Rising: Dispatches from the New American Shore

Nonfiction | Book | Adult | Published in 2018

A modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.

Download PDF

Summary

Chapter Summaries & Analyses

Introduction

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Key Figures

Themes

Symbols & Motifs

Important Quotes

Essay Topics

Tools

Beta

Discussion Questions

Symbols & Motifs

Rampike

Rampike is the most distinct symbol in Rising. In the opening chapter, Rush provides its etymology. The word comes from old English. A glossary from the late 1800s “spells it raunpick, and gives the definition as ‘bare of bark or flesh, looking as if pecked by ravens’” (5). Today, the term refers to “trees with bleached skeletons or splintered trunks, those undone by natural forces” (5). Simply put, rampikes are trees that have died due to saltwater inundation.

In location after location, Rush describes these rampikes. While a single dead tree might seem inconsequential, the fact that they line tidal marsh banks around the United States is a sign of a much larger transformation occurring within American wetlands. To Rush, the rampikes memorialize when salt water began to encroach on these environments. They symbolize loss of the individual tree, loss of the wetlands, and loss of communities that called these wetlands home.

To prevent their loss from our collective memory, Rush intentionally uses the actual name of the tree, such as tupelo, in addition to rampike. Rush does not seem hopeful that wetlands will adapt to and survive rising sea levels. However, this does not mean that she believes we should forget about this great loss. She guides her readers to learn the actual names of these dead trees so that collectively we do not forget their existence.

Rhizome

Given the focus on wetlands, rhizomes are an important motif throughout the text. Rush begins by detailing the important role that rhizomes play in marshes. Rhizomes are a “web of connective tissue running through the soil” that spread out from cordgrass plants (132). In contrast to normal roots, rhizomes do not only grow downward, but they spread out horizontally. The strength of cordgrass lies in this vast rhizomatic root system, which is why it is so difficult to dig in a healthy marsh. When saltwater inundates cordgrass, the plant’s rhizomes will seek out areas away from the element that is poisoning it. This retreat, when successful and not inhibited by human settlements, allows the plant to survive, even in the face of rising sea levels. Thus, a marsh “continues to be itself, albeit in a slightly different location” (132).

Rush also uses rhizomes as a metaphor to refer to the social ties that weave communities together. Communities, such as Oakwood Beach and Isle de Jean Charles, that choose to retreat are doing so for their own survival. They are not victims in the climate crisis, like the rampikes. Rather, they are their own agents who are attempting to maintain their livelihood and identity but just in a different location.

This dual meaning behind rhizomes also highlights another important point: Policies that are attempting to mitigate and solve challenges created by climate change must take into account both the scientific measures and how these measures impact the people living in coastal communities. Rush highlights in example after example how human interventions in the environment often put communities more at risk in the face of rising sea levels. However, it doesn’t have to be this way. Rush hopes that “together we will make the ever more popular protest chant come true: ‘The seas are rising and so are we’” (264).

Names

Rush is adamant that readers learn the names of the living beings that call the disappearing marshlands home. Never before in Earth’s history has a single species set into motion a cataclysmic change to the climate. There is nothing normal about what the human species has done to the environment. Despite the unprecedented consequences of our actions, “we write about climate change with the same tired vernacular, we dull readers to the dynamism at the heart of such transformation” (256). This “same tired vernacular” lacks the words that capture the changes we have induced in one of the most fragile and dynamic environments on the planet: wetlands.

Rush believes that while we might be able to slow the destruction of the wetlands, most will eventually disappear. For this reason, she pushes her readers to learn the names of the beings that we will lose in the process, such as the tupelos. The tupelos are already dying. In fact, the dead tupelos are her “Delphi” that the marshlands are disappearing. By using their names, we will preserve the memory of their existence.

Rush also uses language to symbolize awakening and justice. By saying the name of the living beings, we are one step closer to recognizing them as our kin. In doing so, we will understand how profound their loss truly is. Identifying living beings with their name is the start of justice for them. We understand that our actions, specifically human interventions in the landscape, are the reason for their deaths and the climate calamity.