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Is a River Alive?
Goodreads Choice Award
Nominee for Readers' Favorite Nonfiction (2025)The renowned nature writer and author of the best-selling author of Underland delivers a revelatory book that transforms how we look at the natural world—and life itself.
Hailed as “a naturalist who can unfurl a sentence with the breathless ease of a master angler” (Holly Morris, New York Times), Robert Macfarlane brings his glittering style to a profound work of travel writing, reporting, and natural history. Is a River Alive? is a joyous exploration into an ancient, urgent that rivers are living beings who should be recognized as such in imagination and law. Macfarlane takes readers on three unforgettable journeys teeming with extraordinary people and to the miraculous cloud-forests and mountain streams of Ecuador, to the wounded creeks and lagoons of India, and to the spectacular wild rivers of Canada—imperiled by mining, pollution, and dams. Braiding these journeys is the life story of the fragile chalk stream a mile from Macfarlane’s house, which flows through his own years and days. Powered by Macfarlane’s dazzling prose and lit throughout by other voices, Is a River Alive? will open hearts, challenge perspectives, and remind us that our fate flows with that of rivers—and always has.
Hailed as “a naturalist who can unfurl a sentence with the breathless ease of a master angler” (Holly Morris, New York Times), Robert Macfarlane brings his glittering style to a profound work of travel writing, reporting, and natural history. Is a River Alive? is a joyous exploration into an ancient, urgent that rivers are living beings who should be recognized as such in imagination and law. Macfarlane takes readers on three unforgettable journeys teeming with extraordinary people and to the miraculous cloud-forests and mountain streams of Ecuador, to the wounded creeks and lagoons of India, and to the spectacular wild rivers of Canada—imperiled by mining, pollution, and dams. Braiding these journeys is the life story of the fragile chalk stream a mile from Macfarlane’s house, which flows through his own years and days. Powered by Macfarlane’s dazzling prose and lit throughout by other voices, Is a River Alive? will open hearts, challenge perspectives, and remind us that our fate flows with that of rivers—and always has.
384 pages, Kindle Edition
First published May 1, 2025
1753 people are currently reading
46576 people want to read
About the author
Robert Macfarlane
117 books4,413 followersRobert Macfarlane is a British nature writer and literary critic.
Educated at Nottingham High School, Pembroke College, Cambridge and Magdalen College, Oxford, he is currently a Fellow of Emmanuel College, Cambridge, and teaches in the Faculty of English at Cambridge.
Robert Macfarlane is the author of prize-winning and bestselling books about landscape, nature, people and place, including Mountains of the Mind: A History of a Fascination (2003), The Wild Places (2007), The Old Ways (2012), Holloway (2013, with Stanley Donwood and Dan Richards), Landmarks (2015), The Lost Words: A Spell Book (with the artist Jackie Morris, 2017) and Underland: A Deep Time Journey (2019). His work has been translated into many languages, won prizes around the world, and his books have been widely adapted for film, television, stage and radio. He has collaborated with artists, film-makers, actors, photographers and musicians, including Hauschka, Willem Dafoe, Karine Polwart and Stanley Donwood. In 2017 he was awarded the EM Forster Prize for Literature by the American Academy of Arts and Letters.
Educated at Nottingham High School, Pembroke College, Cambridge and Magdalen College, Oxford, he is currently a Fellow of Emmanuel College, Cambridge, and teaches in the Faculty of English at Cambridge.
Robert Macfarlane is the author of prize-winning and bestselling books about landscape, nature, people and place, including Mountains of the Mind: A History of a Fascination (2003), The Wild Places (2007), The Old Ways (2012), Holloway (2013, with Stanley Donwood and Dan Richards), Landmarks (2015), The Lost Words: A Spell Book (with the artist Jackie Morris, 2017) and Underland: A Deep Time Journey (2019). His work has been translated into many languages, won prizes around the world, and his books have been widely adapted for film, television, stage and radio. He has collaborated with artists, film-makers, actors, photographers and musicians, including Hauschka, Willem Dafoe, Karine Polwart and Stanley Donwood. In 2017 he was awarded the EM Forster Prize for Literature by the American Academy of Arts and Letters.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 770 reviews
May 8, 2025
I suppose you want a review of the book, hang on a bit... This is the ninth Macfarlane book I’ve read and it’s been fascinating to watch his progress. I haven’t read them in the right order, but as you journey through his five ‘great’ books (no disrespect to the others) Mountains of the Mind, The Wild Places, The Old Ways, Underland and Is a River Alive, you can feel him growing into his writer-self, inhabiting it more fully and confidently.
All these five books contain the same joy of stories and storytelling, fascinating people and facts, quotes and references, anecdotes and theories, poetry and music, passion and earnestness. Mountains is wonderful, but lacks the balance of later books. You could be forgiven for thinking, while reading Wild places and Old ways, here is a writer at the peak of his powers. And then he hits you with Underland. And you think oh my goodness, wow. That is unbeatable. Which could be a bit of a curse for a writer.
But no, he has hit cruising altitude, he has our attention, and his voice in Is a river alive has confidence and authority. The book is less episodic and more thematic. It has all the best elements of any Macfarlane book. Memorable characters, memorable scenes, memorable stories. It balances despair and hope, and is an Important Book. But ultimately, it’s a wonderful read. He’s done it again.
All these five books contain the same joy of stories and storytelling, fascinating people and facts, quotes and references, anecdotes and theories, poetry and music, passion and earnestness. Mountains is wonderful, but lacks the balance of later books. You could be forgiven for thinking, while reading Wild places and Old ways, here is a writer at the peak of his powers. And then he hits you with Underland. And you think oh my goodness, wow. That is unbeatable. Which could be a bit of a curse for a writer.
But no, he has hit cruising altitude, he has our attention, and his voice in Is a river alive has confidence and authority. The book is less episodic and more thematic. It has all the best elements of any Macfarlane book. Memorable characters, memorable scenes, memorable stories. It balances despair and hope, and is an Important Book. But ultimately, it’s a wonderful read. He’s done it again.
June 9, 2025
Robert Macfarlane's latest work reads like the breathless account of someone who has just discovered that water is wet. His excitement about the "revolutionary" idea that rivers and landscapes are alive is genuine and infectious, but it lacks the humility one might expect from someone stumbling upon wisdom that indigenous peoples have carried for millennia.
The central thesis—that we should recognize rivers as living entities deserving legal rights—is presented as if Macfarlane himself has unearthed some profound new understanding of our relationship with the natural world. What he's actually describing, of course, is animism: the participatory experience of nature that comes from generations of elders passing detailed knowledge of place to their people. This understanding, essential for survival before written language freed (or severed) knowledge from specific locations, recognized everywhere that humans weren't the only beings to communicate, learn, and know.
He travels to the mountains of Ecuador to visit the cloud forest, to India to work all night rescuing sea turtle eggs on the beach in Chennai, and makes a ten-day kayak trip down an enormous lake and a wild river in Quebec, Canada. His descriptions of these adventures are fabulous: the characters he encounters and comes to know and love, the beauty and grandeur of the days spent there.
What becomes increasingly difficult to stomach, however, is the staggering hypocrisy woven throughout Macfarlane's global pilgrimage. He jets between continents on aluminum aircraft powered by fossil fuels, drives rental cars to remote locations, and uses mass-produced equipment—all while delivering righteous condemnations of the very industrial systems that make his journey possible. His kayak didn't manifest from river stones and good intentions. The steel, aluminum, petroleum products, and synthetic materials that enable his adventure exist because of the mines, factories, and extraction industries he so vehemently opposes.
This isn't merely intellectual inconsistency—it's a profound failure to grapple with the actual complexity of modern existence. His childlike rage at companies like Hydro Quebec (which produces electricity without greenhouse gas emissions) or Ecuadorian mining operations reveals a startling naivety about the interconnected systems that provide him with clothing, shelter, food, and even the paper his books are printed on.
Macfarlane champions constitutional rights of nature as a legal panacea, citing Ecuador's pioneering framework with the fervor of a true believer. But the evidence from Ecuador itself tells a more sobering story. Despite enshrining nature's rights in their constitution since 2008, Ecuador's economy remains fundamentally unchanged: oil still accounts for roughly one-third of government revenue, mining exports hit record highs in 2022 at $2.8 billion, and analysts predict mining will become the country's third-largest export by 2025.
The much-celebrated Los Cedros case—where constitutional rights blocked a mining project—represents an isolated victory rather than systemic change. Meanwhile, illegal gold mining has consumed 1,600 hectares of forest, and the government actively promotes mining expansion worth billions in investment. The uncomfortable truth is that Ecuador's extractive economy continues expanding despite constitutional rights of nature.
Macfarlane's genuine love for rivers and landscapes shines through every page, and his desire to protect them is admirable. But his overly enthusiastic advocacy for rights of nature as a silver bullet solution reveals a troubling disconnect from both political realities and conservation history.
Macfarlane makes essentially no mention of the massive conservation achievements that preceded his insight about the more than human world. While the global rights of nature movement claims roughly 150 mostly symbolic initiatives, conventional conservation has actually protected over 5.6 billion acres of land—more than 100,000 protected areas covering 17.6% of Earth's terrestrial surface. In the United States alone, land trusts have conserved 61 million acres through conservation easements and land acquisition—an area larger than all 63 national parks combined.
These aren't feel-good constitutional declarations but enforceable legal mechanisms with proven track records. The U.S. Endangered Species Act has prevented major damage for decades. The Clean Water Act routinely blocks or modifies development that harms our water. Land trusts, conservation easements, marine protected areas, wilderness designations, and international treaties have created a vast global infrastructure of environmental protection that operates through property law, regulatory frameworks, and institutional capacity rather than legal personhood for rivers.
The scale of the disparity is staggering: conventional protected areas cover literally millions of times more territory than rights of nature initiatives have demonstrably conserved. A single mechanism—conservation easements and land trust holdings in just the United States—protects more land than the entire global rights of nature movement combined. Yet Macfarlane writes as if environmental protection began with his philosophical awakening, ignoring the pragmatic, effective work of generations of conservationists who understood that protecting nature requires more than constitutional language—it demands robust institutions, enforceable law, dedicated funding, and sustained political commitment.
Like many passionate advocates, Macfarlane may someday confront the sobering recognition that his earlier certainties were badly informed and sadly impotent to create lasting change. This would be merely personal growth were it not for his considerable platform and compelling prose, which risks leading thousands of readers down the same path of magical thinking that ultimately breeds profound disappointment.
The real tragedy of this beautiful book isn't that rights of nature frameworks don't work—it's that they may distract people who care from grappling with the fundamental economic forces that actually shape land use. The vast majority of Earth's surface is governed by the relentless economic pressures of real estate development and natural resource extraction—legal and financial structures that exist because human societies need places to build and materials to extract. These powerful economic forces don't vanish because of passionate writing and declarations about river personhood, and they're barely constrained even by proven conservation laws with enforcement mechanisms. Even the most successful conservation efforts represent only a fraction of human activity on land.
Rivers are indeed alive in ways that matter. But protecting them will require more than taking a few special places out of the economy by making them parks, or by declaring that they have rights. The hard work ahead involves building on the substantial conservation infrastructure that generations of environmentalists have created. We are going to have to align the realities of human economics with the needs of the living world, rather than chasing the beautiful but naïve romanticism that mistakes philosophical satisfaction for ecological protection.
The central thesis—that we should recognize rivers as living entities deserving legal rights—is presented as if Macfarlane himself has unearthed some profound new understanding of our relationship with the natural world. What he's actually describing, of course, is animism: the participatory experience of nature that comes from generations of elders passing detailed knowledge of place to their people. This understanding, essential for survival before written language freed (or severed) knowledge from specific locations, recognized everywhere that humans weren't the only beings to communicate, learn, and know.
He travels to the mountains of Ecuador to visit the cloud forest, to India to work all night rescuing sea turtle eggs on the beach in Chennai, and makes a ten-day kayak trip down an enormous lake and a wild river in Quebec, Canada. His descriptions of these adventures are fabulous: the characters he encounters and comes to know and love, the beauty and grandeur of the days spent there.
What becomes increasingly difficult to stomach, however, is the staggering hypocrisy woven throughout Macfarlane's global pilgrimage. He jets between continents on aluminum aircraft powered by fossil fuels, drives rental cars to remote locations, and uses mass-produced equipment—all while delivering righteous condemnations of the very industrial systems that make his journey possible. His kayak didn't manifest from river stones and good intentions. The steel, aluminum, petroleum products, and synthetic materials that enable his adventure exist because of the mines, factories, and extraction industries he so vehemently opposes.
This isn't merely intellectual inconsistency—it's a profound failure to grapple with the actual complexity of modern existence. His childlike rage at companies like Hydro Quebec (which produces electricity without greenhouse gas emissions) or Ecuadorian mining operations reveals a startling naivety about the interconnected systems that provide him with clothing, shelter, food, and even the paper his books are printed on.
Macfarlane champions constitutional rights of nature as a legal panacea, citing Ecuador's pioneering framework with the fervor of a true believer. But the evidence from Ecuador itself tells a more sobering story. Despite enshrining nature's rights in their constitution since 2008, Ecuador's economy remains fundamentally unchanged: oil still accounts for roughly one-third of government revenue, mining exports hit record highs in 2022 at $2.8 billion, and analysts predict mining will become the country's third-largest export by 2025.
The much-celebrated Los Cedros case—where constitutional rights blocked a mining project—represents an isolated victory rather than systemic change. Meanwhile, illegal gold mining has consumed 1,600 hectares of forest, and the government actively promotes mining expansion worth billions in investment. The uncomfortable truth is that Ecuador's extractive economy continues expanding despite constitutional rights of nature.
Macfarlane's genuine love for rivers and landscapes shines through every page, and his desire to protect them is admirable. But his overly enthusiastic advocacy for rights of nature as a silver bullet solution reveals a troubling disconnect from both political realities and conservation history.
Macfarlane makes essentially no mention of the massive conservation achievements that preceded his insight about the more than human world. While the global rights of nature movement claims roughly 150 mostly symbolic initiatives, conventional conservation has actually protected over 5.6 billion acres of land—more than 100,000 protected areas covering 17.6% of Earth's terrestrial surface. In the United States alone, land trusts have conserved 61 million acres through conservation easements and land acquisition—an area larger than all 63 national parks combined.
These aren't feel-good constitutional declarations but enforceable legal mechanisms with proven track records. The U.S. Endangered Species Act has prevented major damage for decades. The Clean Water Act routinely blocks or modifies development that harms our water. Land trusts, conservation easements, marine protected areas, wilderness designations, and international treaties have created a vast global infrastructure of environmental protection that operates through property law, regulatory frameworks, and institutional capacity rather than legal personhood for rivers.
The scale of the disparity is staggering: conventional protected areas cover literally millions of times more territory than rights of nature initiatives have demonstrably conserved. A single mechanism—conservation easements and land trust holdings in just the United States—protects more land than the entire global rights of nature movement combined. Yet Macfarlane writes as if environmental protection began with his philosophical awakening, ignoring the pragmatic, effective work of generations of conservationists who understood that protecting nature requires more than constitutional language—it demands robust institutions, enforceable law, dedicated funding, and sustained political commitment.
Like many passionate advocates, Macfarlane may someday confront the sobering recognition that his earlier certainties were badly informed and sadly impotent to create lasting change. This would be merely personal growth were it not for his considerable platform and compelling prose, which risks leading thousands of readers down the same path of magical thinking that ultimately breeds profound disappointment.
The real tragedy of this beautiful book isn't that rights of nature frameworks don't work—it's that they may distract people who care from grappling with the fundamental economic forces that actually shape land use. The vast majority of Earth's surface is governed by the relentless economic pressures of real estate development and natural resource extraction—legal and financial structures that exist because human societies need places to build and materials to extract. These powerful economic forces don't vanish because of passionate writing and declarations about river personhood, and they're barely constrained even by proven conservation laws with enforcement mechanisms. Even the most successful conservation efforts represent only a fraction of human activity on land.
Rivers are indeed alive in ways that matter. But protecting them will require more than taking a few special places out of the economy by making them parks, or by declaring that they have rights. The hard work ahead involves building on the substantial conservation infrastructure that generations of environmentalists have created. We are going to have to align the realities of human economics with the needs of the living world, rather than chasing the beautiful but naïve romanticism that mistakes philosophical satisfaction for ecological protection.
June 17, 2025
An ode to the natural world through travel along three rivers in Ecuador, India and Canada. It is clear that the human vs nature dichotomy is running it's course, but besides a sense of wonder and legal rights as a potential solution I found less fixes than I had hoped upfront
Resources are not, they become
Is a River Alive? is in a sense a non-fiction accompanying piece to There Are Rivers in the Sky by Elif Shafak. Both books invoke a sense of wonder in respect to the water cycle and the broader natural world. Robert Macfarlane travels along three rivers, introducing the reader to the concept of a cloud forest, a broad assortment of passionate nature protectors and an equally myriad number of challenges.
I enjoyed the perspectives on natural rights, granting rivers a similar legal status as a company (which is also clearly a construct) and how this notion is slowly gaining traction. However capitalism (and even in a more benign form the want for economical development) lurks around all corners, not valuing biodiversity and trying to influence the legal process every step along the way. The travels through nature are interesting described and got me wanting to canoe, even though to be honest I would probably not survive following the track of the Magpie river.
More thoughts to follow!
Resources are not, they become
Is a River Alive? is in a sense a non-fiction accompanying piece to There Are Rivers in the Sky by Elif Shafak. Both books invoke a sense of wonder in respect to the water cycle and the broader natural world. Robert Macfarlane travels along three rivers, introducing the reader to the concept of a cloud forest, a broad assortment of passionate nature protectors and an equally myriad number of challenges.
I enjoyed the perspectives on natural rights, granting rivers a similar legal status as a company (which is also clearly a construct) and how this notion is slowly gaining traction. However capitalism (and even in a more benign form the want for economical development) lurks around all corners, not valuing biodiversity and trying to influence the legal process every step along the way. The travels through nature are interesting described and got me wanting to canoe, even though to be honest I would probably not survive following the track of the Magpie river.
More thoughts to follow!
June 27, 2025
I have some fairly minor criticism of this book, but I’m really thankful for getting to spend time with it. It’s wonderful to get to see someone experience the world, literature, and thinking through our lives as he does through these stories. And in the ongoing saga of climate change, I think the perspective about considering the earth is as important as considering us humans - I think it’s more grounded, but also so much more beautiful.
June 9, 2025
Disappointing and quite self-indulgent. By the end a bit vacuous and even a little nauseating.
Note: Landmarks and Underland were very fine books indeed. And I was really looking forward to this one.
He believes far too much in his own writing talent - so many over-worked metaphors and similes that both jarred the narrative and were often counterproductive. Nabokov he ain’t.
His world view is also highly simplistic. Ancient ways good, modern ways bad. Despite the fact that hydroelectric dams are one of the most sustainable ways of producing cost effective energy for growing urban populations over many years - he has nothing positive to say about them - except indicating they would stop privileged people like him having mystical experiences while ‘becoming the river’. I can’t remember if he actually said that but that’s the jist I took away.
There is plenty of good stuff in here too - particularly in the first two river stories, but just not enough genuine substance or balanced critique of the bigger picture eg. he seems to only blame the British empire for the current industrial pollution issues in Chennai with only vague suggestion of current day responsible people or organisations.
Two recently read watery books I would recommend highly above this are:
Sweet Thames Run Softly - Robert Gibbings (not a recent publication by any means!).
Blue Machine - Helen Czerski (a truly excellent piece of work about the worlds ocean - the history, the crimes, the science and the whole length, breadth and depth of it).
Note: Landmarks and Underland were very fine books indeed. And I was really looking forward to this one.
He believes far too much in his own writing talent - so many over-worked metaphors and similes that both jarred the narrative and were often counterproductive. Nabokov he ain’t.
His world view is also highly simplistic. Ancient ways good, modern ways bad. Despite the fact that hydroelectric dams are one of the most sustainable ways of producing cost effective energy for growing urban populations over many years - he has nothing positive to say about them - except indicating they would stop privileged people like him having mystical experiences while ‘becoming the river’. I can’t remember if he actually said that but that’s the jist I took away.
There is plenty of good stuff in here too - particularly in the first two river stories, but just not enough genuine substance or balanced critique of the bigger picture eg. he seems to only blame the British empire for the current industrial pollution issues in Chennai with only vague suggestion of current day responsible people or organisations.
Two recently read watery books I would recommend highly above this are:
Sweet Thames Run Softly - Robert Gibbings (not a recent publication by any means!).
Blue Machine - Helen Czerski (a truly excellent piece of work about the worlds ocean - the history, the crimes, the science and the whole length, breadth and depth of it).
November 19, 2025
From the book blurb I was expecting the main focus of the book to be about rivers - the science about rivers as well as the case for viewing rivers as living beings. I did expect it to include a fair amount of focus on nature in general but not to such a large extent that the premise for the title almost seemed like a “by the way.” From discussions about fungi, sea turtles, whales, moths, etc. to the rights of nature, it would have seemed more apt for the title to be Nature is Alive and Well. Don’t get me wrong, the book is a fount of nature-loving descriptions and has much to absorb for nature lovers, of which I am one. I do declare though, I kept turning the pages hoping for a deep dive into why rivers are alive rather than the reference to people feeling alive and invigorated when they dive and splash around in the river. In the end, while this was a fairly interesting book about nature, the impacts of humans on the environment, and the beauty of the natural world around us, as well as some of the people the author met on his travels, it did fall short on the Is A River Alive question or musing, so a bit disappointing. Many thanks to the author, publisher, and NetGalley for the opportunity to read and review this book.
March 30, 2025
the rain never arrives, but hummingbirds do. they move around and between us with ear-vibrating thrums, shifting so quickly they seem to beat time. they are so gifted and interdimensional that i long to become one. these are the real ores of the forest, i think, its rare earths: the coppers, silvers and golds, all lapped metal and whirring clockwork.robert macfarlane's exceptional prose is equal parts enthralling and exquisite. in his latest book, is a river alive?, the british nature writer travels to three continents, seeking answers to the non-rhetorical titular query. with a chorus of polyvocal replies both non-human and human, is a river alive?'s crucial, timely question seems to all but answer itself. with erudition, adventurousness, and an uncommon depth of listening and breadth of understanding, macfarlane offers a compelling, convincing perspective on the rights of nature.
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February 22, 2025A compilation of descriptors that startled me with their beauty:
“Rain-fed, the spring’s stream surges seaword: gravity at work, or something like longing”
"Far to the north, where glaciers once dragged their bellies”
“Nightshade, magpie cackle, flies scribbling the same message over and over again in floating patches of sun”
“an egret, white as a slice of snow standing stone-still in the exhausted outflow channel”
“The fireflies start it, their orange diodes winking on and off as they drift”
“Mist hangs in scarves. The forest froths with sound"
“hummingbirds” as “interdimensional” (my personal favorite)
“In a wide tub of rock, the river plunges and boils. It is shaped like a natural font"
“algae baizes the water”
“Sun volleys off the waves”
"A half-foot-long dragonfly slips briefly out of the Jurassic era, then vanishes again”
And many more...
“Rain-fed, the spring’s stream surges seaword: gravity at work, or something like longing”
"Far to the north, where glaciers once dragged their bellies”
“Nightshade, magpie cackle, flies scribbling the same message over and over again in floating patches of sun”
“an egret, white as a slice of snow standing stone-still in the exhausted outflow channel”
“The fireflies start it, their orange diodes winking on and off as they drift”
“Mist hangs in scarves. The forest froths with sound"
“hummingbirds” as “interdimensional” (my personal favorite)
“In a wide tub of rock, the river plunges and boils. It is shaped like a natural font"
“algae baizes the water”
“Sun volleys off the waves”
"A half-foot-long dragonfly slips briefly out of the Jurassic era, then vanishes again”
And many more...
November 21, 2025
This was so good. The first book of this author I've read. I tend to prefer women writing about nature, and had a perception that he may have been quite 'England' focused, however, this book is like 3 short books together covering 3 journeys to destinations where he is enquiring into and observing how the Rights of Nature are being dealt with.
Each journey is made in collaboration with others, so pert of the narrative is about those interactions and interests of the extraordinary people he teams up with.
The first section he visit the cloud forest Los Cedros, in part 2 he is in Chennai tracking the 3 rivers and jn part 3 he takes a wild river rafting journey down the Mutehekau Shipu river, with instructions from a local native healer that will make the accomplishment and observations even more meaningful than his initial intentions.
Though there was much to be concerned about, it is still heartening to learn of the passion these have for protecting and learning from the rivers, forests, and the natural environment.
Each journey is made in collaboration with others, so pert of the narrative is about those interactions and interests of the extraordinary people he teams up with.
The first section he visit the cloud forest Los Cedros, in part 2 he is in Chennai tracking the 3 rivers and jn part 3 he takes a wild river rafting journey down the Mutehekau Shipu river, with instructions from a local native healer that will make the accomplishment and observations even more meaningful than his initial intentions.
Though there was much to be concerned about, it is still heartening to learn of the passion these have for protecting and learning from the rivers, forests, and the natural environment.
Read
September 25, 2025Rob Macfarlane went to the same school as I did, though a couple of years above me, so it's entirely possible that he did the same geography field trip my class did, where we visited a river whose name I've long forgotten at its source in the Dark Peak, a slightly less forbidding middle stage, and then its balmy, idyllic lower reaches. If so, while I've forgotten almost all of the details, he's instead produced the widescreen remake, taking in three continents, apocalyptic high stakes, and a cast of ragtag visionaries arrayed against the usual forces of blind destruction*. Despite the many books and expeditions into the wild already under his belt, this also means Rob presenting himself as the everyman interloper, the very British and somewhat perturbed reader identification figure who can thus hopefully usher the perhaps mildly sceptical reader a little further than they expected into territory that's more openly, urgently and fundamentally political than his previous work.
(See also: the title's apparent willingness to meet halfway by being phrased as a question, when there's never really any doubt which answer the book will give)
To be fair, I'm sure it's not wholly an act for even a veteran nature writer to be a bit taken aback by some of the team-mates here. In the book's first section, Rob heads to the Ecuadorean cloud forest with musician Cosmo Sheldrake, whose sampled, looped and layered field recordings of nature sound truly mind-bending even if you're stone cold sober, mid-afternoon in a London park. But their straight-man/hippy oddball dynamic gets another dimension when they're joined by mycologist Giuliana Furci, whose ability to detect specific fungi even in dense woodland brimming with life upon life makes one wonder if she's even being metaphorical when she talks about hearing them. In India, there's Yuvan Aves, who despite a horrific childhood is now sufficiently saintly towards all life that he regards the wasps' nests in his home as an opportunity to live and let live, though they're not always as understanding. And in the final section, an epic row down a wild Canadian river would probably have been quite the grand and intense experience even without the extra complication of several mystical injunctions and the presence of scarred geomancer Wayne Chambliss.
Still, challenging though some of these presences are, they're unquestionably the good guys, the ones attempting to protect and restore landscapes threatened by the usual intersecting blob of financial, political and criminal power out for what it can get. The cloud forest has been narrowly, tentatively saved from shady mining interests; Quebec's hydro-power authority has not formally renounced plans to flood the entire vast valley down which Rob et al spent more than a week travelling; and as for Chennai, the rivers there are pretty much dead already, sacrificed in pursuit of 'growth' which always considers the poor, never mind the non-human, an acceptable sacrifice. This is part of my scepticism regarding the book's spine, the rights of nature movement; yes, on the face of it, legal personhood for rivers (and woods, and non-human creatures...) should go some way to rebalance the absurd, destructive assumptions on which political and economical thinking often rests, or if nothing else at least require the unstated assumptions and default trade-offs be said out loud. But on current form, the legal personhood and already allegedly acknowledged rights of actual persons, sometimes even of nations, often don't seem to count for much next to the truly inalienable rights of our cuckoo-children the corporations. I suppose if nothing else, it's still worth making the case for what we could have held on to, recording places whose ancient, intricate biodiversity makes clear "the error of understanding life as contained within a skin-sealed singleton", so that after humanity continues on its current death-drive regardless, the unlucky survivors can at least have some record of what was lost.
Still, my doomy cavils are clearly doing less to improve the situation than the cast of this book, who, however quixotic their mission, have already achieved at least respites, and significant rulings, and might yet pull off something broader and more systemic. But even at its most determinedly optimistic, I did find Is A River Alive? short on the consolation I normally derive from nature writing. Which, to be clear, is a criticism not of book or author, but of the world which obliged it to be written. Gods know Rob can still write, as in love with words as the world he strives to catch in them; there are especially and appropriately immersive passages for the wild and whirling experience of running rapids, and one truly beautiful passage about paddling across a vast, remote and serene lake at nightfall made me desperately want to do likewise, at least until the blackflies showed up a few pages afterwards.
Oh, and not that I'm saying the East Midlands is a dumping ground on anything like the same scale as the hellscape of Ennore, but I've also found out that somewhere I used to sledge as a kid was likely radioactive, so that was fun.
*Isn't it curious how 'activist' and 'extractivist' define two opposing sides, when you could easily assume the latter were the extra-activist hardcore of the former, slightly abbreviated?
(See also: the title's apparent willingness to meet halfway by being phrased as a question, when there's never really any doubt which answer the book will give)
To be fair, I'm sure it's not wholly an act for even a veteran nature writer to be a bit taken aback by some of the team-mates here. In the book's first section, Rob heads to the Ecuadorean cloud forest with musician Cosmo Sheldrake, whose sampled, looped and layered field recordings of nature sound truly mind-bending even if you're stone cold sober, mid-afternoon in a London park. But their straight-man/hippy oddball dynamic gets another dimension when they're joined by mycologist Giuliana Furci, whose ability to detect specific fungi even in dense woodland brimming with life upon life makes one wonder if she's even being metaphorical when she talks about hearing them. In India, there's Yuvan Aves, who despite a horrific childhood is now sufficiently saintly towards all life that he regards the wasps' nests in his home as an opportunity to live and let live, though they're not always as understanding. And in the final section, an epic row down a wild Canadian river would probably have been quite the grand and intense experience even without the extra complication of several mystical injunctions and the presence of scarred geomancer Wayne Chambliss.
Still, challenging though some of these presences are, they're unquestionably the good guys, the ones attempting to protect and restore landscapes threatened by the usual intersecting blob of financial, political and criminal power out for what it can get. The cloud forest has been narrowly, tentatively saved from shady mining interests; Quebec's hydro-power authority has not formally renounced plans to flood the entire vast valley down which Rob et al spent more than a week travelling; and as for Chennai, the rivers there are pretty much dead already, sacrificed in pursuit of 'growth' which always considers the poor, never mind the non-human, an acceptable sacrifice. This is part of my scepticism regarding the book's spine, the rights of nature movement; yes, on the face of it, legal personhood for rivers (and woods, and non-human creatures...) should go some way to rebalance the absurd, destructive assumptions on which political and economical thinking often rests, or if nothing else at least require the unstated assumptions and default trade-offs be said out loud. But on current form, the legal personhood and already allegedly acknowledged rights of actual persons, sometimes even of nations, often don't seem to count for much next to the truly inalienable rights of our cuckoo-children the corporations. I suppose if nothing else, it's still worth making the case for what we could have held on to, recording places whose ancient, intricate biodiversity makes clear "the error of understanding life as contained within a skin-sealed singleton", so that after humanity continues on its current death-drive regardless, the unlucky survivors can at least have some record of what was lost.
Still, my doomy cavils are clearly doing less to improve the situation than the cast of this book, who, however quixotic their mission, have already achieved at least respites, and significant rulings, and might yet pull off something broader and more systemic. But even at its most determinedly optimistic, I did find Is A River Alive? short on the consolation I normally derive from nature writing. Which, to be clear, is a criticism not of book or author, but of the world which obliged it to be written. Gods know Rob can still write, as in love with words as the world he strives to catch in them; there are especially and appropriately immersive passages for the wild and whirling experience of running rapids, and one truly beautiful passage about paddling across a vast, remote and serene lake at nightfall made me desperately want to do likewise, at least until the blackflies showed up a few pages afterwards.
Oh, and not that I'm saying the East Midlands is a dumping ground on anything like the same scale as the hellscape of Ennore, but I've also found out that somewhere I used to sledge as a kid was likely radioactive, so that was fun.
*Isn't it curious how 'activist' and 'extractivist' define two opposing sides, when you could easily assume the latter were the extra-activist hardcore of the former, slightly abbreviated?
July 8, 2025
Rivers are in crisis across the world, and Robert Macfarlane is writing poetry.
Say one thing about the Green Movement, it is a very broad church. Ranging from reckless activism, spoken word nihilists, critical materialists and stat hardened analysts, there are a lot of people very passionate about protecting the environment. Macfarlane's work has always adopted a narrative-centric perspective, telling stories about the way nature acts and operates in overly sentimental, but moving, ways. His latest, Is a River Alive? misses the mark for my own tastes by quite some distance.
Macfarlane's book focuses on his travels across Ecuador, India, and Canada exploring the Los Cedros, the Adyar, and the Mutehekau Shipu, respectively. These are interesting stories and Macfarlane writes wonderfully. He has an agenda as one of the owners of River Action, in promoting the importance and livelihood of rivers across the globe, but this is transparent from the off.
My biggest issue was the book was the complete lack of tension. Besides one very brief excursion across the Mutehekau Shipu, there is never much mystery or stakes. Macfarlane begins the book in Cambridge, and there is no indication that his quasi-spiritual and endearingly bright eyed view of the importance of rivers on planet earth will be radically different from the start.
Instead, the journey Macfarlane goes on is littered with side characters. Some are more interesting than others, and having listened to this on audiobook I am veering away from ignorantly misspelling names. Josef DeCoux was my favourite of this cast, an environmental lawyer with a gruff attitude who opens up to Macfarlane as they travel through Ecuador's cloud forest. There are a couple of incredibly friendly young men who help steer a boat up the Canadian rivers and teach Macfarlane about the indigenous history of that county. There is a women who journeys into the river very poorly and returns rejuvenated. And there are plenty of others who feel passionately about the sorry state of their home countries rivers, particularly in the incredibly polluted waters running through Chennai.
All of these characters are fine, but again, Macfarlane is presenting people who, generally, have very little room to grow or offer a fresh perspective. Every one of Macfarlane's companions loves rivers and it makes the book seem a little textureless. The caveat here is DeCoux, who really is a great starting point and the Ecuador sections of the book are worth reading on their own.
My other issue with the book is how quasi-spiritual it is. This is much more a personal taste issue than a technical issue. Macfarlane meets a shaman, who the book spends way too long obsessing over. Magic is not something I have much patience for, and Macfarlane pretends to be skeptical at first without any real firepower behind this opinion, which obviously leads the reader to expect the vague and insubstantial prophecies he receives to be fulfilled. On balance, this is a fine position to adopt and I know a lot of very clever people who will really like this approach.
However I found it vague, unsatisfying, full of holes and incredibly simplistic. It is a disappointing tact because Macfarlane is advocating for an incredibly nuanced adaptation of 'legal personality' for rivers throughout this book. In September 2008, Ecuador became the first country to recognise a river's right to personality. in 2017, New Zealand adopted a similar approach and in 2021, the Mutehekau Shipu in Canada was declared a legal person and 'living entity'. The River Ouse in East Sussex, UK, has similarly recognised that river's legal personality.
This is why its is disappointing but very forgivable that Macfarlane adopts such a quasi-spiritual bend to his work. A book about the technical and contentious legal argument behind way MacDonalds and Starbucks are recognised as legal persons, but the Thames, Ribble and Wyre are not, would be fascinating and actually help propel an argument behind way this should not be the case. On the back of reading this book I am in no better position to advocate on behalf of rivers' legal personality than 'they're very beautiful and make people feel good'.
Rivers across the world are in crisis and this was not the book for me. But I really, sincerely hope there are those that find more meaning in the text than I did, because there is a lot in here for someone with a different temperament than me to fall in love with.
Say one thing about the Green Movement, it is a very broad church. Ranging from reckless activism, spoken word nihilists, critical materialists and stat hardened analysts, there are a lot of people very passionate about protecting the environment. Macfarlane's work has always adopted a narrative-centric perspective, telling stories about the way nature acts and operates in overly sentimental, but moving, ways. His latest, Is a River Alive? misses the mark for my own tastes by quite some distance.
Macfarlane's book focuses on his travels across Ecuador, India, and Canada exploring the Los Cedros, the Adyar, and the Mutehekau Shipu, respectively. These are interesting stories and Macfarlane writes wonderfully. He has an agenda as one of the owners of River Action, in promoting the importance and livelihood of rivers across the globe, but this is transparent from the off.
My biggest issue was the book was the complete lack of tension. Besides one very brief excursion across the Mutehekau Shipu, there is never much mystery or stakes. Macfarlane begins the book in Cambridge, and there is no indication that his quasi-spiritual and endearingly bright eyed view of the importance of rivers on planet earth will be radically different from the start.
Instead, the journey Macfarlane goes on is littered with side characters. Some are more interesting than others, and having listened to this on audiobook I am veering away from ignorantly misspelling names. Josef DeCoux was my favourite of this cast, an environmental lawyer with a gruff attitude who opens up to Macfarlane as they travel through Ecuador's cloud forest. There are a couple of incredibly friendly young men who help steer a boat up the Canadian rivers and teach Macfarlane about the indigenous history of that county. There is a women who journeys into the river very poorly and returns rejuvenated. And there are plenty of others who feel passionately about the sorry state of their home countries rivers, particularly in the incredibly polluted waters running through Chennai.
All of these characters are fine, but again, Macfarlane is presenting people who, generally, have very little room to grow or offer a fresh perspective. Every one of Macfarlane's companions loves rivers and it makes the book seem a little textureless. The caveat here is DeCoux, who really is a great starting point and the Ecuador sections of the book are worth reading on their own.
My other issue with the book is how quasi-spiritual it is. This is much more a personal taste issue than a technical issue. Macfarlane meets a shaman, who the book spends way too long obsessing over. Magic is not something I have much patience for, and Macfarlane pretends to be skeptical at first without any real firepower behind this opinion, which obviously leads the reader to expect the vague and insubstantial prophecies he receives to be fulfilled. On balance, this is a fine position to adopt and I know a lot of very clever people who will really like this approach.
However I found it vague, unsatisfying, full of holes and incredibly simplistic. It is a disappointing tact because Macfarlane is advocating for an incredibly nuanced adaptation of 'legal personality' for rivers throughout this book. In September 2008, Ecuador became the first country to recognise a river's right to personality. in 2017, New Zealand adopted a similar approach and in 2021, the Mutehekau Shipu in Canada was declared a legal person and 'living entity'. The River Ouse in East Sussex, UK, has similarly recognised that river's legal personality.
This is why its is disappointing but very forgivable that Macfarlane adopts such a quasi-spiritual bend to his work. A book about the technical and contentious legal argument behind way MacDonalds and Starbucks are recognised as legal persons, but the Thames, Ribble and Wyre are not, would be fascinating and actually help propel an argument behind way this should not be the case. On the back of reading this book I am in no better position to advocate on behalf of rivers' legal personality than 'they're very beautiful and make people feel good'.
Rivers across the world are in crisis and this was not the book for me. But I really, sincerely hope there are those that find more meaning in the text than I did, because there is a lot in here for someone with a different temperament than me to fall in love with.
June 2, 2025
I can safely say that Robert Macfarlane is indeed, still my favorite author.
How do I review this? His books truly are a journey: in this case, a journey of rivers. He takes the reader through the loud, living, fungi-filled cloud forests of Equador, through the polluted marshlands, rivers and turtle-lined coast of eastern India all the way to the crystal-smooth to roiling white waters of Northeastern Canada/Innu territory.
His books are part memoir, part travelogue, part essay, and through and through: prose-poem. Macfarlane's mastery of words truly makes the natural world live and breathe, makes all the activists, poets and adventurers pop off the page, and gives language to experiences and thoughts I was unable to articulate myself.
The concept of this book might be my favorite of his so far: indeed, is a river alive? I have been fascinated both by the contemporary Rights of Nature movement, as well as Indigenous and pre-Christian spirituality of an animate natural world, inseparable from humans. And those ideas are investigated through the three 'case-studies' of this book, making them and the people involved truly "animate" to the reader as well.
To me, and to Macfarlane, the answer to the titular question is a full-bodied yes. By broadening our understanding of what is 'alive' in the natural world, by seeing the interconnectedness of all things, we can live both with more responsibility as well as with more joy for the world.
A good book also makes you want to DO something. In this case, many things. Hike in a cloud forest, become a mycologist with apparent mystical powers (Giuliana, you are amazing), kayak a blazing river in the far north, truly become an activist and fight for the Rights of Nature, create more, write more, read more... So: read this book!
How do I review this? His books truly are a journey: in this case, a journey of rivers. He takes the reader through the loud, living, fungi-filled cloud forests of Equador, through the polluted marshlands, rivers and turtle-lined coast of eastern India all the way to the crystal-smooth to roiling white waters of Northeastern Canada/Innu territory.
His books are part memoir, part travelogue, part essay, and through and through: prose-poem. Macfarlane's mastery of words truly makes the natural world live and breathe, makes all the activists, poets and adventurers pop off the page, and gives language to experiences and thoughts I was unable to articulate myself.
The concept of this book might be my favorite of his so far: indeed, is a river alive? I have been fascinated both by the contemporary Rights of Nature movement, as well as Indigenous and pre-Christian spirituality of an animate natural world, inseparable from humans. And those ideas are investigated through the three 'case-studies' of this book, making them and the people involved truly "animate" to the reader as well.
To me, and to Macfarlane, the answer to the titular question is a full-bodied yes. By broadening our understanding of what is 'alive' in the natural world, by seeing the interconnectedness of all things, we can live both with more responsibility as well as with more joy for the world.
A good book also makes you want to DO something. In this case, many things. Hike in a cloud forest, become a mycologist with apparent mystical powers (Giuliana, you are amazing), kayak a blazing river in the far north, truly become an activist and fight for the Rights of Nature, create more, write more, read more... So: read this book!
November 26, 2025
The writing was good- almost poetic, and the content was interesting but I felt it could have been a lot shorter.
June 18, 2025
"The moon path flutters in the current."
I am spellbound in succinct lyrical phrases.
It's been a while since I've experienced a book with the emotional impact to compel me to invite many friends to read!
MacFarlane is compassionate and inspiring! He narrates river adventures, introduces friends, and advocates for the greater-than-human living world with deeply touching agility. Of course this is one of the books Elif Shafak celebrates among “The five emotional books that have shaped me.” If you love this, you'll want to read Shafak's novel There are Rivers in the Sky. And vice versa.
I am spellbound in succinct lyrical phrases.
It's been a while since I've experienced a book with the emotional impact to compel me to invite many friends to read!
MacFarlane is compassionate and inspiring! He narrates river adventures, introduces friends, and advocates for the greater-than-human living world with deeply touching agility. Of course this is one of the books Elif Shafak celebrates among “The five emotional books that have shaped me.” If you love this, you'll want to read Shafak's novel There are Rivers in the Sky. And vice versa.
July 11, 2025
Disappointing, above all. I consider myself supportive of the rights of nature movement, and have read and thought a lot about ethical and legal questions regarding life, ecosystems, and personhood, so I was hoping to get a lot out of this book. Instead…
Macfarlane gives us 3 separate journeys he took to three different rivers, each with a diverse and mostly interesting cast of companions, but only tackles his titular question directly in brief bursts. The experiences themselves are apparently supposed to do most of the talking, and while the storytelling here occasionally soars (a paragraph about paddling down river rapids stands out), too often it feels pretentious and over-written, the dialogue he recounts unrealistically erudite and long-winded (or, if real, borderline insufferable). He never really defines what he means by “alive,” takes his own awe-inspiring experiences as a self-evident case for rivers’ life-force (spirit? divinity?), and more or less takes indigenous spiritual perspectives as fact. Which they may well be! But we don’t really even learn that much specific about those perspectives, just fed a vague pagan/animist/mystical worldview that I am not unsympathetic to but is not really argued for in any meaningful way.
Maybe I was just looking for something that Macfarlane wasn’t interested in giving, and others may like this book. But other than a few brief and suggestive reflections scattered haphazardly throughout, he fails to say anything coherent about in what sense(s) rivers are alive and why it should matter. At its worst self-indulgent travelogue, at its best scratching the surface of something important but not quite getting there, at least not in a way I could follow. I support the conservation and indigenous rights politics of his book, and the challenge to anthropocentrism, just the execution wasn’t for me.
Macfarlane gives us 3 separate journeys he took to three different rivers, each with a diverse and mostly interesting cast of companions, but only tackles his titular question directly in brief bursts. The experiences themselves are apparently supposed to do most of the talking, and while the storytelling here occasionally soars (a paragraph about paddling down river rapids stands out), too often it feels pretentious and over-written, the dialogue he recounts unrealistically erudite and long-winded (or, if real, borderline insufferable). He never really defines what he means by “alive,” takes his own awe-inspiring experiences as a self-evident case for rivers’ life-force (spirit? divinity?), and more or less takes indigenous spiritual perspectives as fact. Which they may well be! But we don’t really even learn that much specific about those perspectives, just fed a vague pagan/animist/mystical worldview that I am not unsympathetic to but is not really argued for in any meaningful way.
Maybe I was just looking for something that Macfarlane wasn’t interested in giving, and others may like this book. But other than a few brief and suggestive reflections scattered haphazardly throughout, he fails to say anything coherent about in what sense(s) rivers are alive and why it should matter. At its worst self-indulgent travelogue, at its best scratching the surface of something important but not quite getting there, at least not in a way I could follow. I support the conservation and indigenous rights politics of his book, and the challenge to anthropocentrism, just the execution wasn’t for me.
February 28, 2025
"No one is without another." & "Hope is the thing with rivers."
June 18, 2025
Dit was een prachtig, hartverscheurend boek. Ik vond het heel lastig om te lezen, maar ik ben blij dat ik het weer het opgepakt, al was het alleen maar voor dat laatste hoofdstuk.
May 26, 2025
I'm giving this 5 stars, not because it's a flawless book, but because it's an intriguing one that I think more people should read and consider.
In recent years there has been a movement in various parts of the world to give legal rights to non-human entities. I don't mean animals. I mean things like rivers and lakes. It's an effort to curb the exploitation and ruination of vital aspects of the natural world.
It's often championed by Indigenous people, and really started by the Maori in New Zealand. It has spread to North and South America. Broadly speaking, it's an attempt to give legal protection to natural elements with humans appointed as guardians (legal representatives).
The frame of this book recounts three trips the author took to investigate these movements and spend time with the key people involved. He goes to Ecuador, India, and northern Canada. Each trip is focused on key river systems that have either achieved some rights (Ecuador), or have been spoiled and are trying to recover (Chennai), or are under threat from hydropower operations (Canada).
These are very much personal journeys for the author and the book is written with a very personal touch, not dispassionately. I can appreciate personal epiphanies but it's hard to convey the impact in a book without having had the actual experience. These are the parts that feel a bit indulgent, but it also brings home the strong emotional feeling that rivers convey. Anyone who has been on a pristine natural river can empathize.
One of the more interesting parts is towards the end, where the author engages in a debate with a traveling companion who provides some of the counter-point to the author's point of view. This is refreshing, and is what is missing from the earlier parts where the people who want to use the rivers as resources for human industry and development are not represented except in the starkest terms (i.e., the 'bad guys').
As I said, not a perfect book, but so thoughtful and challenging to the modern world's point of view of resource extraction that it is well worth reading. In a world where the climate is dramatically changing, legal arguments for preserving natural features like rivers and giving them rights may only grow stronger.
In recent years there has been a movement in various parts of the world to give legal rights to non-human entities. I don't mean animals. I mean things like rivers and lakes. It's an effort to curb the exploitation and ruination of vital aspects of the natural world.
It's often championed by Indigenous people, and really started by the Maori in New Zealand. It has spread to North and South America. Broadly speaking, it's an attempt to give legal protection to natural elements with humans appointed as guardians (legal representatives).
The frame of this book recounts three trips the author took to investigate these movements and spend time with the key people involved. He goes to Ecuador, India, and northern Canada. Each trip is focused on key river systems that have either achieved some rights (Ecuador), or have been spoiled and are trying to recover (Chennai), or are under threat from hydropower operations (Canada).
These are very much personal journeys for the author and the book is written with a very personal touch, not dispassionately. I can appreciate personal epiphanies but it's hard to convey the impact in a book without having had the actual experience. These are the parts that feel a bit indulgent, but it also brings home the strong emotional feeling that rivers convey. Anyone who has been on a pristine natural river can empathize.
One of the more interesting parts is towards the end, where the author engages in a debate with a traveling companion who provides some of the counter-point to the author's point of view. This is refreshing, and is what is missing from the earlier parts where the people who want to use the rivers as resources for human industry and development are not represented except in the starkest terms (i.e., the 'bad guys').
As I said, not a perfect book, but so thoughtful and challenging to the modern world's point of view of resource extraction that it is well worth reading. In a world where the climate is dramatically changing, legal arguments for preserving natural features like rivers and giving them rights may only grow stronger.
April 28, 2025
Macfarlane has moved into a new level of nature writing, connecting with the world and the people who know it in a way that he, and many readers, have not experienced in his writing before.
Recognising the plight of his local spring and river in Cambridgeshire, he visits three rivers across the world, journeying to Ecuador, India and Canada. The people that he meets are activists, indigenous voices, conservationists, educators, musicians and guides. The rivers themselves are characters too, part of our shared landscapes and facing various threats: pollution, mining, warming temperatures, felling of surrounding forest, concrete development and dam-construction.
Is a River Alive follows an awakening and a way of recognising the natural world in new ways which might enable us to change our attitudes and legislation before it is too late. Part travel, part conservation, part philosophy, this book is one of the most important books I have read.
Recognising the plight of his local spring and river in Cambridgeshire, he visits three rivers across the world, journeying to Ecuador, India and Canada. The people that he meets are activists, indigenous voices, conservationists, educators, musicians and guides. The rivers themselves are characters too, part of our shared landscapes and facing various threats: pollution, mining, warming temperatures, felling of surrounding forest, concrete development and dam-construction.
Is a River Alive follows an awakening and a way of recognising the natural world in new ways which might enable us to change our attitudes and legislation before it is too late. Part travel, part conservation, part philosophy, this book is one of the most important books I have read.
April 14, 2025
read some of this to my girlfriend. she told me she thought it could be used as an implement of torture. continued to read it, until she shouted "I'LL TELL YOU WHATEVER YOU WANT TO KNOW!"
10/10 would objectify rivers again.
10/10 would objectify rivers again.
May 28, 2025
By far his best work, stunning prose and perfectly read (I listened to the audiobook). Is a river alive? I think the answer is a resounding yes!
September 12, 2025
The book explores the idea that rivers are living entities that should be recognized as such. It is a combination of memoir, environmental, and travel writing.
”Is a River Alive? unfolds across three main landscapes. First, an Ecuadorian cloud-forest named Los Cedros…Second, the wounded creeks, lagoons and estuaries of the watery city of Chennai in south-east India. And third, the wild interior of Nitassinan, which…makes sea-fall at the Gulf of St. Lawrence, six hundred miles north-east of Montreal.
In addition to these expeditions, Macfarlane inserts memories of his own interactions with his son at a chalk stream located about a mile from their house in Cambridge, England. Topics include legal rights for natural entities, indigenous wisdom about the natural world, and environmental activism (especially river protection campaigns). It is written in Macfarlane's usual poetic prose. I am certainly with him on protecting the environment, though I am not sure calling them “beings” is going to work in all cases. There are many challenges to this line of thinking, especially when crossing borders among different countries (and he discusses several of these challenges). Overall, I found it thought provoking and worth reading.
”Is a River Alive? unfolds across three main landscapes. First, an Ecuadorian cloud-forest named Los Cedros…Second, the wounded creeks, lagoons and estuaries of the watery city of Chennai in south-east India. And third, the wild interior of Nitassinan, which…makes sea-fall at the Gulf of St. Lawrence, six hundred miles north-east of Montreal.
In addition to these expeditions, Macfarlane inserts memories of his own interactions with his son at a chalk stream located about a mile from their house in Cambridge, England. Topics include legal rights for natural entities, indigenous wisdom about the natural world, and environmental activism (especially river protection campaigns). It is written in Macfarlane's usual poetic prose. I am certainly with him on protecting the environment, though I am not sure calling them “beings” is going to work in all cases. There are many challenges to this line of thinking, especially when crossing borders among different countries (and he discusses several of these challenges). Overall, I found it thought provoking and worth reading.
September 27, 2025
Misschien moet ik maar rivieractivist worden in Nederland..
« Hoe weten we wat een rivier wil? »
« Ik kan weinig bedenken wat besluitvaardiger is dan een rivier. »
« Hoe weten we wat een rivier wil? »
« Ik kan weinig bedenken wat besluitvaardiger is dan een rivier. »
Read
May 11, 2025Don’t feel I can judge it fairly based on the Radio 4 book of the Week abridgment but what I heard was fascinating and heartbreaking.
July 18, 2025
Started off riveting ended up as a travelogue
June 5, 2025
"Sind Flüsse Lebewesen?" ist eine Hommage an die Schönheit der Natur. Es zeigt die miteinander verwobenen Mechanismen der Natur und wie wir Menschen drauf und dran sind, diese zu vernichten.
Wir folgen dem Autor Robert Macfarlane selbst auf drei große Reisen rund um den Globus. Von Ecuador und der wunderschönen Natur eines Nebelwaldes und seinen Flüssen, die durch den Abbau von Gold bedroht sind, bis nach Südindien, wo Aktivist*innen verzweifelt versuchen, die Flüsse, Bäche und deren Lebewesen, die durch die derbe Verschmutzung dieser immer mehr zu toten Landschaften werden, zu retten und einem scheinbar hoffnungslosen Verfangen gegenüberstehen. Zuletzt geht der Autor in den Nordosten Kanadas, wo einer der gewaltigsten und lebendigsten Flüsse der Welt durch die Planung von Staudammbauten bedroht wird.
Mich hat es wirklich fasziniert wie Robert Macfarlane es nur durch seine poetische und leidenschaftliche Sprache schafft, diese drei Landschaften zum blühenden Leben zu erwecken. Vor allem der Nebelwald Los Cedros in Ecuador wurde zu einem genialen Wechselspiel der Flora, Fauna und Funga(!).
Genau diese Wirkung zeigt jedoch, wie das Gefühl von Lebendigkeit erzeugt wird. Wir Menschen haben uns in den letzten Jahrhunderten durch den Fortschritt der Technologie immer weiter von der Natur entfernt, haben eine Distanz zu ihr aufgebaut. Wie oft bist du noch in Wäldern unterwegs, siehst Bäche, Flüsse oder beobachtest die Insekten und Vögel? Gar nicht mehr so oft wahrscheinlich. So ist es zumindest mit mir. Doch früher war dies anders. Viele Kulturen und Menschen haben im Einklang mit der Natur gelebt und tun es noch heute. Für sie ist die Antwort auf die Ausgangsfrage klar. Doch für uns wurde die Natur längst zu einem Objekt, das wir ausbeuten und uns zunutze machen.
Durch die lebendige Sprache Macfarlanes hat er es geschafft, die Natur wieder in mein Bewusstsein zu rufen und veranschaulicht, wie jedes kleine Lebewesen auf das nächste aufbaut, sodass ein kleiner Umbruch dieser Kette verheerende Folgen für die gesamte Natur mit sich bringt.
Macfarlanes Beschreibungen seiner erstaunlichen und abenteuerlichen Reisen haben es mir wirklich angetan. Vor allem das letzte Abenteuer, bei dem er mit ein paar wenigen anderen Personen auf einem Boot dem Mutehekau Shipu in Kanada gefolgt ist und sich von der Strömung tragen gelassen hat, war wirklich atemberaubend.
Tatsächlich behandelt dieses Sachbuch die Ausgangsfrage nur in ganz kleinen Abschnitten dieses Buches. Vielmehr geht es um die Gefahren, der die lebendige Natur in unserem Zeitalter ausgesetzt ist und wie ein paar wenige Aktivist*innen diese Naturgebiete lebendig halten. Zumindest noch. Es geht jedoch auch um die Frage, wie es anzustellen wäre, Flüsse oder ganze Landschaften per Gesetz als lebendige Wesen und juristische Personen zu definieren, die von sich aus Unternehmen oder Personen verklagen könnten, die ihnen schaden. Das wäre nämlich ein recht kompliziertes Unterfangen. Doch vor allem ist diese Frage, ob Flüsse Lebewesen seien, immer im Hintergrund des Buches präsent. Sie wird selten aufgegriffen und doch beantwortet Robert Macfarlane bei jedem Satz, den er schreibt, diese Frage immer wieder aufs neue mit Ja! Und das auf eine wunderschöne Art.
Ich weiß nicht, ob es daran lag, dass ich dieses Buch in Pausen meines stressigen Alltags gelesen habe und deshalb nie ganz in Ruhe lesen könnte aber leider hat mich die Handlung manchmal verloren, weshalb ich nicht immer hundertprozentig folgen konnte und immer mal wieder verwirrt war, wie die Personen plötzlich in diese Situationen gekommen sind. Entweder es lag an ungenauen Beschreibungen oder an meiner fehlenden Konzentration.
Insgesamt ein lyrisches und bewegendes Buch, das dir die Schönheit und Verwobenheit unserer Natur neu aufzeigt. Eine Empfehlung für alle, die in die Welt der Natur eintauchen möchten und gleichzeitig verdeutlicht haben möchten, wie wir Menschen die Natur wortwörtlich töten!
Wir folgen dem Autor Robert Macfarlane selbst auf drei große Reisen rund um den Globus. Von Ecuador und der wunderschönen Natur eines Nebelwaldes und seinen Flüssen, die durch den Abbau von Gold bedroht sind, bis nach Südindien, wo Aktivist*innen verzweifelt versuchen, die Flüsse, Bäche und deren Lebewesen, die durch die derbe Verschmutzung dieser immer mehr zu toten Landschaften werden, zu retten und einem scheinbar hoffnungslosen Verfangen gegenüberstehen. Zuletzt geht der Autor in den Nordosten Kanadas, wo einer der gewaltigsten und lebendigsten Flüsse der Welt durch die Planung von Staudammbauten bedroht wird.
Mich hat es wirklich fasziniert wie Robert Macfarlane es nur durch seine poetische und leidenschaftliche Sprache schafft, diese drei Landschaften zum blühenden Leben zu erwecken. Vor allem der Nebelwald Los Cedros in Ecuador wurde zu einem genialen Wechselspiel der Flora, Fauna und Funga(!).
Genau diese Wirkung zeigt jedoch, wie das Gefühl von Lebendigkeit erzeugt wird. Wir Menschen haben uns in den letzten Jahrhunderten durch den Fortschritt der Technologie immer weiter von der Natur entfernt, haben eine Distanz zu ihr aufgebaut. Wie oft bist du noch in Wäldern unterwegs, siehst Bäche, Flüsse oder beobachtest die Insekten und Vögel? Gar nicht mehr so oft wahrscheinlich. So ist es zumindest mit mir. Doch früher war dies anders. Viele Kulturen und Menschen haben im Einklang mit der Natur gelebt und tun es noch heute. Für sie ist die Antwort auf die Ausgangsfrage klar. Doch für uns wurde die Natur längst zu einem Objekt, das wir ausbeuten und uns zunutze machen.
Durch die lebendige Sprache Macfarlanes hat er es geschafft, die Natur wieder in mein Bewusstsein zu rufen und veranschaulicht, wie jedes kleine Lebewesen auf das nächste aufbaut, sodass ein kleiner Umbruch dieser Kette verheerende Folgen für die gesamte Natur mit sich bringt.
Macfarlanes Beschreibungen seiner erstaunlichen und abenteuerlichen Reisen haben es mir wirklich angetan. Vor allem das letzte Abenteuer, bei dem er mit ein paar wenigen anderen Personen auf einem Boot dem Mutehekau Shipu in Kanada gefolgt ist und sich von der Strömung tragen gelassen hat, war wirklich atemberaubend.
Tatsächlich behandelt dieses Sachbuch die Ausgangsfrage nur in ganz kleinen Abschnitten dieses Buches. Vielmehr geht es um die Gefahren, der die lebendige Natur in unserem Zeitalter ausgesetzt ist und wie ein paar wenige Aktivist*innen diese Naturgebiete lebendig halten. Zumindest noch. Es geht jedoch auch um die Frage, wie es anzustellen wäre, Flüsse oder ganze Landschaften per Gesetz als lebendige Wesen und juristische Personen zu definieren, die von sich aus Unternehmen oder Personen verklagen könnten, die ihnen schaden. Das wäre nämlich ein recht kompliziertes Unterfangen. Doch vor allem ist diese Frage, ob Flüsse Lebewesen seien, immer im Hintergrund des Buches präsent. Sie wird selten aufgegriffen und doch beantwortet Robert Macfarlane bei jedem Satz, den er schreibt, diese Frage immer wieder aufs neue mit Ja! Und das auf eine wunderschöne Art.
Ich weiß nicht, ob es daran lag, dass ich dieses Buch in Pausen meines stressigen Alltags gelesen habe und deshalb nie ganz in Ruhe lesen könnte aber leider hat mich die Handlung manchmal verloren, weshalb ich nicht immer hundertprozentig folgen konnte und immer mal wieder verwirrt war, wie die Personen plötzlich in diese Situationen gekommen sind. Entweder es lag an ungenauen Beschreibungen oder an meiner fehlenden Konzentration.
Insgesamt ein lyrisches und bewegendes Buch, das dir die Schönheit und Verwobenheit unserer Natur neu aufzeigt. Eine Empfehlung für alle, die in die Welt der Natur eintauchen möchten und gleichzeitig verdeutlicht haben möchten, wie wir Menschen die Natur wortwörtlich töten!
June 9, 2025
Books concerning environmental ethics tend to be depressing; what they tell us is almost all bad news. MacFarlane’s latest therefore, is a breath of fresh air in that he unearths characters that are truly inspirational in their endeavours and their passion for their rivers.
Macfarlane travels to, and explores three river in particular: Los Cedros, the River of the Cedars, in Ecuador, the Kosasthalaiyar, Cooum, and Adyar, three rivers that merge in Chennai, India, and the Mutehekau Shipu in the north of Quebec.
Few authors write with such determination about our collective responsibility to the environment, but to traipse through the very different issues faced by the ecosystems could be repetitive and preachy. Instead he spends his time with the committed local people he meets in each of the three places, and learns from them by undertaking a journey associated with the river. It is this that make the book stand-out, as well as his poetic language and lyricism.
It’s MacFarlane at his best, and one of the highlights of the literary year.
It also begs the question, could MacFarlane find another endangered three rivers, journey there and explore the issues that they face, by way of a second volume?
Macfarlane travels to, and explores three river in particular: Los Cedros, the River of the Cedars, in Ecuador, the Kosasthalaiyar, Cooum, and Adyar, three rivers that merge in Chennai, India, and the Mutehekau Shipu in the north of Quebec.
Few authors write with such determination about our collective responsibility to the environment, but to traipse through the very different issues faced by the ecosystems could be repetitive and preachy. Instead he spends his time with the committed local people he meets in each of the three places, and learns from them by undertaking a journey associated with the river. It is this that make the book stand-out, as well as his poetic language and lyricism.
It’s MacFarlane at his best, and one of the highlights of the literary year.
It also begs the question, could MacFarlane find another endangered three rivers, journey there and explore the issues that they face, by way of a second volume?
November 2, 2025
Robert Macfarlane is a British nature writer; I previously read his 2019 book Underland: A Deep Time Journey. His 2025 book Is a River Alive? takes a similar meandering approach, exploring the sociocultural ecosystems around rivers more than the purely scientific ecosystems. I found it very difficult to engage with this book given the many circuitous narrative threads and wandering attention. This was a DNF at 64% of the 11 hour audiobook after multiple failed attempts to reengage.
My statistics:
Book 330 for 2025
Book 2256 cumulatively
My statistics:
Book 330 for 2025
Book 2256 cumulatively
December 12, 2025
For my climate club’s book club. While I found certain aspects of this book enjoyable, I found it meandering at times. I wish it went more into actionable things to do but it did inspire me to want to go stare at a river for a long time and just be mesmerized
December 26, 2025
easily the best book i’ve read this year, one of my all time favourites now. well deserved place on multiple top books of 2025 lists
selfishly, i feel so lucky that this released when it did and i pre-ordered it on a whim because it led me to a collective at my grad school which aligns so perfectly with my research interests
if i spend my whole life writing something even half as remarkable (and with as much integrity) as this, it would be enough for me
selfishly, i feel so lucky that this released when it did and i pre-ordered it on a whim because it led me to a collective at my grad school which aligns so perfectly with my research interests
if i spend my whole life writing something even half as remarkable (and with as much integrity) as this, it would be enough for me
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