Jeffery Goldberg’s piece on controversial conservationists Mark and Delia Owens, in the current issue of the New Yorker, is sooo goood.  I read one of the Owens’s books, Cry of the Kalahari, when it came out in 1996 (my mother bought it for me, of course).  I remember loving it, but also being very aware of how much they loved themselves, and that I was once again “seeing” Africa through the vision of some misty-eyed white Americans.  Haven’t really thought about the Owenses since, but they’ve sure been busy, and maybe really bad.  Read it.