Meg Lowman seems like such a genuine delight of a human being with infectious enthusiasm for all things nature. She's got a gift for crafting lush descriptions of forest worlds that make me itch for my hiking shoes. I'd like nothing better than to go adventuring with her. But do I want to finish her book? Regretfully not. When you're on the third chapter and you find yourself saying again, "Hey, didn't I just read this just a few pages ago?" you feel less compelled to soldier on. I also got an impression of being given a list of science facts that might go sprawling on forever. Delightful, enthusiastically rendered facts, but facts just the same--and there are only so many facts a narrative can carry before we get irretrievably lost in the weeds. Editing, please!