turns out it is possible and also easy

As the 70's Chiffon commercial goes, "It's not good to fool Mother Nature"! John McPhee, award winning author of over 30 nonfiction works and contributing author to The New Yorker since 1963, would likely agree. His 1989 book, The Control of Nature is a series of three essays, each examining one example of humankind’s ambitious endeavors to control Mother Nature. McPhee opens with his essay entitled Atchafalaya, in which he examines the efforts to control the flow of the Mississippi. He goes on and depicts a heated battle between some Icelanders and devastating flows of lava in his second essay appropriately titled Cooling the Lava. He concludes with his essay called Los Angeles Against the Mountains, which, as some may have cleverly deduced from the title, is about the ongoing efforts to preserve Los Angeles from the shifting the Santa Gabriel mountains.
tThere is no question that McPhee is a master story teller and is capable of conveying complex material in a way that an average person can understand. However, some readers may find McPhee’s organizational strategy confusing. Each of the three broad essays is cut into segments. He uses these divisions as transitions between different stories, therefore the content of one section may seem completely unrelated to the one that followed. Oftentimes he will jump around to different places and different periods of time. He did so to analyze a situation from multiple perspectives allowing the reader to see the events that caused the dilemma to develop, how it affected different regions, and what new problems have developed once the original one was resolved. While they do make it hard to follow at times and does slightly impact its readability, his many different anecdotes did serve the important purpose of adding depth to his point. Overall the benefits of his choice largely outweigh the costs.
Although the topic of the first essay is indeed the threat of the Mississippi changing course, the purpose of the essays as a whole is not to merely recount the tale but to use it as a tool to teach the world a lesson. Rather than tell people that there are dangers to living on this planet, something most people already know, he chooses to warn the world of the unforeseen consequences of our actions.
As seen throughout his book, just as people thought the primary concern had been addressed, a whole slew of other factors that were once overshadowed came into play. Some outcomes can be predicted but many, usually the negative ones, arrive unexpectedly or worse, go unnoticed.
tHaving written these remarkable works many years after these problems were discovered and dealt with, McPhee attempts to remind the public that while it seems Mother Nature may have gone down this round, this is no time for complacency, because she is nowhere near being out for the count. And furthermore, it brings us to ask the question: Is it in humanity's best interest to ultimately win? Like a child poking an anthill, humans seem to have had no idea of the vastness that lay beneath the tiny earthly mound to which we devoted all of our attention. So, perhaps McPhee's central point was not the about the conflict itself between man and nature, but rather the underlying effects humans have that exacerbate the conflict. This period of mass global warming are perfect examples of how human actions such as CO2 emissions, pollution and habitat destruction can have devastating consequences and shows that even in times of peace, McPhee’s argument still holds true.

6.5/10
This book teetered right on the edge of 4 stars. I enjoyed reading three different essays about man’s struggles to control nature. I preferred them in reverse order; the first, about the Mississippi was my least favorite (Although that may be because reading about the levees before Katrina happened feels very incomplete.), the second, about lava flows in Iceland was overall a good read, and the last, about debris slides in California was the most gripping. All are pretty fascinating subjects. Because these essays are less straight up nonfiction and more personal exposés, It comes down to how you feel about McPhee’s voice as a writer. I didn’t mind his writing though his jokes and his cadence feel a bit like a relic from a couple of decades ago.

The rivers WILL rise, the lava WILL burn, the mountains WILL crumble. So sayeth author John McPhee in his three-part reportage of man's attempts to control, divert or redirect nature's plans. His travels take him to the Mississippi Delta, where engineers have manufactured an artificial flood control to maintain the Ole Man in its present course rather than what the river wants to do: take over the neighboring Atchafalaya channel, thereby forever bypassing the river commerce hubs of Baton Rogue and New Orleans. It should come as no surprise--especially given the failure of the levees during Hurricane Katrina--that the attempt has been...less than all-successful. Written in 1989, this story especially resonates with what came only 16 years later for the Delta...and WILL come again.

Then McPhee travels to Iceland, where an erupting volcano's lava flow threatens to fill in an important fishing harbor, following the brave (or vain) fight by the Icelanders to cool the lava flow before it completely destroys the economic center of their country.

And lastly, to my adopted town Los Angeles, where the San Gabriel Mountains continue to crumble as plate tectonics push them up vertiginously and unstably, causing "debris flows" for those brave/foolish/enterprising folks who build homes in the canyons--and right in the firing line of the mudslides.

This is a fascinating, humbling and frequently amusing read, almost classically Greek in its depictions of humankind's Sisyphusian efforts to circumvent God and Nature's plans and the inevitable disasters that follow. I live in Pasadena, at the very foot of the San Gabriels, right in the line of fire. And perhaps it is Providential that in a few short days I will travel to New Orleans...perhaps more keenly aware, as I sleep (and drink) of the dammed (and damned) river ready to swallow, at some indeterminate date, the neo-French settlement once and for all.

It WILL happen.

Required class reading - only one of the three essays was actually enjoyable for me (the Iceland one). The Atchafalaya essay in particular was hard to read. A pretty informative book but not particularly interesting

The effort involved in moving a powerful river, steering a volcanic eruption, or challenging gravity's hold on a mountain is clearly documented and described by McPhee's engaging - albeit dry - narrative. This is a fun book to read if only to get a sense of what huge projects people will embark on to protect their way of life. It's a shame that the projects are ultimately useless because the scale that nature operates on simply dwarfs what civil engineering can handle. Read this book if you'd like to see what living on the edge is like in such exotic locations as Louisiana and Los Angeles (what!).

I thought this book was quite fascinating - the two U.S. locations that were explored were quite eye opening. I thought I was pretty well aware of what's going on nationally, but some things just slip past. The story about the islands off the coast of Iceland was also nice, McPhee gave a good description of the mentality of Icelanders. Collectively, I think the three stories paint a diverse picture of peoples' attempts to "improve" their surroundings for material gain, but they're lacking something.

As I read this book, it became very evident that they have been published serially (in the New Yorker) and the three sections of the book were not really tied together in any direct way (besides the obvious thematic connection). It just struck me as a somewhat lazy thing to do after putting together all the research on each of the individual bits. That aspect doesn't take away from the purpose of the book, but it's a missed opportunity to add more analysis for readers who have missed the original publications. Speaking of analysis, if you're looking for a strong opinion on the various projects that are discussed, you'll have to look somewhere beyond this book. This is not exactly a detraction: McPhee provided a fair amount of evidence to describe each of the projects and the effect on the relevant communities. You can make up your own mind on the value of the engineering efforts, and will have a good starting point if you'd like to go deeper in any of these areas. That said, simply by writing these books McPhee expressed his own opinion on the apparent follies awaiting nature to take its course.

As you may have gathered by now, this review has purposefully skirted the actual contents of the book. This is not because there's nothing to discuss, but rather the story is better told by McPhee than me. It's an entertaining book that delivers exactly what I expected from the title and cover. Could it have done more? Sure. Was it worth going through? I think so.

John McPhee examines, in three lengthy essays, three situations in which humans have placed themselves uncomfortably at odds with natural processes. In each, people have used vast resources to prevent nature from interfering with their lives and profits. McPhee treats all these issues fairly, never hinting that the people doing these things are at all stupid or stubborn or unreasonable even, showing the reader a bit of why these are sympathetic causes. The dignity of all involved shines through in McPhee's portrayal.

McPhee also gives excellent explanations of the interesting geological and engineering phenomena described, which, of course, is really what we all want to know about.

Control of Nature reminds us of the precarious and very often antagonistic relationship humans have with their environments - and more importantly, though McPhee barely touches on this, the harm we can inflict on them. What McPhee does address is the way this environmental damage comes back in turn to damage human societies.

The Control of Nature by John McPhee

I will admit right off I am a fan of the writings of Mr. McPhee. I have read many of his books and articles over the years and each time I set down to imbib some of his writings I know I am in for a treat! He is a great author, one who deals with diverse topics, but finds a way to distill information into just plain great story telling,
This current book is about our efforts to exert control over nature, an area where we venture time and again, often with hubris and daring do. We are foiled in our attempts repeatedly, but we do have some successes, which keeps us trying! We have a short lifespan, and we are likely foiled most of the time.
The book contains three long stories about the awesome power of our planet and our efforts to harness that power to get our way. The first covers the efforts to keep the Atchyfalaya River from taking over the Mississippi. The Atchyfalaya has been a tributary for centuries, branching off the Red and Mississippi Rivers. As The Mississippi has been levied and controlled, keeping it from spilling over its banks and depositing sediment over the bayous and deltas of Louisiana, it has itself become filled with sediment. The river has changed course multiple times over millennia, fanning out and creating lower Louisiana. In the last century however much has been invested in the current course, with industry lining the banks between Baton Rouge and New Orleans. Much investment will be lost if and when Mother Nature course corrects. There is already tremendous power trying to shift most of the grand river down the Atchyfalaya. He relates the story of the work to suppress that alteration. Amazing power. Self confident engineers. Great story, but the ending has not been written!
The second story covers attempts to keep lava from destroying an island town and harbor in Iceland where more than 50% of the GDP of the nation is harvested from the surrounding ocean, and a blockage of said harbor would shut down that industry. What folks did to divert lava involved spraying ocean water from high pressure hoses to cool and shape the flow. He brings in the history of Hawaii and their lava flows as a comparison.
The third story fascinated me the most, having been read while we in Southern California experienced a deadly debris flow after an exceptional winter megafire in Ventura and Santa Barbara. While his story is about the San Gabriel Mountains and the never ending movement of rock and sediment down the mountains into populated areas, the geology is similar, as is the presence of fire as an ongoing danger to stability in the high country.
As with all these stories, the theme of arrogance and hubris reigns! As he says "in making war with nature, there was risk of loss in winning." Mother Nature wins usually in the end.
Highly recommended.

This book should be required reading for everyone over the age of twelve. Or at least eighteen. And for everyone who seeks or holds government office. Or teaches. Or watches television. Or reads, listens to, or watches the news. Any channel. Or votes. Or doesn't vote. Or buys insurance. Or sells insurance. Or travels for vacation. Or stays at home. Or speaks their mind. Or does not suffer fools. Or minds their own business. Or shops at Nordstrum. Or shops at Walmart.

It is not an exciting book. It is not a thriller. But it lays out something that we all need to understand.

just rich people being rich really

Three brilliant nonfiction pieces from 1989 by John McPhee about human efforts to control nature in different parts of the world:

"Atchafalaya" (rhymes with jambalaya) describes the multi-decade work of the Army Corps of Engineers in preventing the Mississippi River from being captured by the Atchafalaya River. In response, the Corps built the Old River Control Structure, which stops the Mississippi from carving out a new channel to the Gulf of Mexico.

"Cooling the Lava" describes how the people of Iceland worked to prevent volcanic lava from destroying the harbor town of Heimaey. Based on an idea by a physicist named Thorbjorn Sigurgeirrsson, they used sea water to cool the lava and change its direction.

"Los Angeles Against the Mountains" describes how the people of Los Angeles defend their homes against the normal fire-flood cycle by building enormous debris basins, which fill up with bus-sized boulders, mud, and trees.

The writing in all three pieces is sublime, characterized by deft use of quotations and indirect discourse, precise and sometimes eccentric word choices, stunning use of metaphor and simile, dry wit, playful experiments in structure, and wonderful evocations of the colorful people McPhee encounters. Surprisingly, McPhee uses the first person pronoun "I" multiple times in these pieces; he's usually more invisible in his writing, so this was like watching him let his hair down (if you can imagine John McPhee with long hair).

I came to this book after reading Under a White Sky by Elizabeth Kolbert, who, like McPhee before her, writes for The New Yorker. Kolbert cited McPhee's story "Atchafalaya" about the futile yet undaunted effort by the Army Corps of Engineers to control the mighty Mississippi. Thirty years later, their work continues even as much of the Mississippi Delta has washed into the Gulf of Mexico.

McPhee's intelligence shines through. I always feel a bit stupid when I read him. Keep a dictionary nearby, and be prepared to google his more obscure references. McPhee assumes you'll keep up, and you will. It's the price you pay to read nonfiction that is technically precise, tender, and frequently astonishing. Here's an example:

"If you walk in a rainstorm on a freshly burned chaparral slope, you notice as you step on the wet ground that the tracks you are making are prints of dry dust. In the course of a conflagration, chaparral soil, which is not much for soaking up water in the first place, experiences a chemical change and, a little below its surface, becomes waterproof. In a Forest Service building at the foot of the mountains Wade Wells keeps some petri dishes and soil samples in order to demonstrate this phenomenon to passing unbelievers. In one dish he puts unburned chaparral soil. It is golden brown. He drips water on it from an eyedropper. The water beads up, stands there for a while, then collapses and spreads into the soil. Why the water hesitates is not well understood but is a great deal more credible than what happens next. Wells fills a dish with a dark soil from burned chaparral. He fills the eyedropper and empties it onto the soil. The water stands up in one large dome. Five minutes later, the dome is still there. Ten minutes later, the dome is still there. Sparkling, tumescent, mycophane, the big bead of water just stands there indefinitely, on top of the impermeable soil. Further demonstrating how waterproof this burned soil really is, Wells pours half a pound of it, like loose brown sugar, into a beaker of water. The soil instantly forms a homuncular blob—integral, immiscible—suspended in the water."

Now that's just fantastic writing. If you're like me, you had to look up a few words (for instance, "mycophane" and "immiscible"), but otherwise it's remarkably simple—and thrilling—prose.

Three essays about how humans have controlled - or tried to control - nature. The writing is solid, though I could almost imagine the wry smile as the author collects the stories and recounts them in this book. “Can you believe what they are doing to stop Mother Nature?” More fantastical, though, are the forces that he’s describing - and the efforts we go through to change them: channeling the flow of the Mississippi River, changing the course of lava in Iceland, blocking debris flow in Los Angeles.

I want to find out what has happened in the 20 years since the book was written. And I kept wanting to find videos and other images of the scenes he was painting.

In the end, though, these were essays. The author didn’t have particular suggestions or guidance for how to respond, other than a few interviews where people were more inclined to let things happen. We do keep building in areas where Mother Nature does her thing.