The best books of nature-writing with humans at the center

Tove Jansson was one of my favourite authors as a child, thanks to her magical Moomin series.

Her fiction for adults, too (The Summer Book, Art in Nature) is wonderful. However, I have gone for one of her lesser-known books, Notes from an Island, which is simply a short journal with brief and starkly beautiful diary entries concerning the times she spent with her partner, Tuulikki Pietilä, on a barren and otherwise uninhabited island in the Gulf of Finland.

The book is a collaboration - Pietilä supplied stark, minimalist illustrations - and it also includes sections of a journal contributed by Brunström, the gruff mariner who helped the couple with their trips to and from the island.

Jansson’s writing style is as sparse as the island itself, reflecting the tough conditions, which nevertheless, did not preclude a life of artistic fulfillment for both her and Pietilä. This book is a fitting testament to their shared adventure.

This book – a history of the act of trespass – explores our relationship with the natural world in a provocative and highly original way.

Starting with the statistic that the public are excluded from 92% of the land of England, Hayes combines history with a meditation on the implications of excluding large swathes of the population from what is, at the end of the day, their own country.

However, this is not a dry political tract but a lyrical and passionately argued text enlivened by the author’s own exploits, trespassing on land across the country and visiting everything from migrant camps in Calais to music festivals to explore the various uses and abuses of shared land. 

The book is angry and defiant, and – because it has helped spark debate – I see it as something fundamentally hopeful.

This book really is the full package – an anthology of nature writing encompassing both fiction and non-fiction and travelling across the centuries to provide a vivid and kaleidoscopic celebration of the British Isles.

The book is divided into themes (for example, Woods; Swimming and Moors, Heaths and Mountains) and is not shy of combining classics such as excerpts from W H Hudson’s A Shepherd’s Life with pieces from breakthrough writers such as On Class and the Countryside by Anita Sethi.

For me, personally, part of the joy of this was the mix of the familiar, well-loved tales (and who growing up in Britain in the ’70s and ’80s didn’t love A Kestrel for a Knave) and the newer discoveries (such as Isabella Tree’s Wilding). The book is almost as rich and diverse as British wildlife itself.

This is similar to Wild Isles – a vast celebration of nature incorporating fiction, non-fiction, and poetry – but this time with its focus on the beautiful wild North of Britain.

It’s exciting to see so many different aspects of the area brought out and the inclusion of lesser-known contemporary writers such as Katie Hale, Loren Cafferty, and Graham Mort alongside greats such as William Wordsworth and Charlotte Brontë. 

So often neglected, so often stereotyped, the North is viewed here by those that know it, through clear eyes but with understandable adoration. I particularly enjoyed the descriptions of the moors, the dark green and grey wilds inhabited by curlew, kite, and hare.

This is the place where the Brontës created their epic romances and where contemporary writers sought solace during lockdown. The land continues to be a source of inspiration and it is gratifying to see it celebrated in this book.

I have chosen this book because of the idea behind it.

After recovering from a blackout, author Torbjørn Ekelund was told he had developed epilepsy and would not be allowed to drive. As a consequence, Ekelund decided not to be held back by this and instead began to walk everywhere – through urban areas and countryside – looking for any path however obvious or hidden.

In the book that resulted from this new approach to life, Ekelund has not only written about his own experiences but tied them in to a wider meditation on pathways, from the physical to the metaphorical to the spiritual. 

A mix of history, philosophy and travelogue, what I liked about all this is the author’s choice to turn the trauma of an epileptic fit into an opportunity to walk, think, observe and feel more than ever.