Silent Spring
Cut along the dashed lines and pass the cards around the table.
Before we talk about the book at all: what was the first bird you ever learned to recognize by sound, and who taught you?
Where did you do most of your reading for this one, and did Carson make you look up from the page and out a window?
Carson writes about the natural world with real affection, not just alarm. Which passage made you feel most tenderly toward some small creature you had never thought much about?
Was there a chapter you had to set down for a minute because it sat heavy on you, and what helped you pick the book back up?
The book's title promises a spring without birdsong. What sounds from your own childhood summers would you most hate to lose?
Carson pays loving attention to soil, water, and roots, the unglamorous parts of a place. What overlooked corner of where you live do you find yourself quietly fond of?
Carson keeps pointing out that everything is connected to everything else. Did reading her change how you feel about any small household habit of your own, and did that feel heavy or oddly hopeful?
By the time you closed the book, did Carson leave you more worried or more comforted, and what in her voice made you feel that way?