Growing up in Astoria, Oregon, I learned at a very young age just how much importance a river could have to a community. The Columbia was the heart of the town’s entire economy. From fishing and logging to recreation and tourism, nearly everything that happened in Astoria was connected to the river.
One plus one equals two.
Two plus two equals four.
Regardless of how much you want it to, or how zealously you try to make it do so, one plus one will not equal three, nor will two plus two equal five. Math just doesn’t work that way.
Quickly perusing the newly arrived copy of David B. River’s new Insects: Evolutionary Success, Unrivaled Diversity, and World Domination from Johns Hopkins University Press, I can’t help but suspect that it too may prove to be another delightful exception to the “stodgy textbook” rule. One early review has already praised it for being “fresh and relevant” as well as “ooz[ing] with an entomological swagger representing the passion of the insect world.”
As one who was raised alongside, and whose family drew our livelihood from, the lower Columbia, I have a special place in my heart for Oregon’s rivers. For me, they are channels through which the ecological, spiritual, and economic life blood of my home state flows.