Ron's rages are sincere and — according to his wife — healthily cathartic. But can these splenetic outbursts loosen the grip of capitalism at its most monstrous?
I DISCOVERED Ellen Bass’s poem, Birdsong from My Patio, during the first British lockdown.
My garden hedge was stuffed with sparrows who seemed to always be singing. I expected to see and hear them in this poem too and, at first, I did: “I’ve never heard this much song, trills pure as crystal bells.”
However, images of “acid rain,” “pesticides,” “contaminated insects” and “thin-shelled eggs” moved swiftly in.
GLENN FOSBRAEY recommends a biography worth reading for both existing George Michael fans and those yet to be converted
Extreme heat is now one of the defining public health challenges of a warming world, explains Prof IAN WILLIAMS
JOSEPHINE BARBARO welcomes a diverse anthology of experiences by autistic women that amounts to a resounding chorus, demanding to be heard
CARL DEATH introduces a new book which explores how African science fiction is addressing climate change


