Field Notes from The Edge

There has been a real resurgence in nature writing over the last few years, delivering a broad range of material that has been highly variable in style, subject matter and quality. The work of Paul Evans is among the very best of the current crop; in fact his previous book, Herbaceous, is one of the finest pieces of nature writing ever written. Field Notes from The Edge has a lot to live up to because of this, but it does not disappoint.

At its most basic level the book can be said to explore Britain’s hidden wildernesses, the various ‘edges’ that lurk within our wider countryside. Some of these, like Wenlock Edge, are real places, physical features that dominate the landscape. Some of the other ‘edges’ mark boundaries in time, such as the derelict house whose former resident is called forward by the author’s lyrical prose, or the ancient forest only uncovered on the lowest of tides. The past haunts this book and gives the text a sense of otherworldliness; a slightly sinister undertone, which grabs at the reader and is reminiscent of the mysticism that lurks within the prose of that other great nature writer, Edward Thomas.

Evans shares another quality with Thomas, that of beautifully delivered poetic lyricism. Throughout Field Notes from The Edge are lines that are poetry in prose form. From the Wren that ‘… flies across the lane, singing a five-second burst of little bells falling down a well …, to the Gannets that ‘… turn on the black tips of their long white wings like compasses on pilot chart’ the lines deliver clear images to the reader’s imagination. This is an engaging book, and one that draws the reader in and raises questions about our place in the world. The link with the past is particularly powerful in this context and the book remains with you long after you’ve finished turning its pages.

Book reviewed by Mike Toms