Category: Review (Page 1 of 132)

4.5 out of 5 stars

The publisher provided a copy of this, free of charge, in return for an honest review.

[Britain is a nation of] long shadows on county cricket grounds, warm beer, invincible green suburbs, dog lovers and – as George Orwell said – old maids bicycling to Holy Communion through the morning mist. – John Major

Politicians of a certain political hue want to sell the dream of nostalgia, the notion that everything was much better back in the day. We’d won a war (with a lot of help from others), and life then was villages with roses growing around the door of a thatched cottage. Spoiler alert: it wasn’t… Life for most people was nasty, brutish, and often short, unless they were born chinless and inbred, and had a substantial part of a county as their land and their home.

We were the first nation to industrialise, and then at the end of the 20th century, we were the first nation to become post-industrial as the politicians of the time embraced the service and banking industries. Hamilton-Paterson describes the banking sector as a parasite on the British economy, and I can’t say I disagree with his point of view.

He goes on to explain how those who fill the corridors of the now exclusive public schools and gain entry to the premier universities have no interest in STEM (Science, Engineering, Technology and Mathematics). This is something that almost every other country puts as its priority.

You would think that the country that invented railways would have the best and most comprehensive network in the world. But you’d be wrong. The modern railway network costs the country more in subsidies than it used to when it was fully nationalised. Madness. Add the amount it is subsidised to the vast fares that the private sector charges, and you can see that the promise of privatisation being better value for the consumer was one great lie. Transport planning has never been a strong point of successive governments and the civil service. The unnecessary Beeching cuts on the railways, to the laughable and bonkers decisions on airports, mostly surrounding London.

The demise of the railways was driven (sic) by the rise of the car and road lobby. They had the politician and civil servants by the short and curlies, and they ensured that all policy decisions on transport prioritised roads. In a sense of irony that you couldn’t make up, Hamilton-Paterson goes on to describe just how awful most British cars were. Add to that heady mix of poor quality and design, the shocking management of the companies and the inflexible and unhelpful union leaders made everything ten times worse. This is why we have no UK owned car manufacturers. The captains of industry and policy makers still managed to get and keep their gongs for services to industry… As there is no comprehensive transport policy, and the poor planning of the road network, we are in the top ten for the gridlocked roads in the world.

As a nation surrounded by the sea, we have always built our own boats and ships. It used to be a massive industry, but in recent years it has dwindled somewhat, partly because of shipyard management failing to adopt new construction techniques and unions also failing to embrace these changes. Both camps were shortsighted and stupid in their own unique ways. There are some shipyards with work, mostly military vessels, but most ships nowadays are foreign-built and often foreign-owned too.

Hamilton-Paterson then focuses on the defence industry. It is a very lucrative business, even before you get into the shady and dodgy business practices that are employed when dealing with some of the more corrupt governments around the world. There is often a revolving door between businesses, politicians, high-level military personnel and civil servants. Those who have awarded contracts seem to end up on the boards of the companies that have won the contracts. All very shabby… On top of that, almost every project seems to go over budget and time, and then doesn’t always work properly. Probably our best defence is to provide our shonky kit to our enemies…

Motorcycling – the dream of the open road and the sweeping bends. The reality is, flies in your teeth and avoiding all the idiots who seem to never see anyone on two wheels on the road. When I started riding motorbikes many, many years ago, I had a Japanese bike as all the British motorbikes had gone. And this time it couldn’t be blamed on the unions; rather, it was down to management ineptitude. The boards had no interest or knowledge of motorcycles or engineering. Couple that with complacency and an unwillingness to adapt to changing market conditions, and the industry was doomed.

Around the time of WW2, it could be said that Britain was a world leader in many fields and technologies. Sadly, it wouldn’t be long after the war that we lost those leads. Sometimes this was because of stupid decisions that we had made, other times, nuclear being the example covered in the book, were because the Americans deliberately stopped sharing information on the new technology.

As an engineer, I appreciated his scathing indictment of the lack of support from all levels of government and industry for engineering and STEM. The institutes that we finally did get, some 60-plus years after the French and Germans, were largely ineffective. Most shocking for me was learning about the systematic dismantling of the Industrial Training Boards after the government came under pressure from industry, who were reluctant to pay for training. By doing this, they have been agents of their own demise as skilled people have retired and changed roles mean that there is a dearth of people being able to do the work we need.

The final two chapters of the book are equally scathing of the way that the rich and political class, often known as the great and the good, have flogged off all the family silver, burnt all the wooden furniture and even sold the handcart we should have been going to hell in. It has been an enormous transfer of public wealth to the private sector, even larger than the land lost under the enclosure acts.

I think that he is completely right in everything that he says in this book, and I implore you to read it. Then start to push for political change to improve everyone’s lot in this country.

3.5 out of 5 stars

The publisher provided a copy of this, free of charge, in return for an honest review.

John Maltravers had followed the usual route from Eton to Oxford that the people of his class often took. He had an uneventful two years there. He met William Gaskell, who was equally talented as him in music, and they got along really well. One summer, Gaskell was taken to Europe by a wealthy uncle. As a gift, he brought back some sheet music and a book for Maltravers.

After they had spent the evening together, Gaskell left the music with Maltravers. He decides to have a go at playing some of the scores from the velum book. He selects a piece of music, and as he plays the opening bars on his violin, he hears someone sit down in the wicker chair behind him. On finishing the piece, there is the sound of someone standing up behind him. He knows he is alone, and he can’t see anyone at all in the room.

The same phenomenon happens when he and Gaskell play that particular piece of music. It was slightly strange, but not unnerving. However, the next time he plays the same tune, everything takes a much sinister turn…

Maltravers spends the summer back in Dorset and on returning to Oxford, finds that the phenomena he had experienced before seems to have abated. On rearranging the bookshelves in the room, he spots a hinge on a panel. He forces it open, and in the room behind it is a very dusty violin.

It turns out that this instrument is a Stradivarius and a fine example too. Maltravers has it serviced and restored. When he first gets to play it, he has no idea as to the changes it will bring to his life. I won’t elaborate any more than that, as any more would really spoil the story.

I did think that the plot was fairly good, and even though it is only a short book, it did feel like it took an age for things to happen and to reach a conclusion. It is very big on Victorian Gothic melodrama, and every now and again, I found the language to be a bit flowery for my liking. Falkner is great about writing about place, and I really liked the scenes set in Dorset and Italy. I haven’t read his book, Moonfleet, but might do so at some point.

5 out of 5 stars

The publisher provided a copy of this, free of charge, in return for an honest review.

I first read a book by Norman Lewis in 2017. It wasn’t Naples 44, either; instead, it was A Goddess in the Stones that had just been reissued by Eland. I summed up my review at the time by saying:

His evocative writing style brings alive the assault on the senses that India is; you feel that you are there, standing amongst the grime and swirl of people. The writing is detailed without being cumbersome and his ability to draw out the stories from the people of the tribes that he meets lifts this book from good to great. This is the first Norman Lewis book that I have read and it will not be the last.

And it wasn’t.

I have since read a further four of his books, which, given how good a writer he is, I own nine books of his that I have not read, and I am a little ashamed about. It is something that I will put to rights one day. (Notes all the other unread books that I have glaring at me…)

I did know that he wrote fiction too, and I have read one of those, The March of the Long Shadows, in Sicily, as it seemed to be the right place to read it. What I didn’t know was that as well as the 20-plus travel books that he had written and the fiction books, he was also a prolific journalist, publishing articles over a period of five decades.

It has always been a project of John Hatt, the original founder of Eland, to pull together the very best articles and reporting into one collection. And this is the book, A Quiet Evening. I am assuming that the title is ironic, as Lewis had anything other than a quiet life. He lived into his nineties, was very well travelled, drove Bugattis at pace, was a crack shot, and it is strongly suspected that he was a spy or assisted MI6 in their activities.

He has an unassuming and unthreatening way of dealing with people; coupled with this, he is very observant and could draw accurate conclusions of situations very quickly. This made his articles and books very readable and relatable; I feel that I am alongside him as he is moving through a landscape and talking to people. He has a way of teasing a story out of people and his summary of a particular situation is really pretty accurate. The closest we have to someone like this nowadays is Simon Reeve, in my opinion.

The breadth of stories in this book is staggering. There is the mafia, as I would have expected, but he travels and writes about Guatemala, Ibiza, Seville, and many other places, and of course a return visit to Naples. In the article, Genocide, he covers the atrocities against the Amazon Indians by the very people who were supposed to be looking out for them. When writing articles for papers, the people and the things happening to them were centre stage, the lands they live in were important for context, but not in the same way that his travel books are.

It is a fairly hefty book, coming in at a smidgeon over 500 pages, but I think this is well worth your investment in time reading this. The quality of the writing and indeed the journalism is fantastic. Not all the articles are about conflict, but it is a reminder that the world was as cruel and violent back then as it is now.

3.5 out of 5 stars

The publisher provided a copy of this, free of charge, in return for an honest review.

Standing alongside a 6-foot-high marker post with Tarddiad Afon Hafren (Source of the Severn) is the beginning of Chave’s journey along the course of this river. The Hafren, or as I knew it before this book, the Severn, is the longest mainland river in the British Isles, looping 220 miles in a huge semicircle. For the source of this river, she and her son are standing next to, 600m up a Welsh hillside. It isn’t a single spring pouring out crystal clear water, rather it is a series of pools and bogs where water has accumulated prior to its journey to the sea.

In the town of Llanidloes, the Hafren enters as a stream. It is swollen by tributaries and other sources, such as rain, and leaves the town as a river. On trying to find some of these tributaries, she comes across a herd of cows. Rightly so, she is wary of them, and after a short while, they lose interest in her. Whilst there, she takes time to explore the poets of the area and to sit by the river and unwind.

The river passes through Newtown, home of Laura Ashley. I have never really been into chintz, so they were never on my radar for home furnishings, but she was really farsighted and progressive in her business.

As the river moves further on through the countryside, places to cross without a bridge become harder to find. One place that does allow this is Rhyd Chwima. It has been a well-defended strategic place since before the Romans. And it is tidal, which is something that I couldn’t quite believe that the effects of the tide extend this far up the river. But thinking about it, the amount of water that gets pushed up the estuary when the tide comes in is going to have an effect far upstream.

As the Hafren reaches Shrewsbury, it begins to meander, the long, slow bends that lots of rivers form and the flow through a landscape. They pass through a town where the river has recently broken its banks and flooded. There are men all over the place clearing up the mess, and it is a timely reminder that climate change can and will affect people everywhere.
As they travel further downstream, they are reminded that the mind needs to meander and wander, too. The modern headlong rush from A to B that society demands nowadays is really not good for us.

Ironbridge is a reminder that this is where the Industrial Revolution started. And the point where climate change went from neutral to first gear.

As water companies that have their eye on profits and dividends for shareholders, pollute and degrade the environment, grassroots organisations and individuals are seeking to push back. This is a battle that hasn’t been won yet, but there is slow progress in the right direction.

Generally, I am not a fan of the aristocracy. However, when they even realise that the current policies are killing us slowly and take notice, I reluctantly have to give them a little credit. The heir to an estate that Chave talks to seems to have the urgency of the changes that he (and we) need to make. I hope that his actions and results can influence others with shockingly large land holdings.

Returning to the place where her mother taught at, brings the memories flooding in, especially when she heads back to the school to see how it is doing at the moment. It has a strong Welsh identity, and Chave reminds us that the Welsh language was only given equal status in 1993, 457 years after Henry VIII banned the language from public life.

The human way (and very much British way) is to control nature. All well and good, but with all these things, there can often be lots of unintended consequences. Straightening a river to aid navigation can cause severe flooding downstream. Chave visits the place where they are restoring the meanders. They are calling it re-wriggling, which is a delightful name.

If you spend any time alongside this river, then one of the sights that you really should see is the Severn Bore. Chave makes this one of the last things that she does on her journey.

I liked this book. It is a good companion volume to Shaping the Wild by David Elias, The Long Unwinding Road by Marc P. Jones and Seascapes and Return to My Trees by Matthew Yeomans, which I have read in the past year or so. Chave has managed to get the balance right between travel writing and history. The history adds context and depth, without becoming too dominant. I liked her conversational writing style, too, attentive without being too overbearing. This book is definitely worth reading if you have a soft spot for Wales.

3.5 out of 5 stars

The publisher provided a copy of this, free of charge, in return for an honest review.

I have been a fan of Time Team for longer than I can remember. But it was only last year that I finally made it to an actual archaeological dig near me in Dorset. This is the Durotriges dig site near Winterborne Kingston, in Dorset and has uncovered all sorts of details about the lives of these people. It was a fascinating day out. A friend and neighbour has actually dug there, and I am now slightly jealous.

This book begins with the story of Brian Hope-Taylor, an eminent archaeologist and recluse, and the Banburgh sword that he found. This sword is unique in the way that it was pattern-welded, and the story behind it is fascinating. It is thought that there was only one blacksmith who would have had the skills to make this weapon.

There is a fictionalised account of a father and son sailing from Ireland to Iona to begin with, before the authors start to fill in the details, to bring that time back to life. The people back then built brocks, huge circular buildings that served certain purposes, some of which we know, some of which we can only guess at and others that are lost to time forever.

The next chapter covers some of the history behind the sword; who fought who, who won and lost and the various inter-family disputes that spilt over into war. I didn’t realise that the armies of these kingdoms were so small.

The stories of who we are, talks about Pitt-Rivers, who inherited Cranborne Chase (a fantastic area of land just near me) and the influence that he has had over archaeology. He pioneered the philosophy that every artefact found in the ground tells a tiny part of the story; it is a real connection to the people of that time and can sometimes have more significance than the headline-grabbing treasure.

Back in the 600’s, this island was in a state of flux. The old religions had waned after the Roman invaders had brought with them their own suite of gods. After the Romans had departed a couple of hundred years previously, paganism and the gods of the Anglo-Saxons took precedence. That is, until the next religion embraced by Rome arrived on the shores: Christianity. On top of this are the power plays between the ruling classes as they loved, married, fought, and murdered each other in the vain pursuit of power.

The authors expand on what makes a warrior and their way of fighting in these times. I had incorrectly assumed that they had swords and shields, but it turns out that they had spears and the shield was as much a weapon as it was for protection.

In another part of the excavation, they come across a reminder of just how short, sharp and brutal life was in those times. Death, both natural and inflicted, was common in society. One of the skeletons they examined had almost been cut in two from his shoulder to his waist.

It takes a wealth of experience to spot a grave when digging. The trowel makes a subtly different sound when it scrapes the soil when you go from backfill to regular ground. One day a lintel grave is found that contains two individuals, whom they eventually conclude must be a father and son.

Marrying the details that they find in the ground to actual historical events is much, much harder. However, it can be done when the archaeologist knows who lived in the area and the grave goods provide a strong indication of status.

I liked some parts of this book, primarily the archaeology and how the things they discovered under the ground were made and used back in those days. I did feel it was a little bit heavy on the history side, and whilst I get that context is important, as it sets the scene for the things they are discovering, I felt it dominated this book. That said, I thought it was an enjoyable read and very much eye-opening about life back then.

4 out of 5 stars

The publisher provided a copy of this, free of charge, in return for an honest review.

South America is much less written about than the Northern part of the continent. Meghji hope in this book to address this deficiency by writing about the British influence (and control and coercion; usual story) in the region.

He begins the book in Argentina, a country that we went to war with in the 1980s over the Falkland Islands. HE describes how the British shaped the country, so much so that almost no one there likes the English. The Scots, Welsh and Irish people and cultures that are still there are liked though…

His next stop is Uruguay. Another country that has suffered from excessive British influence since the early 1800s. I liked finding out about the place, as there are very few books about the country, especially travel books, though I do have a copy of The Purple Land that I really must read. Again, Meghji mixes a potted history of the country with a contemporary view as he travels around it.

For me, personally, the name Patagonia has a similar exotic feel as Zanzibar. It is evocative, though the reality of living there is very different to our perceptions of the place.

There is a small part of Patagonia that is forever Wales. Known as Y Wladfa, it was founded in the 1860s after 153 people had left Wales with the intention of starting a new life. It was incredibly tough to begin with, but they stuck with it. They survived with the help of the local people, who taught them how to hunt. And it is still going. Meghji arrived there by bus. He tours the museum to fill in the gaps in his knowledge of the place. It is a fascinating place, and he unpacks their story in this chapter.

In the Chilean part of Patagonia, he joins a Puma tracker. He learns how they can disappear into this landscape; they will know that you are there, but you will never see them, even when really close. Meghji discovers more about the troubled and often traumatic history of the place. He follows the threads of occupation and learns more about the trauma that affected the locals, and how the British caused and influenced this. It is horrendous as I’d come to expect.

In the hilariously titled chapter ‘Two Men Fighting Over a Comb’, Meghji visits the Falkland Islands and South Georgia. I remember the Falklands War in the 1980s and the patriotism that was stirred up as we took military action to take back these remote islands. We won that war, and the Argentinian government fell after, but the legacy lives on. We still have a military base there, and the Argentinian’s would still like them back; the swirling of geopolitics never really ends. South Georgia is even more remote, and visiting there is a reminder of how much we have devastated the natural world in the past, and probably would do so again, given half a chance. Bloody horrific.

Tiera de Fuego is rightly titled the end of the world. It is a bleak and harsh environment where some people still made their home, though in the usual way, these people were considered savages by incoming Westerners, rather than being considered innovative and adaptable. This was probably the reason they could then justify the cruel and brutal treatment that they dished out to the people there. Meghji travels as far south as he can by road, which is frozen by the weather, and notes just how quickly the weather can change in this part of the world. He unpacks some of the history of the place and learns about a missionary family that came over with the intention of converting the locals.

Rapa Nui, or as the rest of the world knows it, Easter Island, is a tiny scrap of land in the vast Pacific. How anyone managed to find it is beyond me. It is often used as an example of how using all the resources up condemns a society to collapse. As usual, the British turned up and purloined a number of items. They have so far resisted calls from the people still there to return these stolen items to their rightful place.

The thinnest country of Chile, has had a tumultuous past. There was the brutal dictatorship of Pinochet, a particularly nasty individual, who with his henchmen, tormented the country and the people. Reaching further back in the history of the country, you will find British influence and control over the most valuable resources of the country. These were exploited as much as the locals were neglected. Reading stories like this is a reminder of why we are not universally liked around the world.

The Atacama Desert is one of the driest places on the planet, sometimes having less than 1mm of rain a year. Even so, it was still home to a substantial number of people who knew how to make a living in the region. Meghji discovers the antics that the British got up to. They backed the unsavoury people as usual, with the interest in profit and making money rather than having the slightest care about people’s lives and their families.

This was an enlightening read in lots of ways. I knew the odd thing about South American history from the occasional book that I had read in the past. However, I had no idea quite how extensive British influence was in the region, and to be honest, having now read this book, most of what we did there in the past was pretty appalling. Meghji’s prose is written in a dispassionate way, he wants to present the facts and leave me, the reader, with enough information to make an informed decision about what happened there and to whom. The facts do not make for pleasant reading, though, so you can imagine what I think of this…

If the book had one flaw, for me at least, I didn’t think that there was enough about Meghji’s travels in the region. The history he recounts is important, but I felt that it dominated the narrative a little too much. That said, context is important and knowing how people are in the situation that they are in today, we need to know where they started and the things that have happened to them. If you are a fan of geopolitics, then this would be right up your street. However, if you are hoping that there would be more descriptions about the travel, then it might not be for you. However, if you have any interest in South America, then I would highly recommend this book.

5 out of 5 stars

The publisher provided a copy of this, free of charge, in return for an honest review.

Regardless of what some braying populist politicians say, climate change is real. It’s not going away and is only going to get worse as carbon dioxide levels rise in the coming years. As with any of these things, follow the money to see who is paying for these messages and be aware that they want to discredit the evidence and for people to have doubts about the science.
I have read a fair number of books about the coming environmental crisis caused by climate change and CO2 levels in the atmosphere, but this probably has the bleakest start of any book that I have read. Not only does he say that we are all doomed, but he then goes on to detail just how and why we are doomed.

He begins with heat. The human body is versatile and can cope with a range of temperatures, from Arctic to desert, but go beyond those, and we very quickly expire. Some of the more recent heatwaves that we have had, there are 700 people per day dying from these extreme temperatures. It doesn’t just affect us; these high temperatures stop plants growing and turn fertile zones into arid wastelands.

For those alongside the seaside, not only are you going to get sunburn, but the gulls will still be desperate for your chips, and the sea level is rising. A lot. Predictions for sea level rises are eight foot by the end of this century and realistically much more if the ice melts much faster than it has been doing up until now.
So far, so bad.

If the heat and sea level rises don’t get you, then maybe the wildfires will. The hazards all combine in some way, and the magnitude of the effects is increased each time.
If you’ve survived all that, then the weather might get you. Storms are increasing in power, and as warm air holds more moisture, it means that the rain is heavier and more intense than before. Or you might be struck by lightning…Even though you’ve been soaked in the storm, the chances of being able to find potable water will be diminishing.
The rising seas are also dying, or more accurately, being killed by us. Coral bleaching, dramatic temperature changes, less oxygen in warmer oceans, carbon dioxide poisoning and a slowdown in the water cycles that have regulated the planet for millennia.

Having read all of that, you may need to take a deep breath. Not the best idea, though, given that the air pollution is rising. Plus, there is a rise in particulates, micro plastics and other aerosols in the atmosphere now, which, surprise, surprise, isn’t doing us any good at all.

As the natural world becomes more stressed, viruses proliferate. Wallace-Well mentions some that have transferred from the animal domain to ours, but as this was written pre-COVID, then that isn’t mentioned. The viruses he does write about are pretty grim, though. The chapter on economic collapse was fascinating, and is a reminder that everything on the tiny blue dot is interlinked. Everything! He follows that with a chapter on conflict, and how the stresses caused by climate change can cause wars internationally and internally. Grim reading.

To top it all off, he then writes about systems, or more specifically, how the systematic collapse of societies and all we hold dear will finish us off. Even grimmer reading.

The third section of the book considers why. With all the science and hard evidence of climate change, we are still taking the head-in-the-sand approach. It is possible that people are fatigued by the relentless bad news or that the disinformation campaign run by the oil industry is having more effect. Only time will tell, and by then it may be too late…
He explores if capitalism can extract us from the mess we are currently in and reaches the blatantly obvious conclusion, before considering if technology may have a solution to the climate crisis. It might, if done in conjunction with lots of other things, such as green energy and decarbonisation.

Since the end of World War II, the neo liberal capitalist agenda has driven the economies of most of the world. The emphasis has shifted, and we now have autocratic capitalist states that not so long ago had a very different hue of politicians in charge. They have very different agendas from the rest of the world.

I have read a number of different books about the climate crisis ( 52 at the last count), and I can categorically say that this is the bleakest that I have read and probably the most brutally honest of them all. If you have any environmental anxiety at all, then you probably shouldn’t read this. The people who should read it are our political leaders, but they won’t…

4.5 out of 5 stars

The publisher provided a copy of this, free of charge, in return for an honest review.

Humanity has always been on the move. We came out of Africa and have swirled about the planet until we will have filled it. Modern migration has gone from a humanitarian need to a political hot potato. It doesn’t mean that it has gone away, though…

Crossing borders is always a focus of nerves, at the beginning of this journey. Moving from Turkey to Syria has its moments, but a new country has its delights too; learning about the people and the country are two of Watson’s favourite things to do.

One of the best places to do this is to go to a market in a town. It isn’t long before they are accosted and persuaded to visit the stall run by Mahoud. He then invites them to the family home, which, according to him, is only a 20-minute bus ride away.

Another day, another town and a new market to explore. Watson’s descriptions of the produce and goods piled up on the stalls is very evocative. There is a rich mix of people and cultures in Syria, but finding an individual with red hair in this melting pot was most unexpected.
They wander around Roman remains in Apamea, absorbing just how good the Romans were and designing and building things.

Cycling into Damascus is somewhat problematic as they have to battle against a sandstorm. It is really tough going, and they end up pushing against the wind for some of the ride. Leaving a city is much harder, not just navigation-wise; the clear route in is often very complicated going the other way, but also leaving behind some of the creature comforts that city life brings. Their next leg would be doubly hard as they would be crossing a desert with precious few places to get water.

One aspect that comes across in this book is that we share a common humanity, even though the cultural differences are huge between Watson and the people of Syria that she meets. They are constantly reminded of the geopolitical conflicts that have affected this country and its place on the world stage.

Next up is Turkey. It is different in lots of ways, but also very familiar. The culture and foods are very similar in both countries, probably because the way that people farm in a region is broadly similar, regardless of what side of the border you are on. Looking at the map, lots of the places that they were considering cycling through were marks as red. Bandit country! It was both worrying and slightly exciting at the same time. They decide to go for it. Spoiler alert. They survive. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be reading this book.

They spend a short while contemplating their next route. Cycling through Iran had made one member of Watson’s family worried and unhappy. However, all of the people that they met in their first days cycling through had been warm and welcoming. There were delays in getting their next visas, so they knew they would have to change their route.

Tehran is a crowded and busy metropolis. Because of things that have happened and being pragmatic, they decide to take a bus for the next leg of the journey, and then cycle from that place onto the next border. Being back on the bikes was good, but their deadline to reach the next border was fast approaching, and they still had to obtain the next visa for Turkmenistan, which led to a surreal moment before they got to that. The message from the people of Iran was: tell the world what we’re actually like.
They pass through Turkmenistan in a handful of days, battling against the headwinds through the desert. They found the people to be warm and generous all the way through the country.

Uzbekistan beckoned. They didn’t have the best start there, but they warmed to the people after a while. It took a while, but they did find them to be as welcoming and warm as the other countries that they had passed through.

As they passed through the border into Tajikistan, the fatigue from the physical endurance began to show. The upside was that as they cycled through the mountains, the views were spectacular. The grinding relentlessness of the ride was evident, though.

They cycle past minefields and end up camping alongside a Swiss organisation that is helping clear the mines. They endure a two-day uphill ride (!!) along the Wakhan, but are assisted by numerous children who help push them up the steepest bends. They are in border country now, where Tajikistan meets Afghanistan, Pakistan and China, with India nearby. The people have lived in the region for years and are not really concerned about the swirl of geopolitical posturing around them. Every pedal stroke takes them closer to their final destination, China.

I found this to be a really enjoyable travel book. Watson is an engaging writer with a keen eye for the human story in all of the countries that they pass through. She and her partner, Ed, go through all the elation and trauma that cycle touring can throw at them on this journey and yet they still keep smiling and pedalling. Either they were very lucky with their bikes, or she didn’t write much about the wear and tear that the bikes would have inevitably suffered from. I have read a lot of travel books over the years, and I can confidently say that this is one of the good ones. Well worth reading.

5 out of 5 stars

The publisher provided a copy of this, free of charge, in return for an honest review.

One of my favourite words is susurrations. This is the word that describes the sound that the wind makes as it rustles the leaves in a tree. The sound is as wonderful as the word.

When we go into a landscape, we need to use all our senses, including our hearing. This book is an exploration of the sound in the landscape. And wind is one of those strange elements. We can hear it and see its effects, but you cannot see the wind itself.

Sounds have been with us since big bang (can you imagine how loud that was?). Though there was nothing living around to hear it back then, the sounds can still be detected as a background white noise. This was discovered by accident by two astronomers in New Jersey.

Humans have made instruments for thousands of years for ritual and (we assume) entertainment purposes, but can a building be an instrument too? In the Vittala Temple in Hampi, India, the pillars holding the structure up are musical. When tapped, they resonate and oscillate, giving off different notes. I would love to hear it one day.

Before that, humans, have used the acoustic properties of caves. Probably for ritual purposes, but we can’t be certain, though. Ancient instruments that have been played in caves in Spain have an extra depth and almost an ethereal element to the sound. It is also speculated that stone circles have the ability to reflect sounds back into the centre of the circle too.
Animals can make a fair amount of noise too. The chirp of cicadas whilst sitting in the balmy heat of a Mediterranean summer is a happy memory. I remember hearing the roar of a lion at Dublin Zoo, and that sound triggered something deep inside my brain; no doubt the fight or flight response left over from an ancestor long gone. Even the pets we still have at home can be noisy in their own way.

Water is capable of making a whole range of sounds. The relaxing sound of a stream in a woodland has a similar effect to the gentle lapping waves by the beach. Add high winds and low pressure to the ocean, though, and the roar of the waves then is a very different sound. Take a walk outside when it has snowed, and you’ll notice how quiet it is. Partly that is because there are fewer cars moving about, but the snow absorbs sounds very well indeed. However, the crack of ice as you are traversing a crevasse is a very different sound, and not really one that you’d want to hear at that moment.

Most of the noise we hear every day is the din that we humans make. And we make a lot of noise; road and other transport noise, sounds from factories and other industry and so on. However, some of the sounds we can make are just beautiful, singing, and the sounds of instruments played by a very talented individual. Other sounds can be more distressing, though, the keening sounds made by mourners, someone in a lot of pain. One of the sounds of my childhood has long gone now, the long base note of a foghorn; it was powerful enough to be heard through fog over a distance of many miles.

One of the loudest noises ever heard on this planet was the volcano of Krakatoa, which was heard around 3000 miles away. Humans have made some of the next loudest noises when they exploded atomic bombs in various parts of the world. Years later these bombs are still making a sound as they trigger the Geiger counters.

In this world of sound there are some people that seek silence. The closest most people can get to total silence is the inside of an anechoic chamber. It is so quiet in there that you will be able to hear the noises that your body makes. It has been known t drive some people to distraction.

You might think that you’d get some peace at the bottom of the ocean too; however, you’d be disappointed. Even 11km down in the Mariana Trench, you’d hear noises from whales, subterranean earthquakes and even the noise from a surface storm will penetrate that far down. Plus, there is the din that we make in the oceans from propellers, undersea explosions and submarine sonars. This noise is incredibly damaging to cetaceans

I thought this was a wonderful book. It is full of fascinating facts about the ocean of sound that surrounds us. If you were to pick one popular science book to read this year then I can highly recommend this one.

4 out of 5 stars

The publisher provided a copy of this, free of charge, in return for an honest review.

The majority of people, do not think about insects most of the time, or if at all. However, there are two moments when you become very aware of these six-legged creatures that we share the planet with. The first is that moment that you are just dozing off to sleep. and you can hear the tiny whine of a mosquito in the bedroom. The second is when you unfurl a picnic blanket and unpack food on a fine summers day and from nowhere the wasps arrive.

These are just two of the one million known insect species. And one million is around 10% of the total number of species that is thought to number around 10 million in total. And we are utterly dependent on them. They clear up the dead, pollinate countless plants, a lot of which we eat and are key to the immense amount of life on the planet.

I am not sure how you even begin to distil the one million known species down to the 366 different type that the authors have chosen for this book, but somehow they have managed to do it. There are insects in the book that are big, bold and beautiful. There are the weird and the wonderful, the mundane and common and a fair number that are a bit disgusting! They have chosen species that have very specific role and that fill a particular niche

The pictures of the selected insects in the book are amazing. My favourites are the butterflies and moths, but I do have a liking for the bigger beetles, such as the stag beetle, rhino beetle and the iridescent beetles. And who doesn’t love a bee, the range and colours of these insects is staggering.

I found this book endlessly fascinating. Couzens and Ashton have compiled and interesting set of facts, figures and information for each of the chosen insects as well as how they fit into the wider context of ecosystems. If you like insects then this book would be right up your street, and even if you’re not a fan then I would still recommend this book as I am sure you would learn an awful lot.