Curious about what I’ve been reading lately? I’m a slow reader, in large part because setting aside time for it can be challenging, but I’ve spent the past couple months trying to commit to at least a little reading time before bed most nights. Here are some brief reviews of my most recent reads:

In spite of being a fairly weighty, science-heavy text, I found this unique work on the evolution of Panthera and their extinct relatives to be quite accessible. It starts from the Miacidae that were the roots of today’s carnivorans some 50 million years ago, and works its way all the way to modern-day big cats. Side branches like the Nimravidae and Barbourofelidae, and the extinct Machairodontinae are discussed in context, making it very clear where they lie in evolutionary history relative to our modern-day Felidae. I’ve admired Hallett’s paleoartwork since I was a kid in the 1980s devouring ZooBooks, and his illustrations magnificently bring species ranging from Paroodectes feisti to Smilodon fatalis to life. The endangerment of our big cats today is even more poignant when you understand their deep evolutionary roots, and the authors sign off with an urgent call for the conservation of these magnificent animals.

I do like a good piece of narrative nonfiction, and this fits the bill nicely. Howsare explores our complicated relationship with deer, and by extension persistent wild nature. We have created open spaces they love, to the point where they are often considered overpopulated nuisances. The author does a lovely job of weaving in her own personal experiences with these animals, along with the perspectives of wildlife rehabbers, hunters, and deer farmers. If you’ve ever gasped in delight at seeing a baby fawn, cursed a herd of deer for decimating your garden, or perhaps both, this is a must-read perspective on how deer remind us we can’t–and shouldn’t–fully separate ourselves from the rest of nature.

I have long been a fan of Kimmerer’s lyrical, meaningful prose that blends her indigenous Potawatomi and western botanist perspectives. This most recent release is a short but sweet exploration of how the serviceberries (Amelanchier spp.) embody the sort of generosity on which ecosystems and other communities are formed. While natural history is touched on here, this is far more than a species profile. Instead, it is a call to us to embody what this plant has to teach us, all while enjoying the sweet nourishment of its red berries. A quick read, but one worth going back to again and again, in part or in whole.

This is one of those books that took me a long time to read, not because the writing was difficult–anything but!–but because the author kept bringing up concepts that sent me to the internet to go exploring further before jumping back into the text. It’s exactly the sort of niche evolutionary subject that really catches my attention, following lineages all the way back to the earliest tetrapods and figuring out why some animals are endothermic (warm-blooded) while others are not. Along the way, Lovegrove highlights research from the Southern Hemisphere that is often ignored on my half of the planet, and raises some seriously good arguments that the constant endothermy we experience may be a much more recent adaptation than a sort of endothermic on-off switch. It’s really well-written and accessible to the layperson, and even if you aren’t especially interested in paleontology it’s still a superbly fascinating read.

I do, in fact, read fiction now and then, usually of the fantasy sort. I needed a break from all the crunchy nonfiction, and had picked this book up on my recent travels. In spite of limited reading time, I devoured this in a matter of a few days, staying up way too late on more than one occasion. I’ve loved Beagle’s work from The Last Unicorn onward, and here he’s at his best: brilliantly descriptive writing, compelling characters who end up shaking off the tropes to be their own people, and a refining of the art over the decades that is evident in each chapter. Whether you’ve read his other works or not, give this one a read–it’s a little slow to start, but you’ll find yourself suddenly snagged in on a dragon’s tooth.

This was my most recent read, and I confess I had to add in the Beagle book in the middle because I needed a break. This is solely because the subject matter is stark and horrifying: the systematic genocide and removal of indigenous people from the Willamette Valley and Coast Range of Oregon in the 1800s. Contrary to popular belief, the tribes were not constantly attacking white settlers unprovoked, but were frequently the victims of settler–and government–violence. Nor were they a homogenous unit, but instead represented dozens of cultures and hundreds of communities throughout the valley, with numerous connections to further-flung tribes in all directions. Lewis spares no details, having combed through countless primary sources to dig out every last bit of information from letters, government records, and newspaper clippings. He shows his work, citing sources in the footnotes and offering a bibliography of further reading. I haven’t felt this sort of gut-punch since I read Dee Brown’s Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee a quarter century ago, but it’s one of those books I think should be required reading for every Oregonian west of the Cascades, and highly recommended for everyone else. If you want a good way to debunk the “Cowboys and Indians” romanticism of the West, this book offers a sobering dose of reality that carries receipts.