Late Migrations, published in 2019, is a beautiful work of nonfiction by New York Times writer Margaret Renkl. In chapters that alternate between the rural Alabama of her childhood and her current Nashville home, Renkl creates a narrative that’s part memoir and part nature writing; she explores her own history with the eyes of an archeologist, brushing away the dust on family memories to reveal their tenderness and profundity. She writes about the way her father would hold her in the doorway during storms so that they could safely listen to the thunder together; she writes about sharing a bedroom with her great-grandmother when she was little, and how she mistook her snores for a growling wolf; she writes about how her mother, though she let the dishes pile up and hardly had time for laundry, always kept a beautiful garden; and she writes about taking her son into the ocean for the first time, working through her fears so that she wouldn’t pass them on to him. Together, these anecdotes make up a portrait of a loving, complicated family, and interspersed throughout are Renkl’s observations of the natural world—bluebirds and red-tailed hawks, marigolds and fresh figs—that will make you pause with wonder.

Looking at the world through Renkl’s eyes is a gift. Though I’m not a naturalist (I could not differentiate between a wren and a starling to save my life), I found myself entranced by Renkl’s poetic descriptions of the birds building nests and the caterpillars slowly turning into butterflies in her backyard. She observes the creatures around her with such deep respect that you can’t help but do the same, and she treats her family with the same care. As the stories about nature and family flow into one another, it becomes apparent how similar they are, and how much they both teach us about life and death. Short chapters—none exceed two or three pages—make the book fly by, and I found myself craving more of Renkl’s introspective, grounded writing long after turning the last page. Late Migrations is a beautiful exploration of love and loss, and I treasured every second.

I’d recommend this book to…

• Anyone in the mood for powerful, poetic writing… it’s similar in style to The Swimmers by Julie Otsuka
• Anyone enthusiastic about the natural world and all its mysteries… it’s similar in theme to Enchantment by Katherine May
• Anyone looking for something uplifting and poignant… it’s similar in tone to These Precious Days by Ann Patchett