The Library

Mitchell's argument is that capital has always required an alibi — a story about tomorrow that justifies what is extracted today. Dams, oilfields, plantations, debt: each one sold as progress, each one paid for with ground that never recovered.

We stock it because it names the mechanism behind the depletion we spend our days trying to reverse. Exhausted soil and exhausted nervous systems are not two problems. They are the same accounting, carried out at two scales.

Finkelstein's inquiry is forensic: he follows the paper trail of institutions that speak the language of justice while burying its substance — and names the corruption, in high places, that makes the burial possible.

We stock it as a pre-sale because it belongs on the same shelf as Mitchell. If The Alibi of Capital explains how the earth was broken, Gaza's Gravediggers explains who holds the shovels — and why accountability is itself a form of recovery.

Tilsen's argument is that the consulting room has been quietly recruited to do the opposite of its promise: where there is structural harm — debt, precarity, exhaustion — therapy reframes it as a personal flaw to be managed inside the individual.

We stock it because it names the mechanism that keeps the re-terroiring from becoming a politics. A nervous system cannot be sovereign while it is taught to read every depletion as its own fault. Accountability stays personal; the system is not let off the hook.

Tsing follows the matsutake mushroom through disturbed forests, informal economies and global supply chains. In places industrial progress has written off, she finds lives assembled through uncertainty, collaboration and the stubborn possibility of more-than-human survival.

We stock it because it gives the Spore Theory a material companion. Recovery does not always begin with pristine ground or central control. Sometimes it begins in damaged terrain, through relations that make life possible without pretending the ruins are whole.