Barry Lopez’ death triggers for some a cascade of vids, interviews, readings. I watched one paired with Macfarlane at Powell’s books. These are naturalists but also men so they can go extreme places alone, then use flowered language to describe the adrenaline surge, the careful observation, the insights. Writers are vigorous men, sometimes cranky, But Barry claims it’s all about love, loving the world. (He accepts the universe.)

He’s wrong. He’s projecting. The universe doesn’t give a damn about him. Plenty of young men don’t have energy or vocabulary. They just die.