Review by New York Times Review
TED NORDHAUS and Michael Shellenberger's 2004 essay "The Death of Environmentalism" sparked passionate debate and earned them a reputation as the bad boys of the environmental movement. Judging from their new book, "Break Through," which expands their argument in favor of a new approach to the urgent problem of global warming while continuing to go after former allies with gusto, it's a status they clearly relish. Nordhaus and Shellenberger hold less that environmentalism is dead than that it ought to die. The political strategies that worked against acid rain and smog, they argue, simply will not mobilize support to combat global warming. The problem begins with the very way environmentalists talk about nature. "Environmentalists imagine that Nature, like God, is outside of us and all-powerful," they write in a typical passage. Like church authorities claiming to speak for God, environmentalists claim authority by speaking for nature and translating what the Earth is "telling" us. Throughout the book, Nordhaus and Shellenberger refer to environmentalists in the third person, as if the term doesn't apply to them. In fact, both authors have substantial histories in the movement, for example as advocates for proposals like the New Apollo Project, an ambitious alternative energy plan that has been embraced by the Sierra Club and other mainstream environmental organizations. "Break Through" goes far beyond arguments about the feasibility of hydrogen or wind power, touring such subjects as Thomas Kuhn's revisionist ideas about scientific truth, Richard Rorty's "liberal ironism" and Francis Fukuyama's neo-Hegelian theory of history. Even if one shares the authors' enthusiasm for these subjects, as I do, it seems like a serious mistake to ground a political agenda in ideas like this: "There is no single, glorious and transcendent Science. There are only sciences creating contingent truths, toiling away to reveal, create and organize facts and theories until the next revolutionary paradigm comes along to reorganize entire worlds." Unfortunately, such pretentiousness obscures the book's very real strengths. Nordhaus and Shellenberger have worked in the environmental movement not as grand theorists but as public opinion researchers, and their work in this realm is enormously valuable. Polls often cited as evidence of broad support for environmental goals, they note, also show that support to be extremely shallow, making it difficult to persuade people to give up things they enjoy or need - cheap gasoline, jobs in industries like coal mining or logging - in order to advance environmental ends. In response, environmentalists tend to emphasize the dire consequences of inaction and, when that doesn't work, to ratchet up the doomsday narratives that Nordhaus and Shellenberger justifiably compare to religious tales of sin and damnation. "We know from extensive psychological research," they write, "that presenting frightening disaster scenarios provokes fatalism, paralysis and ... individualistic thoughts of adaptation, not empowerment, hope, creativity and collective action." Insecurity, they argue, is an emotional pillar of reactionary politics, not a building block for the sort of farsighted, progressive thinking that is required to prevent ecological disaster. Instead of sticking with this crucial point, however, "Break Through" tries to use postmodern philosophy to transmute an insight about public opinion into one about public policy. The authors conflate conventional environmentalist rhetoric and conventional policy prescriptions (mandatory curbs on carbon emissions) to create a supposed "politics of limits" that must be transcended through a "politics of possibility." But whatever the shortcomings of their rhetoric, environmentalists have a very good reason to push for some limits, however much of a downer that message might be. Global warming is caused by carbon emissions and can be contained only by reducing them. Nordhaus and Shellenberger's preferred alternative - huge investment in alternative energy - doesn't really stand up to scrutiny. For one thing, without mandatory curbs on emissions, it might not work. For another thing, emissions caps would effectively provide a subsidy to less polluting alternatives, one that would be harder for lobbyists to manipulate and that wouldn't require lawmakers to pick winners among various possible technologies. Finally, even as a matter of crass politics, Nordhaus and Shellenberger neglect a basic point: the hard part about gaining support for a new initiative isn't convincing people of its value but finding the money to pay for it. The conventional solutions to global warming posed by the "politics of limits" - taxing carbon emissions, or issuing tradeable emissions to carbon-producing firms - conveniently raises revenue that could be used to pay for the very projects the authors wish to see. IN truth, few if any environmentalists oppose the sort of alternative-energy projects Nordhaus and Shellenberger favor. "Break Through" is more convincing in its case for a change in rhetoric. Conventional environmentalist policy is perfectly compatible with an optimistic vision of a landscape dotted with windmills and solar panels, of highspeed trains and energy-efficient office towers. But to win, Nordhaus and Shellenberger persuasively argue, environmentalists must stop congratulating themselves for their own willingness to confront inconvenient truths and must focus on building a politics of shared hope rather than relying on a politics of fear. The authors clearly relish their status as the bad boys of the environmental movement. Matthew Yglesias is an associate editor at The Atlantic. His book "Heads in the Sand: How the Republicans Screw Up Foreign Policy and Foreign Policy Screws Up the Democrats" will be published in April.
Copyright (c) The New York Times Company [October 27, 2009]
Review by Booklist Review
*Starred Review* A recently married couple new to a New England college town purchases one-half of a double house because Nathan, a history professor, is thrilled to learn that the other half is owned by the famous, now retired senator Tom Naughton. But it seems that Delia, the senator's wife, lives alone. In her seventies, she is glamorous, charming, considerate, and armored to the teeth. Nathan's sly, smart, and moody wife, Meri, unnerved by her accidental pregnancy, becomes rather too intrigued with her secretive neighbor. Best-selling and impeccably literary Miller shrewdly contrasts the high drama of Delia and Tom's epically difficult marriage with the newlyweds' raw skirmishes, creating characters of intense interest and infusing everything thing they do with a kaleidoscopic array of meanings. Miller not only sharply illuminates the paradoxes of family life the difficulty of sustaining one's autonomy in marriage, complicated love for one's children, brutal shifts in power, the grimness of old age she also takes an askance view of Clintonian Washington and tests the thin membrane between private and public lives as she weighs the marathon demands on a politician's spouse. Miller's remarkable grasp of both grand passion and the consolation of the daily makes this an incandescent tale of betrayal and the perpetual divide between men and women, and a galvanizing novel of life's imperative to use yourself up. --Seaman, Donna Copyright 2007 Booklist
From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
Bestselling author Miller (The Good Mother; When I Was Gone) returns with a rich, emotionally urgent novel of two women at opposite stages of life who face parallel dilemmas. Meri, the young, sexy wife of a charismatic professor, occupies one wing of a New England house with her husband. An unexpected pregnancy forces her to reassess her marriage and her childhood of neglect. Delia, her elegant neighbor in the opposite wing, is the long-suffering wife of a notoriously philandering retired senator. The couple have stayed together for his career and still share an occasional, deeply intense tryst. The women's routines continue on either side of the wall that divides their homes, and the two begin to flit back and forth across the porch and into each others physical and psychological spaces. A steady tension builds to a bruising denouement. The clash, predicated on Delia's husband's compulsive behavior and on Meri's lack of boundaries, feels too preordained. But Miller's incisive portrait of the complex inner lives of her characters and her sharp manner of taking them through conflicts make for an intense read. (Jan.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Review by Library Journal Review
Meri, short for Meribeth, is going through some major changes: she just got married, moved to another state, and bought a new home. When she and her husband, Nathan, move into their New England townhouse, they learn that their neighbor, Delia Naughton, is the wife of the vaunted Sen. Tom Naughton. Delia is at the other end of the spectrum from Meri: her children are grown, and, for her, life is slowing down. Yet the two women hit it off and quickly become friends. Having their first child together teaches Meri and Nathan the nuances of married life; Meri, meanwhile, uncovers the mysteries of Delia and Tom's relationship. An intervening tragedy then causes a savage rift between Meri and Delia. Miller (The Good Mother) has written an extremely powerful novel of women, marriage, and friendship. The characters are fascinating, the story engrossing, and the novel incredibly readable. Highly recommended for all collections. [See Prepub Alert, LJ 9/1/07.]--Robin Nesbitt, Columbus Metropolitan Lib., OH (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
(c) Copyright Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Review by Kirkus Book Review
How loyalty and betrayal occur within marriage and within friendship are the central but not the only questions raised in this quietly provocative domestic novel from Miller (Lost in the Forest, 2005, etc.). In 1993, 37-year-old Meri and her new husband Nathan buy half a duplex in the Connecticut college town where he teaches history. Although Nathan and she have definite sexual chemistry, Meri is uncertain about the lasting power of their love. She is painfully aware of their different backgrounds, in particular his mother's continuing affection in contrast to her own lack of maternal love growing up. Their neighbor in the attached house is Delia, the wife of former Senator Tom Naughton. Meri is drawn to Delia as a mother figure, but Delia, while friendly, is slightly aloof. While house-sitting for Delia, newly pregnant Meri reads a stash of Delia's letters from Tom delineating the Naughtons' private marital history. Tom's infidelities made marriage impossible, especially after his fling with their daughter's roommate, but Delia and he have continued to rendezvous since their public separation. Shortly after Meri gives birth to her son, Tom suffers a debilitating stroke and Delia brings him back to Connecticut to care for him. Delia comments that she and Meri are living parallel lives, tending a baby and an invalid husband. Actually, the ever-insecure Meri feels alienated from Nathan, unloving toward the baby and generally ugly and unhappy. Delia, meanwhile, is thrilled to have her husband completely to herself at last. But even semi-paralyzed, Tom carries on a sexually charged flirtation with Meri that destroys Delia's temporary Eden. Years later, happily ensconced in her family life with Nathan and their three sons, Meri has found the capacity for love that Delia represented, but her remorse over betraying Delia remains limited. Despite an overly deliberate pace, Miller brings into stark yet uplifting relief the limitations of morality when confronted with love. Copyright ©Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
