(Note that I wrote this in 2024!)

It has taken me so many years to finally write something about this beautiful book. I’ve read it at least 5 times cover to cover now, and I am sure I will read it many more times again. It is perhaps the book I would use as an answer to the question “What is your favourite book?”, but it is difficult for me to articulate exactly why. Braiding Sweetgrass is not just a book I like to read. It changed the way I think about things, about the natural world and our place as humans in it.

The very first thing we come to learn in this book is that Indigenous people see the land as sacred ground, as connection to ancestors, as a teacher, a healer... as a home to their animal-kin. This is such a stark contrast to everything we usually see about the land. I recall a reading a tweet asking how a forest can contribute to a country’s economy (after I had already read Sweetgrass), and I was upset that in this modern age that everything is seen as a commodity, and that the true value of our land (medicine, carbon capture, wellbeing, etc) is just not realised or seen as important.

This book will teach you the true value of nature. It will teach you the art of reciprocity, that what we receive from the land is a gift, not a right, and that you should give back to the land in return. It will teach you how to Naturalise yourself, to learn to listen to the land and all the living beings that live on it. It will teach you that you are an equal in all of nature, that everything – not just humans – deserve respect.

Aside from the important messages in this book, the way Kimmerer writes is just wonderful. She interweaves science and stories, with prose that is almost lyrical. Her love for the land is so potent in her words. Every time I read this book, I read it slowly, one chapter at a time so I can let the words sink into my soul.

This is perhaps, less a review and more a plea. Read this book. Let it teach you. Let it open your eyes.

It's very hard for me to accurately describe how I feel about this book because I loved it so much for so many reasons, many of which I don't know how to explain.

Mad Sisters of Esi is, as you might expect, about sisters. It is also about time, creation, creativity, and love. Laleh and Myung are the Keepers of the Whale of Babel. They roam its infinite chambers and tell each other stories of themselves and of their creator, Great Wisa. Myung dreams of more. More people, more stories, and so she leaves the whale...

From page one, I knew this would be something special. Mehta's writing is beautiful, like that of a fairytale. It's descriptive and lush without being flowery. We have varying narratives here: first and second person, academic extracts and diary entries, snippets of stories from strangers... It is hard to explain it in any sort of definitive way because it's not structured, but it shouldn't be. The words just flow effortlessly like water.

A large part of this book is creation. The Whale is filled with endless worlds continuously being created. A sister yearns to create a world of her own. The island of Esi itself is a miraculous land that cannot be pinned down in any one reality, so “you can’t draw Esi, even if it were real—the island won't stay still.” While the building of these worlds makes up the heart of the story, the actual worldbuilding of the novel is like a mirage, never substantial enough for you to truly understand, but you don't need to. You feel the world, rather than see it.

As the title suggests, another central theme of the book is madness. Is it such a terrible thing to be mad? The madness here is rooted in love, love for one's sister. For how can it be wrong to love someone so much that you'd do anything for them? "In our third chamber, a new word appeared to me. SISTER, two syllables. Meaning to belong to and love forever." This bond between sisters that wove through every page was the thread that tethered me tightly to this book. It showed sisterly love in all its forms: adoration, jealousy, protectiveness, need, pride... Never have I read anything before that truly plumbed the depths of such a relationship.

A book filled with madness, love, grief and stories, and one I didn't want to be over even after I turned the last page. "Must it end?" asks the djinn. "Can it not remain?" "It must," says Wisa firmly, "For I am not made for one story, and neither are you."