World of Wonders by Aimee Nezhukumatathil

A collection of essays about the natural world, and the way its inhabitants can teach, support, and inspire us.

As a child, Nezhukumatathil called many places home: the grounds of a Kansas mental institution, where her Filipina mother was a doctor; the open skies and tall mountains of Arizona, where she hiked with her Indian father; and the chillier climes of western New York and Ohio. But no matter where she was transplanted – no matter how awkward the fit or forbidding the landscape – she was able to turn to our world's fierce and funny creatures for guidance.

“What the peacock can do,” she tells us, “is remind you of a home you will run away from and run back to all your life.” The axolotl teaches us to smile, even in the face of unkindness; the touch-me-not plant shows us how to shake off unwanted advances; the narwhal demonstrates how to survive in hostile environments. Even in the strange and the unlovely, Nezhukumatathil finds beauty and kinship. For it is this way with wonder: it requires that we are curious enough to look past the distractions in order to fully appreciate the world's gifts.

These short essays combine appreciation of the wonders of nature with reflections from the author's life and experiences. Often they were VERY short and fragmentary, leading to a wish for more depth and continuity. The author is a poet, and they were similar to lyric poems in prose, which gave them a quirky kind of originality, but also sometimes failed to satisfy.

Lovely, and entirely unlike anything I've read before. Part memoir, part bestiary. Prose, with poetic undertones and charming artwork. Scientific objectivity plus deeply personal reflections, thoroughly infused with wonder. Stir well; let simmer after reading.

Also, TBH, a bit of a stretch at times. Each short chapter is titled after an animal, or plant, or fruit, or a few wild cards (“Monsoon”). Nezhukumatathil riffs on each: she describes them with loving details, draws upon her own experiences with them, ... and then draws a parallel with other parts of her life. These parallels are typically insightful, but occasionally tenuous: I found myself loving the nature info, loving her personal stories, but going ohhhhh....kay..... at some of the connections. Funny thing, though, they ended up being memorable: I remember the touch-me-not and canyon wren and peacock and newt and cassowary, and remember her associations, and reflect back on the personal aspects, the racism and misogyny and insults she's suffered. Which makes the gimmick effective, doesn't it?