This is a book about falling in love with vanishing things
Late Light is the story of Michael Malay's own journey, an Indonesian-Australian-American making a home for himself in England and finding strange parallels between his life and the lives of the animals he examines. Mixing natural history with memoir, this book explores the mystery of our animal neighbours, in all their richness and variety. It is about the wonder these animals inspired in our ancestors, the hope they inspire in us, and the joy they might still hold for our children. Late Light is about migration, belonging and extinction. Through the close examination of four particular 'unloved' animals - eels, moths, crickets and mussels - Michael Malay tells the story of the economic, political and cultural events that have shaped the modern landscape of Britain. For readers of Robert Macfarlane, Raynor Winn and Helen Macdonald, Late Light is a rich blend of memoir, natural history, nature writing, and a meditation on being and belonging, from a vibrant new voice.
I adored this beautiful and thoughtful story of Michael Malay's life in the UK, and how he can chart his relationship with the world through its nature. Recounting how his moves across countries often left him feeling like a migratory bird himself, his utter joy and passion for the natural world is stunningly rendered in this book.
What elevates this book further for me is his ability to draw links to the politics of such a move, and this book is not naive about the very present realities for many people moving across countries. Theresa May's 'hostile environment' for migrants is name-checked explicitly, commenting on how the ways we talk about people and nature can be wildly different, despite the unity we should be feeling.
I received an advance copy of this book from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.
Well that was another sleepless night until 4am so Michael Malay kept me company with his words.
This was a great nature writing book from Malay, looking at nature in general but specifically concentrating on four "unloved" species. His research was thorough and the information conveyed in an interesting and engaging manner. I liked listening about his jaunts to the river Severn and the abandoned coal mines of South Wales, being reminded of how Mother Nature wins out in the end to take back what is rightfully hers.
I liked his perspective of learning about nature as a new immigrant to the country, learning new phrases, names and sayings to understand what he sees, but I don't know if he particularly needed to follow up this idea with references to political issues such as migrant boats, the Windrush scandal and immigration problems. I'm not convinced they have a place in a book about nature.
A 4 star read that kept me going through the last long night of January.
Impulse purchase in an independent bookshop this week - attracted by the cover and title. Once I started reading, I couldn't stop. A lovely meandering read, rather like some of Robert McFarlane's books, but focussing on four endangered creatures in the British Isles which are often overlooked. In the process of discussing the challenges they are facing (all the fault of humanity, it has to be said!) Michael Malay manages to make some strong points about the way people in Britain are losing much of their culture. My favourite chapter was about moths... and libraries. Though-provoking stuff, but an easy midsummer read as well.
I was pleased to host a launch for this book at bookhaus. It is a lyrical work of ecology and nature writing that focuses upon four 'uncharismatic' species, the eel, the moth, the mussel and the cricket, and uses them to tell a story that shows how amazing they are from a non-anthropocentric perspective. It is mostly set around Bristol and the South West, which makes it of additional interest if you are local. I finished reading it and went for a walk on Troopers Hill with my family a couple of days later, which is the place on the front cover of the book.
“The animals I was learning about from friends and reading about in poems, were vanishing. I was discovering a world of disappearing things.”
An educational and immersive piece of nature writing, Late Light is a work that explores the evolving natural landscape of Britain through four “unloved” species: eels, moths, mussels, and crickets. Michael Malay, an Indonesian-American-Australian who now resides in Britain, focuses on these particular species as they formed much of his research during his doctorate. He argues that mankind has always been drawn to prettier/more aesthetic creatures such as butterflies over moths, which has informed what we choose to conserve and neglect. A lack of aesthetic appeal and poor understanding of the roles certain creatures play in the ecosystem has caused entire species to become endangered. This aesthetic bias, in turn, dictates conservation funding and protective efforts for a few select species, which is undoubtedly problematic for the wider ecosystem as “unloved” species are crucial for biodiversity and environmental health. Malay cites the example of the freshwater pearl mussel to demonstrate this: mussels contribute to the health of rivers by filtering and purifying water, yet these are in decline due to pollution, over-abstraction and deforestation. Rivers are not clean enough for mussels to thrive, which is ironic, as mussels help clean rivers naturally and allow sunlight to reach the riverbed. Their lack of visual appeal and long-standing neglect has led to them becoming endangered.
Though discussing the natural landscape, Malay weaves into the narrative the political landscape of Britain and how this impacted not only his perception of Britain as a newcomer, but also the impact environmental laws and regulations have on the natural world. Politics shapes every facet of society, including nature. Much like the migration of the species mentioned in this book, Malay’s own migration to Britain meant that he, too, had to adjust to a new environment. Having arrived in Britain at age 21 to study, he had to pick up on cultural subtleties, social mores and complex politics. His initial infatuation with Britain soured once he learnt more about the latter. From the housing crisis to immigration, to austerity and the dismantling of the welfare state, Malay admits “the illusion shattered”.
His personal adjustment to the British environment mirrors that of our non-human neighbours. Just like people who migrate to Britain, not all species are welcome. Obstructions such as barricaded waterways reflect political borders—12,000 miles of fencing and a million obstructions in rivers across Europe impede the movement of creatures such as eels.
“Pulling at the edges of our maps, eels stretch them into new shapes, showing us more generous ways of imaging the world.”
The discussion around politics also ties into the impact capitalism has on the natural world. Malay highlights how economic systems drive ecological degradation. Modern society disconnects people from nature, causing us to forget or ignore the impact of economic systems on the environment. Living in a capitalist society means we are often too overworked and burnt out to appreciate nature or contribute to conservation efforts. The book is full of statistics pertaining to land loss and species endangerment, instilling a sense of uncertainty about our future. He states that Britain is one of the most nature-depleted countries in the world, making our bleak landscape even bleaker. A particular statistic that stood out is related to austerity and funding cuts—a startling 773 libraries closed between 2010 and 2019. Limited budgets mean that both public services such as libraries and biodiversity efforts are overlooked. Habitats that moths, for example, rely on, such as wetlands and grasslands, have been destroyed due to urbanisation and transformation into agricultural land.
Throughout the book, Malay implores the reader to reflect on his or her own relationship with the natural world, to take a closer look at what is in our immediate proximity and appreciate how the ecosystem works in harmony and unison.
“We are here thanks to the gifts of others and the gift of life itself."
This heartening excerpt evokes a deep sense of gratitude to the animals and insects we live with side by side—creatures that make the world livable in ways we seldom realise. It equally evokes a sense of guilt when we ponder upon how so much of the natural landscape has been destroyed and exploited for economic benefit. I couldn’t help but connect this to the ecocide occurring in places such as Palestine. Record high levels of pollution and ecocide committed by the Israeli occupation surpasses that of any other environmental destruction in recent human history. From the contamination of water, to the bombing of arable land and olive groves, to the planting of invasive foreign species, to the construction of settlements, to air pollution from constant shelling, one would think that a “God-given” right to a land would, by definition, necessitate protection and preservation as opposed to violent, deliberate destruction (a good book on this topic for anyone interested is Palestinian Walks by Raja Shehadeh).
Though the grey, wet landscape of Britain often looks and feels dismal and uninspiring, Late Light challenges the reader to look beyond, at a world begging to be noticed. It encourages the reader to acknowledge and appreciate the overlooked, the neglected, the unloved. In our pursuit for the picturesque, we often miss what is right on our doorsteps. Beauty is not just found in faraway lands, it can be as close as a local park, river or garden, if only we’d open our eyes.
This was a great read that I think will continue to think about for a long time. Its a thoughtfully written and at times quite personal memoir about someone who becomes fascinated by 'uncharismatic' animals that are threatened by the spectre and ongoing reality of extinction and ecological collapse - we follow them on their investigations and encounters with these creatures and the people who care for them, as they draw parallels and insights that are related back to the chapter themes.
This book is filled with genuinely thought provoking and sometimes quite touching reflections on things like the nature of home, the solace of friendship and community, loss, paying attention to the world outside of yourself, and the plurality of the tragedy taking place under our noses. It's also peppered with lots of very interesting natural and social history that is weaved throughout the memoir, and takes subjects that can seem quite remote and academic (migration patterns, ecology) and not only makes them feel very interesting and immediate but also shows (in a very unsermonising way) how alienated we've become from the natural world.
One of the things that I found most engaging about this book is the way it sometimes perfectly captures that sense of the sublime that an encounter with the natural world can provoke, and that brief sensation of the boundaries of the self and the world bleeding into one another. It achieves this with thoughtful description of experience rather than big rhapsodising monologues. It really captures something about the way our focus and experience of the world shifts, dilates and contracts in the moment as we move through it and encounter it.
Worth saying as well, despite how I may have made it sound, this book is eminently readable, and despite the subject matter it's also by no means a depressing read - a little melancholy perhaps, but after reading it I felt more ready to engage with these issues than I have for several months.
This is a great book. Malay arrives in Bristol from Indonesia and slowly grows into a naturalist’s life in the UK. He brings an attention to detail and new eyes to four overlooked but complex creatures and their place (and ours) in the biosphere, making wider analogies to our lack of care and attention to our vanishing wildlife and how we can come together to make a difference. Very nicely written. I hope he writes more.
I listened to this book, read by the author, and adored it. Malay strikes what feels like the perfect balance (if there is such a thing) between admiring the beauty and strangeness of the world, while at the same time highlighting the troubled times we find ourselves in. We follow him through eel, moth, mussel and cricket as he establishes their plight, alongside his own as a human making choices on this planet. An eloquent and worthwhile book that will stay with me for some time.
A delightful read despite a difficult topic. Michael Malay explores the disapearing natural world through the focus on 4 unassuming, but important, creatures (Eels, Moths, Mussels and Crickets). A recomended read for anyone with an interest or concern for the natural world
This very readable, interesting book belongs to that sparse genre that combines memoir with natural history. It earns its place very effectively.
The author came to England from Australia to study in Bristol, and stayed. As he learnt about the natural world that he encountered in what became his new home, he also realised the many ways in which it has been eroded and continues to be threatened. His account is mainly based around eels, moths, freshwater mussels and crickets, so covering a broad and relatively little-known swathe of the animal kingdom as found in the UK. For each taxon he shows how their populations have been challenged, often through over-exploitation of some kind but more generally through habitat degradation or loss, how they are being studied, and attempts at their restoration, with some examples of success.
He takes this beyond what would have been a fairly conventional account of natural history and conservation by linking each account to aspects of his own life. I found this least successful in the early chapter on eels, where he draws a parallel between the physical obstacles put in place of eel migration, as the creatures try to return to their native spawning grounds, and the administrative (and other) obstacles put in the way of human migrants. I find this analogy rather tenuous and questionable, but his writing evidently reflects aspects of his life, elements of which will be familiar to growing numbers of people in many parts of the world.
Late Light is a captivating exploration of the often-overlooked creatures of the English countryside. Malay delves into the world of "uncharismatic" animals, shedding light on their unique lives and ecological significance. As someone who typically struggles with non-fiction, I was pleasantly surprised by how engaging this book was. Malay’s vivid descriptions and insightful observations brought these creatures to life, making the natural world feel both familiar and extraordinary. The eel's incredible life cycle, for instance, was particularly fascinating. I appreciated the author's subtle social commentary, drawing parallels between the migration of animals and the diverse human population. This connection added a layer of depth to the text, making it more relevant and thought-provoking. While the book is a wonderful celebration of nature, I would have liked to see more concrete suggestions for how readers can contribute to the conservation of these creatures. On completing this book, I felt educated but not inspired. Overall, Late Light is a delightful read that will inspire a newfound appreciation for the natural world. It's a perfect choice for anyone who loves nature, or simply wants to learn more about the creatures that share our planet.
There is a tuna that lives in Willowbank reserve, who started its life somewhere in the waters of Tonga, making a long and tireless journey South to end up in the hills of Te-Whanganui-a-Tara. Pleased to learn that this same migration happens on the exact other side of the world, thanks Michael :)
Everyone should read this book. By focusing on a specific animal each chapter, and then branching from there into discussions on systems ecology, climate change, human impacts on the environment, austerity policy, and how we are approaching the future as only one of the many species on this Earth, this book is beautiful and powerful and accessible. A love letter to the Earth and all its creatures.
I loved the way this book inspired me to see beauty in unexpected places and creatures, and to look differently at the natural world around me. The chapter on pearl oysters I found to be exceptionally beautiful. I especially appreciated Malay’s vulnerability in grappling with living in a liminal time between tragic endings and seeking hope in a future world. Though at times I found the book a little long winded and preachy, overall it profoundly moved me.
An important book for a fragile time for humanity and our planet Earth.
* Winner of the 2024 Wainwright Prize - Nature Writing. This is Michael Malay's memoir as an Indonesian Australian living in England. There is also a mix of natural history as he explores animal behaviour and relates it to his life. Late Light is about migration, belonging and extinction. Through the close examination of four particular 'unloved' animals - eels, moths. crickets and mussels - Michael Malay tells the story of the economic, political and cultural events that have shaped the modern landscape of Britain. Hi appreciation of nature really shines through, opening our eyes to what is really going on whilst still giving hope for change.
A lovely read. More prosaic than most mature books I read, but Michael Malay is an English Literature lecturer. I particularly liked the references to places local to me in Bristol, the Severn river and south Wales. Also quite a different slant in quite a few aspects, such as relating the emigrating eels to immigrants here, their treatment and people's sense of belonging.
A call to recognise that other species exist on this planet whether we acknowledge them or not, that we have a responsibility to them that goes beyond our self-interest and that we lose something of ourselves in losing them. The world is hollowed out. A philosophical book that looks at what exists where we are - crickets, eels, moths, those non-charismatic species that define place - and offers some facts and sometimes solutions but not at the scale of many environmental books of late. This is an intimate book that invites us to look more closely. It integrates poetry and literature naturally as Malay seeks to make sense of the losses and envision a potential future if we can change our point of view enough to then change our behavior
Beautifully written and delivered, Late Light could well be one of the reads of the year. It’s full of sadness and worry about the state of Britain’s natural environment but equally propped up by examples of kindness, warmth and dedication to improvement and sustainability.
Malay has composed this book, it is poetry, and spellbinding too - the language is warm like a summer’s evening but interspersed with the occasional chilly gust so you remember where you are. It has a depth to it, verging on philosophical, that harmonises the state of nature against life itself. It is equally powerful as genteel and will stay with me for a long time.