93 books like The Nature-Printer

This book combines the best in travel writing with history, art, and food. Attlee takes the readers through Italy, from Lake Garda’s lemon houses and the gardens of Tuscan villas to the scented bergamot groves in Calabria to a marmalade kitchen in Sicily. Along the way, we learn about the “garden poem,” a genre of poetry practiced in the 10th and 11th centuries by Islamic poets living in Sicily. The book also includes recipes for a chocolate tart from Capri, a lamb stew from a 13th-century Arabic cookbook, candied peels, and drinks using the abundant variety of citrus available in Italy. It’s a book for all the senses, a great read for gardeners during the winter months.

I grew up in a house choked with books – falling out of the shelves and piling onto the floor. I developed a curious habit as a child: I would sniff the pages of every book I picked up. Some smell old, like vanilla and time, I discovered; others smell fresh, like rain after a drought. Well, Glasshouse Greenhouse smells so good it’s worth buying for its perfume alone! Seriously though, this is a visual treat, packed full of emerald-green plantscapes on every page. The authors start their journey around the world’s glasshouses just metres from where I sit typing these words at my place of work, Oxford Botanic Garden. To me, this makes it particularly special. 

There is something innately calming about trees, isn’t there? Even just thinking about them. Today I often read about something called Forest Bathing. I’m told it refers to being calm and quiet amongst the trees – absorbing something from them in a way that nourishes the soul. Well, that’s what this book does for me. Fiona allows us to pause and admire the common trees around us; she leads us among seventeen common species including ash, apple, pine, oak, cypress, and willow, pointing out along the way how they are entwined with human existence. 

This is a satisfyingly large tome with sumptuous prints and illustrations from ancient texts, gardens, and herbals that spill out on every page and give it a sort of timelessness. Flicking through it now, the page that opened in front of me features a facsimile of a 1748 book, complete with foxing; it is so real I could reach out and touch it. This is something I’d put on top of the coffee table book pile and feel happier just to know it’s there, replete with its botanical treasure. 

In 2007 I worked in two gardens in the UK: Rosemoor, a Royal Horticultural Society garden in Devon, and London’s Chelsea Physic Garden. I was smitten by the miniature rock plants, displayed in pots in the gravel bed of Rosemoor’s Alpine House, and set into the odd, antique Pond Rockery at the Physic Garden. Shulman’s glib, tiny book reminds me of those jewel-like plantings. It focuses on the founding father of British alpine gardening, Reginald Farrer, a plant collector, writer, and swashbuckling adventurer. His method for seeding his cliffside garden in the Yorkshire Dales was my favorite episode; he loaded his gun with seeds he had collected in the Himalayas, took aim at the cliff, and pulled the trigger. Note: I haven’t tried this at home.

William Gibson, “The Father of Cyberpunk,” is responsible for much of our current technology.

In Pattern Recognition, however, Gibson isn’t writing about a future decades away, but just a hint ahead, enough for us to think that the future may well be more intriguing than the present—and to understand its deep roots in the past. Through Cayce Pollard, with her allergy to bad branding, Gibson navigates the brittle edge of fashionable London, weaving in a dark documentary in Russia, a series of film stills rising like fish to the surface of the internet, and a father lost in the aftermath of 9/11.

Part mystery, part coolness commentary, and stunningly well-written, this book will have you blinking when you wake from the dream Gibson has created.

Mobee has literally spent her professional life at New York Botanical Garden. She knows everything!  Ferns are her expertise. This book is beautifully put together with her creative prowess! She really knows so much about the art of fern growing. I also find her to be a  terrific instructor and her book is a complete access to all she knows. Her projects are wonderful and I actually bought a galvanized wall hanging to plant ferns in just like hers!

Inspiration at its best is mimicry.

I found this delightful, well-written account of great interest and reference. It covers the widespread passion for all aspects of natural history during the Victorian era, how the collectors of ferns, seashells, birds’ eggs, and skins, butterflies, beetles, orchids, and all manner of curiosities from the natural world, pursued their hobbies. This general acceptance by society led to the formation of clubs, articles, and even specialist journals and popular lectures by amateurs and scientists.

Beautifully illustrated, this book, even though constrained in its timeframe, provides a wonderful introduction to the topic. Since I cover many of the people and motives included here, I much enjoyed another writer’s perspective on them.

This story stands out from other children’s books because it is told wordlessly entirely with photographs.

The stuffed bear Hank, as the title suggests, finds an egg and has to figure out where it belongs. The details in the real sets are a joy to see and the story is told effortlessly with wonderful studio photographs.

A modest little paperback which is charming because Sacks writes so well about anything and everything. When he wasn’t delving into our grey matter, the famous New York neurologist (who died recently) happened to be an amateur botanist, with a particular passion for ferns. In this book, he visits the Mexican city of Oaxaca, travels the surrounding countryside with a like-minded group and records in a diary his thoughts about the plants and people he encounters. The vignettes are well told, colourful and a delight to read.