Science writing is rarely both illuminating and entertaining, and that is why this book is exceptional.

Having read many science and nature writers, this was my first experience reading Quammen. I was thrilled. Quammen is a fabulous writer. This book is a collection of Quammen's essays on topics ranging from Sea Cucumber to cockroaches to crows to amimal rights to deserts to rivers to turtles and much more. I doubt if you'll find such a rich, diverse and eclectic collection of natural writings anywhere else. Must read and own.

Quammen's first work in book form is merely a collection of his various magazine articles. You may be slightly annoyed when reading the book in a couple days because some subjects are repeated. But when you realize they appeared 2 or 3 yrs apart in a magazine, its easily excusable. Especially when the writing is so superb, timely (actually ahead of its time, since much of it was written 20+ years ago), interesting and educational. Some of the more dire environmental predictions havent exactly come true (YET), but that does not diminish the urgency of our ecological nightmare.

Read this book as a primer, then read Quammen's "Song of the Dodo," to gain some true knowledge.

Mr. Quammen has made science seem like the most exciting fiction. Finally someone!

I bought this book just before going on a 2 week trip to Chile for scientific research. It surprised me. The essays were often on topics which I thought I had no interest-trout- but Quammen gives the subject an interesting philosphical slant.

I read alot of natural history books and these essays were not the usual style of writing that I have come to expect. Quammen incorporates science, history, and philosophy into his writing. I liked some of the essays so much I wished that he had gone into greater detail! And i will be looking up some of the references he cites at the end of his book! It was a great companion for 4 cloudy nights on a mt in chile.

I picked up 'Natural Acts' at the library's paperback book-swap. I only grabbed it because the first few pages seemed a bit humorous and witty. Upon further review, I realized that I was dealing with no ordinary author (if any of them can be called ordinary).

David Quammen has an unparalleled flair for putting nature in its place. By the end of 'Natural Acts' you'll be happily convinced that this world is as mystical and comical as you thought it was.

Some of my favorite topics in the book include (in my own words): The (exaggerated)Size of Anacondas, The Intelligent Crow, Why Are There So Many Damned Beetles?, and that whole 'Why Would Someone Drink Their Own Urine?' thing.

'Natural Acts' is a very intelligent and hilarious look at nature. I routinely recommend this book to anyone I find remotely interested in science.

I couldn't disagree more with the negative comments of your first reviewer. I devoured the text of this book and only hope that Mr. Gorman will continue to provide us with his thoughtful insights into the beautiful and historically important places this book makes accesible. His prose captures the imagination, and demonstrates Gorman's appreciation of and respect for the wonderful locations he has chosen for his subjects. The photographs Mr. Gorman has taken are, in a word -- spectacular. Any collector of photography, or anybody who shares Mr. Gorman's evident passion for nature and history will cherish this book. I am planning on giving copies of this book to all of my friends and family who are outdoor enthusiasts this holiday season.

Usually, I am leery, at best, about people who regard themselves as qualified to attempt to shape, influence, or form broad opinion about art. I find that more personal critiques of art (such as opinions shared by friends who have common interests) usually prove more palatable and valid. This is especially true when the art form in question is literary. An individual's collected experiences lend to a unique, and completely valid vantage or perspective when surveying literary terra incognita. Hence, more often than thinking about a book as being "bad or "good," I tend to think of books and their readers as being well- or ill-paired. After reading Ms. Ross's review of Mr. Gorman's book, The American Wilderness: Journeys into Distant and Historic Landscapes, I immediately thought Ms. Ross an ill-suited audience for this book. In her critique, I felt a significant injustice had been committed and felt that I would be committing a greater disservice to my fellow outdoorsmen, conservationists, and environmentalists, if I did not speak in favor of this book.

Succinctly stated, Mr. Gorman's book is brilliant! The photographs are, at least, gallery quality and the prose, quite near sublime. The book is an epiphany for the wilderness aesthete, for those few who are still capable of being profoundly moved by the beauty of the simple façade and the complex underpinnings of nature. I imagine Mr. Gorman as a modern-day Thoreau, complete with zoom lens, extolling the virtues of one of our last true Public Goods (the American wilderness). Often, it seems that Wilderness Advocates, like Mr. Gorman, speak to an indifferent or hostile audience. Having said all this, I believe that one must approach such a book with some intellectual curiosity and preferably the potential for appreciation, maybe even some great love or admiration of nature. Otherwise, one's comments are strictly academic, only as valid as the observations of an atheist on the nature of faith. Those who tend to agree with Ms. Ross's assertion that "... Perhaps nature is by nature boring," would probably be better-off proceeding to the "murder-mysteries" aisle. For everyone else, this is an insightful, well-conceived survey of the American wilderness.

This is a wonderful book. Unlike many other photo-essay/coffee table books, the prose is of the same high quality as the photographs. Indeed Mr. Gorman's writing is as light, airy and fresh as the snow beneath his skis during one of his midwinter telemark expeditions. His narrative is peppered with poignant historical sketches on the people and events that breathe so much life into the places he visits. These diversions add life and serve to frame his writings. Witness his harrowing descriptions of valorous US servicemen staring death squarely in the eye during the Battle of Midway. Similarly, his lively profiles of the picaresque outlaws and wanderers who have found refuge in the harsh landscapes of the Everglades and the Missouri Breaks add a heartbeat to such inhospitable regions. That Mr. Gorman finds wonder and beauty in these places and their people and so successfully communicates these feelings with pen and camera is a testament to his abilities as a writer, photographer, naturalist and historian.

Before becoming a respected nature writer, David Quammen wrote two excellent thrillers: 'The Soul of Viktor Tronko' and 'The Zolta Configuration'. Both are well-written, with cerebral, complex plots, and feature highly-educated protagonists and science-oriented backdrops. 'Zolta' deals with atomic espionage, emigre physicists and Vietnam veterans. It's more exciting and a quicker read than the also outstanding 'Tronko'. I've lent out my ancient yellowed copy, and hope to get it back!

i had to read this book for my ecology class in college. it was probably the first text outside of literature class that i actually enjoyed reading; it didn't seem like homework. it made me laugh too. i don't even like science that much, but i really enjoyed reading this.

David Quammen's Song of the Dodo led me in search of his other writings. The first reward of that quest was this book. A collection of essays from an illustrious writer with keen perception, Quammen casts his perceptive eye on a range of topics from arachnids to zoology. While an anthology lacks Song's comprehensive view, these articles are timeless. Quammen's writing evokes many levels of emotional and intellectual response.

The Introduction sets the tone: "A Mouse Is Miracle Enough". From this opening we tour the wonders of nature, with a couple of side trips to observe that strangest of animals, Homo sapiens. Quammen's gaze never ceases surveying the landscape in presenting us with things we didn't know or aspects of viewing we've not considered. While the very squeamish may balk at close examination of black widow spiders, spoon worms or scorpions, Quammen is adept at taking us gently to these confrontations. As he does, he asks us to reconsider our viewpoint of these and other creatures. We must learn to deal with "faces unlike ours" and shed prejudices even if shedding the fears is more difficult. Changing fear into respect is the first step in acknowledging our sharing this planet with other creatures and stepping back from the destructive role we've adopted.

Respect for life is the underlying theme of all Quammen's nature writings. His "sidelong view of nature" takes us along remote jungle and desert paths to watch and record life's activities. While we like to set ourselves apart from the rest of life, Quammen, with facile pressure, pulls us along with him to observe our cousins. And ourselves. Deserts, it seems, are a haven for more than scorpions and Beaded Lizards. Among the many nocturnal animals hiding from the desert sun is a bipedal hominid. In this instance, the animals are groups of refugees seeking sanctuary in a hostile environment. Quammen's account of Guatemalan refugees and their mentors, also intelligent chimpanzees risk much to support and succor them. It's not a pleasant story, nor one any American can read without remorse. Quammen has made a sharp turn here from his usual investigations of nature's secrets. Refugee running is every bit as much a secret as nature offers, but with what humans are pleased to call a "moral issue". Quammen relates how well we've addressed that issue.

These personal essays are a delight to read. Quammen takes some serious scientific information and then filters it through his humorous perspective and draws some interesting conclusions. All the essays are short but they are provocative and well written. Gee, how come I never had a biology teacher like this!

Reading the fascinating twenty-six essays that make-up this book is the closest I have come to riding a rhino. David Quammen's fantasies are exhilarating; and he knows how to pen them down.
The lives of these essays revolved around those of octopus, beetles, and bats: before assuming a cosmic dimension.
This book is a fine collection of fictions, which will please most fantasy lovers.
However, some parts of it appeared more or less shallow. Still, it's worth the time that any willing reader would like to invest on it.

There's really little wonder why Quammen is one of the greatest writers of the natural world. He brings out his experiences, and the science of things so eloquently and entertainingly. You'll finish The Boilerplate Rhino - which is really a collection of 25 of his best column articles from Outside magazine - in a few sittings .
Quammen's nose for news keeps him on his toes in discovering the reality of the natural world. He won't rest till he's seen or investigated or read up tremendously (Quammen is immensely well read) on a subject he gets a little keen on. THAT is what keeps the reader hooked onto his writings, experiencing an involvement, thereby taking yet another step into the beautiful world we still know so little about.
You will enjoy The Boilerplate Rhino as Quammen takes you on his journeys into places as far out as the Sundas to as intimate as your very own backyard.

Reading Quammen is like meeting a fascinating fellow in a bar who is really smart, tells great stories and is fun to listen to. Quammen's area of storytelling is the world of nature, from ants to rhinos. Some nature books are heavy slogging (EOWilson's "Consilience" comes immediately to mind) but Quammen writes page-turners. The chapters in the book appeared earlier as columns in Outside magazine.

*The Song of the Dodo* is a very long book on what some of us believe to be a vitally important subject, the ongoing loss of worldwide bioversity. Anyone interested in the fate of the world's wild creatures and yes, the fate of the world itself should read it and will likely enjoy it.

David Quammen does an exemplary job of leading his readers through almost two centuries of significant ideas and debates related to "island biogeography," a subject which is a lot more interesting and certainly a lot more significant than it might sound. Begining with the fascinating story of the Darwin vs. Wallace story vis-a-vis "who really came up with the theory of evolution first?" Quammen goes on to explain and illustrate just why the biogeography of islands is so important to any consideration of biodiversity and wildlife conservation for the world as a whole.

In weaving this historical narrative, Quammen doesn't just encapsulate theories (though he does this in some detail), he takes his reader into the field where the sometimes abstract principles behind diversity/rarity/extinction are actually demonstrated through the predicaments faced by various creatures. Quammen ventures to the Aru Islands, the Galapagos, Madagascar, Guam, Tasmania, Mauritius, Barro Colorado Island in Panama, the Amazonian rain forest, and on and on. It's a veritable world tour of places where rare and endangered animals struggle for existence in a world where human encroachment is causing an alarming acceleration in the rate of species extinction.

Through his mostly fascinating discussion of places, species, and biologeographical theories and the people behind those theories, Quammen shows an unusual ability to restate abstruse ideas in clear and understandable terms. He also writes with humor, a gentle and humane world-view, and an excellent eye for empirical detail.

For me, the most painful chapter was "Rarity Unto Death," in which he recounts selected stories revealing how various animals (and peoples) have been lost to extinction. The discussions of the extinction of the dodo and other wild creatures are terribly sad; the horrifying tale of the demise of the Tasmanian aborigines is heart-rending and infuriating.

In the end, Quammen's workmanlike effort establishes a "big picture" demonstrating how small, isolated ecosystems render their wild inhabitants increasingly vulnerable to extinction. We come to see that the biological notion of "islands" applies increasingly not just to small land bodies surround by water, but to more and more of our continental ecosystems as they are carved up into isolated pockets of habitat through human encroachment and development. Indeed, increasingly, the world's ecosystems are composed of various kinds of "islands," a situation that threatens to result in catastrophic losses of biodiversity over time.

That the situation is not entirely hopeless for all creatures is shown by the remarkable, human-aided recovery of the Mauritius kestrel, rescued in recent years from the very brink of extinction. But certainly the message overall delivered by Quammen is not a comforting or upbeat one.

In a book of this length and scope, there inevitably will be sections that particular readers may not like. I found the chapter on theorists McArthur and Wilson a bit pedantic and boring in places, partly due to the very abstruse nature of their mathematical theories. However, it also irked me a bit that Quammen took such an awe-filled, uncritical attitude here, particularly in his worshipful presentation of his audience with the Great Man, Edward O. Wilson. Wilson is a towering figure in the history of biology and biography, certainly but a few words of criticism might have been in order here. Yes, the leftist activitists of the mid-seventies were out of line in pouring water on Wilson's head at a scientific meeting and their accusations toward him vis-a-vis his theories of sociobiology were shrill and excessive. But the truth is that some of Wilson's human-related "speculations" in the final chapter of his book on sociobiology *were* overreaching, inappropriate, and yes, foolish, and he deserved some of the criticism he received. In providing a discussion of the furor raised by the mathematical grand theorizing proposed by MacArthur and Wilson and other scientists beginning in the sixties, Quammen also could have pointed out that the often emotional debate over "mathematical modeling" vs. "detailed, real world empirical research" took place (and in some ways, continues) not just in the biological sciences but in a large number of academic fields. Whereas it's easy to dismiss extremist critics of truly useful mathematical models as narrow-minded or antediluvian, the proliferation of derivative, marginal, and in some cases, fairly useless "quantitative models" has at times threatened to eviscerate various fields of study, emptying them of virtually all attention to empirical detail and rendering them arid and lifeless.

I also was just a tad disappointed in the book's final section, where Quammen pays all too short shrift, in my view, to the question of "so what?" as it relates to the ongoing loss of world biodiversity. He makes the point that human encroachment is creating mass extinctions, but really doesn't drive home his thoughts as to why urban dwellers with no plans to visit the rainforest or the Galapagos should really care. I guess to Quammen the tragedy represented by this trend is self-evident, but what's really frightening to some of us is just how easy it is for people to live out their lives without ever having to give a darn about these broad, long-term issues of biodiversity. The question, "Why should people care?" needed atleast a bit more attention, I think.

Overall, however, this is a fine, readable, well-crafted, and wonderful book. I salute David Quammen for his accomplishment.

I've just finished David Quammen's book, _The Song of the Dodo: Island Biogeography in the Age of Extinctions_, and want to give it my highest recommendation. It is the best book I've read in the last year, and I've read about 70 books in the last year.

Quammen is a nature/science writer who's written for Harper's, Esquire, and Rolling Stone. This book is about island biogeography: that is, the study of the evolution, life history, and (especially) extinction of organisms on islands. By "island" Quammen means both the literal island (Mauritius, Madagasgar, etc.) and more figurative interpretations of island, such as the "sky islands" of Arizona. The book's central theme is the work of E. O. Wilson and Robert MacArthur on island biogeography.

Many pop science writers are content to give a superficial survey of an area, but not Quammen. He's done his homework. He interviewed many of the major players and spent time with them in the field. In order to write this book, he's traveled to Madagasgar, to Mauritius, to the Amazon, to the Komodo islands, and in the book's lyrical ending, to the Aru Islands to catch a glimpse of the king bird of paradise (Cincinnurrus regius). (Along the way he is nearly attacked by a Komodo dragon and mugged in Rio de Janeiro.) He's read the scientific literature and is conversant with it. The bibliography alone takes up 24 pages of single spaced tiny type, out of a 700-page book.

My only complaint about the book is the dismissive and apologetic way Quammen introduces the (very small) amount of mathematics the book contains. There's no reason to apologize for mathematics; it's one of the best ways we have to model the real world. But, being a mathematician, I am somewhat biased.

This book is fascinating, addictive, lyrical, suspenseful, and scientifically accurate. It's also a great place for an amateur (such as me) to get started reading the original scientific literature on the subject. I strongly recommend it to anyone interested in ecology, evolution, or geography. If my amateur's recommendation isn't enough, the book's jacket contains endorsements from E. O. Wilson, Thomas Lovejoy, and Jonathan Weiner.

Jeffrey Shallit, Computer Science, University of Waterloo, Waterloo, Ontario N2L 3G1 Canada shallit@graceland.uwaterloo.ca URL = http://math.uwaterloo.ca/~shallit/

That's what David Quammen says island biogeography is all about. Unintentionally he is also describing his own book. Some of the quirks of nature catalogued here are surf-diving iguanas, pygmy hippos, the Kakapo (world's largest parrot - flightless and nocturnal), and the Komodo dragon with its septic saliva. Biogeography is "the study of the facts and patterns of species distribution" and islands are "natural laboratories of extravagant evolutionary experimentation." The two together then provide us with a scientific methodology for explaining the superlatives of island life.

THE SONG OF THE DODO does just that in a very readable and thorougly enjoyable way. Islands have played a primary role in the development of the theory of evolution, so we should not be surprised to find out that pioneers such as Alfred Russell Wallace, Joseph Hooker and, most famously Charles Darwin, were all island hoppers. Mr Quammen takes us on an excursion of islands, retracing some of these journeys of discovery. We visit Indonesia, the Midriff islands in the Gulf of California, the Galapagos islands, Guam, Madagascar and Tasmania.

We learn the science of the subject: the "signature features" of island species, their dispersal ability, adaption radiation and size change ratios. One of these patterns is that, on islands, mammals are usually small and reptiles are huge. Case in point of the latter: the 10 foot, 200 lb Komodo dragon. The species/area relationship, and its equation, get a bit of attention. All science has its revolutionary moments and Mr Quammen sees the creation of the equation as island biogeography's moment, leading to a signal event - the publishing of THE THEORY OF ISLAND BIOGEOGRAPHY by Robert MacArthur and Edward O Wilson.

The book is part travelogue, biography, history of evolution, and pure popular science writing. The discussion jumps about, not in confusion, but in recognition of the many people and places that have had an influence on the emergence of island biogeography as a field of study. A corollary of this is that island biogeography has a lot to say about events taking place today in many areas of the world. Extinction events of the past: the demise of the Tasmanian tiger, passenger pigeon, and the Dodo, are all explained. So too are current events such as the massive die off of local fauna taking placing on Guam. Ecosystem decay is its euphemistic name and it's happenening all around us. Mr Quammen closes with a discussion of what island biogeography has to offer for conservation management.

"Nature and books belong to the eyes that see them" (Ralph Waldo Emerson)

Mr Quammen knows of what Emerson speaks; can we too learn to see nature? THE SONG OF THE DODO is just the book to help us do that.

Jane Camerini's slender anthology of Wallace's writings (and writings about him) is intended to provide an introduction to the great naturalist, primarily through his adventures in the field. Camerini has chosen a format for presenting this information very similar to that provided by another Wallace scholar, Barbara Beddall, whose "Wallace and Bates in the Tropics" was published way back in 1969. Camerini supplements excerpts from four books with her own introductory commentaries and a few additional Wallace essays, hoping that this will give the reader unfamiliar with his accomplishments some feel for them. I think she succeeds in this endeavor. The book is well organized and presented, including a number of interesting photos and figures, and Camerini's editorial commentaries are mostly right on target. Yet I cannot help but feel the brevity of the treatment will leave some readers puzzled. I'm not sure that the decision to include several essays of a more technical nature in a 200 page work was well advised; the gap between the fieldwork studies and Wallace's thought is considerable--not unfathomable, but not straightforward either--and the average reader may need more help than Camerini gives to appreciate the transition. Alternately, it might have been interesting to dwell strictly on the field studies--incorporating a greater diversity of excerpts--and then merely to refer to his future philosophical directions in a page or two of editorial comment at the end. Still, an interesting contribution to Wallace studies, and one which is likely to both complement and not duplicate the several others that will be appearing over the next months.

Jane Camerini has performed a great service to all who are
interested in evolutionary theory. Wallace deserves to be
regarded as the co-founder of the modern theory of evolution.
He also wrote on a wide range of scientific and social topics.
Camerini's introductory remarks to each of the essays in this
collection help put them in their context.

It's a spy-thriller type book, the story of a journalist who starts rooting around in CIA affairs, trying to find the truth about a man named Viktor Tronko. Tronko was a Soviet, who may have been a defector, or maybe a ruse; in any case he told the Americans some pretty important information. If they believe it. The novel swarms with characters, all of them realistic and lifelike, all imaginative. Although the facts and people become confusing after awhile, the end is very satisfying and definately worth reading to. It's also amusing that Quammen wrote a novel wherein the main character is a middle-aged journalist who enjoys writing about nature (and through that about people) and has a fetish for Eugene Marais. The writing is very good, the story although confusing is interesting.

I read this book several years ago. One of the better, more cerebral espionage books I've ever read. Been trying to find his other spy book (i.e., "Zolta"), but its out of print. Too bad the author does not appear to be writing this type of fiction anymore--while his nature stuff is good, I'd love to see him fill the void left by Adam Hall.

I wouldn't recommend this as a first book for those who are interested or curious about Muir (try _My First Summer in the Sierra_ or _1000 Mile Walk_), but it gives a lot of insight, for me at least, on why Muir turned out the way he did. He had a cruel, strict father and had to endure a lot of pain and hardship, which made his latter wilderness travels so much easier and free in comparison.

John Muir, one of the great leaders of the ecological movement in America, tells of growing up on a farm in Wisconsin. He gives detailed information about the wildlife he sees growing up, which is interesting but does get a bit tedious. It was interesting to learn how Muir became interested in being an inventor; before reading this book I hadn't known of his inventions. It gives some insights into how he came to love and appreciate nature, and hints at his later desire to protect all things wild. Near the end of the book he writes, "I wandered away on a glorious botanical and geological excursion, which has lasted nearly fifty years and is not yet completed, always happy and free, poor and rich, without thought of a diploma or of making a name, urged on and on through endless, inspiring, Godful beauty." Certainly Muir's writing recalls Thoreau, and his spirit has lived on through the writings of such diverse people as Rachel Carson, Jack Kerouac, and Adolph Murie. This book is not one of his classics, but if you're interested in Muir or life on the plains before they became completely tamed, it's worth reading.

The central symbol of Muir's abusive father is the father's decision to become a lay preacher, and thus his determination to study the Bible all day, while dumping all the farm chores on young John. This puts John at the bottom of a new well, hacking through the rocky ground in search of water. While the holy father urges him on between inspirational readings. One wonders if the father was reading of Jesus's encounter with the woman at the well, offering himself as the living water.

John concluded it's time to get the heck out of Wisconsin and away from his dad, to roam around the mountains and forests of the great unexplored Western U.S., appreciating the water where God placed it in plain view.

Muir's experience of being forced to work like a Calvinist, while his dad sat around like a pietist, presents a juxtaposition which can be applied to other relationships we all come across in our lives. That, and the lesson that you need not be a perpetual victim of a rotten childhood. Muir certainly overcame it.