Environmental Critique in America the Beautiful?: A Thematic Analysis

Thematic Claim

In America the Beautiful?, Blythe Roberson develops an environmental critique that examines the national park system as a product of capitalism, settler colonialism, and unsustainable tourism. The memoir does not simply celebrate America’s protected lands; it interrogates the contradictions of visiting nature while contributing to its degradation. Roberson argues that modern humans cannot escape harm completely, but that the solution lies not in retreating to a myth of pure wilderness—a concept built on Indigenous dispossession—but in embracing collective responsibility, slow travel, and a renewed, reciprocal relationship with the natural world.

Tracing the Critique Through the Plot

1. The Colonial Roots of Preservation

Early in her road trip, Roberson visits Wind Cave National Park, where she confronts the violent history behind the park system. In chapter 4, she describes how the U.S. government slaughtered bison—the animal central to Plains Indigenous survival—to force tribes onto reservations and open land for settlers. The bison population plunged from seventy-five million to fewer than a thousand by 1900. Roberson recognizes that parks like Wind Cave exist because the government waged a genocidal campaign, then erased Indigenous presence from the landscape to create “uninhabited wilderness” for Anglo tourists. This revelation forces her to ask: “Was it indefensible to visit the national parks?” The bison thus becomes a symbol of both natural majesty and the ecological violence that enabled preservation.

2. The Paradox of Industrial Tourism

In chapter 15, titled “The National Parks Suck Ass,” Roberson deepens her critique by examining how tourism itself damages the places it seeks to protect. She visits Channel Islands National Park, completes her Junior Ranger badge activities, and reflects on the moral weight of being one more visitor. She worries that writing about parks will attract even more tourists, accelerating overtourism. She grapples with the fact that the National Park Service encourages mass visitation to generate revenue—yet that revenue is never enough to cover $18 billion in deferred maintenance. The Prius she drives, a hybrid, highlights her complicity: it burns fossil fuels every day, making her part of the problem even as she tries to minimize her impact. Yet she rejects the idea that humans are only destructive. She points out that the “pristine wilderness” ideal is a colonial fiction, and that acting guilty without changing behavior is useless. Instead, she calls for a “sustainable, ethical, and plausible” solution.

3. Capitalism and Climate Complicity

In chapter 16, “See Trees While Trees Still Exist,” Roberson drives through Las Vegas, observing a city built on fossil-fueled spectacle. The desert heat forces her to consider how capitalism has converted nature into a resource: logging, mining, and grazing on public land are subsidized by taxpayers while devastating ecosystems. She struggles with the “ecosystem services” argument, which tries to value nature in monetary terms—a tactic that ultimately concedes to capitalism’s logic. Roberson realizes that her entire lifestyle depends on the fossil fuel economy, yet she argues that capitalism is not inevitable: “It’s become clear that the system we built isn’t working, for us or for the planet. Luckily we can build another.” She points to Indigenous stewardship and “collaborative survival” as an alternative framework, where land is treated as sacred rather than as a commodity.

Character and Symbol Connections

The narrator, Blythe Roberson, is both the critic and the subject of critique. Her self-aware humor and honesty make her an imperfect guide: she forgets her bear spray, frets about buying gas, and feels like a fraud. Greg, her friend who meets her at Yellowstone, represents the more casual park visitor; Roberson vents to him about “everyone in this park need[ing] to be arrested,” but he remains patient and unbothered. This contrast highlights the range of environmental consciousness among park-goers.

The Junior Ranger badge is a recurring symbol. Roberson earns badges at almost every park, but the program simultaneously teaches ecological awareness and reinforces the park-as-playground mindset. The badge represents the tension between education and commodification. The Prius—her stepfather’s old hybrid—is both a tool for freedom and a constant reminder of her carbon footprint. And the bison appears again at Theodore Roosevelt National Park, where a bison stares her down, embodying the wild presence that her culture nearly erased.

Complexity and Contradiction

Roberson does not offer easy answers. She admits that she cannot stop loving human connections—her crushes, her family, her friends—even if a truly “pure” wilderness would require human extinction. She wrestles with gatekeeping: who gets to decide that nature should only be accessible to those who can travel slowly or live nearby? She recognizes that her own desire for solitude is partly selfish, and that the difficulty of accessing remote parks often excludes people with less time, money, or physical ability. The memoir’s critique is therefore layered: it condemns industrial tourism while acknowledging that parks need visitors to survive, and it rejects both the “humans are always bad” narrative and the uncritical celebration of modern outdoor recreation.

Roberson’s eventual conclusion—that “the deeper freedom lies not in individual adventure but in collective responsibility and love”—echoes through her final reflections in chapter 18. She argues for slowing down, for valuing nature in one’s own neighborhood, and for returning land to Indigenous stewardship. Her environmental critique is not a call to abandon national parks but to transform our relationship with them: from consumers of scenery to partners in survival.

Study Questions and Answers

1. How does the bison function in Roberson’s environmental critique?
The bison symbolizes both the natural grandeur of the parks and the colonial violence that made them possible. Roberson highlights how the U.S. government slaughtered bison to starve Plains Indigenous peoples, clearing the land for settlers and, eventually, for national parks. The bison’s near-extinction is a direct result of capitalist expansion and genocide, and its presence in parks today serves as a living reminder of that history.

2. What role does the Prius play in the memoir’s critique of individual action vs. systemic change?
The Prius represents the narrator’s attempt to reduce her environmental impact through consumer choice. Yet she acknowledges that even a hybrid car burns fossil fuels daily, and that her road trip contributes to greenhouse emissions. The Prius shows that individual lifestyle changes cannot solve climate change if the system remains dependent on fossil fuels. Roberson’s critique ultimately moves beyond personal guilt to demand structural transformation.

3. How does the Junior Ranger badge complicate the narrator’s environmental stance?
The Junior Ranger program educates visitors about ecology and stewardship, which Roberson values. However, she also recognizes that earning badges and completing workbooks can become a checklist mentality that reduces nature to a series of achievements. The badge symbolizes the tension between learning to love the land and treating parks as consumer experiences. Roberson uses the program to question whether her own journey is genuine or performative.

4. In what ways does Roberson critique the concept of “pristine wilderness”?
She argues that the idea of untouched wilderness is a fiction created to justify Indigenous removal. Land only became “uninhabited” after Native peoples were violently expelled. Furthermore, she points out that all parks are already affected by climate change, roads, and infrastructure—so the search for a pure Eden is both historically false and counterproductive. Instead, she advocates for protecting land that has been altered by humans, including urban nature.

5. What final solution does the memoir propose for the environmental problems it identifies?
Roberson does not prescribe a single solution but emphasizes collective responsibility, slow travel, and treating nature as sacred rather than as a resource. She endorses returning public land to Indigenous stewardship, building wildlife corridors, reducing car dependency, and fostering a give-and-take relationship with local ecosystems. The deepest freedom, she concludes, lies not in individual adventure but in working together to create a habitable future for all.