Really a survey of some extinct animals and a bit of a travelogue. Have an iPad handy so you can look up the creatures mentioned. Some people object to the cryptozoology he included, but honestly, I think the hunt for the thylacine is pretty much equivalent now to the hunt for Nessie or sasquatch ( )

(review originally written for Bookslut)

The Ghost with Trembling Wings is easily the most enjoyable science book I have read since The Botany of Desire. Tidbits from this book brought up in conversation have made me sound more intelligent and well-read at parties, and isn't that why we read non-fiction? The main topic of the book, the search for lost species, is something most of us have thought about. Although few people lose any sleep over the thought of an invertebrate species being lost to the void, I believe that most, when faced with the irrevocable loss of a more charismatic species, are at least temporarily saddened -- providing their personal property is not determined to be the final natural habitat of the endangered species in question. In this book, Scott Weidensaul wisely confines most of his attention to birds and mammals, straying only for terribly noteworthy amphibians and fish, like a brilliant gold toad, and the Loch Ness monster.

Yes, really, the Loch Ness monster. Along with the majestic ivory-billed woodpecker, and the disappearing and reappearing black-footed ferret, Weidensaul devotes quite a bit of inquiry to species that probably never existed. Like the Loch Ness monster, Yeti, and the Black Beast of Inkberrow. While he never seems to expect to actually locate these creatures, his hypotheses about how these creatures came to exist in our collective unconscious are enlightening.

Despite the attention given to myth, this book is far from frivolous. It covers all the bases. From attempts at reintroducing species that are extinct in the wild to attempts to locate a species that was only seen once, by one man, who didn't record where he saw it. He also documents attempts to recreate species that are completely extinct.

As interesting as all these searches are, it is again the author's speculations on why we go to such lengths to find them that really draw me into the book. Why would anyone want to spend millions of dollars trying to clone the DNA of an extinct marsupial? Why are there so many unconfirmed sightings of species long after they have been declared extinct? Why do so many people report seeing black panthers in places where it is nearly impossible that they should be? Why do so many cultures have myths of an abominable snowman, yeti, large hairy man with claws? What are we really losing when a species finally disappears forever? And what should we do if we suddenly discover ten of them living on some tiny island?

If any of the above questions interest you, I wholeheartedly recommend that you read this book. ( )

An interesting read on different aspects of extinct species, endangered species, rediscovered species, and the psychology of the obsessive extinct-species-seeker. A bit uneven as it was compiled from magazine articles, but well written and by an author that really knows his stuff having done actual field work in the area. Or so you'd think, but the sections on New Zealand had a mistake on every page; you'd hope it's more accurate closer to home. Oh, and he states a couple of times that humans got to Madagascar 2 million years ago, which is so deeply wrong I'm amazed no fact-checker or galley-reader picked it up. ( )

A knockout book. Weidensaul is a very, very good writer. He's uproariously funny when he's relating hardships from the bush and heartbreakingly understated when he's discussing species teetering on the brink. I liked this book so well that before I'd finished it I was online ordering everything he's ever written from my library. Highly recommended for nature geeks. ( )

Intriguing and hopeful, Scott Weidensaul’s book – part travelogue, part natural history, part treatise on humankind’s tendency to compromise, annihilate and then, often, venerate a species – is somehow far less depressing reading than I expected. This is in large part due to his own variety of faith, one shared by most biologists with a personal ‘holy grail’ of brink-of-extinction creature… the belief in a beleaguered scrap of life being just out of reach and just out of sight, secretive and stalwart rather than simply gone. He ponders this scientific optimism while taking the reader on a global tour of a sample of missing, endangered, overlooked, and highly unlikely creatures that are being sought or contemplated in varying degrees of earnestness and despondency.

Weidensaul spends some amusing chapter space covering the fascination with, and possible scientific explanations for, the cryptozoological; beasties such as the Loch Ness Monster and her ilk. He also has an enjoyable, engaging writing style that also helps mitigate some of the ‘the hell are we doing to this planet?’ fallout, but this is a subject that is going to leave any remotely eco-conscious reader with a share of reasonable guilt. He kindly does not make the point that optimism (or even cloning an individual) isn’t enough to revive the Tasmanian tiger, in the sadly likely event that its destruction is absolute, or ensure the ongoing existence of the cone-billed tanager (the author’s own obsession), but the thought is unavoidable… unavoidable, but not conclusive. Optimism is contagious, and I felt the author’s thrill of possibility with every new search, track, sighting and perfectly depicted view over some expanse of habitat that might – yet – hold something waiting to be newly rediscovered. ( )