Meg Lowman, known as “Canopy Meg,” has a big public presence, and her latest memoir demonstrates why: She excels at bringing the natural world to life in language. The Arbornaut: A Life Discovering the Eighth Continent in the Trees Above Us takes readers around the world, from the forests of New England to the hills of Scotland, from the jungles of Australia to the riverbanks of the Amazon. It also tells the story of a passionate young naturalist whose childhood collections of wildflowers and bird eggs were supplanted by mosses during adolescence until, during college, she discovered the enduring love of her life: trees. Specifically, the tops of trees, which have been historically understudied even though they compose a vibrant ecosystem that Lowman refers to as the “eighth continent” of the world.

Lowman’s driving curiosity finds a productive outlet in the scientific process, which she ably describes for lay readers. Her research is full of life, energy, intelligence and determination. It’s impossible to read about it without wanting to examine the natural world more closely! While reading The Arbornaut, I found myself staring out of my second-story windows, trying to discern whether the leaves of the “upper canopy” of my Midwestern trees differed from those visible at ground level. This is exactly the kind of response Lowman hopes for. She is dedicated to getting everyday folks into the canopies, which she argues can advance scientific discovery (more eyes collecting more data) and benefit the planet (more people dedicated to ecological preservation).

Across multiple projects, Lowman’s reputation has grown within and beyond her discipline, and in this memoir, she also attends to the impact of gender on her professional experience. After detailing multiple instances of unwanted attention, ranging from innuendos to attempted assault, Lowman describes herself as a “tall poppy,” a flower that others try to cut down because it stands out. And yet, she persists, leading expeditions to the Amazon, collaborating with scientists and citizens alike and sharing her results in both technical journals and delightful memoirs. She deserves her celebrity.

The Arbornaut is a book to reach for if you, like Lowman, love the natural world and want to live in it fully.

Marine scientist Edith Widder has spent a lifetime studying bioluminescence, often alone in a small submersible deep in the ocean. On some of these excursions, she felt like a “tea bag on a string,” although during descents and ascents, the experience was more akin to being “inside a martini shaker.” During one dive, seawater began leaking into her vehicle, but thankfully, she reached the surface safely. As I began reading Below the Edge of Darkness: A Memoir of Exploring Light and Life in the Deep Sea, my initial thought was, “Boy, I would never do that.”

However, Widder’s passion is so contagious that by the end of the book, I was yearning to explore these deep, dark waters with her. (Dr. Widder, I’m available!) The wonders she has witnessed are completely compelling. After her initial dive, she expressed her sense of awe by blurting out, “It’s like the Fourth of July down there!” Recalling that formative experience, she adds, “It was a mixture of the most brilliant blues ever to grace an artist’s palette—azure, cobalt, cerulean, lapis, neon—supernatural hues, emitting rather than refracting light.”

Widder’s pioneering career got off to a rocky start. During her freshman year at Tufts University, she was hospitalized for months after suffering horrific complications from a spinal fusion needed to heal her broken back. She nearly died and even experienced temporary blindness, but ever since, she’s spent her life looking—investigating “the visual ecology of the largest living space on Earth.”

Widder notes that as a scientist, she was trained never to write in the first person, which means that penning a memoir did not come naturally. However, she’s a clear, informative writer with exciting adventures to share, including an intriguing encounter with Fidel Castro while exploring ocean waters near Cuba and developing a special camera that led to the first video documentation of the elusive giant squid, earning her the nickname “the Squid Whisperer.” Her enthusiasm is matched by her sense of humor, which is frequently on full display in footnotes. As founder of the Ocean Research & Conservation Association (ORCA), Widder also conveys the vital importance of preserving our ocean habitats.

With Widder as their guide, readers of Below the Edge of Darkness will become staunch champions of the spectacular bioluminescent world that thrives in the ocean’s depths. It’s a display they’ll long to see, and an education they’ll never forget.