Lovely, and entirely unlike anything I’ve read before. Part memoir, part bestiary. Prose, with poetic undertones and charming artwork. Scientific objectivity plus deeply personal reflections, thoroughly infused with wonder. Stir well; let simmer after reading.

Also, TBH, a bit of a stretch at times. Each short chapter is titled after an animal, or plant, or fruit, or a few wild cards ("Monsoon"). Nezhukumatathil riffs on each: she describes them with loving details, draws upon her own experiences with them, ... and then draws a parallel with other parts of her life. These parallels are typically insightful, but occasionally tenuous: I found myself loving the nature info, loving her personal stories, but going ohhhhh....kay..... at some of the connections. Funny thing, though, they ended up being memorable: I remember the touch-me-not and canyon wren and peacock and newt and cassowary, and remember her associations, and reflect back on the personal aspects, the racism and misogyny and insults she’s suffered. Which makes the gimmick effective, doesn’t it?