The Inner Life of Animals: Love, Grief, and Compassion―Surprising Observations of a Hidden World

I really wish I could give this book five stars. It deserves to be read and I wish with all my heart that it might become more popular than it ever will be. It contains a lot of information you already know, scientifically and intuitively, packaged in the insight of a thoughtful and extremely curious forester. The book takes some time to build up steam but actually enjoys a real crescendo that The Hidden Life of Trees did not.

Both books were translated from the original German and it's possible the fault in the storytelling arc is not Wohlleben's. However, it's a jarring shift from one chapter to the next that makes his books such a challenge — a challenge I imagine exists in all translations. Each chapter stands on its own quite beautifully and each one tends to have a cohesive internal arc where the segues lack. This complaint stands alone since the books are otherwise a delight to read and my biggest fear is the stunted macro-scale writing will dissuade many readers from finishing his extremely important books.

This book is extremely important because it forces you to stand in front of a contemporary compilation of all knowledge we have on animal behaviour, ours included, and ask yourself some tough questions about the recursive nature of your own behaviour, as one animal of many, with respect to the rest of the animal kingdom. Armed with the theses of his previous book, Wohlleben then asks you to examine all DNA-carrying entities on the planet with your biology and ontology hats on. Pop science favourites like slime molds and tardigrades make an appearance but for the most part he favours the backyard and the farmyard over the laboratory. Most of the animals he writes about so eloquently are animals you have met. The questions he poses are often implicit and rarely those you'd expect from such a nature-lover. He doesn't demand that you stop eating honey or eggs (in fact, he clearly eats both) and the words "vegetarian" and "vegan" don't make a single appearance in the entire book. He clearly wants you to think about those options but he never once suggests specific actions he would recommend you take — he seems much happier to present the facts and let the reader wrestle with it herself.

Don't let this scare you away with the idea that this book is somehow a backhanded treatise on food ethics. It isn't. This book is equal parts biology and language, conjuring up questions like "what defines animal intelligence?" and "what, exactly, is courage?"

What makes Wohlleben's books so beautiful is that his perspective is almost inhumanly massive. He has little difficulty drifting between debating his momentary role in a bird fight outside his window and the millennia required for genetic evolution or old growth forests. Contrary to what one might expect, he loves cities and foretells a future where "our" cityscapes become colourful and explosive territories of animal safety and biodiversity. His interests lie not in convincing us of some specific thesis but of opening up our minds to a world of possibilities we normally only consider on rare occasions of deep contemplation or prolonged exposure to untouched nature.

I recommend reading this book in short bursts. Go through it a chapter or two at a time. They are short and easy reads, each filled with wonder and beautiful anecdotes. Every chapter will also give you something to ponder that night in your sleep and the next morning over breakfast. If you get tired of his writing style, please come back to it later. I assure you it's absolutely worth it.