A compelling history of seashells and the animals that make them, revealing what they have to tell us about nature, our changing oceans, and ourselves.
Seashells have been the most coveted and collected of nature’s creations since the dawn of humanity. They were money before coins, jewelry before gems, art before canvas.
In The Sound of the Sea, acclaimed environmental author Cynthia Barnett blends cultural history and science to trace our long love affair with seashells and the hidden lives of the mollusks that make them. Spiraling out from the great cities of shell that once rose in North America to the warming waters of the Maldives and the slave castles of Ghana, Barnett has created an unforgettable account of the world’s most iconic seashells. She begins with their childhood wonder, unwinds surprising histories like the origin of Shell Oil as a family business importing exotic shells, and charts what shells and the soft animals that build them are telling scientists about our warming, acidifying seas.
From the eerie calls of early shell trumpets to the evolutionary miracle of spines and spires and the modern science of carbon capture inspired by shell, Barnett circles to her central point of listening to nature’s wisdom—and acting on what seashells have to say about taking care of each other and our world.
Cynthia Barnett is the author of four books including "The Sound of the Sea: Seashells and the Fate of the Oceans" (WW Norton, 2021). Her most-recent previous book, "Rain: A Natural and Cultural History" (Crown-Random House, 2015), was longlisted for the National Book Award, a finalist for the PEN/E.O. Wilson award for literary science writing, and named a best book of 2015 by NPR's Science Friday, Kirkus Reviews, the Tampa Bay Times, the Miami Herald and the Boston Globe.
The Globe has described Ms. Barnett's author persona as "part journalist, part mom, part historian, and part optimist." The Los Angeles Times writes that she "takes us back to the origins of our water in much the same way, with much the same vividness and compassion as Michael Pollan led us from our kitchens to potato fields and feed lots of modern agribusiness."
Ms. Barnett is also the author of "Blue Revolution: Unmaking America's Water Crisis" and "Mirage: Florida and the Vanishing Water of the Eastern U.S." She lives with her family in Gainesville, Florida, where she also teaches journalism at the University of Florida.
I’m the first to rate and review this book. Guess not that many seashell fans out there? Well, that’s a shame. Consider reading this book and changing your mind. Every single thing you never knew you always wanted to know about seashells. And mollusks. A book that took the author six years to write and me an uncharacteristic several days to finish. There’s a chance I might have overestimated my interest in the subject, went in expecting a shorter book, GR’s page count is wrong, but the book actually proved to be surpassingly compelling, engaging, erudite and exceptionally informative. Not just a quaint beach souvenir, seashells have a fascinating and storied past as art and currency and building materials and food and collectors’ items. From abundantly present to alarmingly endangered, it turns out that seashells are so much more intricate, complex and interesting than just those things Sally sells by the seashore. The author traveled the world in creating this book, meaning it also serves as a travelogue for all you armchair travelers. But of course, she wasn’t the first one to go to great lengths (geographically and otherwise) for seashells, it’s been done for centuries by intrepid scientists and obsessive collectors, all featured within this book. Strange what people will go crazy for. Even stranger than the author will still eat the seafood nestled within the seashells that so fascinate her. It’s like…oh magical, but also delicious. But, while their innards don’t at all seem appetizing to me, the shells themselves do have a certain magical appeal, the precise intricate beauty of design alone…lovely. So, it wasn’t that difficult to understand the attraction of the subject and the book makes you appreciate it all the more, from a more informed position. I now know the difference between conchology and malacology, among many other things. The story of seashells and their inhabitants is, as it turns out, absolutely worth a 400some page book. Complete with a potent environmental message. Long read but worth it. Recommended. Thanks Netgalley.
I'm taking this book with me on my next trip to the beach to read again. As I read it the first time, my shells slowly gathered themselves around me. First to come out of hiding in a cabinet was a large conch shell made into a trumpet. I had to try blowing to get the low sounds I was reading about in the chapter on shell horns which describes the pre-Incan site of Chavín in the Andean highlands and the work of archeologists on the room of shell horns found there. From out of the science teaching materials I couldn't part with when I retired came the nautilus shells. I never realized that the shells on a necklace in a drawer are cowrie shells or how important cowries are in human history. My basket of shells collected over decades was intently peered over as I tried to identify each one. Even the local clamshells picked up from creek banks and dropped into a flowerbed received renewed attention. The Sound of the Sea is a wonderful book, full of fascinating scientific, historical, and cultural facts about mollusks and their shells. Cynthia Barnett raises the alarm about the effects of greed, pollution, warming, and acidification on them and on the people who depend on them without being depressing. Her writing is beautiful.
"One hundred thousand years ago, a human cousin walking a rock-ribbed beach along the Mediterranean Sea . . ." Barnett sets the stage for a captivating, wide-ranging account of human fascination with shells. Each chapter focuses on a different shell and widens into archaeology, science, literature . . . all of it interesting and eye-opening. The sections about Sanibel, a place the author obviously loves, were especially memorable. Her line about how Louise Merrimon Perry decides to make her home there made me want to hop on a plane and go see: "Surviving the night, the Perrys saw the beach in the pink light of dawn and decided to stay." (225). I loved learning about the various shell-lovers, especially the eloquent Julia Ellen Rogers and her Shell Book: "to see hundreds of scallops the size of a a silver dime flitting thorough the shallows on a bright summer day will certainly convince you that even mollusks can express the joy of flying" (262). Like her heroine, Barnett writes beautifully. This six-year labor of love was impressive and beautifully written. There were a couple of sentences that rattled my bliss for a bit. Barnett writes that Aristotle "minted the word mollusk . . . from the Latin mollis." I have read that etymology elsewhere too but it seemed unlikely that Aristotle would be borrowing from Latin, so I checked the etymology in the OED, which has mollusk as an 18th century Neo-Latin coinage. The OED notes malikia, soft things as a word from Aristotle. And there was another odd sentence. Eugene Bergeron "joined the Navy and collected throughout the the Pacific including at Pearl Harbor, where he found the best shells on the leper colony of Molokai." (231)." The sentence makes it sound like Pearl Harbor is on Molokai, probably something just got scrambled in revision. Anyhow, these were small, human things in a book that obviously took years of thinking and polishing.
I have a large shell in my home. I remember seeing it in my grandparent’s home when I was a girl, and knowing that my grandfather had collected it. I would place my ear to it’s opening to hear the sound of the sea which I had never seen.
Later in life I learned it was a conch shell, and I did see the ocean and hear it for myself. But I knew very little about conches, or where the shell came from, or how my grandfather came to own one.
Early after picking up The Sound of the Sea, I turned to Cynthia Barnett’s chapter on the Queen Conch. She tells of the Lucayan culture that harvested and barbequed the Queen Conch before they were exterminated by 1513. Queen Victoria had a preference for shell cameos, and commissioned wedding commemoratives made of the shell. By the 1940s, the conch was suffering from over harvesting in the Keys, and repopulation efforts failed. By 2018, scientists determined that there were too few conch left in the Bahamas to reproduce. Efforts are being made to farm the conch, but with the ocean heating up from climate change, they are one more example of what we are losing.
“I had set out to listen to seashells as chroniclers of nature’s truth,” Barnett writes in her conclusion. “But as much as shells told about oceans, they had more to say about people.” Humans have used shells for food and to make tools. Shell collector’s mania drove up their value, driving over fishing. Shells decorated the boxes sold by an East Side London family who in a few generations turned the business into Shell Oil. Wealthy people ornamented their walls with shells and built grottos of shells. The were used for personal ornament and for money. As instruments they called alarms, were the voice of gods, and called people to worship. Christians who underwent the pilgrimage of St. James sewed shells onto their clothing, and giant clam shells were used for baptismal fonts.
Every chapter is a beautiful, fascinating look into science, history, and nature through a specific shell. I learned so much, my interest never flagging.
I knew about the history of the color purple from the murex shell. And had read about shells as money and how they were used in decorations. I have a hand made pin and earrings made of delicate shells that had belonged to my great-grandmother. But there was so much more to learn!
I found her chapter on Triton’s Trumpet and Chavin de Huantar in Peru one of the most fascinating histories in the book. High in the Andes, this ancient city predates the Incas, and consists of temples and underground galleries with running water and reflective walls, all created for religious awe and wonder. They had no written language, but the art depicts the use of shells in ritual, especially the conch.
To hear the ocean’s softest song, walk the Sothern beaches of Sanibel Island. Listen closely at the break line. As each wave pulls back to sea, a sparkly tinkle rises from the rumble; the roil of tiny shells.
from The Sound of the Sea by Cynthia Barnett The book is a travelogue as well, with glorious descriptions of the places she visited.
She mentions the Michigan roadside attraction Sea Shell City, with its billboard of the Man Eating Clam. I finally got to visit it when I was a mother with an eager son, and saw the bins of shells and the clam on display. Stories abound of the clam in nature grasping the hand or foot of divers who met their death. WWII Navy manuals even advised how to free oneself from the clam!
After reading this book, I think about the beautiful shells I bought as a teenager, which later graced my mother’s shelf. The delicate Nautilus, the cream cone shell tipped in purple, the moon snail, the spiny armed shells. And, of course, about the conch sitting on the shelf in my home now. I had never considered the animals that had lived inside these beautiful homes, or about their impact on our world.
We are arrived at the breaking point. We have been greedy and selfish and it has wrecked havoc. Climate change is already remaking the world. There is so much still to be learned about the multitude of life in the oceans and the answers they hold to problems we face. Some are adapting, while others are disappearing. Barnett’s book brings an appreciation for what we are losing.
I received a free book through Amazon Vine. My review is fair and unbiased.
The idea of the book is easy enough to understand. Mollusks and invertebrates are proving to be like miner’s canaries. We can see the results of pollution, global warming, too much water acidity and over shelling on the population and health of our sea creatures. So far so good. So far a 4 rating. Cynthia Barnett specializes in reporting on water issues. I really enjoyed her book on rain. This particular book is really too long for the subject, although I liked it when she focused on particular creatures.
I feel she was a little hard on many people from the past. How were they to know? Anne Lindbergh for example. She lived on Captiva while writing her famous book Gifts From the Sea. She didn’t boil animals alive and recommended collecting one specimen instead of many. How come she gets sniffed at for tepid feminism (her book was published in 1950) and her ability to live in Florida while writing her book because she had the money to do so. The poor woman needed a break and solitude. Her first child was abducted and murdered, she had a near Nazi for a husband, Charles Lindbergh had seven illegitimate children by three different women and insisted she quit counseling for depression because it was weak. Give her a break.
This is an interesting book, but not necessarily the book I was expecting given the title, subtitle or blurb. It is mostly a book about the history of people who were interested shells, as well as a more important exploration of the history of native people who understood & revered both shells & the animals who create them. The third section is definitely the strongest offering the above plus the promised examination of sealife & the future of oceans. The writing style is conversational, though at times the same name or story is re-referred to as though it is the first time it was mentioned so there are some issues with flow The notes are good but not at all indicated in the main body of the text.
The Sound of the Sea will open your mind to the incredible world that exists under the surface of the world’s seas and oceans and under our feet as we walk barefoot along a beach during a vacation. But that is not all. Who knew that seashells have been found at the top of mountains. Yes, our world has been flooded in ancient times. Seashells are everywhere, and they are one of the prime recorders of human life.
Our ancient ancestors used them for both decorative purposes and monetary transactions. Seashells are found everywhere and serve as both as a record of our past and warning for our future. This book will tell you how the seeming humble seashell has formed the basis for entire civilizations and spoken to anthropologists, historians, and children. Who among us has not heard the sea by putting our ear to a conch?
Remember Golding’s Lord of the Flies? Piggy and the conch. The author weaves stories and myths and history within each chapter of her book. Her style is as fresh as an ocean breeze and her knowledge as vast as the horizon.
Years ago in Florida for a winter vacation I wandered into a seashell shop. I bought a chambered nautilus. Since then it has always fascinated me. It is beautiful, delicate, a mathematical precision and source of mystery. It is humbling to realize that its story is infinite.
While this book is not an attempt to parallel The Silent Spring, Barnett’s The Sound of the Sea does call out to its readers and warn us that the sea and its shells are not in the best of health. Perhaps what we hear when we put our ears to a conch is a call for help.
Pulitzer Prize-winner, Jack E. Davis, states that” Cynthia Barnett has given us a book for the ages.” Davis is right. The Sound of the Sea is magnificent. It is mostly science (Barnett does not shy away from deep diving into the science), but it is also history, literature, a travel log, with meaningful forays into religious and feminist studies. It made me want to see what Barnett saw; on Florida’s Sanibel Island, in Palau, the Maldives, Peru and Ghana. It tells us about Cahokia, about the Royal Dutch Shell Corporation and about a hundred other places, people and stories which should inform our perspectives about the planet. The quote that kept coming to my mind while reading The Sound of the Sea describes the genius of the Nobel Prize winner, Albert von Szent-Gyorgi: “Discovery consists in seeing what everyone else has seen and thinking what no one else has thought.” That is what Barnett has done. She brilliantly observes the 500-million year history of mollusks and relates the lessons they teach the world. No one else has done that. Through an encyclopedic and fascinating narrative, she draws a grand picture of human mismanagement of the earth and seas (mostly), and yet inspires us to do more and better. The Sound of the Sea weaves a compelling story on the backs of those magnificent creatures we have paid too little attention to. This is a must read for 2021 and beyond.
This is a book with parallel interwoven threads, ongoing through the book: mollusks and seashells, of course; the naturalists, experts and locals the author visited; the locations in which the book settles in each chapter -- the Palaus, the Maldives, Sanibel Island in Florida, the west African coast, and more -- and, more and more insistently, the impact that climate change and overfishing demonstrates in these creatures. Indeed, this kind of narrative interweave helps move the book -- the author did a formidable amount of research, travel and interviewing, and it would be a dense read if it didn't keep shifting the themes.
There's also the shells' impact on economics; indeed, we learn that cowrie shells were an early form of currency, far beyond their island origins -- among other things, as a medium of exchange in the African slave trade, and some of the author's most poignant reflections are in this chapter. We learn of the murex, the source of the luxury purple dye so sought-after in the Roman empire period. We also learn how trade in rare shells in upper-class Europe would drive colonial expansion and eventually distort both the demand and the survival of popular shells. We even learn the origin of the Royal Dutch Shell fortune. We learn how the giant clam of Palau became both an amenity for the local people and something of a warning about foreign poaching.
The book has some surprising revelations. Those in the Bay Area may have heard how shellmounds might factor into land-use controversies, which she touches on in a mention of the local Ohlone people. There and elsewhere around the world, as it turns out, the shellmounds are not just cast-off ancient meals but valuable auguries of earlier dwellers -- and even as burial sites. We learn that the only second-edition book of Edgar Allen Poe's lifetime was a book on shells. We also learn of an unsung hero: Julia Ellen Rogers, an early 20th-Century expert and author on shells, an inspiration to the field in her day, cruelly forgotten since, and now, in this book is restored to rightful recognition.
It's not a fast read, but a poignant and often-surprising one. The reader comes away with a heightened sense that these creatures current travails are a strong signal of future planetary peril. We also learn that these creatures can, in many ways, instruct scientists in new methods of bioluminescence and medicine -- if they survive. Highest recommendation.
What a brilliant book! From start to finish, a gem. It reminds me of Jack E. Davis' Pulitzer-winner, The Gulf, in that it mixes incredible research and lyrical writing.
Barnett, who has written about water supplies, water conservation and rain, now tackles seashells, which turn out to have a lot more to do with human history than we think. From the mollusks used to make the Roman emperor's purple robes to the scallop shells that inspired Shell Oil to the cowries used to pay for the slave trade, Barnett explores them all and then some. Her chapter on the shells of Sanibel was a particular delight, as were her explorations of Florida's Native American shell mounds. The section on giant clams was a revelation as well.
In reporting this book, Barnett travels the globe, with stops in such diverse places as Papua New Guinea and Ghana. But then she ties it all together, and along the way brings to life many long forgotten scientists who paved the way for the study of mollusks and their shells. She also explores such issues as climate change, ocean acidification, overharvesting and land development.
I took a long time to get through this book but that was my fault. I had to keep setting it aside to read things for work. In a way, that was a blessing -- it forced me to take it slow and focus on each example she offered and the way she wrote about it. I loved it all, and when I finished it this morning, I did a fist pump.
A well researched book that takes readers around the world and through time. I enjoyed how she explored the way humans have used and been connected to shells and the mollusks that make them for thousands of years. How the relationships have changed and stayed the same through the years and the warning the mollusks send us about the dangers of human wrought change. I also really enjoyed her description of the living animals and the shells they create. Especially the section on giant clams. I had no idea that they were that many colors and the extent of their symbiosis with photosynthetic algae.
This book is sad and haunting about what has been lost and the many species in danger of extinction because of multiple factors including climate change, habitat loss, and over harvesting. But at the same time the book is also hopeful about human ingenuity and natures resilience and species ability to adapt if we give them any chance.
Each chapter beautifully illustrated with a mollusk that will later be described in the upcoming pages, this book is basically an adventure into the lives of giant clams, bay scallops, cones, lightning whelks, queen conches, chambered nautilus, oysters, and more of the seashells that struck our fancy as we stroll along the beach. But, as the author reveals, it is not all pleasant.
From cowrie shells that substituted for money across the world to the native American Indian carved shells to make the wampum belts that represented agreements and living history. Massive mounts of shells that constructed the mounds beneath the Calusa Indian towns in Florida and other areas. The miles of oyster reefs that greeted Henry Hudson as he attempted to navigate into New York Harbor. Conch shells discovered in Peruvian ruins that can still create a haunting, powerful music that echoes through the centuries.
But there is the other side of shells and mollusks - the collectors that are willing to pay astonishing sums for a 'perfect' specimen. And if one is satisfying, several is even better. This is not the crafts where people would attach small shells to boxes and picture frames as gifts or souvenirs of their trip to the beach. Which has it's own horrific aspect when beachcombers were encouraged to find live mollusks and and then boil them alive, freeze them alive or dump in bleach in order to kill the inhabitant.
Overharvesting, pollution, climate change and habitat destruction is pushing thousands of species of mollusks to the edge into extinction. Many countries are currently trying to preserve their oceanside heritage by protecting the mollusks that at one time provided sustenance and decoration. But the black market is all to willing to make today's buyer happy at any cost.
Barnett provides a captivating work of cultural history as well environmental science as she relays tales from across the world. This is not a dry relating of facts - no pun intended - but a hope that humanity will finally see that enchantment these animals provide as they shell-clap and jet-propel their luminous shelters among the seagrass and sanddunes.
My role as one of Cynthia’s mentees precludes any chance of objectivity, but I can subjectively say this is a fantastic read.
Something Cynthia has taught me is to bury nuggets of delight throughout a story. This book is full of them. From children picking up nautical-themed Legos lost in a cargo ship accident to the NYT calling brown tide “mysterious” 24 times in the 80’s, there are so many facts still stuck in my teeth weeks after reading.
"Seashells have been the most coveted and collected of nature’s creations since the dawn of humanity. They were money before coins, jewelry before gems, art before canvas". I love that sentence. Thank you Cynthia Barnett. A brilliant read indeed.
What a fascinating book for anyone with an interest in shells or just in marine biology in general. There is plenty of science about evolution and life cycles of different species, but what I especially enjoyed were the cultural and historical aspects of shells. They've been important in mythology, religion, art and trade/economics for centuries. The book is extensively researched and beautifully written.
Cynthia Barnett took me on many journeys, to different parts of the world and to different eras in history. Of course I enjoyed her forays to places I've visited myself, such as Sanibel Island, where I collected shells in the 1970s, and St. Petersburg's Tocobaga Indian mound in Pinellas Point, which my children loved climbing. But it was also fascinating to go with her and her son to the Maldives, Palau and Ghana.
She has a lot to say about the challenges facing some of our most iconic shells, such as queen conchs, scallops and giant clams, which are being depleted by over harvesting and by climate change, which has made their waters warmer and more acidic. There are signs of hope--shell farming, protected areas, and research pointing to the value of shells in developing new medicines and technologies.
In a way, the book is as much about people as it is about mollusks. Barnett introduces the reader to many of the people whose lives are entwined with shells as their livelihoods, research subjects or fascinations. One of the more interesting stories is that of the London shell craft business that morphed into Royal Dutch Shell. And, of course, it is we humans who represent the greatest threat to the long-term survival of shells.
Even as individuals, we can do our part--don't buy shells and only pick up the dead ones when beachcombing.
This is not so much a book about seashells as a book about how humans have interacted with seashells throughout history. The book begins with a Neanderthal girl picking up shells on the beach, a thing that we know really happened, because the shells were found in the caves where Neanderthals lived. Humans have collected shells since forever, using them as jewelry, tools, money, building materials, and just saving them because they were beautiful or rare. Humans have eaten shellfish in large quantities, and then thrown the shells onto huge midden piles that changed the landscape.
This book is roughly organized chronologically, from events of the distant past to events of the present, with one chapter per type of shell/ type of mollusk. But it felt loosely put together, like a mishmash of interesting stories and fun facts, and some not so fun facts. (Here’s a fun fact. A conchologist is a scientist who studies shells, and a malacologist is a scientist who studies the animals that live in the shells.)
Here are just three bits I found especially memorable.
In what is now Peru they found an ancient temple called Chavin de Huantar. It had numerous chambers and passageways. There was an underground room filled with conch shells (Triton’s trumpet). There were vents that could channel the sound of the conchs from downstairs to upstairs. The whole complex seemed designed to create religious experiences by amazing, disorienting, and overwhelming worshipers. “The murmur of the shell was the voice of the god.”
In southwest Florida, researchers discovered “great cities of shell.” There were mounds 60 feet high, water ponds, canals, flat-topped pyramids, terraces. Most of these structures were built from shells of the lightning whelk. As fast as 20th century American scientists tried to preserve these monuments to a remarkable Native American culture, 20th century American developers were leveling them to build condos.
From the Caribbean to the Florida Keys, the Queen Conch was a beloved food and a symbol of identity. They began to disappear, mostly from overfishing. Florida banned the harvesting of Queen Conchs in 1986. Then they waited for them to come back. And they didn’t. A captive breeding program was started, and some Queen Conchs came back, but only those farther out to sea, not those near to shore. After accounting for various sources of pollution, scientists concluded that the shallow waters had become too warm for the conchs to breed. Because of climate change.
I have lately been finding great comfort in books about science and nature. Nature is incredible and incredibly beautiful. But in every single book about nature there is a point where the author points out that all of this richness is threatened. Because it is. This book is no exception. All is not well with the oceans.
The last word is that we must find a way to reign in our greed and excess, and learn from some indigenous cultures who had rules about not taking too much, and learn to appreciate the beauty of the living mollusk above the beauty of the hollow shell.
Exactly the sort of nonfiction book I love, great writing that intertwines science with history and expert details that illustrate a larger picture. I don't know too much about shells and enjoyed learning a great deal, and found there are many parallels between historic and modern shell collecting and the mineral collecting community with which I am more familiar, and looking at a tangentially similar topic that was new to me was thoroughly enjoyable. A 350-page book that was highly satisfying but that leaves me excited to learn even more? If that's not 5 stars, what could be.
It’s better than I made it seem by my rating, but here is why. It’s thick. It’s a lot of information. The scope was overwhelming for me, and reading became a chore. I read this for a book club and probably would have done better breaking it into much smaller pieces. I switched to the audio book just to push me through.
A book about shells and our fascination with them over the years. There’s a little science but the history of shell use and purpose over is actually a good read in its narrative.
I finish this book reminiscent about living near the sea, and with a research list of women who paved way for innovation (albeit maddening how gender bias have kept them yet again away from the limelight).
One of my favorite books read this year. Barnett weaves a fascinating and informative narrative about shells, people, and the natural world. Highly recommended.
I loved this book! I learned so much about seashells and as someone who cannot visit a beach from our home in Central Florida and now bring home shells, this was the perfect read. The way that Barnett focuses not only on the shells but the animals inside them, the way people have interacted with shells and how the future of these mollusks means for all of us on this planet is both engaging and important.
Nonfiction about seashells and humanity's relationship with them. It's a wide-ranging book, covering everything from the murex shells used to make purple dye for the togas of Roman emperors; the Dutch mania for exotic shells in the 1600s (alongside their more famous tulipmania); the middle-class Samuel family of Victorian London who made millions selling shell knick-knacks to tourists and named their next company Shell Oil; the harvesting of cowries in the medieval Maldives and the use of those same cowries in the slave castles of Ghana. It's not all history – there are sections on the deadly cone snails of the Philippines and how we might turn their venom into anti-cancer drugs; the scientists who work with the glowing giant clams of Palau to find better ways of producing solar energy; or the modern-day island of Sanibel, Florida, home to multitudes of shell-collectors.
There is also a lot, a lot, about all the ways humanity is currently destroying the species seashells come from: overfishing, rising ocean temperatures, plastic gyres in the middle of oceans, chemical contamination, increasing power of hurricanes, the lack of protected habitats, and more. Which is fair! It's an important topic! But I wasn't paying attention when I picked this up as a fun beach read, and it ended up being much more depressing than I was prepared for. In general I also wanted more about the seashells themselves and less about how people have used and misused them. That angle probably does make The Sound of the Sea unique among other seashell books, but again, it wasn't quite what I wanted to read.
Still, it's a well-written and informative and sensitive look at seashells, and it's probably the perfect book for someone. Just not me, right at this moment.
The sound of the sea by Cynthia Barnett (W.W Norton group) 4 stars This fantastic nonfiction book tells the story of the history, science and climatic impact of shells and their environments. I found this book very interesting and informative. I learnt so many new things and it wasn't hard to read or understand. I never understood that shell collecting was so advanced that people actually take the live creatures from the sea to harvest their shell. I found it so interesting learning about the amazing creatures that live and hide within or seas and oceans , also learning how they have evolved to cope with climate change or not so in many cases. Each wonderful chapter starts with a beautiful pencil drawn piece of artwork showing these amazing and fascinating sea creatures. The most interesting fact for me was that 90% of people do not know how shells are made. This misinterpretations are fully explained by the author. She writes to help people understand the nature that surrounds us and the impact we unwittingly have on our most precious environment. So much praise goes to the author and her publishing team for producing such a wonderful and insightful book that can be enjoyed and understood by all. Also posting the same review Barnes&noble, waterstones, kobo,Google books and amazon where available.
I chose “The Sound of The Sea” as a mood setting read during a trip to the Gulf of Mexico. I was very pleasantly surprised to find malacology (mollusk science), the history of shell use, geography and the saga of human interaction with the sea.
I learned much from this book. I read of life and use of shells as money on remote islands. The prevalence of sea shells found at the site of the Indian nation of Cahokia, near my home, reflects not only on the lure of shells but the extent of trade in America before the arrival of Europeans. The effect of over harvesting and chemical and climate change in the oceans are presented as altering seashells, but it does not overwhelm this work.
I found this book easy to read, without being boring. Author Cynthia Barnett has skillfully woven the history of Moldavian Queens, the wants of the extremely rich and the needs of subsistence shore dweller, Florida coastal resorts, Utopian communities in the American heartland, scientific studies and Poe’s poetry into this tome. It enhanced my Gulf visit. I recommend it to anyone seeking a better understanding of inhabitants of the sea and their relationship to us on land.
I did receive a free copy of this book through the Amazon Vine Program.
Recently went to Florida and was on Sanibel Island at Ding Darling NWR. Went to the Bailey-Matthews National Shell Museum (was so wonderful to see living mollusks living in their shells!) there as well. Actually got this book from the library before we left, but did not have a chance to read. Enjoyed this book very much and would give it a 4.50. Low and behold find out that Sanibel Island is the epicenter of tropical shells on the Florida west coast. The books covers info about individual types of shells, but really is a complete history of the living mollusks as well. Covers fossilized shells, great cities & peoples of shell, shells as currency, mollusk researchers, collectors (collection craziness), royal purple dye, Shell clubs, Shell oil, environmental: over harvesting, ocean warning, and pollution. Did remind me of so many happy times at the beach and the wonder of finding a shell. We did collect one shell on this trip on Daulphin Island on the Alabama coast: a Lettered Olive (Oliva sayana)!
I originially bought this as a beach read on my first vacation in the Carribbean, but finished it back at home. It's quite a sobering and thoughtful look at shells and our history (and future) together, but in spite (or maybe because) of that, I still highly recommend this as a read when you're on a luxury retreat or a touristy beach to ground you back in nature when you're seemingly removed. The author focuses a lot on the people throughout history who made conchology and malacology their life's work and it's less of a "this shell looks like this and lives there and has the following features" book (which is totally fine, just not what I expected). So after having finished this, I was surprised to read about other people being inspired in growing or furthering their own shell collection as they write in their reviews - that is not at all the purpose or the takeaway of this book. It's learning without disturbing (among many other things).
"The acquisitive instinct is incompatible with true appreciation of beauty."