The title of this post evokes the title Paul Eggert, a textual studies scholar, gave to one of his works, Biography of a Book: Henry Lawson’s While the Billy Boils, about a key publication in Australian literary history.
The biography of a book includes its birth–conceived by the author and midwifed by the editor and publisher who package and distribute it–and the “life of its own” that signals the transformation from something expressed by the author to something interpreted by the reader. The book’s life is made up of many little details involving marketing, translation, reception, revision, and other aspects. For the biographer of a book, it is not only the text (or “content” as we call it in the digital age) that is of interest but also the material form of the work and the consequences of the decisions made regarding the production of the book. The best biographers take a life-and-times approach, providing the temporal, geographic, social, and cultural contexts to help explain the impact of the person or book whose life is being recounted, or, more accurately, constructed.
With few exceptions, the secondary literature surrounding the 1972 edition of The Limits to Growth has addressed the authors’ ideas, methods, and interpretations, that is, the texts. As Jonathan Rose has written, “The problem with focusing on texts is that no one can read a text–not until it is incarnated in the material form of a book.” (“The Horizon of a New Discipline: The Invention of Book Studies,” Publishing Research Quarterly 19 (2003): 13.) (Among book historians, “book” is construed to include many forms of printed material such as periodicals and technical reports.) The book carries and presents the text and its accompanying graphics, shaping its reception among people who have read it and those who haven’t, as Priscilla Coit Murphy shows in her What a Book Can Do: The Production and Reception of Silent Spring. James Secord, a historian of scientific communication, illuminates the importance of book history to the history of science and particularly to the communication of knowledge to expert and non-expert readers in his book Victorian Sensation: The Extraordinary Publication, Reception, and Secret Authorship of the Vestiges of the Natural History of Creation. Environmental historian Andrew Kirk, in Counterculture Green, examines the role of Stewart Brand’s Whole Earth Catalog, a hard-to-classify form of underground publication, in shifting the American environmental movement from a focus on wildlife preservation to a focus on the interplay of ecology and technology. Another helpful framework is provided by Suzuette Soomai and Bertrum MacDonald in their discussion of the complexity of environmental information forms and flows that governmental and non-governmental scientists and policy makers use (“Information Matters: Global Perspectives about Communication at the Science-Policy Interface,” pp. 275-80 in The Future of Ocean Governance and Capacity Development (Brill, 2018)).
The Limits to Growth has had an eventful life, and it isn’t dead yet. The book summed up the findings of a research project commissioned by the Club of Rome, a small but influential group of scholars, industrialists, and other thought leaders concerned about the future of the earth. The research pioneered the use of computers to simulate scenarios of the future. The research team used different assumptions and input different data to understand possible outcomes. On page 23 of the 1972 edition came the assertion that launched a worldwide discussion:
“If the present growth trends . . . continue unchanged, the limits to growth on this planet will be reached sometime within the next hundred years. The most probable result will be a rather sudden and uncontrollable decline in both population and industrial capacity.”
As Ugo Bardi writes in The Limits to Growth Revisited (Springer, 2011):
“The book generated enormous interest and the debate on its validity raged. Some recognized it as a milestone in human thought, while others dismissed it as a worthless exercise based on flawed assumptions. . . . The negative opinion about LTG appears to be still prevalent today. However, there are also evident signs of a reappraisal in progress.” (p. 2)
A look at the occurrences of the two titles Silent Spring and Limits to Growth show that both received a great deal of attention when first published and that attention tapered off over time. Limits to Growth never received the enormous attention given Silent Spring, but the book has continued to be discussed, and, as Bardi says, to be reappraised.
Moreover, the book’s title has been adopted as a commonly used phrase, even when the book itself is not being cited or discussed. How do we know? Google’s ngram viewer searches are case sensitive. The chart below shows that the phrase “the limits to growth” began to be used after the book’s release and that it has continued along the same trend line as the book, though with more occurrences than the book title.
While there is no doubt that The Limits to Growth has had an impact, there’s still a lot to understand about how that impact developed. A big part of the story involves the material form of the book, its dissemination, and its reception, including the ongoing appraisal and reappraisal of its methods and findings.