This is wonderfully written, but it didn't really speak to me. I think to be enjoyable for me, nature writing has to be either very geographically relevant or written about somewhere exotic and intriguing. Living in Australia, where water is scarce and often not inviting to swim in, I found it hard to connect with the natural world these stories describe.

I also think there are some cultural differences in how we view swimming. I love swimming in fresh water and do it whenever I get the chance, but we have glorious beaches here as well, so "wild swimming" more often means bodysurfing somewhere truly beautiful than pottering about in fresh water while getting flashbacks to childhood ear infections. It's also pretty warm here, so swimming in winter doesn't require a wetsuit.

I haven't rated the book as it really does seem very well-written and if I ever live in England again I might well pick it up again for inspiration.

What a unique and beautifully written book! I love Roger Deakin's style - part travelogue, part cultural memoir, part poetic nature narrative. It made me want to don a wetsuit instantly and leap into the nearest waves. This is such a rich book, steeped in so much beauty and wisdom that it'll remain (if only a bit water damaged!) on my shelf for years to come and I'm sure I'll be delving into it for inspiration for my creative writing and swimming regularly. ( )

So, it's summer, and I've become interested in Wild Swimming (it's trendy at the moment. Easy, fun, and with that dash of 'look how countercultural I am, I am Wild and Take Risks' that is cool, without actually involving that many risks)

Waterlog is the most famous book about wild swimming in Britain, and so I read it.

Pros: There are lots of cool ideas for places to swim. And lots of entertaining and evocative history - I loved the bit about how Cambridge was when all was swimming in the river, and the lidos didn't exist. There is a wonderful flavour of England and trout fishing and prep schools and the wilds of Scotland.

Cons: It's a ramble that doesn't really go anywhere, and goes on just a bit too long. You spend half the book thinking that the plot is that he will swim the corryvrecken whirlpool, but what actually happens is he goes and looks at it, thinks 'not today, maybe I'll come back' and then never gets round to going back. And the prose walks that fine line between poetic and painfully purple.

It's like having a charming dinner guest who is obsessed with talking about wild swimming, and stays just a little bit longer than you would like, but is interesting and passionate and has done a lot of cool stuff. ( )

Wonderfully written. ( )

If you love swimming (particularly in natural waters (the sea, ponds, rivers, lakes and so on), you'll be completely captivated by this book. I love to swim, and adore swimming in wild water, so every page made me long to be stroking through the rocks off the Isles of Scilly or gliding along through the 'gin clear' waters of the fenland streams, watching minnows streaking about. I read a bit every night in bed, and it was like waving a glass of whisky under the nose of an alcoholic. I dreamed of swimming.

It's a wonderful book, full of great evocations of the places he went, eccentric characters, great humour and the mild subversion of wanting to swim in natural places in a Health and Safety obsessed world. I don't usually go for non-fiction books when I am reading for pleasure, but I loved this book and might well buy myself a copy to read again. ( )