Book Review: “Life Between the Tides” by Adam Nicolson
Nature as Poetry
When one reads Adam Nicolson’s Life Between the Tides, one may be besieged by several stimuli. This is a book about nature and marine biology as it recounts how the author goes about building a series of tidal pools on the coast of western Scotland. He examines the life he finds and waxes poetic about all the prawns, crabs, and sandhoppers present. As such, the book exists as a bit of a meditation — one can get a feeling of deep peace by reading it. It’s also a book that references poetry and literature, as the works or lives of William Shakespeare, Virginia Woolf, and T.S. Eliot are referenced. This is also a book about Gaelic folklore, and the people that inhabit the community that the author has made something of a home in. But this, too, is a book about science and how our understanding of the inner workings of tides and the formation of rocks deep within the earth came to be. There’s not a lot of connective tissue in this work, which may frustrate some, but Nicolson is something of a raconteur and each chapter of this book could be read as a standalone essay on things such as the survival of various species, including humans, and, though it is never mentioned by name in the book, the impacts of climate change. Ecology and the role of ecosystems play a role in the narrative, too.
Thus, a lot is going on in this read, which admittedly suffers from a bit of attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD). Still, if you’re willing to go along for the ride, Life Between the Tides has a lot to offer. This is essentially a work about history and biology hand in hand — how organisms evolve and procreate. Multiple chapters focus on the relationships between predators and prey, and the survival techniques some organisms use. Here, I’m probably continuing to catalog everything this book is, which is a temptation because this book is so wide-reaching and encompassing that it’s hard to exactly pinpoint what the overarching theme is. But there are probably many overarching themes. This is a book that asks the reader to consider a place in geography and what meaning it might have to someone who is an outsider, such as the author (he came to discover the region he writes about in the early ‘90s). Is it possible to find a home in a place where you never were born? What observations can be made about your life simply by looking at the flora and fauna of the place where you inhabit? What does this all say about human nature and the malleability of human lives? What can the history of a region teach us in broad strokes?
Whew! That’s a lot to unpack, so you can see there’s a great deal of meat on the bone to chew here. But, in saying that, Life Between the Tides is probably a book not suited to everyone. It seems to exist for a rarified audience who cares and nurtures the same passions as the author. But if that’s you, this is a book that is probably best savoured slowly and sat with. It probably helps if you have an interest in Scottish culture and geography, too. Still, this is a book that meanders its way through many philosophical questions and unravels the point of human existence as evidenced by the author’s surroundings. That’s where the poetry mentioned in the subheading of this review comes into play. In many ways, this is a poetic work — though the writing isn’t particularly difficult, there’s a lull to the reading of this as Nicolson rambles on about the things that he cares about. This is a book, as noted, that works on so many levels — but, essentially, this is a book about cultivating the lives of other species, specifically as debris that has been washed ashore and is trapped under a microscope of sorts. Put another way, if you have a deep interest in the lives of crustaceans, you’re probably going to get a lot of mileage out of Life Between the Tides.
At best, this is a pleasant read that poses challenging questions. There is a deep seriousness to the work, especially as the author recounts various environmental disasters throughout history that could have sidetracked the development of life as we know it in Britain or the world. However, it’s done in a way that doesn’t come across as shrill or alarmist. Even when describing the various myths on the land which he inhabits, Nicolson’s tone is rather matter-of-fact. He presents himself as more of a detached observer, rather than someone with a vested interest in the land — which he does have. To that end, Life Between the Tides may work as a piece of reportage, of journalism. It’s a messy read, full of diversions and digressions, but it’s a charming one at times and the reader will get a sense that Nicolson digs deep into his soul with his writing. Whether or not the tangential nature of the book will appeal is up to everyone who confronts this work, but it does have its merits. This was certainly an unexpected read for me, in that the book went into places I wasn’t anticipating. However, I’m sure the book will ruminate at the back of my mind over the coming days. Again, there’s certainly a lot to ponder with this book, even though some chapters were less interesting to me than others. Overall, though, Life Between the Tides is a towering work by a champion of the environment and of Gaelic ancestry and is worth reading if you’re up for a challenge. Just be sure to bring a towel or two with you because you’ll get your hands dirty with this one.
Adam Nicolson’s Life Between the Tides was published by Picador on February 28, 2023.
Of course, if you like what you see, please recommend this piece (click on the clapping hands icon below) and share it with your followers.
Get in touch: zacharyhoule@rogers.com
