There's a distinct satisfaction in reading a book that is a pure extension of the writer's lifelong interest, the subject seemingly embracing all of the writer's career endeavors and personal interests in one densely populated and deeply felt book. Think of it as a really perfect lemon pound cake--all the best ingredients coming together in just the right proportions, in the hands of someone skilled. Richard Mabey's book is an outstanding lemon pound cake.
Early on in Weeds, Mabey relates the seeds (sorry) of his interest in the maligned plants and his mystification at the categorization of plants beautiful and tenacious (and, at times, relentlessly destructive) as pests to be eradicated. He brings a wealth of knowledge to a narrative that wanders like a walk in a spring meadow, taking in whatever the meadow has to offer. In this case, we learn of how invasive plants have spread from country to country, how they've changed from being valued medicinal and edible rarities to obnoxious, farmer-detested scourges and the motivations and politics behind how we view one plant as a salad and another as a pest. At just over 300 pages, this isn't the most comprehensive survey of weeds, but it's likely the most engrossing. --Matthew Tiffany, writer for Condalmo