The plot of The Glass Hotel centers on a Madoff-style Ponzi scheme built and operated by a conman called Jonathan Alkaitis, a shamelessly criminal enterprise that upends and in some cases destroys the lives of those it touches. The novelist’s interests, however, are far more extensive than a simple exposure of the commonplace greed that has gripped the financial sector for decades. Mandel’s preoccupation here is with the various worlds that exist side-by-side, the porousness of the boundaries between them, and the compromises and excuses individuals make to preserve their status in the more privileged strata.

The novel, though set over several decades, anticipates our current crisis, and asks searching questions about how people react to disasters. The atmosphere is nervy and febrile, with characters teetering on the edge between reality and fantasy, wholly isolated from one another, and absorbed in delusion.

Emily St. John Mandel’s last novel, Station Eleven, was, I’m told, a bestseller. That was news to me. One positive consequence of my ignorance on this point was that I was able to pick up The Glass Hotel with no preconceptions whatsoever and with none of those distracting questions – will it be as good as her last book? Mandel is a very accomplished writer and I’m now looking forward to exploring her earlier novels.

Some books are so good and so important you feel fortunate that you were ever made aware of them and privileged to have read them. Underland is one such book. I remember very clearly the first time I picked up a book by Robert Macfarlane. I was visiting friends who live in England’s Midlands and woke one morning (thanks to jet lag) much earlier than my hosts. Not wanting to disturb them by clattering around in the kitchen, I settled into their living room before dawn to study the bookshelves. There I found several titles by Macfarlane and started to dip into them somewhat randomly. I was captivated right away and remain so to this day.

Underland tells the story of Macfarlane’s adventures in the subterranean worlds; the caves, root systems, mines, and catacombs, and of the rich (and endangered) lives lived in these hidden places by humans, flora, and fauna. His travels take him from the caves of Somerset and abandoned phosphate mines of Yorkshire to hidden passageways below Paris and to the Norwegian fjords and seas of Greenland. But this isn’t some travelog from the underground. Underland is an extended plea to all of us to listen to the signals that the Earth is sending us from its deepest regions, from the Arctic ice flows to the fungal networks in our forests. These signals speak of deep distress in the hidden places on our planet, distress caused by the often irreparable damage we are doing, not just to natural habitats but on the cultures and communities that depend on the survival of those habitats.

Macfarlane writes about the natural world with the sensitivity and precision of a poet. Every word is chosen with meticulous care, and not simply in service of descriptive accuracy. Macfarlane wants to move, inspire, and confound his readers as much as he wants to inform them. His love and deep knowledge of language can be found on every page. Underland stretches the vocabulary of even the most avid word lover. Katabatic, gneiss, flensing, mycelia – Macfarlane is as much an explorer of the English language as he is of the worlds beneath our feet.

Underland is a passionate book, filled with curiosities and with extraordinary people, and it’s a total delight. It shifted my perspective about the world I move through every day, made me think for the first time about the realms beneath my feet, and the connections between sub-surface and surface.

The world appears to have shrunk for everyone in recent months. Underland is a vital and timely reminder that this is a temporary and dangerous illusion. The world, in fact, is far larger than we can comprehend and far more vulnerable than we appreciate. Those are the messages the underworld is giving us. Macfarlane wants us to listen, reflect, and act.