Who do you think of when you think about nature writing?
No, not Charles Darwin, he was more of a science writer. What about Thoreau, Muir? Maybe Rachel Carson and Silent Spring? Yes, yes, that’s more like it. Nature writing distinguishes itself from science writing by being more lyrical or poetic, musings about spending time in nature and how they make the author feel versus being a collection of facts written by a scientist. Nature writing wasn’t always a genre but from its advent, when Houghton, Mifflin, and Company gathered together books the called “Out-Door Books,” these emotive qualities have been what sets nature writing apart from science books (Lapfer, 2001). Houghton, Mifflin and Company editors set the standard for nature writing back in 1900 hundred when they said an outdoor author is a “good observer and a sympathetic student of nature” (Lupfer, 2001, p. 187). Let’s look at some authors who continue in this style today to maybe one day join the ranks of John Muir and Henry David Thoreau…
Books and authors continuing the “Out-Door Book” legacy
An image of the front cover of Bill Bryson’s A Short History of Nearly Everything on a wooden desktop with a Mac keyboard in the background.
Bill Bryson and A Short History of Nearly Everything
Bill Bryson is a very likely contender for this legacy. I was introduced to this book when a photo professor made us close our eyes as she read what she called “the most beautiful story ever”; it was about mold.
A Short History of Nearly Everything is a tome with 544 pages and 30 chapters Bryson really does explore just about everything. Each chapter acts as an essay exploring a specific topic, much like author Burroughs at the advent of the nature writing genre (Lapfer, 2001). Bryson does expand the nature writing definition, exploring more than just forests, mountains, and deserts. He stretches to the cosmos and works in some physics as well. This goes to show how advances in science move into popular culture and expand our understanding of just what nature is. Bryson also demonstrates how nature writing authors, readers, and publishers now accept facts along with their literature. Bryson remains the amateur defined in Lupfer’s article (2001) but also consults with scientists and translates their knowledge down to us common readers. If you want to feel insignificant in the context of the universe and time, this is the book for you.
An image of the front cover of The Cabaret of Plants by Richard Mabey on a wooden desktop with a silver pencil on the left side and a Mac keyboard in the background.
Richard Mabey and The Cabaret of Plants: Forty Thousand Years of Plant Life and the Human Imagination
Ok, I obsessed over this book for years. Mostly because I saw it on a bookstore shelf shortly after it was first published in 2016 but I was on a date, distracted and really trying to impress a girl so I didn’t buy the book. Then it was gone from the shelves and I couldn’t remember the name or author correctly. Fast-forward to two years later in rural Connecticut taking my nieces and nephews book shopping: THERE IT WAS! I snatched it up and yes, it was totally worth the wait (it didn’t work out with the girl).
In this volume, Mabey, like Bryson, uses his chapters like essays, focusing each one on a different plant and its relationship with humans. Mabey tells the readers stories that deviate from his own personal experiences and expand into those of friends, artists, explorers, and scientists. He also expands the nature writing definition beyond being present in a single moment to include much of human history and a bit of evolutionary history. To continue the literary-esque tradition of the genre, Mabey explains everything in common English turning science and historical facts into natural wonder. Maybe forget the girl for a minute and grab a copy of this book.
A photo of the cover of The Earth Moved by Amy Stewart on a wooden desktop with a Mac keyboard in the background.
Amy Stewart and The Earth Moved: On the Remarkable Achievements of Earthworms
Partially because I’m a fan of Charles Darwin (also obsessed with earthworms) and partially because I loved Amy Stewart’s Wicked Plants, I picked up this book.
Stewart expands the genre of nature writing by narrowing her focus. Here we have an entire book about the same thing: the underrated earthworm. Similar to Mabey and Bryson, Stewart works in history and scientific fact but from the perspective of a gardener who wants better soil. And what gardener doesn’t want better soil for their plants? Stewart explores not only what earthworms do for the soil but also some of their crazy features like how they can connect with other earthworms! She imparts gardening advice and shares her efforts to increase the earthworm population in her own soil. If you’re curious to know what birds get when they’re early, Amy Stewart has you covered.
A photo of the front cover of Underland by Robert Macfarlane
Robert Macfarlane and Underland: A Deep Time Journey
Wayback when Houghton, Mifflin and Company was setting the nature writing genre apart from other literary works, travel writing was considered separate from “Out-Door Books.” Travel writing was more adventurous and maybe dealt with people in a particular place while outdoor books were quieter and focused more on the environment (Lupfer, 2001). I would argue that Robert Macfarlane blends the genres and creates something that can honestly be considered nature writing with this creation.
Broken into three parts and 13 chapters, we once again have a collection essays, all related but also all different. Macfarlane manages to explore the history of humans and our interactions in nature in a personal and poetic way. His descriptions allow the reader to visualize places they have never been. He expertly juggles information about how humans have shaped nature with nature’s own unstoppable forces. Rather than situating the reader in a specific place or element of nature, Underland is an escapist read where you can consider and explore.
An image of Entangled Life by Merlin Sheldrake
Merlin Sheldrake and Entangled Life: How Fungi Make Our Worlds, Change Our Minds & Shape Our Futures
The “wood-wide web” has been a thing for minute; I mean, everyone loves a good pun, right? Sheldrake attempts to tackle just what the wood-wide web is and how important all types of fungi are in this 352 page book. I learned about Sheldrake in Underland and my love of mushrooms drew me to this book. Likely unknowingly, Sheldrake challenges the separation of science books and nature writings with this work. There are musings and pondering and Sheldrake often waxes lyrical about how fungi can adapt and learn (yes, learn) but he’s also a biologist with a Ph.D from Cambridge. It’s 2020 Houghton, Mifflin and Company and scientists can be literary authors too, gosh dang it! Because there is more science wrapped up in here, I found it could be a bit more difficult to understand than some of the other books listed in this post, but it’s still wonderful with great visuals and this book can also be supplemented with podcasts like Ologies and Completely Arbortrary that mix in the importance of fungal associates with a lot fun and endless dashes of humor.
Citations (not linked above)
Lupfer, E. (2001). Before nature writing: Houghton, Mifflin and Company and the invention of the outdoor book, 1800-1900. Book History, 4, pp. 177-204.