How does it feel to be a judge on this year’s Wainwright Prize?
I was so excited to be asked to help judge this year’s prize. In the conservation world, we often have to work long hours and wear several hats, which means the things we love sometimes fall by the wayside. I have always adored reading, but as an Environmental Educator, PhD Student and Podcast Host, it is rare that I have the time to take a day and just sit down with a book. Being given an excuse to read such a vibrant array of books, all of which are worth celebrating, is something I have really cherished. I feel so inspired by the amazing work that has happened this year – it has been a true honour to read everything!
What do you think has been the biggest challenge and change in conservation writing in the last 10 years?
One of the biggest changes that I have noticed in conservation writing is an increase in the diversity of people being given the opportunity to tell their stories. For too long, conservation discourse has been dominated by those in positions of power within the community. Seeing new voices take the stage has been an empowering and encouraging shift, and I hope to see even more people tell their stories in the future. The conservation movement only becomes stronger the more voices we have the opportunity to hear and learn from.
How can visuals deepen a reader’s connection to the natural world in ways that words alone can’t?
The magic of nature is often impossible for us to verbalise. No matter how skilled we are at storytelling or how hard we try to capture that magic in words, there is frequently something missing. Whether it be shades of blue that are nameless, movements that are untranslatable, or feelings that are so incredibly visceral they don’t work in static text, with their skills, photographers and illustrators can create something tangible. As artists, they take our imagined experiences and turn them into something real, they help to tell stories to an even wider pool of people, and they capture the experiences of wildlife in new and exciting ways. That is the power of illustrated books.
Do you have a favourite nature/conservation book that you’ve read previously that’s deepened your understanding of the natural world?
A turning point in both my appreciation for nature writing and how I see the world came from reading Robin Wall Kimmerer’s ‘Braiding Sweetgrass’. I cannot begin to capture the incredible power that book has in a few sentences, but the way Robin tells her story, weaves in the narratives of nature, and opens the reader’s eyes to a way of viewing the world that few readers will have been familiar with before diving in is incredible.
I would also like to highlight the absolutely outstanding ‘Walking with Gorillas: The Journey of an African Wildlife Vet’ by Dr Gladys Kalema-Zikusoka. I was lucky enough to speak to Gladys on my podcast a few years ago and hearing the story of how she became Uganda’s first wildlife vet was inspirational. In her book, she dives even deeper into that story and how she developed an innovative approach to protecting the health of both humans and gorillas. It is really amazing!
It is rare that I buy multiple copies of the same book, but both of these stories can be found numerous times on my shelves. I have copies for me, and copies for everyone I want to read them!
Do you have a place you visit that feels intrinsic to your connection with nature?
I hate to sound cliché, but my childhood home was key to inspiring my love of nature, and it remains the most beautiful place in the world to me. Within the walls of my garden, I remember seeing my first hedgehogs, woodpeckers, squirrels, earwigs and woodlice. I remember the little greenhouse that I could only just squeeze into. I remember the taste of the tomatoes that we grew – they weren’t the reddest or the juiciest, but to me they were the most delicious. I remember seeing flowers bloom and being able to tell the time based on the shadows cast by trees in the garden. Even still, where the cracks in paving slabs or old
plant pots could be seen as defects in my little beige box town, to me, they are perfect. In these perfect imperfections, I see valleys for ants and opportunities for dandelions to take root. I love my home, and once I get lost in the stories I invent for it, I don’t ever want to leave my little oasis.
What’s your hope for the next 10 years, either for the nature publishing sector or the wider planet as a whole?
In my work, I often try to tell the under-appreciated or misunderstood stories, and in the next decade, I hope that we can find a way to embrace and celebrate them more universally. More people should know the tale of the tapir, or be able to learn from communities using music to inspire environmental action. We should be putting the pangolin on a pedestal and being inspired by climate activists fighting against governments which seek to silence them. We should be watching the behaviours of brilliant birds, and speaking to the artists, poets and storytellers who sing their songs. We should be working hand-in-hand with each other and celebrating the success stories that are happening all over the world. In doing that, I hope we can create a future in which nature is protected, respected and cherished by us all.