I grew up fascinated by the natural world, in particular by the hemlock trees in a hollow in the North Carolina mountains where my family owned a cabin. Later, the hollow and that cabin would provide inspiration for my novel, Hemlock Hollow, in which a scientist wrestles with the ghosts of her past. Those hemlocks are in decline now due to the hemlock wooly adelgid, an invasive species working its way through the Appalachian Mountains. In many ways, my writing takes the grief of losing something so dear as grist for stories that center the power of place over time, and I’m drawn to other books that do the same.
In this book, newly divorced college professor Caroline McAlister must reckon with a past she has long tried to escape. Reeling from the loss of her father, her once-promising career at a standstill, she inherits a cabin populated by the ghosts of her childhood. In it, she discovers a century-old journal written by Carson Quinn, a kind, curious boy, though rumored to have murdered his brother.
The journal reveals Carson’s love for the same hollow that enthralled Caroline growing up. Caroline plunges into the project of exonerating him. The project lures her into places she’s spent a lifetime trying to avoid. Hemlock Hollow is about how we forever haunt the places we love and how they haunt us in return.
I love this book because it evokes the rich tapestry of the land I grew up in and the people I grew up around, capturing in typical Kingsolver fashion those liminal edges between feral and tame, local and outsider, privileged and not so privileged.
Set in the Southern Appalachians, it tracks three characters’ lives over the course of a single, fecund summer. Science plays a big role, but so does faith, as the characters come to terms with gospels of their own making. As Kingsolver writes, “Every choice is a world made new for the chosen.”
It is summer in the Appalachian mountains and love, desire and attraction are in the air. Nature, too, it seems, is not immune. From her outpost in an isolated mountain cabin, Deanna Wolfe, a reclusive wildlife biologist, watches a den of coyotes that have recently migrated into the region. She is caught off guard by a young hunter who invades her most private spaces and interrupts her self-assured, solitary life. On a farm several miles down the mountain, Lusa Maluf Landowski, a bookish city girl turned farmer's wife, finds herself marooned in a strange place where she must declare or…
Part memoir, part requiem, this book is an ode to the hardscrabble beauty of the land and people of the longleaf pine. I read this book when it first came out in 1999 and more recently revisited it.
Janisse Ray writes about Georgia, where she grew up in a junkyard off Highway 1 and where my grandmother was from. She could just as easily have been writing about North Carolina and our fast-declining hemlock population here.
Reading this book gave this Appalachian boy an appreciation for the flat savannah down east with an ecosystem and culture both unique and fascinating.
From the memories of a childhood marked by extreme poverty, mental illness, and restrictive fundamentalist Christian rules, Janisse Ray crafted a "heartfelt and refreshing" (New York Times) memoir that has inspired thousands to embrace their beginnings, no matter how humble, and to fight for the places they love. This new edition updates and contextualizes the story for a new generation and a wider audience desperately searching for stories of empowerment and hope.
Ray grew up in a junkyard along U.S. Highway 1, hidden from Florida-bound travelers by hulks of old cars. In language at once colloquial, elegiac, and informative, Ray…
This book is an upriver journey of self-discovery, a mystery evoking Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness, and an exploration of the ethical entanglements of the modern pharmaceutical industry.
I was struck by the rich tapestry of life that Patchett evokes in the Amazonian rainforest of Brazil in stark contrast to the bland, suburban Minnesota from which the main character, Marina, travels. Science plays a major role in this, and I was moved by the central questions at hand, which are what price are we willing to pay for scientific advancement and, at the end of the day, is scientific advancement even progress at all?
SHORTLISTED FOR THE ORANGE PRIZE FOR FICTION
There were people on the banks of the river.
Among the tangled waterways and giant anacondas of the Brazilian Rio Negro, an enigmatic scientist is developing a drug that could alter the lives of women for ever. Dr Annick Swenson's work is shrouded in mystery; she refuses to report on her progress, especially to her investors, whose patience is fast running out. Anders Eckman, a mild-mannered lab researcher, is sent to investigate.
A curt letter reporting his untimely death is all that returns.
Now Marina Singh, Anders' colleague and once a student of…
What’s not to love about a book structured as a tree? This is a vast, episodic novel that takes traditional storytelling and turns it on its head.
A cast of characters connect through stories that grow from seed to trunk to limb. I finished this long read and immediately wanted to start again. It’s the kind of book that rewards a second or third pass. Complex, rife with science and faith and desperate longing, this book is a celebration of the tree, a clarion call to return our attention to our roots before it is too late.
One of Powers’ characters asks, “What do all good stories do?” He answers, “They kill you a little. They turn you into something you weren’t.” I think that’s true of all of these books, and most definitely this one.
The Overstory, winner of the 2019 Pulitzer Prize in Fiction, is a sweeping, impassioned work of activism and resistance that is also a stunning evocation of-and paean to-the natural world. From the roots to the crown and back to the seeds, Richard Powers's twelfth novel unfolds in concentric rings of interlocking fables that range from antebellum New York to the late twentieth-century Timber Wars of the Pacific Northwest and beyond. There is a world alongside ours-vast, slow, interconnected, resourceful, magnificently inventive, and almost invisible to us. This is the story of a handful of people who learn how to see…
I love how Kimmerer braids botany with her personal history and the traditional knowledge of the Potawatomi people.
Part memoir, part natural history, this book reveals how much we can learn from plants if we just take the time to pay attention. In so many ways, science is just that: paying attention, attuning to the world around us we too often mindlessly pass through.
This book caused me to slow down and see nature unfolding around me and to reflect on my own journey from an inquisitive Boy Scout entranced by salamanders and crawdads to a busy adult, oblivious to the micro-worlds unfolding in my own backyard. This book is an invitation to reshape your relationship with nature and to relearn what has been lost.
Called the work of "a mesmerizing storyteller with deep compassion and memorable prose" (Publishers Weekly) and the book that, "anyone interested in natural history, botany, protecting nature, or Native American culture will love," by Library Journal, Braiding Sweetgrass is poised to be a classic of nature writing. As a botanist, Robin Wall Kimmerer asks questions of nature with the tools of science. As a member of the Citizen Potawatomi Nation, she embraces indigenous teachings that consider plants and animals to be our oldest teachers. Kimmerer brings these two lenses of knowledge together to take "us on a journey that is…
The constellation we know as Taurus goes all the way back to cave paintings of aurochs at Lascaux. This book traces the story of the bull in the sky, a journey through the history of what has become known as the sacred bull.
Each of the sections is written from the perspective of the mythical Taurus, from the beginning at Lascaux to Mesopotamia, Ancient Egypt, and elsewhere. This is not just a history of the bull but also a view of ourselves through the eyes of the bull, illustrating our pre-literate use of myth, how the advent of writing and the urban revolution changed our view of ourselves, and how even bullfighting in Spain is a variation on the ancient sacrifice of the sacred bull.
The constellation we know as Taurus goes all the way back to cave paintings of aurochs at Lascaux. In I Am Taurus, author Stephen Palmer traces the story of the bull in the sky, starting from that point 19,000 years ago - a journey through the history of what has become known as the sacred bull. Each of the eleven sections is written from the perspective of the mythical Taurus, from the beginning at Lascaux to Mesopotamia, Ancient Egypt, Greece, Spain and elsewhere. This is not just a history of the bull but also an attempt to see ourselves through…
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