Nature’s Acre: An Irish Garden Memoir of Making a Place Where Life Grows, Ciarán De Buitléar (self-published, 2025) ISBN: 978-1919392813 €11.99 paperback, £2.99 e-book.

The shadow of the Covid pandemic still hangs over us. It seemed everyone wanted to be a baker, to become an internet viral star or to write a book. This is one of the latter.  I too had a bash at that with a memoir and natural history of the Essex Coast, but the big difference between Ciarán’s and mine is that his is now published!

I wouldn’t normally contemplate reviewing an e-book. Reviewing takes a considerable amount of time if you want to do the job properly and fairly, to meet the needs and hopes of both the author and potential purchasers. So the least that the reviewer can get is their hands on a physical book! Furthermore, an e-book means the reader misses out on so many attributes of the book that influence the joy of reading: its quality, weight, layout, smell even. But in this case it was midwinter and snowy, and the author approached me so pleasantly and without expectation that I happily accepted his gift of e-copy! And I soon realised I was aware of ‘Gardening Well’ from mutual follows on Bluesky.

I have already reviewed one book in this genre, Joe Gray’s Thirteen Paces by Four, and there are clear similarities between between the two: a local patch of land at a time of necessary constraints proves the conduit to greater self-understanding in the respective authors, supporting their mental health, and the joy of (re)discovering the ‘local’. So that draws instant parallels with Richard Mabey’s Nature Cure and Alastair Humphreys Local (review here). And it is all done within an easy, conversational writing style reminiscent of James Canton’s Oak Papers, Grounded and Renaturing.

All of which may sound as though I found Nature’s Acre derivative. But I didn’t. It fits well within its canon, another inspiration pointing the reader towards the value of meaningful interaction with the natural world, and in this case realising important community benefits as well as personal ones.

Unlike some books that I review, I actually read every word. And that in just a couple of days (writing the review has taken much longer!). Its lightness of style, full of humanity and ultimately uplifting, made it a gentle read. It certainly is not a manual of how to set up a community garden, but as a demonstration of what the author has done, it inspires. Even for us in the arid east of England who thrive on skeletal soils supporting biodiversity and find topsoil an over-fertile hindrance! Such the the delightful diversity of conditions within our islands.

I was sorry to see that, against typographical convention, scientific names were not italicised, and found some of the layout inconsistent. There were more unforced errors, typos and the like, towards the end which suggested to me that its publication may have been a little rushed. However I would hope that at least some of these issues might have been tidied up for the print edition I understand has just been released in Ireland.

This is a story of overcoming adversity, though not in a self-pitying way. The adversity of lockdown, injury, and vandalism of all sources – louts, council works and wind! The almost last-minute revelation of the author’s autism should not come as a surprise to the empathetic reader, but provides compelling evidence (as for example Chris Packham’s Fingers in the Sparkle Jar) of the benefits that neurodivergence can bring to the understanding of the world of any one and every one of us.