What a perfect read for a sweltering summer day when even the birds are quiet and the air is still and “close” as they say in old books, and also somehow, liminal, paused, nothing shifting but your own breath… all, too, befitting a cave, aside from the heat. So maybe I just happened to be in the right headspace for this book but I loved the slow, meandering ponder of this nature writer. I loved the solid concrete details about caving and cave ecology as much as I loved the glimpses into the dark and spacious tunnels of the author’s mind. Hurd seems to speak for all nature writers and nature writing when she says, “What is it I want? Or need? To consider the possibility that what’s tucked in these inner pockets is nothing, the risk that it’s everything, the danger that it’s both, and that it’s one of my jobs to discover the difference.”
I look forward to more of Hurd’s discoveries in her other books.