile mycelial tissue, called the gleba that is white, fibrous and firm when young, but turns brown and powdery as it ages. A network of cells (capillatum) help spores move to the pore when a raindrop strikes the endoperidium. The columella, a bulbous sterile base at the centre of the spore-producing gleba forms ‘columns’ that radiate out to help spore dispersal.
Over time, the outer layer of ‘stars’ (exoperidium) form a reticulated pattern of cracks and fissures that deepen into golden-brown colours as they decompose and curl downward to lift the spore-sac farther up. The sac also grows more pale and papery.
Parts of Collared Earthstar (photos by Nina Munteanu)
Just opened Collared Earthstar, not yet showing the ‘collar’ formed by cracking of exoperidium (photo by Nina Munteanu)
Good example of a more mature opened Collared Earthstar, showing the ‘collar’ formed by separation of exoperidium and extended curled back ‘arms’ (photo by Nina Munteanu)
Mature Collared Earthstar, showing papery spore sac sitting on reticulated exoperidium (photo by Nina Munteanu)
However, in the rain, the sac reverts to a rubbery consistency and deepens to a dark shiny tan colour. I was surprised by its elasticity; this time when I poked it, the sac sprang back to its round sphere like a thick balloon.
Mature Collared Earthstar; left in rain, right in dry weather (photos by Nina Munteanu)
Collared Earthstar Habitat
I also learned that the collared earthstar prefers a habitat of leaf litter in deciduous woods, especially beech on chalky soils. However, researchers acknowledge that the collared earthstar is also found under coniferous trees, especially on sloping ground—which better describes where I found them, in this cedar-birch forest of the Kawarthas. Geastrum triplex is a saprophytic organism: it gets its nutrients from decomposing organic matter—such as well-rotted cedar trees, where humus has accumulated—by further breaking down the organic matter then, in turn, returns those nutrients to the soil to complete the cycle. It does this by releasing enzymes to break down and digest the lignin, cellulose or chitin in these materials, converting them to soluble compounds that can be absorbed by them, and by plants, as nutrients. Earthstars, like all fungi, play a vital role in reducing the accumulation of dead organic material and in recycling essential nutrients, particularly carbon and nitrogen. If not for fungi, forests would choke under a mountain of logs and leaves.
References:
Ellis JB, Ellis MB. 1990. “Fungi without Gills (Hymenomycetes and Gasteromycetes): an Identification Handbook. ”Chapman and Hall. London. ISBN 0-412-36970-2.
Torpoco V, Garbarino JA (1998). “Studies on Chilean fungi. I. Metabolites from Geastrum triplex Jungh”. Boletin de la Sociedad Chilena de Quimica. 43 (2): 227–29.
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.
This past August, I participated in the When Words Collide Online 2022 Writing Festival. one of Canada’s prime writing festivals in Calgary, Alberta. I was a featured writer, sitting on several panels and conducting presentations and lectures.
My presentation on the role of place in story kicked off the festival.
The role of place in story is a topic close to my heart and one I wrote an entire writing guidebook on: The Ecology of Story: World as Character. In my coaching sessions with writers and in my writing courses at George Brown College and the University of Toronto, I’d observed in the novice writer a need for more effective integration of setting and place in story. All too often, the lack of meaningful integration translated into a lost opportunity to explore the POV character and the story’s theme.
The lack of meaningful use of place in story can result in a lacklustre story, overly vague characterizations and a story that lacks metaphoric depth and relevance.
Nina Munteanu
The presentation and following discussion drew from my guidebook Ecology of Story and was also featured in the WWC recorded panel called “What is Eco-Fiction and Why Should We Care?” The presentation overviewed topics covered in the book, such as:
Place as character & archetype
Place as metaphor (personification, symbols, allegory)
Place and first impressions (openings)
Place and emotion (over time and by POV)
Place through the senses
Place as environmental force (including climate change)
We also discussed how characters connect with their environment and I introduced the metaphoric connection between the white pine forests and the Mi’kmaq in Annie Proulx’s Barkskins. Both are exploited by the white settlers, with intentions to subdue and controll:
The Gatineau forest was noisy, echoing with ax blows and the rushing crackle of falling timber, with shouted warnings and orders. The axmen cut the great pines, but only a few in each plot were suitable for squaring. The rest were left to rot on the ground … unwanted trees lay prostrate, severed branches everywhere, heaps of bark and mountains of chips … There were so many trees, what did it matter? Maine men were used to waste—it was usual—but this was beyond anything even they had seen.
In the Penobscot settlement, the trees fell, tracks inched through the forests, only one or two then seven, then webs of trails that over the decades widened into roads. The roads were muddy, sometimes like batter, sometimes thick and clutching until late summer; when they metamorphosed into choking dust so fine it hung in the air long after a horse and carriage passed, settling on the grass as the English people settled on the land … Fields of wheat and hay took the land, these fields enclosed by linked stumps, the root wads of the forest that had once stood there turned on their edges to bar the white man’s cows and sheep.
I concluded the presentation with a writing exercise asking participants to write about the psychology of a place and how they related to it.
Writers attending the presentation / workshop eagerly participated and produced some evocative narrative that contained good metaphor and sensual writing. Here are a few:
Freyja on their high school gym: “I remember rallies and lectures and sweating, running in circles for an hour and a half. The gym stayed the same but the population of people got smaller and smaller over the years. One year a kid hit his head on the wall and went into a coma. Longest seven seconds in my life.”
Roma: “As soon as I get a whiff of old pages in a book, I am reminded of Uncle Leo. The coffee coloured leather jacket he always wore had seen better days and like him, still retained most of its luster. He was the youngest of my dad’s nine siblings, born during a storm and considered a tempestuous child. Our family just didn’t understand his passion.”
Angela: “I stood on the bridge in Moscow. My mother was talking with a friend. She couldn’t believe how lucky we were to be posted here. I looked down at the river. And at the bridge. It would be so easy to just jump over the fence and land in the water. It was a sunny day. The heat was oppressive. I wanted to do it. But I stood still.”
Kylie: “The stuffy air was full of the smell of bodies and heat. The din of laughing and talking, and yelling surrounded me.”
The Ecology of Story: World as Character is presented in two parts: Part 1 provides a comprehensive summary of the science of ecology, the study of relationships, and links to useful metaphor; Part 2 discusses world and place in story. Here I discuss how the great writers have successfully integrated place with theme, character and plot to create a multi-layered story with depth and meaning. Part 2 also contains several exercises and detailed case studies.
Boat dock at sunset, Ladner Slough of Fraser River, BC (photo and rendition 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. 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.
Jackson Creek just before sunset, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)
It was early evening in late summer, when the sunlight was gentle and rich with the promise of golden light. I was walking in one of my favourite forests—the pine-cedar woodland that smelled of needles, bark and loam. This was Jackson Creek forest. Where some time ago I’d glimpsed a blue forest sprite…
The water in the creek was low, in places exposing its bones—boulders and cobbles that emerged out of the stream into the dry light. I walked along the creek bank, beside tranquil glades and chortling riffles. The creek trickled with the most delicious sounds, like chatty water sprites having tea, watercress sandwiches and fresh scones with jam …
Sunlit water cascades over rocks of Jackson Creek, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)
I set up my camera on the rocks to capture the silky green and gold reflections of the overhanging trees in the water. Oak, beech, and ironwood along with shrubs and grasses crowded the banks of the creek in a parade of leaves and flowers. Long arms of the cedar tree bent low over the creek as if reaching out to touch water’s skin.
Cedar tree overhangs Jackson Creek, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)
In the gladed pools, the water swirled as if in slow motion in a fluid mosaic that mirrored the riparian forest. Each tree gave the water its unique shade in a diurnal dance that heralded the coming dusk and nightfall.
I walked the ythlaf, that remnant stretch of half-dried river bed, revealed by ebbing water. A place in-between land and water. I teetered on rocks and cobbles covered in dried periphyton, and angled the camera for long exposures up to f32. I crouched, squatted, crawled and kneeled on the cobbles, boulders and snags to position the camera just right. At times I danced to keep from falling in knee-deep water and laughed with thoughts of how the sprites were watching from below and taking bets on my possible spill into the water. I imagined their chortling giggles of anticipation.
Water cascading over rocks in Jackson Creek, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)
Then, with the patience of a heron, I captured the various faces of the creek during its golden hours. The water’s silken threads sparkled in the raking sunlight and hugged the rocks in swirling clouds.
Water swirls around rocks of Jackson Creek, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)
We were nearing that in-between time, when all nature hushes for a life-breath as time descends for the briefest moment into a deep stillness. We lurked like thieves in that intermediate place of becoming, a diurnal ecotone poised on the threshold between night and day. The gloaming verge of a forest where dark and light danced with uncertain intent.
Glade of Jackson Creek, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)
Immersed in the cheerful melody of the creek, I imagined the water sprites again, playing in the watercress forest, among the spinners, caddises and stonefly nymphs. I imagined them, plump gilled water-babies or slender creatures with winking faces, diaphanous wings sparkling in the slanting sunlight as they stirred up algae and organic detritus.
Were they dancing?
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.
Rod and Kim, owners of The Paper Hound Bookshop, Vancouver
It was a warmish sunny Friday in the deep of summer and I was in Vancouver for the first time in three years since COVID-19 stopped me from travelling.
I found myself wandering Gastown, retracing the steps of the indomitable character in my upcoming thriller Thalweg.
My wanderings took me along Water Street, past the Steam Clock, south on Cambie, then east on Blood Alley where my character has a sketchy scene with two enforcers involving Gaoler’s Mews, a solid red brick wall, a scurrying rat, and a 9 mm Glock…
Gastown steam clock about to steam out 6 pm, Vancouver, BC (photo by Nina Munteanu)
But I was in the general area for another reason: to meet my son and his lady for a wonderful meal in the exquisite Italian restaurant Autostrada Osteria; a Christmas present he’d owed me since COVID hit. Located on the corner of Homer and Pender streets, Autostrada Osteria nestles comfortably in an eclectic mix of old and slightly dilapidated next to trendy and posh chic. Something Vancouver seems to do well.
The Paper Hound Bookshop on Pender Street, Vancouver
I was a little early for our reservation at 7:15 pm, so I wandered down the street. Immediately east of the restaurant was a character bookstore selling new and used books, The Paper Hound Bookshop. It’s located in the Victoria Block, a 1908 addition to the old boutique Victorian Hotel.
Always curious about books and wishing to kill some time, I wandered in, blissfully unaware that I was entering another dimension…
I nodded to the young woman at the front desk who exuded friendly intelligence through kind but impish eyes. I ventured deeper, perusing the shelves, high and low. I noted that the books were arranged with lots of front covers on display in tiny category-labeled alcoves that literally covered the walls from floor to ceiling. Several sliding ladders were judiciously placed to provide reach. The categories were odd, bizarre, somewhat arcane, and peculiarly amusing. There was one that proclaimed “Rodent as Hero.” Another read “Indomitable Orphans,” (populated with several Harry Potter books, of course, as well as other lesser known orphans).
Whoever had created these categories—was it the woman at the front?—was either strange or had purposefully flouted the norm to draw attention to a more whimsical, curious way of seeing the world and the books that described it. No mundane alphabetizing within broad normative categories for these people!
Inside the Paper Hound Bookshop, Vancouver (image by On the Grid)
As I wandered the labyrinthine rows of books, the place felt like a roadmap to another world. The narratives from the categories alone were worth studying from “Hot Adventure”, “Cold Adventure,” and “Wet Adventure” to “Books with Bears,” “Detection / Deduction,” and “Wanderlust.” Each category was a ‘book’ and each book ‘a chapter’ of a larger funky narrative that depicted one person’s intriguing interpretation of the world.
Keagan Perlette of Sad Mag describes the store this way: “The Paper Hound stocks both used and new books and features an impressive collection of poetry and philosophy. Space is limited, so there is an evident focus on literature, but there are surprises hidden in the shelves: an excellent selection of beautiful children’s books, art books, drawers full of zines and chapbooks, and even a section for unique vintage cookbooks. The store is full of little wonders.”
There is even a funky machine that dispenses poetry like cigarettes for two quarters at the front of the store. Even on its surface books were stacked. The owners had stacked books literally everywhere. On chairs, on tables, on each other. Little books on larger books, balanced wonderfully in a kind of fanciful ordered chaos.
Poetry dispenser at The Paper Hound (image by Keagan Perlette)
The Paper Hound website accurately describes the bookstore as “a new, used and rare book store” that doesn’t specialize “in one particular kind of book, but we favour the classic, curious, odd, beautiful, visually arresting, scholarly, bizarre, and whimsical.” In addition to their collection of used books, the Paper Hound carries titles from local small publishers Anvil Press, Arsenal Pulp Press, Talon Books and New Star Books.
Owners Kim Koch and Rod Clarke are veterans of the bookstore world in Vancouver, having worked at several before opening Paper Hound. They set up The Paper Hound in the old boutique hotel in 2013 on what my book collector friend calls ‘book row.’ Located on Pender Street, between Richards and Hamilton, ‘book row’ is apparently expanding according to On the Grid. According to the Vancouver Sun: “in this digital age many people think bookstores are on the verge of extinction. People are buying fewer paper books, and websites like Amazon offer almost anything ever printed, often for cheap.” While the Internet and digital devices appear to be ravaging large chain bookstores (some like Borders closed and others like Indigo have added household goods to bring people into the store), small niche independent bookstores are flourishing.
“Setting up a bookstore in the post-online and big book retailer age is sort of liberating,” says Kim. “We know we can’t carry everything or nearly as many titles as they do, so that liberates us to instead focus on creating the experience we want the customer to have.” Kim describes the perfect bookstore as: “a place that offers people a space where they can explore, get guidance from the proprietors and, when they want to, be left alone amongst the shelves to daydream.”
That’s exactly what I did.
When I left the store at shortly after 7pm, Kim pulled in the book trolley from outside in preparation to close and I apologized if I’d held her up a few minutes. She then informed me that they usually close at six but she had kept the store open for goodness knows why. I smiled and said rather cheekily with sudden inspiration, “I know; because I needed to experience it.” She laughed and those impish eyes twinkled.
And before you ask, yes, I did walk away with something: “Water Babies” by Charles Kingsley, a moral fable that explores the closed-minded approaches of many scientists of the day in their response to Charles Darwin’s ideas on evolution.
1935 edition of Ward, Lock & Co. publication of “Water Babies” by Charles Kingsley (originally published in 1863 by London Macmillan and Company) with illustrations by Harry G. Theaker
After he is chased from the home of an upper-class young girl, chimney-sweep Tom falls asleep and tumbles into a river. There he is transformed into a ‘water-baby’ and his adventures truly begin. Beneath the surface, he enters a magical world full of strange and wonderful creatures, where he must prove his moral worth in order to earn what he truly desires.
Macmillan describes The Water Babies this way:
“One of the most unusual children’s books ever written, The Water-Babies, subtitled ‘A Fairy Tale for a Land-Baby’, was originally intended as a satire in support of Charles Darwin’s On the Origin of Species, and explores the issues at the forefront of biologists’ minds at the time. First published as a complete novel in 1863 [originally illustrated by Linley Sambourne], Charles Kingsley’s classic tale also explores ideas about religion, the Victorian education system and the working conditions of children and the poor.”
The vintage version I picked up at The Paper Hound was illustrated by Harry G. Theaker and published in 1935 by Ward, Lock & Co. Ltd. with 24 colour plates.
For a great taste of Kim and Rod’s unique vision of the world of literature and their pithy humour and wit, go to their blog The Paper Hound. Here’s a taste:
Vancouver street lined with plane trees (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. 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.
Writer and curator Mary Woodbury shares eight novels about water where fact and fiction mingle, tried by imagination, to reveal important truths about our shifting relationships with this vital and lively agent in an era of climate crisis,” writes the magazine Climate Cultures.
“While facts are something we can and should pay attention to as we follow scientific integrity, models, and reports, another mode of telling the story about water has been alive forever: churned, spoken, and written by authors who dream up fictional stories related to our past, present, and future world. Where fact and fiction mingle like this is an area of reflection and speculation, tied by imagination. These tales of water ripple out once the pebble sinks in. The intersectionality of diverse water fiction results in reader empathy, learning, inspiration, and shared commonalities around the world. Local dignity comes alive against a backdrop of planetary crises.”
She chooses the following eco-novels to discuss:
“Land-Water-Sky (Ndè-Ti-Yat’a)” by Katłıà “Oil on Water” by Helon Habila “A Diary in the Age of Water” by Nina Munteanu “The Water Knife” by Paolo Bacigalupi “Memory of Water” by Emmi Itäranta “Fever Dream” by Samanta Schweblin “Lagoon” by Nnedi Okorafor “Bangkok Wakes to Rain” by Pitchaya Sudbanthad
Here’s what she writes about my novel:
Ancient Eastern Hemlock in Catchacoma old-growth forest, ON (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. 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.
Left: cover of Apex Magazine Issue #128 in which my story appears; Right: cover of 2021 anthology published in fall 2022.
I was recently interviewed by Alberta writer Simon Rose about my latest eco-fiction short story “Robin’s Last Song”, which was recently published by Apex Magazine in its 2021 Compilation Anthology. Below is the interview:
Simon:Congratulations on publishing your short story “Robin’s Last Song” in Issue 128 of Apex Magazine and soon in the Apex Magazine 2021 Compilation Anthology. I’m curious about the title? Whose last song is it? Is Robin the name of a human or the bird?
Nina: Both, actually. The title is both literal and metaphoric. The premise of the story is based on the alarming trend of disappearing birds. The robin, a common bird in Ontario where the story takes place, is a good sentinel for what is happening with bird populations around the world. Robin is also the protagonist’s name; she was named after the robin, her mother’s favourite bird.
Recently fledged robin rests on patio chair, Mississauga, ON (photo by Merridy Cox)
Simon: Robin’s Last Song is obviously eco-fiction. What’s it about?
Nina:Robin’s Last Song first appeared in the #128 Issue of Apex Magazine in 2021. It tells the story of Robin, a blind elder whose digital app failed to warn the world of the sudden global loss of birds with disastrous ecological consequences. After years of living in self-exile and getting around poorly on sight-enhancing technology, a discovery gives her new hope in rekindling her talents in the field of Soundscape Ecology.
Discarded robin’s egg to deter predators, found on a woody trail in Ontario (photo by Nina Munteanu)
Simon:How did you come to write this particular story about birds and what is “soundscape ecology”?
Nina: Since I was a child, the burgeoning SF writer in me had dared to imagine a world without the sound of birds—I thought it utterly bleak and, recognizing an ever-polluting world, I feared for my feathered relatives. I didn’t follow through with a story until September 2019, when I was approached by Oliver Hockenhull, the guest editor of subTerrain Magazine, to write a piece on technology and the environment. The timing was interesting; I’d just read two impactful things that resonated with me.
The first was the October issue of Science Magazine that reported a staggering decline in North American birds. Kenneth V. Rosenberg and his team of researchers had estimated that three billion birds of various species had disappeared in Canada and the US since 1970. That’s a third of the entire bird population lost in five decades. To make it clear, we aren’t talking about rare birds going extinct; these declines are of common birds throughout the world. The wrens, sparrows, starlings, and, of course, the robins. I was devastated; I could not imagine a world without the comforting sound of birds. What would it be like if the birds all disappeared? This brought me back to my childhood fears.
The second article I ran across talked about an emerging bioacoustics tool, soundscape ecology, that measures biodiversity and the health of an ecosystem, mostly through bird sound which well represents ecosystem health. Bernie Krause, a soundscape ecologist who had been conducting long-term recordings for decades noted how the dawn chorus in many areas had greatly diminished if not vanished altogether.
Bernie Krause, soundscape ecologist recording a soundscape in Florida
I now had my premise and my connection with technology. The title of my original story for subTerrain was “Out of the Silence”. This story focused on the technical aspects of the premise and solution. When I was approached for a story in February 2021 by Francesco Verso, the guest editor of Apex Magazine Issue #128, I rewrote the story with a stronger focus on the protagonist’s personal journey and connection with the bird catastrophe, how she coped with Asperger’s syndrome and the failure of her tool to predict the disaster. Hence the change in the title to “Robin’s Last Song”.
Cover of subTerrain Issue #85 in which “Out of the Silence” appears
Simon:Without wanting to bring in spoilers, isn’t there a twist to the story, suggesting a cautionary tale that touches on the dangers of genetic engineering?
Nina: Yes, thanks for bringing that up. I was already primed with research into genetic engineering for the sequel to my 2020 eco-novel “A Diary in the Age of Water.” I wanted to make the bird disappearance in “Robin’s Last Song” into a dramatic catastrophe linked to our own dangerous ecological tampering. I had the notion of using a gene hacking disaster to create ecological calamity and how this might affect birds. I wanted to make “Robin’s Last Song” a realizable work of fiction in which science and technology play both instigator of disaster and purveyor of salvation. Our biogenetic technology comes to us as a double-edged sword in the form of gene-editing, proteomics, DNA origami, and CRISPR—just to name a few. These biotechnological innovations promise a cornucopia of enhancements: from increased longevity and health in humans to giant disease-resistant crops. But, for every ‘magic’ in technology, there is often unintended consequence. Unforeseen—or even ignored—casualties and risks. I suppose my ultimate question with this story is: will synthetic biology redesign Nature to suit hubris or serve evolution? Science doesn’t make those decisions. We do.
Simon:Tell us a little bit about the Apex Magazine 2021 Compilation Anthology(that came out in both print and digital versions August).
Nina: The 350+ page anthology compiles all original short stories published in Apex Magazine during the 2021 calendar year. Published through Apex Book Company, it features 48 stories from a diverse group of new and established writers and the cover features award-winning artwork “Entropic Garden” by Marcela Bolivar. Check this link for more about the anthologyand where to get it.
Cover art for Apex 2021 Compilation Anthology(art by Marcela Bolivar)
Simon:Are you still coaching writers and such?
Nina: Yes, I am, Simon. Did you know that I’ve been coaching writers to publication for close to twenty years? When I’m not teaching writing at the University of Toronto or George Brown College, I help writers with craft on their novels and short stories through my coaching services. You can find out more at: www.NinaMunteanu.me.
Nina teaches a writing class in Bridgewater, Nova Scotia
Simon:Tell us a little about any writing projects you’re working on these days.
Nina: I’m always busy with science articles for various online and print magazines and my own blogs. I’m also currently finishing a speculative eco-fiction novel that is a loose sequel to “A Diary in the Age of Water.” It’s set throughout Canada, from the Maritimes to the Arctic Circle, and spans a wide timeline from the Halifax Explosion of 1917 to the vast NAWAPA reservoir created a century and a half later by drowning British Columbia’s Rocky Mountain Trench. It’s a fast-paced thriller that focuses on four homeless people who battle corporate intrigue, kidnapping, human experiments and a coming climate plague.
Robin’s First Song: fledgling sits on a black walnut tree branch, ON (photo by Merridy Cox)
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.
Nina Munteanu Writing Coach 