It was an obscure death of a man who had published a single book in his lifetime. Though that book, “Portraits in Life and Death,” was destined to become a legend, its legendary status arrived long after it would have been of any use to its author, who had longed to publish another book.
And these recent treats are but appetizers for the greatest undiscovered world in our Solar System left to be explored, a place that harbors dark mysteries we can presently only blindly stab at with blunt knives. I am speaking, of course, of Jupiter’s ice-encrusted moon Europa. Beneath a thick sheet of ice lies a vast, warm ocean. Scientists believe conditions at the bottom of this immense global sea are not unlike those near hydrothermal vents on the seabed of Earth’s oceans, where life on our planet may have originated. We can only guess at basic questions, like how thick is the ice? How deep is the ocean? What secrets are there to be plumbed in its dark depths? Could marine life really exist there?
The magic of this moment is that we are finally going. If you wanted to be alive for a real mission of discovery to an unknown but tantalizing world, this is it.
The problem is that, on many reefs, the number of parrotfish — and especially large ones in the Caribbean — has plummeted. Other algae grazers like sea urchins, meanwhile, have vanished, too. Some scientists say that’s why Caribbean reefs have failed to recover following climate-related impacts like bleaching and superstorms; there’s simply too much algae for coral to regrow.
On the flip side, these dynamics offer a bit of hope for an ecosystem that seems all but doomed: By protecting parrotfish, alongside efforts to rein in climate-warming emissions, countries might have a better shot at saving reefs.
It begins in questioning and resistance. It gathers equanimity. It ends in understanding, its final two poems moments of shattering clarity formed round the small/huge words, thank you, now, love. It is all voice, story, touchstone, tough liberation. A joy.