Exploring the frozen past to rethink our warming future
 

Do we really know what cold is? In Arcticologies, Lowell Duckert delves into early modern European texts to trace how representations of frigidity from the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries have contributed to historical understandings of climate and contemporary debates on climate change. Arguing that human culture and science are, in fact, indebted to the cold, Duckert suggests that these early depictions offer critical terms for advancing the aims of climate-change activism and assisting in counterapocalyptic thinking.

 

An imaginative and intellectual journey, Arcticologies reveals the enduring role of cold in wide-ranging storytelling traditions. It draws on Shakespeare’s Hamlet and Othello and the works of Thomas Dekker, René Descartes, and Thomas Hobbes and is informed throughout by contemporary Indigenous writing, including that of Sheila Watt-Cloutier and Leanne Betasamosake Simpson. In reflecting on these assorted accounts, Duckert sees cold as not only an environmental hardship but a source of cultural creativity and resilience, highlighting moments of collaboration between humans and the icy world, from arctic exploration to urban fairs on frozen rivers.

 

Cold, Duckert makes clear, is more than the absence of warmth. Situating our contemporary obsession with impending planetary meltdown within the mazelike arcticologies of the past, Duckert shows how early modern cold brought about forms of curiosity, vocabulary, and interspecies relationality that can serve us today. In doing so, he asks us to identify what has been lost and who is at risk in today’s thinning cold—while also urging us to imagine alternative futures focused not on inevitable and total collapse but on adaptation and preserving what remains.

Reimagining adaptation amidst climate change–driven mutations of urban space and life

 

Between its susceptibility to flooding and an ever-expanding real estate market powered by global surges of people and capital, Miami is an epicenter of the urban Anthropocene and a living laboratory for adaptation to sea level rise. Miami in the Anthropocene explores the social, environmental, and technical transformations involved in climate adaptation infrastructure and imaginaries in a global city seen as climate change ground zero.

 

Using Miami as a compelling microcosm for understanding the complex interplay between urbanization and environmental upheaval in the twenty-first century, Stephanie Wakefield shows how “aqua-urban futures” are being imagined for the city, from governmental scenario exercises for severe weather events to proposals to transform the city’s metropolitan area into an archipelago of islands connected by bridges. She examines the shifts reweaving the fabric of urban life and presents designs that imagine dramatic new ways of living with water.

 

Grounded in the dynamic landscape of Miami but reaching far beyond its shores, Miami in the Anthropocene delves into the broader debates shaping urban thought and practice in the Anthropocene. Focusing on postresilience urban designs, Wakefield illuminates the path toward a future where cities embrace opportunities for evolution rather than merely for survival.

In the high Andean grasslands 4,500 meters above sea level, Quechua alpaca herders live on the edges of glaciers that have retreated more rapidly in the past fifty years than at any point in the previous six millennia. Women are the primary herders, and their specialized knowledge and skill is vital to the ability of high-elevation communities to survive in changing climatic conditions. In the past decade, however, these herders and their animals have traversed a rapidly shifting terrain. 

Drawing on the Quechua concept of k’ita, or restlessness, Allison Caine explores how herders in the community of Chillca in the Cordillera Vilcanota mountain range of the southeastern Peruvian Andes sense and make sense of changing conditions. Capricious mountains, distracted alpacas, and wayward children deviate from their expected spatial and temporal trajectories. When practices of sociality start to fall apart—when animals no longer listen to herders’ whistles, children no longer visit their parents, and humans no longer communicate with mountains—these failures signal a broader ecological instability that threatens the viability of the herder’s world.

For more than two years, the author herded alongside the women of the Cordillera Vilcanota, observing them and talking with them about their interactions with their animals, landscapes, and neighbors. Emphasizing the importance of Indigenous knowledge and traditional ecological practices, Caine argues that Quechua understandings of restlessness align with and challenge broader theoretical understandings of what it is to be vulnerable in a time of planetary crisis.