En un metro de bosque

by David George Haskell

Un hombre se sienta cada día durante un año en la misma piedra del mismo bosque, a veces bien abrigado contra el frío y la lluvia, otras a pleno sol, a veces sin que pase nada, otras asistiendo a acontecimientos increíbles, y lo narra en un libro. Un año oyendo cantar a los pájaros, viendo caer y nacer las hojas, siguiendo el trayecto de las hormigas, oyendo al fondo el ruido de la carretera o de una motosierra. En un metro de bosque está el mundo entero, y en él empieza y termina este libro que, créalo o no, apasiona al lector como la mejor de las novelas y le descubre una realidad insospechada como el mejor de los ensayos.
Finalista del premio Pulitzer de no ficción

Genres: Nature, Nonfiction, Science, Biology, Ecology, Environment, Natural History

356 pages, Kindle Edition

First published March 1, 2012

About the author

David George Haskell is a writer and biologist acclaimed for his lyrical explorations of the living world. His most recent book, How Flowers Made our World, explores the creative powers of flowering plants. Haskell is a two-time finalist for the Pulitzer Prize in General Nonfiction, in 2012 for The Forest Unseen and in 2022 for Sounds Wild and Broken. His 2017 book, The Songs of Trees won the John Burroughs Medal. Other literary honors include an Award in Literature from American Academy of Arts and Letters, two-time finalist for the PEN/E. O. Wilson Literary Science Writing Award, winner of the Acoustical Society of America’s Science Communication Award, the National Academies’ Best Book Award, Iris Book Award, Reed Environmental Writing Award, and National Outdoor Book Award for Natural History Literature. Haskell has also written essays and multimedia experiences for The New York Times, Emergence Magazine, and other venues. He is a Fellow of the Linnean Society of London, a Guggenheim Fellow, and is Adjunct Professor of Environmental Sciences at Emory University. Haskell lives in Atlanta, Georgia.

Reviews

[Kathleen Brugger · Rating 5 out of 5]

Letter I wrote to the author:
I’ve just finished reading The Forest Unseen. I have slowly savored your book over many weeks, reading one day’s entry, at most two, at one sitting. I have never read anyone who combined a meditative consciousness with a scientist’s mind so beautifully. You presented the theme of the interconnectedness of all things so delightfully in so many amazing forms: bird’s eggs, vultures, lichen, and the roothair-fungus relationship all come easily to mind as examples.
Long ago I learned to walk in the woods without a goal. I live in western North Carolina and for many years lived on a gravel road surrounded by national forests. I carved my own hiking trails to special places—a rock outcropping, a particular tree, a springhead flowing over a small rock cliff—and would walk to those places and then sit and observe.
Now I live in Asheville, in a mountain cove with a lawn that is mostly Prunella vulgaris. Four or five afternoons a week (I work at home) I spend time in a little patch of this lawn with my cat, sitting and observing the ants, spiders, and other creatures crawling over the vegetation. You’ve inspired me to see this suburban patch as my own mandala and look even close than before.
You’ve created a book that I know I will enjoy reading many times in my life. I already plan on having my husband read this aloud to me, so we can savor it together.

[Elizabeth · Rating 2 out of 5]

I should have loved The Forest Unseen. Forests delight me, and I've also spent time sitting in them and simply watching. There are many thoughts and opinions that Haskell and I share. Unfortunately, this book just bored me. Maybe it's my own fault, because I tried to read it through like I would any novel, instead of savoring it bite-by-bite, as other readers did. But I think there may be a legitimate reason:

The writing.

It was sloppy. Poetic, but sloppy. (And the poetic descriptions weren't even that good.) Oftentimes, Haskell's decision to opt for a metaphor or some elaborate description left me confused. When he simply discussed the forest and its occupants, I liked the book well enough. The chapter about turkey vultures, for example, was particularly fascinating. (Did you know turkey vulture guts can kill anthrax?!) But too often, it was simply comically over-written. Don't believe me? Let's look at the chapter for March 13th, accompanied by my thoughts as I read it.

The mandala is a molluskan Serengeti. Herds of coiled grazers move across the open savanna of lichens and moss.

Uh, what's happening? Coiled mollusks? Maybe he's talking about miniature forest shrimps or something. *glances at chapter title (which, yes, it was my fault for missing) -- "Snails."* Oh, snails! Alright. Snails move in herds? That's new to me. And they're not coiled, are they? I mean, their SHELLS are coiled, but their bodies aren't. Unless I'm confused? Help, I didn't know I was so misinformed about snails! Or maybe he just means "Many snails crawl across the mandala." We'll go with that for now.

The largest snails travel alone, plying the crazy angled surfaces of the leaf litter, leaving the mossy hillsides for the nimble youngsters.

So … only baby snails travel in herds? And adult snails prefer leaf litter to moss? Why? Tell me more!

I lie down on my belly and creep up on a large snail that sits at the edge of the mandala. I lift the hand lens to my eye and shuffle closer.

Don't get distracted, Haskell! Baby snails travel in herds. I'm not done with that yet.

Through the lens, the snail's head fills my field of vision -- a magnificent sculpture of black glass. Patches of silver decorate the shining skin, and small grooves run across and down the animal's back.

So…we're not talking about snails' herd-like behavior anymore? They DON'T move in herds?

My movements cause mild alarm; the snail withdraws its tentacles and hunches back into the shell. I hold my breath and the snail relaxes. Two small whiskers poke their way out of the chin, waving in the air before reaching down and touching the rock. These rubbery feelers move like fingers reading Braille, touching lightly, skimming meaning from the sandstone script.

Are these tentacles and whiskers the same things, or different? Nice Braille simile, though.

Several minutes later a second pair of tentacles launches out from the crown of the snail's head.

Back to tentacles again. So "tentacles" and "whiskers" are the same. Got it.

They reach upward, each with a milky eye at its tip, and wave at the tree canopy above.

You know, if this second pair of "tentacles" or "whiskers" are the eye stalks, I still don't know what the first pair was for. Maybe he really did mean "whiskers"?

My own eye bulges at the snail through the lens, but this monstrous globe seems to be of little concern to the snail, which extends its eyestalks farther. These fleshy flagpoles now reach wider than the shell and swing wildly from side to side.

"Fleshy flagpoles"? Yes, we all learned about alliteration in high school. But even alliterative, this metaphor is still silly.

[INSERT SEVERAL PARAGRAPHS DISCUSSING SNAIL SIGHT, WHICH WE KNOW LITTLE ABOUT. THEY'RE INTERESTING, AND I'M ENGROSSED, FORGETTING THE ORIGINAL SNAIL. THEN IT COMES…]

The snail's head explodes, ending my speculations.

Wait, WHAT?! The snail's head EXPLODED? How? Why? Is this like how slugs are supposed to melt when you pour salt on them? And what was this snail doing anyway, I forget…? *goes back several paragraphs* So, the snail was crawling, then it went in its shell. It came back out, waved its eyes around, and now it's head exploded. Crazy!

The black dome is split by a knot of cloudy flesh. The knot pushes out, forward, then the snail turns to face me.

I thought the snail's head exploded. It doesn't have a face anymore.
…
...
…
I'm sorry, I'm confused. Is the dome being split the snail shell or its head? He described its head as black earlier, but I really don't understand how flesh can come out of a snail head, which is already flesh. Or maybe its the shell, and this is the snail coming further out of it? Did the shell shatter? WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING TO THIS POOR SNAIL!!!???

The tentacles form an X, radiating away from the bubbling, doughy protrusion at the center.

I'm really not following. Is the doughy protrusion the same as the fleshy knot? Why is it bubbling? Are these explosion remnants? Center of WHAT?

Two glassy lips push out, defining a vertical slit, and the whole apparatus heaves downward, pressing the lips to the ground.

*giggles at yonic imagery* But I'm not proud of it.

I watch, saucer-eyed, as the snail starts to glide over the rock, levitating across a sea of lichen. Tiny beating hairs and ripples of infinitesimally small muscles propel the ebony grazer on its path.

Alright, now I'm just getting irritated by your inconsistent and mixed metaphors. First the mandala was a savanna, now it's a sea. But the snail is still a grazer. Shouldn't it be a swooping seabird? *sarcasm* Whatever. Can't you just tell me why young snails move in herds and why this snail exploded?

From my prone position I see the snail pause amid lichen flakes and black fungus spiking from the surface of oak leaves. I peek over the lens and suddenly it is all gone. The change of scale is a wrench into a different world; the fungus is invisible, the snail is a valueless detail in a world dominated by bigger things.

*looks at book suspiciously* ...Wait…has all this head exploding stuff been what I think I suspect it might have? Oh, c'mon…

My snail vigil ends when the sun breaks out from behind a cloud. The morning's soft humidity has lifted, and the snail heads toward El Capitan, or a smallish rock, depending on how you see the world.

Well, to hell with this. You mean all that exploding head, bubbling flesh description was really just describing how the snail moves? I … I just can't. WHY CAN'T YOU JUST SAY THAT THE SNAIL CRAWLED ACROSS LICHEN?! And, yeah, I get it: you exaggerated for effect, to demonstrate how dramatic small-scale actions can appear when magnified. But I still have no idea what happened. What was the snail's head actually doing that it looked like it exploded? What was the fleshy knob that came out of a black dome? Was the dome the head or the shell? How is the snail moving? CAN'T YOU JUST TELL ME ABOUT SNAILS?!

And that was this book for me: a constant struggle to decipher meaning amid a barrage of misguided, tedious metaphor. It choked what otherwise could have been a delightful narrative. Too bad.

[Camelia Rose · Rating 5 out of 5]

Biologist David Haskell spent a year watching his mandala--a one square meter patch of land (and its surroundings) in an old-growth Tennessee forest. This book is his observations and musings. Each chapter is marked by his visiting date to the mandala. Topics can be trees, herbaceous plants, birds, insects, salamanders, coyotes, rains and winds, sounds, seasons' change, or underground growth (fungi, roots and worms).

The Forest Unseen is a delightful read, one of the best nature writings I have read in recently years.

The mandala, in Tibetan Buddhism, is a symbol of the universe--it is rich, infinite, dynamic, permanently impermanent. At the end of the book, the author summarizes what the year's nature watching has taught him:


I simultaneously feel profound closeness and unutterable distance. As I have come to know the mandala, I have more clearly seen my ecological and evolutionary kinship with the forest. This knowledge feels woven into my body, remaking me, or, more precisely, waking in me the ability to see how I was made all along.

At the same time, an equally powerful sense of otherness has grown. As I have watched, a realization of the enormity of my ignorance has pressed on me.....The longer I watch, the more alienated I become from any home of comprehending the mandala, of grasping its most basic nature.

Yet the aspiration that I feel is more than a heightened awareness of my ignorance. I have understood in some deep place that I am unnecessary here, as is all humanity. There is loneliness in this realization, poignance in my irrelevance.

But I also feel an ineffable but strong sense of joy in the independence of the mandala's life...Somehow the shock of separateness flooded me with relief. The world does not center on me or my species. The causal center of the natural world is a place that humans had no part in making. Life transcends us. It directs our gaze outwards....



The author strikes me as optimistic regarding the relationship between humans and nature.

[Lauren · Rating 4 out of 5]

...the search for the universal within the infinitesimally small...

Haskell chooses a small parcel of land, his "mandala", in the old-growth forest of central Tennessee. Every few days, he goes to his mandala to observe, take notes, look closer with his hand lens, and listen. This book incorporates the field notes of what he sees, hears, and smells, but also the meditations, and the information behind these observations over one full year. With the eye of a biologist, but also the musings of a philosopher, we observe - through his eyes - the comings and goings of the insects, the mammals, the ferns, the soil of this parcel of land.

Slow and beautiful writing. Simple, yet filled with meaning. Informative but also mindful, encapsulating the past, the future, but also what is occurring in this present moment.

A joy to read. Considering a mandala of my own in the nearby woods...

[Tuck · Rating 5 out of 5]

The premise of this most excellent natural history of a forest is that the author stakes out a small circle in the woods, say about 4-6 feet across, in a tiny tiny (but one of the only left, sigh) old growth forest remnant in eastern tennessee. He goes out everyday for a year and “just sits there” observing the plants and animals. Of course that is a bit of a simplification as he discussed things like the lifecycle of salamanders and butterflies and migrating tufted titmice and deer and hickory trees etc etc, so one would not actually “see” much of what he describes, but he does a good job balancing the scientific with the folksy and the philosophical and the unknown. Because frankly we don’t really know a whole hell of a lot about the ecosystems we live in and many of these are disappearing as we pave for strip malls and kill for golf courses etc. the text is not mucked up with footnotes or too much “high science” but there is a very nice contextual bibliography if reader is interested in more hardcore reading. But this is a good example of nat hist porn, yummy yummy.

Here is a small excerpt from chapter entitled “December 3rd----Litter”

“I lie facedown at the edge of the mandala [the circle he has been observing all year and really is my only gripe in the book, I hate that word, bigot], readying myself for a dive under the surface of the leaf litter. The red oak leaf below my nose is crisp, protected from fungi and bacteria by the drying sun and wind. Like the other leaves on the litter’s surface, this oak leaf will remain intact for nearly a year, finally crumbling in the next summer’s rains. These surface leaves form a crust that both hides and makes possible the drama below. Protected under the shield of superficial leaves, the rest of autumn’s castoffs are pulverized in the wet, dark world of the litter. Yearly, the ground heaves like a breathing belly, swelling in a rapid inhalation in October, then sinking as the life force is suffused into the forest’s body.
Below the red oak leaf, other leaves are moist and matted. I tease away a wet sandwich of three maple and hickory leaves. Waves of odor roll out of the opening: first, the sharp, musty smell of decomposition, and then the rounded, pleasant odor of fresh mushrooms. The smells are edged with a richer, earthy background, the mark of healthy soil. These sensations are the closet I can come to “seeing” the microbial community in the soil. The light receptors and lenses in my eyes are too large to resolve the photons bouncing off bacteria, protozoa, and many fungi, but my nose can detect molecules that waft out of the microscopic world, giving me a peek through my blindness.
A peek is about all that anyone is given. Of the billion microbes that live in the half handful of soil that I have exposed, only one percent can be cultivated and studied in the lab. The interdependencies among the other ninety-nine percent are so tight, and our ignorance about how to mimic or replicate these bonds is so deep, that the microbes die if isolated from the whole. The soil’s microbial community is therefore a grand mystery, with most of its inhabitants living unnamed and unknown to humanity.
As we chisel away at the edges of this mystery, jewels fall out of the eroding block of ignorance…………”


“The forest unseen: a year’s watch in nature” by David Haskell

A very well written natural history of old growth hardwood forest. Naturalist Haskell observes one small patch in the forest for a year, and describes the life and rhythms: of reptiles, flowers, trees, birds, microorganisms, insects, mammals, fungi, and the history of the forest in the USA, how it has changed and how it has stayed “wild”. Written for all audiences, this is very informative and entertaining, poetical even. The book has a very nice bibliography, but unfortunately no maps or pictures.

[༺Kiki༻ · Rating 4 out of 5]

If you liked this book, you might also enjoy:

✱ A Sand County Almanac and Sketches Here and There
✱ Winter World: The Ingenuity of Animal Survival
✱ Summer World: A Season of Bounty
✱ The Trees in My Forest
✱ A Year In The Woods: The Diary Of A Forest Ranger
✱ Wildwood: A Journey through Trees
✱ The Hidden Life of Trees
✱ Meadowland: The Private Life of an English Field

[Annina · Rating 4 out of 5]

Wunderschön. Ich freue mich auf den nächsten Waldspaziergang und werde mich noch mehr auf die Kleinen Dinge achten.

[Lara · Rating 2 out of 5]

Well, I'm clearly in the vast minority here, but I'm just not enjoying this book enough to push through and finish it. There have been a couple of chapters that I've found pretty interesting, but they've been few and far between, and at times I've found myself feeling pretty skeptical about what he's describing (for instance the entire chapter where he decides to take all of his clothes off in the middle of winter to see what animals feel in the cold, and it somehow doesn't occur to him until the very end of the chapter that, duh, most of the animals that live in the woods have fur and feathers that help keep them warm, in addition to other bodily processes we don't have. That made him seem either kind of stupid, or like he thinks I'm kind of stupid. Either way, it annoyed me). I don't know, maybe I'm being a jerk about this, but I really like the idea of this book and was hoping it would focus a little more on the science side of nature and a little less on the...poetry side? Or something. Anyway, it's just not working for me. :(

[Ray Zimmerman · Rating 5 out of 5]

Great read.
The Forest Unseen

The Forest Unseen
David George Haskel begins the book with a description of Tibetan Monks making a sand painting, a Mandala. He compares his exploration of a one square meter patch of an old-growth forest on property owned by the University of the South to the Mandala. His description of the tiny bit of land as a Mandala is more than an engaging metaphor.

Like the sand painting of the monks, his patch of old-growth forest was a place of observation and contemplation, from which his thoughts, and consequently his writings, took wing into historical and contemporary research on the flight of birds, the rate of tree growth, the lives of plants and animals, the shifting weather patterns and the hexagonal ring structure of frozen water. These vignettes reveal both depth and breadth of knowledge. His extensive research at the school's library and conversations with academic colleagues enhanced his writing.

Haskell's use of a square meter of the forest as the launching point for these discussions makes sense as a concept that I can only express as a microcosm. Commonly understood as a small portion representing the whole, it is a small portion that reveals the nature of the whole. It is derived from the same root word as "cosmos." The book is an excellent read for birdwatchers and anyone else who spends time observing nature.

[Etienne · Rating 2 out of 5]

Grande déception! Je voulais un livre scientifique et apprendre sur la forêt. Il y a de cela évidemment, mais l'auteur se perd dans de nombreuses digressions, pas toujours pertinentes, et il en fait beaucoup trop au niveau du style d'écriture, vraiment surécrit, pour ce genre de livre. Ce genre de livre devrait se contenter de vulgariser et de bien expliquer son propos, alors qu'ici on tombe dans la prose poétique et on explique des éléments simples en les rendant beaucoup plus compliqués que nécessaire. On se retrouve plus du côté de l’hommage poétique/explicatif de la forêt que d'un réel essai scientifique. Pour certains cela sera un plus, mais pour ma part je n'ai pas aimé et ce n'est pas ce que je recherchais.

[Jayesh · Rating 5 out of 5]

You know the feeling that you get when you go to a national park or any forest and just sit there alone, observing, meditating... That's what you experience while reading this book.

So Feynman once said:

“I have a friend who's an artist and has sometimes taken a view which I don't agree with very well. He'll hold up a flower and say "look how beautiful it is," and I'll agree. Then he says "I as an artist can see how beautiful this is but you as a scientist take this all apart and it becomes a dull thing," and I think that he's kind of nutty. First of all, the beauty that he sees is available to other people and to me too, I believe. Although I may not be quite as refined aesthetically as he is ... I can appreciate the beauty of a flower. At the same time, I see much more about the flower than he sees. I could imagine the cells in there, the complicated actions inside, which also have a beauty. I mean it's not just beauty at this dimension, at one centimeter; there's also beauty at smaller dimensions, the inner structure, also the processes. The fact that the colors in the flower evolved in order to attract insects to pollinate it is interesting; it means that insects can see the color. It adds a question: does this aesthetic sense also exist in the lower forms? Why is it aesthetic? All kinds of interesting questions which the science knowledge only adds to the excitement, the mystery and the awe of a flower. It only adds. I don't understand how it subtracts.”

This book does precisely that. It shows, it is possible to write about the fractally complex, interconnected, not-well-understood nature of an ecosystem in a language in the vein of Borges or Calvino. A sample:

Lichens add physical intimacy to this interdependence, fusing their bodies and intertwining the membranes of their cells, like cornstalks fused with the farmer, bound by evolution’s hand.

It did take me a while to read this book. Each chapter, which is a day's description of a small area in an old-growth forest in Tennessee, is quite dense with a summary of the small thing under observation (a fern unrolling, a snail moving, etc.) and how it ties in with humanity. An albeit funny example:

Unlike top predators such as wolves, coyotes are abundant, and this makes them particularly invulnerable to attempts at eradication. As the French Revolution discovered, and the predator control arms of the U.S. federal and state governments rediscovered, it is harder to stamp out the upper classes than it is to kill the king.

[Bettie · Rating 4 out of 5]

Bettie's Books

[Martha · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is the kind of non fiction I love...I have met the author, he is a professor where my daughter attends college. My daughter and I went on a bird walk he led on campus in spring 2012 before she decided to attend the school, even though she does not intend to pursue the sciences I think he had a positive effect on her.(She did not want to go on the bird walk and without saying so I could see she enjoyed it!) He's the real deal, naturalist I mean, tempting to think of him as a Monty Python type figure because he is British, but he is so thoughtful and really tuned in to nature. Very accomplished scientist. The book was required reading for all incoming freshman at the school for fall 2012, the land he observes is part of the 13,000 acre "domain" that the campus sits on. The book inspired me to watch my back yard even more closely! There is a lot to see in a small space. Haskell has an interesting blog and he just had an article printed about Rachel Carson in the Chattanooga newspaper. If you like thoughtful nature writing you will enjoy this book.http://biology.sewanee.edu/news/david...


Update: December 2014: Since writing this review my daughter has remained at the college where Haskell teaches AND changed her area of study to Forestry!

[Rachel · Rating 3 out of 5]

Um.

Man, I love science.

I loved learning the random facts in this book. Like how there are so many nematodes on earth that (they say) if all other matter disappeared, you'd still be able to see the outlines of everything, limned in squirming nematodes.

Like how moss creates vitamins to prevent itself from being wrecked by extra sunlight. (I am a little hazy on the details of photosynthesis but I think this is how it works.)

Like why hickory trees bud out later than maple trees and why that explains why maple syrup is a thing.

The science part of this book: fascinating, spot on. But as many other reviewers have noted, the writing is godawful.

Here's a passage I saved:

As I gaze through the rain, I realize that I am buoyed by an expanded quality of light under the opened forest canopy. My view of the forest seems deeper, fuller. I am released from a narrowness of luminosity that I hadn't known existed.

Look, I get it, it's poetic in a way. But you know what those 44 words boil down to? "I hadn't realized how dark it was."

Edit, buddy.

[Jim Angstadt · Rating 2 out of 5]

The Forest Unseen: A Year’s Watch in Nature
David George Haskell

This story has an interesting premise: we can learn a lot about the world at large by studying a small patch of ground, including the soil, rocks, vegetation, insects, and other living organisms.

The preface explains that there are similar attempts in the mandalas of Tibetan monks, and others who would see "the universal within the infinitesimally small".

The author selected a small square patch of land that was well out of the way of others, so as to not be disturbed, as he watched it over the course of a year.

Even approaching the selected plot, the author was very descriptive and gave a very good introduction to the surrounding area, it's topography, vegetation, and climate.

Unfortunately, I found the slow pace of his generous descriptions to gradually erode my interest.
DNF

[Repix Pix · Rating 4 out of 5]

Optimista e inspirador.

[Teri-K · Rating 4 out of 5]

"When laughing children chase after fireflies, they are not pursuing beetles but catching wonder. When wonder matures, it peels back experience to seek deeper layers of marvel below. This is science's highest purpose."

Haskell is a biologist who spent a year visiting one tiny meter of old growth forest in the Smoky Mountains. Every two weeks he went to the same spot, sat on the same rock, and just watched and listened. The entries in this book contain reflections on one thing he noticed during each visit. Thus the reader moves through the months reading about fireflies, seeds, geology, ferns, light, etc. - looking deeply into a tiny part of the whole that makes up nature in those mountains.

I loved this book. It wasn't one I dashed through, preferring to take my time and soak in the details. The writing isn't what we have come to expect for a science book - the author sometimes takes flights of fancy, and some readers didn't like that. But I enjoyed the feeling that I was sitting on the mountain with him, experiencing the events as we saw them and not approaching everything with our "science brains". Nature can be surprising, scary, beautiful or thought-provoking, and I appreciated this more relaxed, less clinical approach to it. To experience nature is not only a matter of learning its forms and functions, but also of sitting quietly, watching and listening, too.

I look forward to returning to this book over the years, and highly recommend it to anyone who is interested in learning more about our world and also getting a greater appreciation of nature. This book has inspired me to go out regularly to a spot on a trail I like to walk and stop and watch for a while, looking closely at what's happening beneath my feet.

[Irene · Rating 5 out of 5]

This was fascinating! After reading a few books focused on something more specific (snails, birds, fungi and moss), I enjoyed learning about an entire ecosystem at once. I learned a ton of nuggets of information about the lives of the inhabitants of the forest mandala that Haskell wrote about: fungi and moss, ants, caterpillars, mosquitos and ticks, songbirds and birds of prey, salamanders, squirrels, coyote and deer, to name only a few. Even though this is not a long book and it's a very easy read, I got so much out of it.

An example of something I didn't know is that deer (ruminants in general) have a digestive system that adapts to what's available seasonally, which makes sense, given that they have to survive during the winter in places where it snows and food is scarce; you need to be able to get as much out of what you eat as possible. Apparently, feeding deer apples or corn during the winter can upset their digestion so much that they can die. Cows that aren't grass-fed are medicated during the winter so they can be fed corn year-round and that's... upsetting.

A highly interesting and informative read. I'll have to get a physical copy I can re-read in the future.

EDIT: On re-read, I can definitely recommend having a physical copy so you can add little tabs to all the interesting bits you may want to reference in the future. Very satisfying to do. Still upset about the cows.

[Sookie · Rating 2 out of 5]

2 stars. Such a wonderful concept, underwhelming delivery.

Haskell takes a fascinating path to understand nature, and her intricacies. A small patch of land, mandala as he calls it, works in harmony with everything that's present in its vicinity. From a small worm to a big deer, the patch of land and the things that grow are all in strange harmony. The land hums to a tune that catches on and becomes synchronous with forest floor. The flora and fauna of the forest are all aligned - both behaviorally and physically, thus establishing a strong symbiotic nature. Haskell builds a system out of a mundane measure of space and time; a year in time for forest is like a second in our lifetime. The forest has grown, endured and adapted to changes and evolution all around it. But the forest hasn't had the time to barely acknowledge the destruction that humanity has brought its feet.

The book is fascinating. The subject matter is brilliant. The knowledge this book offers is good. But. But. But. The writing was just off. Its very hard to connect to choppy disjointed writing in a subject matter that's treated with utmost care and respect. I am unable to connect and see the what Haskell wants us to see from his perspective, though the gist of his intention is splattered all over the book.

I am glad I read it. But I do wish it wasn't underwhelming in its delivery.

[Merilee · Rating 5 out of 5]

I really loved this book. Haskell, a biology prof at The University of the South, has sort of cordoned off a square meter of land in an old-growth forest in Tennessee. Several times a week for a year he goes to this "mandala", sits on a rock, and just observes, sometimes up close with a magnifying glass. It is a book you must read slowly, maybe a 4or 5 page segment at a time. I learned so much about so many aspects of plants and animals and Haskell writes like a poet (but not remotely cornily). It is definitely one of the best books of the year for me, and i plan to begin it again when we get home in November (possibly reading along with the appropriate months). HIGHLY RECOMMENDED!!

[Tim Martin · Rating 5 out of 5]

How much can you learn about the forest by observing a square meter patch of it (and pretty much only that square meter)? How much could you learn about things beyond the forest, about the overall ecology of the region, the continent, the world, about a variety of concepts in weather, geology, evolution, ecology, botany, and natural selection? Can the universal really be understood by contemplating the “infinitesimally small?”

Borrowing a term from Buddhism, author David George Haskell decided to observe one particular patch of old growth Tennessee forest, his mandala – a square meter – over the course of a year. He didn’t stay at the patch 24/7/365 but he did visit it many times in each month of the year, sitting or standing quietly, observing what was going on in the patch in terms of plants, fungi, animals, weather, geology, and where he observed their effects, even the microorganisms and the life of the soil, all with as minimal interference as possible on his part. He went out in weather that was below zero and in the sweltering, mosquito-infested summer, he went out in storms and in perfect spring weather, he went out in darkness and in the middle of the day.

Was he successful? I think he was. Haskell always found something to talk about, with the goings on in his mandala always leading to interesting lectures on a variety of subjects, some at the microscopic level (the actions of soil microbes, the movement of fungi through their food sources before they produce the fruiting bodies known as mushrooms), some at the hands and knees level (the mating habits of snails and the life cycles of salamanders for instance) and a quite a few at much larger levels (contemplating how truly large an organism an old growth tree is or appreciating the sweeping epic that is bird migration).

One of the things I really liked about the book is how it reminded me of the old TV documentary series Connections, hosted by science historian James Burke, of just how connected so many things are. One example related to bird feeders of all things (no, there were no bird feeders in the mandala, but Haskell certainly observed birds affected by the rise of bird feeders in the United States). In short, more bird feeders mean more songbirds spending the winter in areas they would have left in the past, thanks to a dependable food supply of seeds. Concentrations of songbirds means attracting sharp-shinned hawks to these concentrations to feed on the songbirds, and thus fewer hawks migrating south as well (and perhaps fewer in the forest, attracted by the suburban feeders). With fewer northern migrant hawks joining the year round resident hawks in the mandala, birds that live in the mandala (like the winter wren) have an easier time of it, with larger populations. More winter wrens and other insect eating birds, more pressure on the ant and spider populations. And what does that mean? Many ants are vital in dispersing the seeds of spring ephemeral wildflowers, and spiders are key to keeping down fungus gnat populations, which effect the fungus populations of the forest. Wow.

Many times he challenged my thinking and assumptions on subjects. I knew for instance that many if not all plants – through their roots – have symbiotic relationships with soil fungi, I had known that for years, but I had not known that there is evidence that the fungi came first, not roots, that roots evolved as a way to seek out and embrace fungi, not necessarily to find nutrients from the soil directly. I also hadn’t realized that most “independent” plants are really linked in a mycorrhizal fungal network; that nutrients say produced by a maple tree may in a roundabout way find their way to a nearby hickory tree.

Another favorite new way of thinking for me was the issue of deer population. Or overpopulation. I had read that White-tail Deer were booming in the eastern and central United States, that they were virtually stripping the understory bare in some forests, pruning native shrubs and the lower branches of trees, gobbling up forest floor wildflowers, and depriving the animals that need these plants of homes and food supplies (famously many ground nesting birds). I had also remembered reading that deer were almost exterminated (or were exterminated) from large sections of the eastern U.S. in the 19th and 20th centuries. What I had never thought to do was put those two things together! Did the rich understory growth of wildflowers reflect a “real” or a “natural” forest or are they quite artificial, the result of abnormally low deer populations, just now bouncing back? Did reports of park-like, open understory forests by explorers and pioneers reflect how a climax forest looked, the effects of Native American use of the land, or the role of deer (or all of the above)? Interesting.

I could go on and on. Haskell discussed so many topics; the different strategies flowering plants take to attract pollinating insects (and what insects they aim for and why), the effects changing ant populations have on seed dispersal, how plants that are said to be dispersed primarily by ants managed to spread over most of the continent (“Reid’s Paradox”), about shrew biology (and their “dungeon of horrors,” underground larders of “living but incapacitated prey” that these weird mammals maintain),the physiology of tick saliva, the decline of ginseng from forests due to poaching, of how tiny birds like chickadees are able to keep warm in depths of winter, of how exactly birds sing, about why bacteria that decompose rotting things make the rotting things so very toxic to everyone else, of how mushrooms breed (they don’t have genders per se)….so many things are discussed!

This was a relatively easy read, not overly technical. Though the language was quite well crafted with some nice turns of phrase, it wasn’t overall poetic or lyrical, as I had feared a little going in it. Good book!

[Samantha Hohmann · Rating 4 out of 5]

the more I think about this the more I like it. totally inspired to pay attention to my own little mandala. the idea that “we create wonderful spaces by giving them our attention” will be rattling around in my head for a while

[Michaela · Rating 3 out of 5]

A wholesome reminder to stop and smell the roses (or rather, to stop and contemplate the roses' biology and role in the world)

[Sebastian · Rating 5 out of 5]

There is a grand tradition of naturalist-writing that emphasizes close observation of nature and the wonder and awe that can come from it. Bernd Heinrich is one of my favorites, writing "A Year in the Maine Woods," "Winter World", and "Summer World", among others. Now there's this delightful celebration of attentive observation by David George Haskell. Restricting himself to a small patch of old-growth forest he calls his "mandala", Haskell follows the intricate interactions there through a year. This is not a polemic for conservation, but a gentle appreciation for the fundamental ecology of a small place on the planet. But it is extensible, as he suggests, to any place, even one's own back yard. This past Sunday, I walked around a small lake, where about half the trail in in fairly heavy forest. I walk slowly, because I try to see what changes there are from the last visit, and I walk without music from an Ipod in my ears in order to enjoy the many different bird calls. This particular trip let me see a hummingbird land on a branch but a few feet away, and to pick up a land-snail with a quite large shell. Now that I've finished this book, it is my intent to get a decent hand lens and have it with me, and perhaps my binoculars too. If you have an affinity for nature, this is a must-have book. I loved it.

[Jayme · Rating 3 out of 5]

2016 Review:
I loved the concept for this book when I bought it. Haskell spends an entire year observing a single square meter of forest. Each chapter has a different focus ranging from the microscopic to charismatic megafauna. However, despite being a fairly short book, this was such a slog. It's been sitting in my currently reading pile for three years now and it's finally time to admit that I don't like it and will never finish it. I think the thing I hate about it the most is that he calls his forest plot a mandala, which is cute I guess...the first time. But then he very much overuses the word. I wish I had this in ebook form so I could word count how many times he throws it out there...it's so many.

2020 Review:
I'm surpising glad I gave this one another shot. My initial reactions weren't wrong. Considering this has such a strong concept and the writing isn't dense, it somehow manages to be really dry. The audiobook version helped move it along though. And I can appreciate how much work must have gone into each topic Haskell covers during his year of observation.

[jrendocrine at least reading is good · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is a book to enjoy slowly, limiting to one entry daily.

This wonderful biologist discusses - in mostly biological detail - what he thinks about while sitting quietly, and not touching, a square meter "mandala" of old growth forest throughout a year.

Lots to learn and hopefully to take forward. As he writes:
"A hairy woodpecker lighted on a tree trunk.... Here was a creature whose kind had chattered woodpecker calls for millions of years before humans came to be... another world, running parallel to my own. Millions of such parallel worlds exist in one mandala."

Loved the musings on ticks, cicadas, vultures and tree stem growth the most. Lovely all around.

[Wendy · Rating 5 out of 5]

This was an excellent read. I recommend it for any naturalist, or nature-lover. It is poetic, and full of amazing observations about the forest. "We are explorers standing at the edge of a dark jungle, peering at the strange shapes in the soil's interior, naming a handful of the most obvious novelties, but understanding little."

[Camille McCarthy · Rating 5 out of 5]

A wonderful, different book about nature. It is full of rich imagery and descriptions of how organisms interact. I found it hard to read more than a little of it in one sitting, because the descriptions are so rich. I think he should have won the Pulitzer for this.
Haskell picks a spot in nature and returns to the same spot every week or so throughout the year. Every time, he uses his observations to construct a chapter of the book. He focuses on different organisms every time, though some are described again at different times. I learned so much about the natural world from reading this, and his descriptions are almost mystical. He is a great writer. I read this book for a writing class I am taking about eco-writing and our class had the honor of video conferencing with him on one occasion - he was just as personable in the video conference as he seems in writing.
This was a very different and incredibly well-written book. I highly recommend it.

[AKHIL TP4 · Rating 5 out of 5]

I loved it! One of the most beautiful books I've ever read!
David George Haskell's writing prowess is impressive. In the blurb, it's just an observation of a square meter forest patch. But the moment one enter this small patch of land, which the author calls Mandala, the whole land explode with a menagerie of life and evolutionary magic.

Haskell is a frugal writer. The amount of information in this book is simply unbelievable! He also constructed several bridges in his world which will take us to the side of our own imagination and self reflection.

Forest is a mirror. The cloudiest and the shiniest at the same time. Still, once we step out of our imagination, it's just as limpid as the fragility of our lives.

[Emily · Rating 5 out of 5]

Beautifully written. I really enjoyed the thoughtful observations paired with the science of what he was experiencing.