Critical Ecofeminism. By Greta Gaard. Lanham, Md.: Lexington Books, 2017.

Eco‐nihilism: The Philosophical Geopolitics of the Climate Change Apocalypse. By Wendy Lynne Lee. Lanham, Md.: Lexington Books, 2017.

Ecofeminism in Dialogue. Edited by Douglas A. Vakoch and Sam Mickey. Lanham, Md.: Lexington Books, 2017.

The term ecofeminism has a variety of dimensions, including gynocentric eco‐spirituality and critical ethico‐political theorizing that demands justice for all earth‐others. Traditionally confined to an academic ghetto, ecofeminism has had a problematic and contested history that many are determined to rehabilitate. Recent contributions have argued that ecofeminism sits within a diverse, theoretically sophisticated, and empirically grounded body of scholarship that makes up the interdisciplinary and intersectional “gender and environment” field (cf. MacGregor Reference MacGregor and MacGregor2017). A new generation of scholars is putting forth critical approaches at the forefront of the rapidly expanding environmental humanities. As ever, there is promise in ecofeminism's diversity while internal debates continue simultaneously to sharpen and undermine its critical powers.

Three recent publications in the field embody such diversity and demonstrate what ecofeminist scholarship contributes to knowledge of the human–environment nexus. Ecofeminism in Dialogue tells us that there are “countless ways of thinking, feeling and acting like an ecofeminist” (back cover) and aims to deepen the connections between ecofeminism and other areas of enquiry and practice. Critical Ecofeminism builds on Val Plumwood's philosophical work to explore what unique ecofeminist insights can bring to the interpretation of a range of complex environmental issues. Differently again, in Eco‐nihilism: The Philosophical Geopolitics of the Climate Change Apocalypse, readers are enjoined to appreciate the role of ecofeminism in building a radical anticapitalist and epistemically responsible alternative to the dominant masculinist paradigm. Each of these books offers unique analyses and visions; reviewed together they highlight interesting things about the state of ecofeminist thinking today.

Ecofeminism in Dialogue is described as an evocative and “participatory anthology” that aims to demonstrate that “the very idea of ecofeminism implies communication across differences” (ix). Editors Douglas Vakoch and Sam Mickey showcase the interdisciplinary nature of ecofeminist work by putting together a collection of essays by scholars from a wide range of fields. In order to put ecofeminism into conversation with other disciplines and movements, the book is divided into four main sections. The chapters in part I, “Ecocritical Readings,” demonstrate how ecofeminist thought, coupled with postcolonialism and postmodernism, can be mobilized in eco‐critical literary analysis. Part II, “Emerging Ecofeminisms,” contains chapters exploring how fields as diverse as family therapy and geoengineering can be put into dialogue with ecofeminism to develop new and innovative methods to address gender and environmental issues. The chapters in the third part, “Religion and Spirituality,” consider how the symbols and stories of religious traditions weave together “with ecofeminist concerns for the mutual flourishing of women and the natural world” (xi). In the final section, “Mapping Spaces: Geography and International Perspectives,” the inward focus on personal faith shifts outward to three very different investigations of how geographical, legal, activist, and aesthetic perspectives are taken up and grounded in diverse local/global/virtual spaces and places.

As a book that aims to explore the multiplicity of ways that ecofeminist thinking is informed by and contributes to other fields of inquiry and practice, Ecofeminism in Dialogue has much to offer. Its eclectic table of contents includes chapters on topics rarely seen between book covers, and chapters on geoengineering and online activism offer something genuinely new. However, the book's eclecticism can also be read as incoherence: there are no obvious criteria for why chapters have been included and no clear raison d’être for the collection other than seeking “dialogue.” The introductory chapter by Valerie Padilla Carroll misses the chance to provide coherence, offering instead a patchy account of ecofeminism's history that spends more time rehashing problematic old typologies and debates than identifying the state of the art in the mid‐2010s. In subsequent chapters, authors claim to be viewing their topics through an “ecofeminist lens,” yet largely fail to engage in a genuine dialogue with contemporary ecofeminist praxis. For example, although chapters in part I offer solid literary analyses, they are strangely light on engagement with the work of well‐known feminist ecocritics. Chapters in the section on religion either say very little about ecofeminism or present it in a homogenizing and outdated way (“the theory of ecofeminism,” 147; our italics) that most of its scholars would reject. Overall, although references to “women and nature” and “the ecofeminist lens” abound, ecofeminism as a critical theoretical project remains very much on the margins of this anthology. We cannot help but conclude that this new publication represents a step backward, not just by being uncritical and unoriginal, but also by reaffirming stereotypes that many others are trying hard to overcome.

Critical Ecofeminism, by contrast, is a welcome contribution to the field. In it, Greta Gaard builds on the work of the late feminist philosopher Val Plumwood to present a critical theory that is fit for today's urgent challenges. Gaard has been a prominent ecofeminist scholar for over two decades, known for extending ecofeminist theory by mapping linkages with queer theory as well as critical animal studies and planet studies. Hers is a powerfully argued monograph, and the issues it invokes go to the heart of Plumwood's legacy by foregrounding the term critical: “critical ecofeminism sees culture/nature (or human/nature) dualism as the key to ecological failings of Western culture” (Reference PlumwoodPlumwood 2002, 44). Some would want to see ecofeminism as always critical, but it is true that some writing in this field has adopted depoliticizing framings of women, nature, and social change. As an author, Gaard has done more than most to advance the kinds of arguments and evidence that prove ecofeminism's critical credentials.

Gaard's monograph unfolds in three sections, all of which advance her vision of critical ecofeminism. In “Theory,” she gives a reflective account of ecofeminism's evolution as an intersectional framework for interrogating socio‐environmental relations and a politics of solidarity that demands eco‐justice for all living species. Here Gaard shows how critical ecofeminism rests on a relational ethic encouraging a shift from a “humanist perspective of dominance to an awareness and participation in relations of mutuality and reciprocity that resituate humans in the cycles of planetary life” (43). In part II, “Illustrations,” she presents incisive interrogations of milk (chapter 3), fireworks (chapter 4), and animals in space (chapter 5). These three studies showcase the entrenchment of a human/nature dualism that persists not only in mainstream politics, but also among diverse branches of environmentalism. For example, Gaard questions whether taking milk from mothers—human, cow, pig, or goat—can be described as a gift, wage, or theft (55), and asks if everyone—human and nonhuman—enjoys firework displays (74).

The final part of Critical Ecofeminism, titled “Climates,” explores another set of empirical objects: climate justice, “Cli‐Fi” narratives, and queering the climate. Gaard argues that climate change and first‐world overconsumption are produced by masculine ideology and will not be solved through masculine techno‐solutions. Instead, a queer, posthumanist, feminist climate‐justice perspective is needed. The first chapter highlights the confused nature of North–South relations in attributing blame and responsibility for climate chaos. The masculinization of “father knows best” science works only to compound this confusion. Gaard then goes on to provide a critical ecofeminist intervention to the half‐truths of cli‐fi narratives considering the “proven power of narrative to shape public opinion” (144). She shows how these narratives are once again built on the image of a white, male hero saving the world from climate disaster. It is refreshing that in this monograph Gaard critically engages with an analysis of masculinity in the scope of ecofeminist gender analysis rather than simply equating gender with women as the authors in Ecofeminism in Dialogue do. Ultimately, Critical Ecofeminism advocates a just ecofeminist sustainability for humans and more than humans that requires a “transcorporeal economic accounting of the ways that our social, economic, and political practices are racialized and gendered” (22).

The third book, Eco‐nihilism, is a dense and wide‐ranging work by philosopher Wendy Lynne Lee that grapples with the epistemological roots of the contemporary ecological crisis. There is too much in it to summarize in a short review, so we will pull out a few key points. The concept of eco‐nihilism captures the book's fundamental argument that neoliberal capitalism is “inherently incompatible…with life itself”; “it is pathologically nihilistic” (viii). Like most critics of capitalism, Lee identifies the root cause of its evil as the reduction of everything to exchange value, which should also be seen as a form of masculinized reason that results in the violence and injustices of racism, colonialism, heterosexism, misogyny, and speciesism. Having established her anticapitalist stance early on, Lee offers a number of counterintuitive arguments in response to her diagnosis of the problem, several of which are at odds with the majority of traditions of environmental thought. One is that “sustainability” is an anemic capitalist rhetoric of reform (337) that is doomed to fail because not only is it “built on a myth of endless resources,” but it also aims far too low: it does not aspire to a desirable future that includes the value of aesthetic experience. Humans need something that can motivate and inspire radical change more than fear of ecological and civilizational collapse, and sustainability is not it. This is an interesting claim, but it seems unfair to dismiss a signature concept of environmentalism that is both contested and put to a wide range of uses beyond simply propping up the status quo (as seen above in Gaard's proposal of a “just ecofeminist sustainability”). Even more noteworthy is Lee's claim that anthropocentrism should be reclaimed; it is not inherently destructive but rather can be reinvented into “an enduring locus of epistemic and moral responsibility” (60). What we forget at our peril, she insists, is that human‐centeredness does not have to be chauvinism and that there is something of great value to be extracted from the tendency to see the world through human eyes. The most lucid explanation of this argument for a “post‐chauvinist” human‐centricity starts on about page 27 where she says that the human capacity for reason gives us ethical responsibilities that are “greater and unlike any other creature's.” Recognition of this unique positioning should lead to a radically different and humble view of humanity's place in the web of life, one that she implies is ecofeminist by its very nature.

Of interest to the focus of this review is Lee's engagement with ecofeminism. She proposes something called “the ecofeminist systems approach,” which is gestured toward in several chapters (and in numerous chapter subheadings) but is never satisfactorily explained. It is in fact difficult to say how this book engages with or contributes to ecofeminist scholarship. As far as we can tell, Lee's understanding of ecofeminism boils down to an analysis of interrelated systems of oppression that hurt all that is feminized (including the nonhuman) and are connected by an underlying masculinist logic of commodification under a nihilistic form of “conquest capitalism.” Such a view will resonate loudly with those familiar with Plumwood's critique of the logic of domination (Reference PlumwoodPlumwood 1992), but Lee does not identify conceptual resources from her work, nor does she cite Plumwood (or many other ecofeminist theorists) anywhere in the book. There is also a brief and unbalanced discussion of the dangers of eco‐materialism and Mother Earth rhetoric that taps into a longstanding debate, yet is disconnected from the large body of ecofeminist theorizing on this topic. Clearly this book's strengths lie in its far‐ranging research and analysis of capitalism‐induced climate crisis through a novel articulation of a pathological condition. But its readability is reduced by its repetitive and rambling style, and its credibility is undermined by its failure to align with a large, international community of scholars who have been working on these arguments for decades.

The three books present accounts of ecofeminist theory and practice that are vastly different in tone, style, content, and approach. Each mobilizes key elements of ecofeminist thinking to bring authors into critical engagement with matters of life and death on planet earth. And though each is motivated by a conviction that there is a place for ecofeminism in contemporary environmental research, they differ in their view of what a contemporary version of ecofeminist thought can contribute to wider debates and political challenges. Ecofeminism in Dialogue treats ecofeminism largely “as a tool” (87) for understanding texts, problems, and personal identities and as an “emerging” perspective that can be improved through collaboration with more established fields. Critical Ecofeminism synthesizes a vast range of theory and evidence to advance ecofeminism as a transformational intellectual‐activist project. Gaard weaves ecofeminist theory and empirical evidence in demonstrating ecofeminism's critical power, resulting in a far greater integration of the very principles of ecofeminist theory than using ecofeminism merely as something that can be applied to specific case studies. Meanwhile, Lee's is not a book about ecofeminism but one that invokes but does not discuss signature ecofeminist insights about domination, interspecies justice, and relational ethics to advance an anticapitalist philosophical agenda.

Contemporary scholars have shown that the stigma attached to ecofeminism is built on unfair caricatures and weak empirical grounds (see MacGregor Reference MacGregor2009; Reference MacGregor and MacGregor2017 for discussion). Indeed, most recent publications make an explicit effort to rehabilitate and celebrate ecofeminism as a critical‐visionary activist‐academic project with sharp tools, inclusive values, and serious intent. An important part of these efforts is to “eschew a single‐axis focus on women, and link research with political movements for social change, and to maintain a future‐oriented stance that can imagine, prefigure and sometimes construct better environments than those currently on offer” (Reference MacGregor and MacGregorMacGregor 2017, 20). It is therefore disappointing to see that the chapters in Ecofeminism in Dialogue at best point to “the multiple ways that ecofeminism understood the women/nature connection” (3) and at worst present a human‐centric approach whereby both women and men should be placed above nature in the hierarchy of oppression. Perhaps more disheartening is Lee's use of ecofeminism in a way that strips it of its history and equates it with a standpoint epistemology upon which a benign and hopeful form of anthropocentrism can be modeled. This leaves us only to endorse Critical Ecofeminism for presenting a critical theory that provides the analytical sophistication to avoid essentialist traps by queering the very terms “women” and “nature” and rejecting the use of “gender” as a catch‐all term that can mask the fact that women, men, queer, and trans people “are not situated equally in terms of environmental oppression” (Reference GaardGaard 2011, 42). Not only does Gaard make a timely and important contribution to feminist knowledge on the environment, she also makes clear that ecofeminism has very little to do with the claim that women are closer to nature than men. Ecofeminism was materialist, posthumanist, and intersectional long before these concepts gained popularity, which is precisely what makes it an important area of scholarship whose time has come.