WILD THINGS

A grief journal in letters, filled with the particular balm of the natural world.

Wansbrough, transplanted from England to California, writes 59 letters to a beloved older sister who died of cancer during the pandemic, one for each year of her sister’s life, each themed around a plant or animal she encounters on walks through Griffith Park in Los Angeles: Sacred Datura to Great Blue Heron. “I have written letters, I have written poems, I have written prose, I have painted pictures, I have painted walls, I have saved time and I have wasted time. I have watched it rush past and I have seen it inch along, but through all of it, I have walked. I have walked towards my grief, I have walked away from it, I have walked over and under it and, sometimes, I have even walked through it.” As she revisits their troubled family history with her sister as the presumptive audience, the author finds solace and food for thought in botanical and zoological detail, in lines of poetry, and in a long episode of magical thinking that stretches over the course of the book. Wansbrough begins leaving notes and tokens intended for her sister behind a rock, and is thrilled when replies and similar gifts begin to regularly appear. “Of course, there have been many times in the past year or so when I have hoped you would appear in one form or another—especially when the rest of my life feels especially precarious and I need your support. But mostly I have taught myself to be content with hummingbirds and purple flowers, a few crows, a deer crossing, an owl, several snakes—and of course your messages and gifts left behind the rock.” The development of this storyline gives the book a nice touch of suspense and momentum, even if both she and the reader are aware that there will surely be a more pragmatic explanation.

Lyrical, openhearted expression and naturalist insights make this a fine addition to the literature of magical thinking.