Every book has a different emotion associated with putting it together. A different phenomenology.
Dark Ecology's one was very very hard to discern, until about a week ago. It has had to do, both in content and in form and in terms of the process, with fitting together all kinds of fragments, painstaking slow, depressively. Years.
And suddenly in the last two weeks, pow. Suddenly all these fragments are a thing and you can put diamonds and cherries on it.
I've never had a book process like that.
Hyperobjects was this really congruent dance between inner and outer. Ecology without Nature was a slow burning passion. The Ecological Thought was cool and contemplative.
This was like ecological awareness. A seemingly never ending path of pain, with a huge leap of joy at the end.