Reviewed by Tracy Ilene Miller

In Out of Eden: An Odyssey of Ecological Invasion, Alan Burdick entices us to follow, among others, a researcher whose sole daily purpose is to trample through a rain forest to count wild drosophilas, or fruit flies. We traverse the “dense and dripping” foliage, step over moss-draped logs, and watch “two thousand years of organic decay slurping at his boots.” Burdick’s sense of humor, and of adventure, and intelligent meditations are compelling enough that we stick with him on his first-person journey to Guam, Australia, Hawaii and San Francisco to witness some of the worst alien species invasions and to meet the scientists who track them.

Out of Eden is a story of humans and animals, not only from a scientific perspective — the inescapable human imprint on the natural world — but from a character-driven one. Burdick provides a peek into the world of dogged scientists, ones who sift through sand hour after hour, or sit in barrels overnight watching the movements of brown tree snakes with night goggles. They are the engaging framework for introducing the research of invasion biology and the course of ecological change at the hands of humans. Woven into the narrative are Burdick’s philosophical musings on nature, and the complex problems scientists face in defining it.

Although the journey sometimes pulls away from a discernible trail, we stick with Burdick, a senior editor at Discover magazine, because he is dexterous and able to give the broad review of scientific research while still entertaining us. About one marine biologist, Burdick says, “He is a mitochondrion of a man, powered largely, as far as I could tell, by processed sugar.”

Burdick knows when to absent himself from the story and when to step in, as the philosopher, the historian, and then the everyman. With Burdick’s light touch, the reader is prepared by the end to face the challenge of a new paradigm — research shows non-native species infrequently decimate ecosystems, they only create new ones — and a question of looming proportions. If human traffic of flora and fauna, both intentional and unintentional, are often the primary sources of disruptive alien threats as well as economic stability in certain areas, what’s the human comfort level, even psychological acceptance, for ecological disruption?