The best books about microbes and the environment

How can you not love a book that argues that, despite being mostly microbial, “the plankton form the bulk of the living fabric of the ocean, the web of life that is an integral part of the blue machine.”

Czerski’s prose is as vivid as describing other, larger parts of the blue machine, such as Greenland sharks, which live for hundreds of years, and whales whose earwax records the stress caused by global warming. Equally entertaining and captivating are her accounts of canoeing off Maui, fieldwork in the Arctic, and everyday life on an oceanographic ship.

Although the writing is always light and the metaphors evocative, Czerski makes several serious points about the ocean and climate change. If not for the ocean, atmospheric levels of the most important greenhouse gas, carbon dioxide, would be even higher and global warming worse.

As a microbial ecologist, I didn’t need to be convinced that microbes make all life on Earth possible. I knew that Falkowski, a preeminent biological oceanographer, would be a trustworthy guide in the microbial world. What makes this book so much fun to read is how Falkowski mixes science with snippets of history, both his own and of early scientists.  

Yet, the science is the main story here and is fascinating. Microbes, specifically cyanobacteria, are the engines that first put oxygen in the atmosphere around 2.4 billion years ago, which set the stage for the evolution of more complicated lifeforms, including, eventually, Homo sapiens.  Microbes are also the ancestral source of what Falkowski calls nanomachines, which continue to power all organisms today. Falkowski convincingly argues that microbes are what make life on Earth possible. 

The multitudes of this book are not the ones envisioned by Walt Whitman. Rather, they are bacteria, viruses, protozoa, and other microbes that each of us carries. The human body is more microbial than human, with bacteria alone outnumbering human cells by almost 10 times.

As Yong puts it, “We cannot fully understand the lives of animals without understanding our microbes and our symbioses with them.” Not just the lives of animals, but of plants too, as this book makes clear.

With advanced degrees in biochemistry and an award-winning stint as a writer at The Atlantic, Yong has the chops to get the science right and the skills of a journalist to weave the science and sketches of scientists together into compelling stories. The book’s subtitle is a nod to Darwin (“There is grandeur in this view of life”) and gets at the big-picture perspective gained by looking at the smallest organisms, the microbes.   

I almost put this book down when Marra started to describe what happened one early morning off the coast of Iceland, where he was trying to measure photosynthesis by marine microbes. A day earlier, he had filled bottles with seawater spiked with a radioactive form of carbon, carbon-14, and thrown the bottles overboard to incubate in the ocean. Now he had to retrieve them. As Marra recounted how the ship rolled in huge waves whipped up by 55-knot winds, my stomach churned as I remembered similar experiences on other vessels, in other seas.

Luckily for me and perhaps other seasick-prone readers, Hot Carbon returns to land for several chapters to sketch out the discovery of carbon-14 and its use in C14-dating historical artifacts such as the Shroud of Turin and in unraveling the mechanism of photosynthesis.

In the last part of the book, Marra returns to the ocean and outlines how carbon-14 is used to figure out the age of deep oceanic waters, the speed of ocean currents, and the rate of primary production by marine microbes. These topics take on even more importance because of their connection to climate change. Even when they aren’t “hot,” the science and the scientists introduced in this book are always fascinating, despite the queasy part.

Coastal redwoods and Douglas firs are among the biggest organisms on the planet, yet these and other trees can only reach such spectacular heights thanks to the smallest organisms, the microbes. In fact, nearly all plants have symbiotic fungi that act as surrogate roots to obtain nutrients essential for their growth and survival.

Simard, a Professor of Forest Ecology at the University of British Columbia, has taken this idea further and gathered evidence showing that unrelated trees exchange not only nutrients but also defense signals and other chemical information via their fungal network. But the real protagonist here is the author. As much as I like reading about microbes, what captivated me was Simard recounting her personal journey as a scientist and woman.