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Since 2009, Dark Mountain has held the testimonies of writers and artists to how it feels in our hearts to bear witness to the collapse of the world as we once knew it. Now, in 2026, as our biannual book production is drawing to a close, we are celebrating our creative collaborations with a golden ‘last issue’.
For the final book , we reached out to some of the people who have written for, edited and shaped Dark Mountain over the years, inviting them to send work on the theme of ‘endings’. Between endpapers – created from the astonishing blue of foraged vivianite – are meditations on what it means for things to end: from a story about a hospice nurse and a requiem for the IPCC Report to the writings of the last scribe, entombed among his books, hearing the siren voices of the barbarians outside the walls.
As smoke rises from wildfires in the mountains of ‘green’ northern Spain, a starlit mountain vigil in the Scottish Highlands takes us deep into cosmic time, and foliate forms loom in the shadows of a folkloric forest. Elsewhere, activists put their bodies on the line to disrupt Aotearora New Zealand’s biggest coal mine, and a canoe voyage through Montana challenges us to consider the traces humans leave behind – that help rather than harm. As always in our books. the more-than-human leaves its tracks across our pages: a speaking glacier, a trusting toad, a prophetic oak, galloping horses, millions of hornets, fig leaves, burned trees, ancestral grasslands, hawks, grizzly bears and Roosevelt elks.
We invite you to follow in their path…
Since 2009, Dark Mountain has held the testimonies of writers and artists to how it feels in our hearts to bear witness to the collapse of the world as we once knew it. Now, in 2026, as our biannual book production is drawing to a close, we are celebrating our creative collaborations with a golden ‘last issue’.
For the final book , we reached out to some of the people who have written for, edited and shaped Dark Mountain over the years, inviting them to send work on the theme of ‘endings’. Between endpapers – created from the astonishing blue of foraged vivianite – are meditations on what it means for things to end: from a story about a hospice nurse and a requiem for the IPCC Report to the writings of the last scribe, entombed among his books, hearing the siren voices of the barbarians outside the walls.
As smoke rises from wildfires in the mountains of ‘green’ northern Spain, a starlit mountain vigil in the Scottish Highlands takes us deep into cosmic time, and foliate forms loom in the shadows of a folkloric forest. Elsewhere, activists put their bodies on the line to disrupt Aotearora New Zealand’s biggest coal mine, and a canoe voyage through Montana challenges us to consider the traces humans leave behind – that help rather than harm. As always in our books. the more-than-human leaves its tracks across our pages: a speaking glacier, a trusting toad, a prophetic oak, galloping horses, millions of hornets, fig leaves, burned trees, ancestral grasslands, hawks, grizzly bears and Roosevelt elks.
We invite you to follow in their path…