The View from Lazy Point: A Natural Year in an Unnatural World

Marine biologist and conservationist Carl Safina shares a year of observing migrating birds and fish from his beach cottage home on Long Island, as well as several expeditions he's made to regions polar and tropical to investigate their animals and ecology. Along the way, he offers detailed descriptions of wildlife, personal stories about fishing and walking along the beach with his dog, philosophical musings about the interconnectedness of life, impassioned political opinions, and sobering examples of environmental change. This somewhat rambling approach works far better than I would have expected it to. It's thought-provoking, eye-opening, and often surprisingly moving, and it's left me with a slightly uncomfortable but welcome urge show more to rethink my own relation to the natural world in a way that I suspect is going to linger for a while. I can imagine that some might consider it preachy, and in a sense it may be, but it's an inspirational sermon rather than a condescending lecture. Recommended for those who are interested in the environment, and for those who should be. show less

A View from Lazy Point stands out in the unfortunately crowded field of ecological-devestation books thanks to Safina's philosophical and even spiritual musings.

The book follows a seasonal year, from the earliest signs of spring one February until the following January, as seen from Safina's home at "Lazy Point" near the tip of Long Island, New York. Safina is a trained ecologist with years of experience on the island, and brings both background and understanding to his observations; not only the baseline to know that horseshoe crab populations are down and Osprey numbers are up, but the understanding to know the reasons for those trends and what them imply in a larger context. The book sits neatly between the purely personal study of a show more particular area, with its rich sense of place, and a broader overview of the changes humans are bringing to our environment and our climate. He emphasizes interconnectedness throughout the book, both on a local scale (the effect of overfishing of horseshoe crabs on migratory shorebirds) and globally, through the subtle mention of Ruddy Turnstones nearly everywhere he travels, from Alaska to Palau.

In between his thoughtful observations of the local environment, Safina travels to polar and tropical regions, to provide perspectives unavailable from the temperate region where he lives. Everywhere he goes the story is similar; ecosystems are in grave danger, from penguins to coral reefs. The scientists he meets with can do little more than monitor and quantify the decline in the species and systems they care about. The "hopefulness" mentioned in the blurb is limited to the conviction that we have not reached the point of no return; this is not a starry-eyed bit of optimism, but an affirmation that it isn't too late to do something.

The View from Lazy Point manages to appeal to both readers familiar with the ecological ramifications of climate change and to those who may still think it means nothing beyond slightly warmer temperatures, by providing both the basic concepts and meatier details. It is not a comforting book, but it is an interesting one. show less

The View from Lazy Point (2011) is different from Safina's other works which have a sharp focus (animal intelligence, turtles, etc). This is a relaxed and open ended deep think in the form of connected essays, à la Michel de Montaigne. There is a broad theme human destruction of the natural world. He uses his personal experiences at his home on Long Island where he grew up fishing in the ocean. If there is a message it is take only enough and leave the rest. There is much wisdom, well told, it would reward multiple re-readings, at a slow pace. Safina (along with Barry Lopez) is among the great American naturalist writers.

There are several messages in Safina's book. One is that there is still a lot to observe in nature even in this day and age. Look daily no matter where one lives and the unfolding natural world will reveal itself. Things aren't what they used to be but there is still an interesting amount of nature's resiliency in play. Safina covers coastal ecologies in The View From Lazy Point but nature can be observed in any locale. He tracks his neck of the woods, tip of Long Island, for a year and records his observations. He also makes trips to other areas across the globe during the year and reports on conditions in those far-flung places. It is balanced with good news and bad news points of view.

Interspersed with the nature writing is some show more philosophical musings, some economic rambling (his economic thoughts are best described as clichés) and even ventures into the spiritual realm. He is concerned and passionate regarding his subject and can turn a clever phrase. Many current environmental books are all doom but Safina is optimistic in some instances and pragmatic in others.

He does tweak corporatism a bit by insisting that if Dumpster has to be capitalized because it's a product the common names of species should also be capitalized. No way do Dumpsters deserve more punctuation respect than birds do. All in all, the book is informative, thought inducing,and a paean to a place. show less

I've been sitting on this book for over a year, feeling guilty that I've not yet reviewed it. It's not that I dislike the book, or found it boring; to the contrary, it's because it's so rich and interesting a book that I found it difficult to do it justice.

Part of the work is Safina's lyrical recounting of his life at Lazy Point, its seasons and its creatures, interspersed with his journeys to other parts of the world, such as Antarctica and remote Pacific islands, where he observes their environments and inhabitants.

Interwoven with these natural and personal histories is his argument, which is complex and challenging to reduce down to a few lines in a review. But I'll give it a shot, because what he has to say is very important. His show more largest argument is that our societies' ways of understanding the world and our place in it are outdated and fail to work with the knowledge we've learned through science in the last century or so. As such, they are likely to encourage us in behaviors that are destructive, and make it hard for us to understand and perceive ways of living that are sustainable over the long run. Some of his critique is aimed at religious beliefs, but the bulk of his challenge is directed towards capitalism, particularly so-called "free market" capitalism. He argues that a social system aimed at maximizing benefits for a few while shunting the costs onto other people and the environment is not healthy, and cannot continue; the question then becomes how long will it take for us to realize this, and what will we put in its place. Much of his argument is spent showing the effects of this way of thinking, pretty much all of them bad, and it's hard to not be persuaded by his evidence.

However, his argument is not simply a depressing jeremiad against a powerful and destructive system. He also takes care to show examples of alternatives, of places and approaches that work. One of his more important assertions is that nature is resilient, and that if given a chance to recover, it frequently will. Safina is not a purist; he's not looking to create a world in which nature is nothing but pristine wilderness. Rather, he hopes for a world of robust ecosystems, filled with species that are healthy rather than struggling at the brink of extinction, in which human beings can be active participants. He wants human beings to live in ways that recognize our interdependence with the world, and which reward us with lasting connections to each other and other species. That is, he argues, we need to shift from a mentality defined by increasing the quantity of consumption, to one in which development hinges on increasing the quality of our experiences. Put another way, he hopes that we can move from a culture focused on providing tons of cheap crap at the expense of our and the planet's health, to one in which we live simpler, but richer and healthier lives.

We need more books like this. show less

Heart-wrenching, eye-opening and exquisitely written. Safina has been compared to many of the giants in the natural history world, but he's a better writer than the lot of 'em. In this latest book, he waxes a bit more philosophical than he's done before. His philosophy fits my belief system like a glove, and his conclusions are breathtaking. One trembles to think that we are on the razor's edge, that our window to ameliorate our planet's distress is closing rapidly- and that if we don't do it, it will be done for us with a heartless finality that will brook no arguments. As we say where I live, "The mountain don't care if you live or die."

I love this passage:

"So I guess what I'm trying to say is that, though I'm a secular person and a show more scientist, I believe that our relationship with the living world must be mainly religious. But I don't mean theological. I mean religious in the sense of reverent, revolutionary, spiritual, and inspired. Reverent because the world is unique, thus holy. Revolutionary in making a break with the drift and downdraft of outdated, maladaptive modes of thought. Spiritual in seeking attainment of a higher realm of human being. Inspired in the aspiration to connect crucial truths with wider communities. Religious in precisely this way: connection: with a sense of purpose."

And this, which is purely brilliant:

"If there is a God, then all things natural are miraculous. If there's no God, then all things natural are miraculous. That's quite a coincidence, and ought to give people holding different beliefs a lot to talk about. People who see the world as God's and people who sense an accident of cosmic chemistry can both perceive the sacred. Let's not be afraid to say, to explain- and, if necessary, to rage- that we hold the uniqueness of this Earth sacred, that the whole living enterprise is sacred. And that what depletes the living enterprise always proves to be, even in purely practical terms, a mistake."

I'm still reeling from Safina's descriptions of hunters who still (still!) kill ducks and toss them into the bushes because they are there for the sport (sport!) of duck hunting and have no interest in duck eating. I'm still encouraged by his reports of some of the species that have come back, once we humans gave them a little space and time. And I'm very, very frightened about what my grandchildren will have and hold.

I can't buy everyone a copy of this book, as much as I want to. But I can encourage you, in the strongest possible terms, to read it. And soon. As Safina says in his closing passage, "Time runs short at an accelerating pace." show less

Carl Safina has his fingers on the pulse of the planet. He has crisscrossed the globe in an effort to assess the health and success of a wide range of living things. Salmon, sea birds, whales, penguins, coral, bears, horseshoe crabs and more. His tellings of their feeding, mating, migration and lifespan are utterly poignant. He brings to life the hidden places of delicate beauty of the sky, sea and land.

But seeping through these heartwarming accounts are glimpses of frustration and anger. Anger at strip malls, unthinking hunters, greedy corporations. Concern over global warming, overfishing, rampant development. He does believe there is hope -- he has been witness to isolated improvements in the health and wealth of some of earth's show more creatures -- but wants us to know it's not nearly enough.

Safina's view from Lazy Point is teeming with the wild abundance of the earth. But his is an increasingly rare view. And he's on a mission to preserve it, not just for himself but for future generations. His message has a ring of desperation but is mostly saved from the category of portentous lecture by his lively writing, wholehearted commitment and infectious enthusiasm for equality for all living things. show less