Animals never would have crawled out of ancient bogs without scaly trees and other plants that altered the terrestrial realm first, thick and otherworldly forests where crunchy insects would eventually entice our fishy ancestors to belly flop onto shore. [loc. 160]
I greatly enjoyed The Last Days of the Dinosaurs, but wasn't sure that a book about the prehistory of plants would appeal as much. I was wrong: it's rivetting. Black examines the ways in which plants have not only transformed the planet, but shaped the evolution of every living creature. Each of the fifteen vignettes explores some aspect of interaction between plants, animals and the abiotic environment, described so vividly (and often poetically) that it's sometimes hard to remember it's all extrapolated from the patchy fossil record.
There are plenty of charismatic megafauna here (I was especially charmed by the chapter about sabre-toothed Machairodus enjoying catnip, which evolved a chemical defence against mosquitos that turned out to get cats high) as well as gargantuan dragonflies (able to grow to immense sizes due to the high oxygen content of the atmosphere, provided by plants) and a mosquito trapped in amber, formed from resin produced after a tree had been used as a dinosaur's scratching post.
Black provides appendices detailing the paleontology behind her scenarios: she also discusses social and ethical issues, such as the trade in amber from Myanmar funding genocidal conflict. And in her conclusion, she draws parallels between the complex exuberance of nature and the shifting, evolving queer community. A splendidly readable and accessible account of a vast span of life, well-researched and gorgeously written.