The old Empire of Earth foolishly attacks settlers of the planet Gand, who are philosophic descendants of Gandhi.  The Gands rely on their motto “F.I.W.” — “the mightiest weapon ever thought up by the human mind.”

To find out why force and threats of violence are utterly futile on Gand,  click here to read And Then There Were None, Eric Frank Russell’s delightfully droll and profound story. It was later incorporated into a novel titled “The Great Explosion” which received a Prometheus Hall of Fame Award.

Russell completed nine science fiction novels, and in 20000 was posthumously inducted into the Science Fiction and Fantasy Hall of Fame.

City-Grown Food
Novella Carpenter rents the top floor of a two-story house painted pink, where she enjoys pastoral farm life and the rich diversity of urban living. She’s shared her porch with baby chicks, turkeys, ducks, bunnies; she milks her Nigerian Dwarf goats in the pantry; and they scamper up and down the green staircase to her back door. (She explains that goats, instinctively on the watch for predators, like to survey the scene from a high place.)

Novella’s goats are pets; they’re milked once in the morning and have the rest of the day for play and leisure. The kids stay with their moms. One adolescent goat, nearly as big as her mom, abandoned any pretense at dignity to get down on her knees for a snack of milk — until the youngster butted hard, and mom took off.

Novella’s book Farm City tells how she first began farming on a vacant lot next to her apartment. She planted a garden, and acquired bees for pollination and honey. Today, chickens roam freely, pecking at delicious treats among the straw. Fuzzy bunnies sleep away afternoon heat. Novella loves and tenderly cares for her animals — each is valued as an individual personality. But even as she works hard to give her animals good lives, Novella conscientiously plans a good death for any pig, chicken, turkey, duck, or rabbit that is to become food.

When piglets grew into 300 pounders, Novella’s affection cooled slightly, perhaps because the effort to feed them was so exhausting. These immense eating machines required vast infusions of food which she scrounged from dumpsters of pricey restaurants. She hauled bushels of good if slightly wilted gourmet veggies, fish guts, and other delicacies. Still the immense animals tugged at Novella’s shirt tails, as if trying to pull her down as an addition to the proffered feasts.

No hobby farmer, Novella’s crops and livestock are a major portion of her family’s food; plus she donates a some to charitable organizations, and shares with friends and neighbors — many from countries where urban farming is normal.

Farm City details her joys and difficulties as a novice urban farmer at Ghost Town Farm, named for the many abandoned buildings in her part of Oakland, California. Besides Novella’s experiments in animal husbandry, the book tells of her delight in cooking fresh farm food. After recounting the high drama of the pigs’ slaughter, Novella studied traditional meat curing and house made charcuterie, with the chef of a tony Berkeley restaurant.

On a sunny August day I visited Ghost Town Farm, sampled goat cheese Novella made, olives she cured, and a tomato she grew using the dry-gulch method, in compost enriched by cleanup after the farm animals. The tomato was a flavorsome gem, not the watery-tasting sort usually sold in markets.

Now a touring speaker and teacher, Novella plans a second book of traditional farming how-tos forgotten by most urban dwellers today. It’s Novella’s goal to inspire a new generation of urban farmers, to enjoy simultaneously the rich resources of cities with the hands-on intimacy and skill of producing homegrown food: to consume, to share, to add layers of resilience to city living.

Novell writes a blog, click here; and in the video below she gives her view of the ethics of raising “edible pets.” Not for everyone, she is advocating a responsible, humane path for those who choose, or need, a carnivorous diet. Please skip this video if you find the subject distressful.