4.5. This is my favorite kind of nature book; some first-hand narrative, scientific insight into the particular features and elements that make up an ecosystem, in this case, tidal pools, and the vast potential for creative and insightful overlap into other disciplines, like literature, philosophy, astronomy, and history. Some of these texts, and notably the ones that don’t include first-person research, engagement, or narrative, often culminate in what is essentially a long form literature review, which isn’t unpleasant, but isn’t nearly as interesting. The way that Nicholson relates the tides to, for instance, Shakespeare, Brahe and Kepler, Heidegger, humanity in history and present amid climate change, in how he details the chain effect of ecosystems, or contemplates whether or not a prawn can make decisions from the place or mind, or the reaction of body is a lot more engaging. Because these meditations and findings are largely localized to Scotland and England, it is those histories, myths, and cultures that largely permeate the text, though at no point does it purport to be otherwise. I particularly liked the frequency with which Gaelic was intoned throughout, more prolifically than scientific Latin names (many of which were humorously criticized); it is joyful to hear whole phrases, anecdotes, and even snippets of stories in this language to denote that explicit connection to people, creature, land, and sea. The whole wonderful philosophical conclusion was like a swelling of violins. It was very rewarding.
Overall, this was a very pleasant, philosophical, informational, and lyrical read full of information I didn’t know about a locale I will be exploring my whole life, with no anticipation of finding the bottom; such limitlessness of sea is part of its many gifts.