I adored this beautiful and thoughtful story of Michael Malay's life in the UK, and how he can chart his relationship with the world through its nature. Late Light brings the refreshing perspective of someone who goes from seeing England as a foreign place to someone who deeply studies its secret wonders. Early in Late Light, Michael Malay’s astonishing account of a journey through the natural world, the author peers down into a water-filled bucket. By using the Web site, you confirm that you have read, understood, and agreed to be bound by the Terms and Conditions. Mixing natural history with memoir, this book explores the mystery of our animal neighbours, in all their richness and variety.

It's also peppered with lots of very interesting natural and social history that is weaved throughout the memoir, and takes subjects that can seem quite remote and academic (migration patterns, ecology) and not only makes them feel very interesting and immediate but also shows (in a very unsermonising way) how alienated we've become from the natural world. Malay’s version of nature writing, indeed, is thronged with other presences — not for him the windswept, empty uplands so memorably described by Kathleen Jamie as the haunt of the “lone, enraptured male”. Now, one eel swims in a bucket: Malay notes its inquisitive eyes, and the “dash of red” visible in its translucent body — the creature’s fluttering heart.

It is accepted by you that Daunt Books has no control over additional charges in relation to customs clearance. For where is the essential difference between human lives ground down by economic austerity and homelessness, and animal lives marginalised into extinction by disappearing habitats and poisoned water? In underscoring the concept of basic dignity as being the right of all species and illuminating the idea of an expansive, planetary politics, Malay offers a bright, fierce hope for the future. For more details, please consult the latest information provided by Royal Mail's International Incident Bulletin.

This island that looked, from the heart of the Mendip Hills, like an oasis of interconnected ecosystems, was the site of more losses than we can count. Michael captures how it feels to find pockets of magic and meaning on our doorsteps, and how to sustain our hope for the future.From these ostensibly discrete threads is woven a large, heartbreakingly resonant story: for Malay is interested above all in connectedness — in what these species tell us about the pasts and possible futures of the great world that pulses around us, and what their loss will mean for the other animals, including humans, who have evolved alongside them.