A biologist reveals the secret world hidden in a single square meter of forest.
In this wholly original book, biologist David Haskell uses a one-square-meter patch of old-growth Tennessee forest as a window onto the entire natural world. Visiting it almost daily for one year to trace nature’s path through the seasons, he brings the forest and its inhabitants to vivid life.
Each of this book’s short chapters begins with a simple observation: a salamander scuttling across the leaf litter; the first blossom of spring wildflowers. From these, Haskell spins a brilliant web of biology and ecology, explaining the science that binds together the tiniest microbes and the largest mammals and describing the ecosystems that have cycled for thousands—sometimes millions—of years. Each visit to the forest presents a nature story in miniature as Haskell elegantly teases out the intricate relationships that order the creatures and plants that call it home.
Written with remarkable grace and empathy, The Forest Unseen is a grand tour of nature in all its profundity. Haskell is a perfect guide into the world that exists beneath our feet and beyond our backyards.
The Forest Unseen by Haskell scratched just the right itch for me, and pushed all the right buttons.
As documented in some of my previous posts, I have been searching for and enjoying media that can help me relax a bit more effectively. I was entranced by the meditative prose and descriptions in The Sound of a Wild Snail Eating by Bailey, and enthusiastically searched for the next book that would give me a similar vibe. I quickly found Winter World by Heinrich, which I discarded around halfway through. While his descriptions are certainly beautiful and relaxing, he reveals a little too much about some of the queasy and sometimes downright gory methods biologists of his era and before used when learning about the animals they study. I frequently found myself more disgusted than relaxed (for those that have read the book, the turtles of Chapter 11 are when I seriously began to consider putting the book down, and did so soon after).
So, my search continued. Through some online recommendations, I discovered The Forest Unseen and immediately found it to be the perfect combination of natural (as in, of the natural world), reflective, and tranquil. Haskell's prose is absolutely outstanding, with vivid descriptions of the mandala as well as its inhabitants. You can feel through his words the tension he experiences attempting to observe as much as possible while simultaneously minimizing his own footprint in the little forest ring, and the struggle as he confronts the fact that his mere presence there is a disturbance. He communicates this so effectively to the reader. You come away believing that he and the mandala have made a sacrifice, an offering: the sanctity of this natural forest temple disturbed, to offer us human beings a chance to see and appreciate the delicate tapestry of life, death, and balance that we so often take for granted.
While I frankly would have been satisfied with Haskell's tranquil and meticulous descriptions of the mandala in every season, I was deeply moved by his engagement with the philosophical ramifications of his expedition. Even the choice to name the forest space a mandala--invoking the geometric and cosmic shrines found in Eastern philosophies such as Buddhism--is a thoughtful means to remind you with every mention that you are joining him in a sacred space. You are not here to touch, you are here to look; to observe silently; to reflect. And reflect he does. Every chapter masterfully connects a biological or evolutionary principle unveiled by the mandala to a spiritual revelation of the self and the collective nature of humanity.
The book is enjoyable completely on its own merits--Haskell has genuinely created a masterpiece here. As for my quest to find relaxing media, it wildly succeeds. Reading a chapter before falling asleep became a favorite part of my nightly routine, and my biggest complaint about the book was that it ended.
Previously on this blog:
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| Book cover |
