“The "control of nature" is a phrase conceived in arrogance, born of the Neanderthal age of biology and philosophy, when it was supposed that nature exists for the convenience of man.”
― Rachel Carson, Silent Spring



Three long-form essays that originally appeared in the New Yorker:

1. Man vs Flood - "Atchafalaya" - Feb 23, 1987

2. Man vs Fire - "Cooling the Lava" - February 22, 1988 & February 29, 1988

3. Man vs Earth - "Los Angeles Against the Mountains" - September 26, 1988 & October 3, 1988

Never before have I been so pleasantly surprised by a book. Never before have I been kicked out of my mechanic's waiting room--long after my car was done because I couldn't stop reading about Icelanders fighting a volcano. Never before have I seen the word 'Chevrolet' in part of a soil sample result. Never before have I read a single paragraph 18 times just because it's so much fun to read. Even though I've finished this book, I will never put it down.

If you read to learn, this is a book for you. I guarantee you will learn something new on every page. There are three long chapters about man's attempts to control nature: trying to control the flow of the Mississippi River, trying to control the flow of lava from Icelandic volcanos, and trying to control the debris flows that wipe out neighborhoods in eastern Los Angeles. The reporting is detailed and fascinating, practical uses of science to, supposedly safeguard human beings. I loved it.

His description of the larger ecosystem is very prescient. It was particularly chilling to read his description of the levee system in New Orleans before the Katrina Hurricane and see how precarious our engineering systems are. It has only strenghtened my belief that we put way too much faith in technological solutions to forces that humans cannot control. It is a humbling book, and good reminder that all actions have much larger reverberations than we often acknowledge.

McPhee is dazzling here, with three detailed articles on mankind's most audacious attempts at fighting the titanic forces of nature. McPhee mixes big-picture exposition with archive material and quotes from personal, on-site interviews, always lively and often playful. Through it all he combines a stunned amazement that we dare even attempt this with some serious respect for the people that do it. Takeaways:

1. Southern Louisiana is actually constitutionally opposed to permanent, earthbound human settlements. The continued existence of New Orleans and Morgan City can be largely attributed to the bloodyminded struggle of the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, which has been wrestling with the Mississippi River for decades in an effort to prevent it from going where it will, eventually, go.

2. The people of Iceland went to war with a volcano and, acting as foot soldiers for the sea, won.

3. By any traditional reckoning, Los Angeles has clearly been condemned by several deities. I knew wildfires were an issue there, but I didn't realise that a lot of the explosively flammable brush actually renders the ground below a shallow layer hydrophobic, contributing to massive debris flows that attempt to sweep away or at least bury most of the city (which also sits on top of a massive tectonic faultline). You could feel McPhee's jaw dropping as he spoke to people who brushed off the suggestion that their house could quite probably be washed away by gigantic debris swells.

John McPhee's book "The Control of Nature" is a collection of three essays detailing man's attempt to control nature in different parts of the world. In each essay he is able to eloquently detail man's "solution" to combat their problem. McPhee explains the civil engineering behind each case in a way that can be understood by everyone. He also adds narratives of his essays to keep the book from getting stale. One thing that McPhee does in his book is quietly ask of the question of who is in control, man or nature. "The Control of Nature" is well written and a joy to read.

In “The Control of Nature” John McPhee examines the human need to bend nature to its will and the attendant difficulties associated with such a task. Three examples are given:
1 – A water control project on the lower Mississippi River and its distributary, the Atchafalaya;
2 – The effort to control a lava flow in Iceland in 1973;
3 – Projects to protect Los Angeles suburbs from debris slides.

McPhee’s approach is an interesting one. Rather than inserting his opinions into the narrative, he acts as a passive observer describing each project in factual terms and allowing the individuals involved in the work to speak. He leaves it to the reader to come to their own conclusion, though it’s obvious that we might be in over our heads.

Through the use of technology, humans have powerful tools with which to alter the environment and through determination and vigilance it is possible to alter nature’s course. But nature employs forces of its own and perhaps more importantly it is inexorable and has all the time in the world at its disposal. The reader is left with the distinct impression that it is only a matter of time, and that nature will ultimately overcome our tiny attempts to tame her, much to our dismay.

“Atchafalaya” and “Cooling the Lava” are fantastic narratives of engineers battling slow-moving catastrophes but start to feel a bit long towards the end and require a bit of supplemental research to fully understand what’s going on, like the dynamics of a river changing course and the physical structures themselves. “Cooling the Lava” in particular leans into the chaos of the field of battle and treats the prolonged eruption as a WW1-style front, and “Atchafalaya” goes deep on the the various interests involved in interrupting the Atchafalaya and how the monumental engineering problem’s accompanied by this unexpected political minefield the Army Corps finds itself in.

“Los Angeles Against the Mountains” is very skippable I think: McPhee indulges his geology interest; the stakes aren’t quite as dramatic as defending vitally important national assets like New Orleans or Iceland’s only harbor, they’re helping wealthy Angelenos keep their mountain properties; and there’s no sense of finality like stabilizing the Mississippi’s path and the lava’s glacial advance but rather reiterates the importance of debris basins for frequent (in geologic time) debris floods.

A great way to ponder the arrogance of humankind

The book centers around man's attempt to bend nature to his will in three separate scenarios. The first story takes us to the Old River Control Structures in the Lower Mississippi where the Army Corps of Engineers try to keep the river from performing an avulsion, essentially creating a new riverine pathway to the Gulf of Mexico. An avulsion of the Mississippi would mean certain death to the cities of Baton Rouge, New Orleans and all the industries around those cities.

The second story takes us to the island of Heimaey near Iceland where an erupting volcano threatens to engulf a fishing village. The island's populace marshals its firefighters and waterpumps inundating the lava flows with water hoping to divert the deadly magma from the center of town and the harbor.

The final story is about the debris dams that guard the City of Los Angeles from the mudflows coming off the San Gabriel mountains. In the distant past, the landslides from the San Gabriels mattered to no one since most of the Los Angeles basin was populated only by wildlife. In modern times however development has expanded all the way to the foot of the mountains. Now after each substantial rainfall, houses and structures located near the canyons of the San Gabriels are threatened with destruction.

I read around a third, 89 pages, for Soils and Society with Amanda Schmidt. It was good but not John McPhee's best work (at least, the debris flow section). That doesn't mean it wasn't very revealing or a quality read from my man McPhee. He's 87 and I hope he lives forever but doesn't become a god-king like Mr. Fantastic if that one Ultimates arc. Anyway, an interesting piece of geologic longform journalism. He uses his classic techniques!

What a fun and entertaining book! The writing style is oddly disjointed and given to digression, but it makes for an enjoyable read. The writing style felt really familiar and it turns out I’d already read the essay about the San Gabriel Mountains, so it was really fun to find more work by the same author.