Over the last few years I must have bought at least 10 copies of Landmarks to send to special friends. It was originally lent to me my a friend, Laura Hartley after a discussion about where we thought we belonged. Robert Macfarlane doesn't just write about place, he writes about writers who write about place. Consequently, this book's chapters celebrate the work of wonderful writers such as Nan Shepherd, Barry Lopez, John Muir, J.A. Baker, and Roger Deakin. Their books have cascaded out of Landmarks on to my shelves and into my understanding of place.

I love the way Macfarlane tastes the nuances of language as it creates place. I just wish I could talk to him about my place and actually show him what it means to me to be in place.

I didn't start at the beginning when I read this book and often recommend to my friends that they start at the end with the enchanting Chapter 'Childish'. ( )

As interesting as the collections of "endangered" place-words are, the real treasures are Macfarlane's essays that precede each glossary. The downside of these is that I have added about a dozen books to my "Want to Read" list based on their contents. ( )

A book and a resource for those who are or still wish to be more connected to their landscapes, wild or cultivated, mountainous or flat, huge as the sea or a shallow as a puddle in a farmyard. Or perhaps you might relish knowing twenty different names for poo, one for every animal, not to mention for the condition of said item. Seriously, there are words for dry cracked soil, for the holes at the bottoms of hedges small animals make squeezing through (sometimes specialized names, depending on size), words for a small thorny thicket as opposed to a larger thicket composed more of young beech and alder. These words are like the bones that remain from the time when observing, knowing, calculating when to plow, when to plant, when to move the sheep mattered. MacFarlane takes the reader on a tour that will also lengthen your must read book, from the Cairngorms of Nan Shepherd to the Sierras of John Muir, your "must read" booklist will lengthen. The bibliography at the end is a wonderful resource -- with headings like: "On Close Attention" and "On Wonder." Somewhere near the start of the book MacFarlane mentions that The Oxford Junior Dictionary has dropped the word 'acorn' on the basis of what kids cares or needs to know? Between 1970 and 2010 the outdoor areas where children were permitted to play on their own has shrunk 90%. What does that mean for the future? ***** ( )

I think this book will gather another half star as I flick though it looking at the words lists again. I took my time with the book - reading the word lists as well as the chapters, a few each night to drift with into the night. ( )

I like this guy, I like how he thinks and how he describes what he sees. He is an outside kind of guy, big boots, Anorak, hiking staff you know the kind, but real smart and heartfelt. I really do like him. This book is about words for things seen outside like woods, rivers, trees and other external phenomena. It is comprehensive and exhaustive if at times exhausting.

I am very reluctant to say a negative word or imply that this is anything less that marvellous but I did find it a bit tedious. And I accept wholeheartedly that it is my failing not his. ( )

A beautiful and expansive book about the breadth of language, particularly that which relates to landscape. Complete with glossaries of precise terms from the UK and Ireland, the book also tells the story of different people who lived with a love of language and landscape. Keenly written with humour and a literary flair. Wonderful. ( )

The power of words to shape our sense of place - beetle-scrunchers, thunder-lumps, lick-ups - https://wanderlustandwords.blogspot.com/2020/08/the-power-of-words.html

I remember reading this book in blistering heat in Patras in 2017. The heat was such that I longed for the damp, cool and wet of the English countryside. Three local Patras train tickets acted as bookmarks on pages 52 and 53 that list fascinating words and definitions such as: pyllau, pools, puddles, Welsh; slams, boggy strip of land bordering fen riverbanks, Fenland; wham, swamp, Cumbria; stomach, to churn up waterlogged land, as cattle do in winter, Kent, Sussex - and many more. Just glancing at this paperback again I recall my enjoyment at the erudition and definitions as well as the triggers it generates in my mind - the girl who served me cold drinks in the bar where I read most of the book, the graffiti at a time of Greek financial crisis; deserted streets during the day due to the heat and not to anything like Coronavirus, and the shade and coolness of the hotel. ( )

This is a difficult book to clearly categorise. It is a book about the natural world, about language to describe that natural world, but is also about the writers and in some cases friends, that he has learnt so much from in his journeys around the UK, up mountains and on long walks.

As he writes about those authors, Nan Shepherd, Roger Deakin, Richard Mabey and Richard Skelton, seminal writers that have provided so much influence, through their work and books, it comes across that this is as much about his formative years and the sense of wonder that nature has given him. Woven into their eulogies, are accounts of journeys taken to favourite places, icy cold lochs swum in, and natural and literary discoveries.

But it is also a call to arms. Part of this was prompted by the Oxford Junior Dictionary dropping certain words like acorn, mistletoe and kingfisher. These were removed as children no longer hear or feel or see these things; the replacements MP3, Blackberry and tablet, and objects that are used inside and alone. MacFarlane wants them to bring these words back in to normal use, by getting children to discover them for themselves, and use them in their own ways as they explore the landscape and their imaginations equally.

But more importantly, this is a reference, not complete, of local words to describe what people have been seeing around themselves for hundreds of years. There are words for places, water, weather, woods, rocks and animals. Drawn from all parts of the UK, Ireland and Jersey, some of these are familiar and others are brand new to me. They range from the brutally blunt, like 'turdstall' which means a substantial cowpat to 'huffling' which means sudden gust of wind. These lists punctuate the book, giving breathing spaces between the chapters, so you are not faced with the enormity of a huge list.

MacFarlane is one of my favourite writers, his poetic prose and keen observation skills mean that the mundane can become the interesting, and the beautiful the breathtaking. It is different to his other books, but it is equally significant. If you have a moment, take some time to read this and immerse yourself in the evocative language he has sown you on the other side of the hedge.


( )

‘Landmarks’ is something of a departure from Macfarlane’s earlier books. Although still concerned with the countryside, it does not chronicle his travels through it. Rather, it is a series of essays that celebrate the writer and nature lovers who have influenced him and nurtured his appreciation of the outdoors. Between each essay, he has compiled a glossary of local terms from the length and breadth on the British Isles that describe a variety of aspects of the natural world. With these essays and glossaries, Macfarlane suggests that we should delve deeper into some of the unregarded and overlooked locations and appreciate what is hidden there.

A wonderful if idiosyncratic book on the language of landscape and nature.

Part of the book is a glossary of dialect, regional, slang, jargon and new coinages, organised by subject. These glossaries are lists of words and places where they are in use - linguists may note that the sources are rather selective.

The glossary sections are interspersed with essays that explain how this information was collected, and explore the worlds of some of Macfarlane's favourite nature writers - there is also a fascinating section on young children, their childish language and their experiences of nature. Some of this material (notably the chapters on Nan Shepherd and Roger Deakin) will seem familiar to those who have read Macfarlane's previous books.

This paperback edition also contains a new appendix describing and listing some additions sent by readers of the original hardback. ( )

While the writing was rich, I had difficulty connecting to it. I'm so enmeshed in my urban and American landscape that the sheer UK-ness was daunting, not enough handholds to grab onto. The glossary parts were wonderful, but without pronunciations and definitions full of things I've never seen, I could not roll these new words on my tongue and enjoy them, and so they were more a source of frustration than of fascination. Perhaps there will be another time for this book. No rating as I only got 25% through.

Why did I read it? When first published, several people recommended this book to me, and it was recommended more than once by some. I imagine those recommendations came because of my like of the natural world, and of language. I have no idea why, but I put it on my 'wish list' and then my 'to be read pile' but never actually started it; these decisions I now regret.

What's it about? With the Oxford Children's Dictionary removing words relating to nature, e.g. acorn, in favour of technological terms, Robert Macfarlane explores the United Kingdom in search of those words to describe, and connect us to the natural world. Connection. That is the key to this book. In a time, and place which seems to breed disconnection, this book seeks to reunite us with a deep love for landscape, and language.

What did I like? Every single word, and most especially the glossaries. Rich in words and landscape, there is so much to enjoy, and explore in this book. I listened to the audio book, which is rather nicely done. I did query a few of the Gaelic pronunciations - being a learner of the language, not a native speaker, I may not completely comprehend the dialectal nuances. I am very pleased I opted to purchase the Kindle edition, too, so I can explore those glossaries at my leisure.

Oh, the joy I found in this book: learning new words for phenomenon I had no idea might even exist; remembering 'childish' the way children use language to describe their surroundings; and discovering new Gaelic words I wanted to include in my (ever-expanding) vocabulary.

The narrator, Roy McMillan, did a splendid job. I'm afraid I have no idea of the name of other gentleman whose voice was used to read out various words, but his voice gave luscious contrast to Mr McMillan's smooth tones.

What didn't I like? I could find no fault with this book. I find fault with myself for not reading it sooner.

Would I recommend it? Yes! Yes! Yes! Not necessarily the audio version though - not because it is not well read, but because once you've read the book, I'm pretty sure you'll want to keep it to hand to pore over the word glossaries, and then add to your own. ( )

For those who love language and landscape (particularly the British landscape), Robert Macfarlane's Landmarks is essential reading.

The book opens as follows:

"This is a book about the power of language - strong style, single words - to shape our sense of place. It is a field guide to literature I love, and it is a word-hoard of the astonishing lexis for landscape that exists in the comprision of islands, strands, fells, lochs, cities, towns, corries, hedgerows, fields and edgelands uneasily known as Britain and Ireland."

That is certainly a rich and intriguing premise, made even more powerful by a disturbing shift in language that is underway. Macfarlane explains how words concerning nature have been culled from the Oxford Junior Dictionary as no longer relevant to modern-day childhood, and replaced by words of technology and the virtual world. The deletions include acorn, buttercup, dandelion, heather, lark, nectar, newt, willow; some of the new words introduced are blog, broadband, bullet-point, chatroom. Macfarlane sees where this trend could lead, as younger generations drift towards an ensconced indoors from the vast and varied outdoors; and he is sounding the alarm so that we do not lose the wonder and magic of our nuanced language of the natural world.

This book works so well on so many levels as to be dizzying in its scope, execution, and scholarship; a single reading is not nearly sufficient to grasp all within. At one level, it is an ode to the majesty and precision of our language, with words passed down through generations and gathered from disparate towns and regions to describe remarkably specific land features. Landmarks also functions as a wonderful sampler of great and truly evocative nature writing, and will inevitably spark the reader to seek out many of the writers referenced, such as Nan Shepherd, Roger Deakin, J.A. Baker, Barry Lopez, and John Muir. And it should also be noted that Macfarlane too, another master nature writer, writes with great verve throughout.

Interspersed between chapters are selected glossaries, chosen from the multitude of words Macfarlane has collected, each devoted to a particular facet of the landscape, such as flatlands, uplands, coastlands, and northlands.

And there a sublime bonus in the 2016 paperback edition: an added section entitled "Gifts". In response to the original 2015 publication, thousands of readers from around the world, clearly touched and moved by Landmarks, sent Macfarlane additional words and place-terms either remembered or still in use in their little corner of the British Isles or the world at large.

Landmarks is a singular masterpiece: enchanting and inspiring. ( )

In his previous books Robert Macfarlane has declared his love of walking, swimming, sailing and climbing on remote areas, and the sense of belonging that such areas evoke. In this book he turns more to the lexicon of landscape, and the multiplicity of dialect terms for different aspects of the natural world, and bemoans erosion of these terms from the common consciousness.

He writes with an enthusiasm that occasionally supersedes syntax and clearly feels to sense that prepositions are the wrong words to end sentences with [ha!]. He does, however, achieve great clarity with his central message. The natural world, and the physical landmarks that identify our respective localities are part of our common inheritance, but so too are the dialect terms that describe them. Each chapter is followed by a glossary of terms from different regions, reaching across several centuries.

He also writes at length and with deep sadness about the rapid diminution of children's access to the landscape. When he was a child, one in two children reported playing in the countryside, though that figure is now just one in ten. Most children now only play in their house, their garden and, possibly, their street. That certainly resonated with me. Growing up in North Leicestershire, in the summer holidays my friends and I would wander or cycle miles from home, spending out time playing in the woods, clambering over farm machinery or pushing each other into streams or beds of nettles (well, we were simple folk and very easily amused). I couldn't say with any honesty that we went out specifically to look for rare birds or that we yearned to tick off different species of tree, but we knew that they were there, and derived great enjoyment from what the landscape had to offer. It is a sad loss for today's children that that avenue of fun is no longer available, or at least no longer generally pursued. (Well, perhaps they might get by without being pushed into a bed of nettles …)

Generally well written, Macfarlane's zest shows through, and it is difficult not to share his passion. The book is beautifully produced, too. ( )