Rick Bass, in an interview in Sidney Dobrin and Christopher Keller’s Writing Environments, argues that while writing in a single place, a place we don’t move from, can be a good thing, it can be stultifying. Writers (as well as others) must remain curious and continue to explore (64). It’s easy to be shocked and startled by the new, the novel, in ideas, art, and landscape. One of the possible challenges in writing from a place you know all too well is complacency. This doesn’t follow inevitably, of course, but it’s an important caution. Since I’m talking about ecopoetics, I think this is good place to point out that the ecology bit of the title of the practice can lead us in a useful direction. Good science also requires this curiosity and dedication to pushing the limits of knowledge further.
Relatedly, the new and novel can overwhelm so that we’re left admiring surfaces while gaining the limited understanding and knowledge of the tourist. The long-term resident will know what issues have been important to the community over time (community meant to embrace non-human nature, here) and who is connected to what positions, actions, and so on. But I think that these kinds of knowledge are available. Historical, political, economic research will reveal much. Fieldwork still more, different information. I have two questions out of this: Can (or even should) the newcomer gain the same knowledge as the long-term resident? And what’s our responsibility as writers, scholars, teachers?
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