Science writer Steve Olson captures the background and aftermath of the cataclysmic 1980 blast of Mount St. Helens in his compelling new book, Eruption.

Why did you decide to write about Mount St. Helens, 35 years after the eruption?
I grew up in a small farming community in eastern Washington, about 100 miles downwind from Mount St. Helens. But I moved east for college in 1974 and spent 35 years there after meeting my wife in the back of an English class. When we moved to Seattle in 2009, I wanted to write about the most dramatic thing that has ever happened in my native state—and the eruption of Mount St. Helens was the obvious choice.

How did you find people to talk with about the eruption? Was it difficult?
Almost everyone in the Pacific Northwest has a Mount St. Helens story, and almost everyone was eager to share their story with me when I asked them about the volcano. Many people in southwestern Washington told me, “If it had blown the week before, I wouldn’t be here today”—that’s how many people ventured into what would become the blast zone before the eruption.

Harry Truman became somewhat of a folk hero for refusing to leave his home near Spirit Lake. Why do you think that was?
Harry Truman captured the public’s imagination by coming across as a proud loner defying government authorities. But the situation was more complicated up close. Many people who wanted access to their properties near the volcano said, “If Harry’s up there, why can’t I go?” which made life very difficult for the sheriffs who were trying to keep people away from the mountain. He was taking an immense risk, and his friends feared for his life. And in the end, he was the only one of the 57 people killed who was breaking the law when the volcano erupted.

Mount St. Helens is still an active volcano, as is Mount Rainier southeast of Olympia. Do you think officials learned from the 1980 blast? What would be different if there were an eruption today?
Volcanologists and public safety officials learned a lot from the eruption of Mount St. Helens. They are much better now at monitoring volcanoes and predicting eruptions—plus, new technologies have made monitoring much easier. They have developed systems to warn people in surrounding communities of eruptions or dangerous mudflows, which could happen at Mount Rainier even without an eruption. Public safety officials are much more cautious in keeping people away from dangerous volcanoes. But some volcanoes still erupt without warning, as when Mount Ontake in Japan killed 57 people in 2014. And if people don’t heed warnings, disasters can still occur.

When was the last time you visited Mount St. Helens? How would you describe it?
I drove to the mountain too many times to count while writing this book—and every time I go, I’m as astonished as the first time I visited. It’s an incredible place. The mountain is so huge, and the destruction so vast, that you still can’t believe anyone would be crazy enough to be anywhere near it in the weeks before the eruption. If you haven’t been there, you really should go. There’s no place like it in the world.

ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: Read our review of Eruption.
 

This article was originally published in the March 2016 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Through a series of personal interviews, journalist Michael Finkel uncovered the story behind Christopher Knight’s elusive 27-year existence in the Maine woods.

You write in The Stranger in the Woods that news of Knight’s capture in 2013 immediately “grabbed” you. Why did you identify with his story of living as a hermit?
One of the things I like to do most in life is spend time in the wilderness. Another great love is reading. Christopher Knight seemed to have both passions on an exponentially grander scale. I couldn’t help but be gripped by his life story.

You wrote to Knight in jail from your home in Montana. Were you flabbergasted when he wrote back?
Strangely, I wasn’t. Knight’s story—or at least the bit of it reported in the Maine daily papers—resonated with me so strongly that I had this odd sense we were fated to communicate.

Knight wrote you five letters, then stopped. So you took a wild chance and flew to Maine to try to visit him in jail. What did you think the odds were of Knight allowing you to visit?
I’ve been a journalist for more than a quarter-century, and one of the things I’ve learned is that it’s always best to show up in person. So I did. And Knight, despite long odds, agreed to meet with me.

What most surprised you about Knight during your first visit? Did subsequent visits get any easier?
I was most surprised by Knight’s wonderfully poetic way of speaking and his dry sense of humor. But he was not easy to spend time with—he put up with me but was never happy to see me—and the visits never really got any easier. Still, Knight accepted every one of my nine visits to the jail.

"I am certain that Knight wishes he could return to the woods. But I have a feeling he will not go back, at least not so intensely. I can envision him living in a small shack on his family’s land. But I believe that for the rest of his life, he will pine for his campsite on Little North Pond, his personal Eden."

Knight certainly seems to lament being captured. Did he ever acknowledge that as he got older, his life in the woods was becoming increasingly difficult?
Living outside, especially in a place like Maine, with its brutally cold and long winters, demands a great deal of energy and strength. And like an aging athlete, Knight—despite his incredible outdoor skills—found himself in a position where surviving was becoming more and more difficult. His eyesight was failing him. Cuts and bruises did not heal as swiftly. He became less and less confident that he’d be able to survive each winter. And yet he was not willing to quit his isolation.

Knight’s story is ultimately very sad. From your description, he seems highly intelligent and simply unable to fit in with society. Do you think he will ever return to the woods or wishes he could?
I am certain that Knight wishes he could return to the woods. But I have a feeling he will not go back, at least not so intensely. I can envision him living in a small shack on his family’s land. But I believe that for the rest of his life, he will pine for his campsite on Little North Pond, his personal Eden.

Knight once told you he wants to return and let hypothermia claim his life. Do you still worry that he might do this?
Yes. Every psychologist I spoke with about Knight’s case said that suicide is a distinct possibility. He lives by his own rules, and if he gets to a point where he feels that he has no other path to freedom other than suicide, he may opt for it. I certainly hope he will not choose this exit, but my worry remains, and probably always will.

Are you concerned that some readers of your book might be tempted to go to Knight’s hometown to try to catch a glimpse of him, or speak with him—both actions that he would despise?
I believe that one of the reasons Knight shared his story with me was specifically to prevent others from asking. Anybody reading this story who concludes that it would be a good idea to try and disturb Knight is making a grave and cruel error.

At what point did you decide to write a book about Knight? Does he approve of your project?
Though I wrote a magazine article about Knight, for GQ, I understood early in the reporting process that to adequately tell Knight’s story would require a book-length piece of writing. Knight himself indirectly approved of the project. He knew, from my first letter, that I was a journalist, and I took notes right in front of him. He even referred to me, in the end, as his “Boswell”—a reference to the Scottish writer James Boswell, the author of The Life of Samuel Johnson, one of the most famous biographies in all of literature.

Did you find any of your historical research into the subject of hermits especially intriguing or surprising?
Humans have been writing about hermits since writing was invented—it’s a primal fascination. I became obsessed with reading hermit stories, and devoted the better part of a year to historical research. I was continuously surprised that so many of the religious, scientific, philosophical, and artistic successes throughout history were the result of someone spending a significant period of time alone. People who have been compelled to seek alone time have dramatically shaped human history. Three examples: Jesus, Muhammad, and Buddha.

You write that you enjoy being alone, although you once went on a 10-day silent retreat in India, only to find it "grueling." During the writing of this book, did you come to any new realizations about your own need for solitude versus socialization?
The process of writing a book inevitably demands a great deal of time spent alone. While I love socializing with my friends, and I live in a frenetic house with a wife and three young children, while working on this project it became clear to me that, in order to maintain a content life, I need to spend a significant period of time each day by myself.

ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: Read our review of The Stranger in the Woods.

A condensed version of this article was originally published in the March 2017 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Author photo by Christopher Anderson Magnum Photos.

German forester Peter Wohlleben is a card-carrying nature lover. In his previous book, The Hidden Life of Trees, he examined the unexpected world of trees: their lives, deaths, networks and how they communicate (yes, trees communicate!). In his latest fascinating book, The Inner Life of Animals, he taps into animals’ emotions, feelings and their unique ways of navigating the world.

Your new book is a natural follow up to your previous book, The Hidden Life of Trees. How did the writing and research compare? Was it any easier?
Writing and researching was similar, but much easier. Since I was a little child, I kept animals: Spiders in glasses, aquatic turtles in an aquarium, I brooded an egg on a heating pillow (so the chicken regarded me as its mother)—animals have always been around me.

It is obvious that you have an overwhelming love of nature. What inspired this passion?
I really don’t know. My father worked at the ministry of finance, my mother in a hospital. I was something like the green sheep of the family.

Was there a single “a-ha” moment that made you want to write about the emotions animals feel, or did this desire develop over time?
First I wanted to write one book about trees and animals. But soon I realized that the trees needed a book to themselves—so the animals had to wait for the second.

What is the one thing about animals that fascinates you the most?
We always say that people are working with their mind, animals on instincts. But what is the most important thing in our life? Love! And emotions like love are the language of instincts. So animals should share the most important things with us.

Your loathing for the practice of sport hunting is clear and understandable. How difficult was it to write about the fact that animals are hunted for sport?
Not nice—hunting is responsible for the shyness of many animals. Most people can’t enjoy wildlife because most big animals hide during the daytime. Without hunting, we would see many of them as they are seen on safaris or on the Galapagos Islands—wouldn’t that be great?

Many of your animal observations could also be translated to the way humans behave and feel. Did doing the research and writing for this book give you a better understanding of human behavior as well?
For sure! Horses, for example, can read your body language. If you are in a bad mood (even if you try to hide it) they realize this instantaneously and refuse to work with you. Shouldn’t a boss always be relaxed and fair?

Throughout the book, you compare and contrast wild and domesticated animals. What do you feel is the main difference between the two?
The main difference is that domesticated animals and humans have made evolutionary step toward each other. Dogs, for example, were long regarded as “stupid wolves”. We know today that they can read our mimic and gestures much better than wolves. Domestic animals are something like an intermediary between wild animals and us.

Pets are an important part of the lives of many people. Do you have any advice for the best way to communicate with them?
Love them! Love is an emotion very common among animals. The hormone responsible for the emotion of love, oxytocin, is found not just in mammals but also in some fish. So this strong emotion is the most powerful tool for making the animals we keep happy.

What is the one single message you’d like your readers to take away from reading this book?
Have fun with nature! Always think about the fact that if you are watching wild animals, you are also being watched. This is the first step of communication—and perhaps the beginning of a wonderful adventure.

Are you working on another book project? If so, what is the topic?
The last book of this trilogy is about the network of nature. It is so amazing how it all works. Earthworms control the population of wild boars, cranes affect the ham production in Spain, and trees dictate the quantity of rain. Every human attempt to regulate this network will cause unexpected results. Therefore it’s best just to enjoy nature without manipulating it.