At The Water's Edge

Contemporary ‘wilderness literature’ lacks writers who have the ability to stand outside the shadows of the seminal heavy weights, Emerson, Thoreau and Whitman, and John Lister-Kaye’s At The Water’s Edge illustrates why. Lister-Kaye’s ‘Quest for Wildness’ is a whimsical assortment of musings and anecdotes collected over a year spent mulling on nature, as a naturalist is wont to do. As Lister-Kaye wanders around his own patch of Scottish wilderness, he describes his encounters with nature, from Goshawks to geysers, and the musings on earthly issues and natural themes that they provoke.

The prose is charming but despite the intimated quest, it does not achieve a cohesive, striking point. Emerson asked ‘to what end is Nature’ but to ask this of Lister-Kaye’s book is to line up disappointment. The difference between a walk and a wander is that the former has an end point, a goal; the latter has form but no function and while you cannot deny Lister-Kaye’s endearing enthusiasm and wealth of knowledge, the book is unremarkable – the literary equivalent of a wander through a meadow (perchance to spy a birds nest!). If Lister-Kaye could exchange verbosity for understatement, he might have better evoked the profound wildness he seeks. [Renée Rowland,]