June’s read became July’s, readily interrupted by the growing pile of ‘how-to-sort-your-dog’ books (embarrassing, I know). Once I recovered from my brief hiatus into behaviour modification theory, I relished returning to the Appalachian woods where Kingsolver’s ‘Prodigal Summer’ is set.

If you want a dose of fresh air and organic thinking, I’d heartily recommend this book. It weaves ideas on our relationship and responsibilities to the natural world in to some very readable fiction. Kingsolver creates beautiful sentences and charming characters (the grumpy old man being my favourite).

Tom and I are off this weekend to indulge in a fresh pile of books for the summer break. We’ll be out in the Island countryside for much of the holiday so I’m sticking with the wild theme and choosing Feral for one of this month’s read. I also want to buy a book on log cabins; I won’t be building one any time soon, but it’s fun to entertain the thought.

Any holiday reads to recommend? Let me know on Twitter or Instagram. Join in with Laura’s Year in Books here.

I have been a dedicated lover of James Yorkston’s gentle singing since our long past summers spent in the muddy fields of Green Man Festival, when it was just us and 2000 other stinky revellers.

All heaped together in the Big Top, a fug of smoke, with the rain dripping steadily off the canvas door, relaxing to his gentle humour, circling guitar, and the surprise beatbox accompaniment of a particularly keen soundman.

I defy anyone to not fall in love with JY’s music. His songs have stuck with me all through my fickle musical swings, like a ship’s mast in a storm.

So, this wasn’t to be any ordinary tour diaries. And yet, his ordinary stories were exactly what made it so wonderful. The natural, poetic patter that is so evident in this tune came through in his writing.

Yorkston pulled out delightful details from his touring days – things that weren’t intricate plot devices or building to some greater symbolism, just interesting things that caught his eye. A perfectly lovely read from a not-exactly-rock-star.

For November I’m indulging my love of nature writing with this beautiful recent hardback (awarded the Samuel Johnson prize only yesterday!) My November shall be full of visions of hawks and austringers.

With thanks, as always, to Laura who inspired this year of books.

I love those books that present themselves to you quite by accident. I found this one when killing time before a meeting, and leafing through the sales shelf.  Connors writes of his time as a fire lookout in the wilds of New Mexico.

Tom and I visited one of these fire lookout towers several years ago in California. The long journey out to the tower, and the intimidating scale up the ladder to get to the top, all made it feel so distanced from the everyday.

The guy was super friendly and his tower was kitted out with a few quirky creature comforts, including on old Nintendo system.  He spoke of what a desirable job this was, but one that only appealed to a certain character. Days hanging out in the wild, staring at the huge vista all around you sounds pretty appealing to me.

Connors’ writing drew me straight in. He has a natural way of writing about the big country and his tiny part in it, weaving history, conservation and politics in to the individual anecdotes of his months looking out for wildfires in the Gila National Forest.

It’s clear that Connors never felt bored during his time alone, and his book never drags. I relished the descriptions of wild country, and his perspective on our place in it. The very best kind of nature writing.