First of all must come a confession. This is a book that I have been reading since August and have had to go back through a couple of times in order to really absorb it. The main reason for this has been my own neurodivergence (which is discussed within) and I am so thankful for the time and energy that the author Joe Harkness put into Neurodivergent, By Nature. To me, it is a book that defies easy categorisation: part memoir, part cultural critique, part rallying call for those of us within the conservation community who are neurodivergent to come together and find solutions to the barriers we face. Its central argument, that neurodiversity and biodiversity are interlinked and mutually reinforcing, sets the tone for a work that is at once personal and broad in its ecological and social vision. At its heart, Harkness invites readers to reconsider not just how we think about brains, but how we relate to the world around us.
From the opening pages, Harkness positions the book as a journey of discovery. Diagnosed with ADHD in his thirties, he begins by asking a simple yet profound question: Is my intense connection to nature merely a habit or something intrinsic to the workings of his neurodivergent mind? This question becomes a springboard for broader exploration into how neurodivergent people experience, value, and contribute to the natural world. The structure of the book weaves together personal reflection with interviews and stories from others who identify as neurodivergent. Rather than offering a detached academic treatise, Harkness writes with an accessible, humane voice, rich in curiosity and grounded in lived experience. The narrative moves between his own encounters in the wild (whether observing birds, studying insects, or simply walking through woodlands) and the stories of others whose neurocognitive profiles shape how they sense and act within their environments.
One of the strengths of Harkness’s approach is his refusal to separate his own journey from the wider social and cultural contexts that shape neurodivergent lives. He addresses how schooling and workplaces often fail to support neurodivergent thinkers, thereby limiting the potential for those individuals to thrive both personally and professionally. These critiques are not abstract. They are rooted in conversations with educators, conservationists, and naturalists who articulate the barriers they encountered, and the strategies that helped them persist. A central theme is the idea that neurodivergent traits (including hyperfocus, sensory sensitivity, pattern recognition, and deep curiosity) can be enormously beneficial, particularly within environmental and nature-related work. Harkness acknowledges that everyone’s experience is different and that not everyone may see these as a superpower (Harkness admits that he does not). He also points to estimates suggesting that a notable proportion of conservation professionals may be neurodivergent, bringing unique perspectives and strengths to their roles. These qualities, he argues, have value not just for individuals but for society’s collective ability to address ecological challenges.
In this way, the book functions as both a celebration of neurodiversity and a critique of conventional norms. It challenges the implicit hierarchy that often privileges “neurotypical” modes of thinking and behaving over those that are labelled atypical. Harkness’s argument is more than advocacy; it is a call for structural change. He suggests that environments (from classrooms to workplaces) could be transformed by embracing neurodivergent ways of thinking rather than forcing conformity to narrow standards. Harkness’s writing is strongest when grounded in concrete human stories. The personal accounts of neurodivergent individuals (myself included among many others) who have carved out lives and careers in environmental fields are deeply compelling. These narratives highlight the interplay between sensory experience, cognitive traits, and emotional connection to the natural world. For example, many contributors speak of how nature provided not just solace, but a framework for understanding themselves and a space where their differences became strengths rather than liabilities.
Yet while the book’s vision is inspiring, some readers may find elements uneven. A handful of reviews I’ve seen note that the book’s pacing can feel slow at times, particularly early on, as Harkness builds up context and reflection before diving fully into broader arguments. This impression will likely vary depending on a reader’s familiarity with neurodiversity discourse and their interest in introspective, narrative-driven nonfiction. The tone and accessibility of the book are generally commendable. Harkness balances serious themes (including systemic barriers faced by neurodivergent people) with moments of humour and humility. His language is approachable even when discussing complex ideas, making the book suitable for a wide audience. These include neurodivergent readers seeking resonance and affirmation, as well as neurotypical readers looking to broaden their understanding of cognitive diversity.
One particularly noteworthy aspect of the book is how it frames nature as both a therapeutic and epistemological space. It is therapeutic in the sense that immersion in nature has been shown to support wellbeing, particularly for those with ADHD or autism, for whom sensory engagement with the environment can balance overstimulation or emotional overload. It is epistemological because Harkness suggests that our understandings of the natural world itself benefit from diverse ways of thinking, that biodiversity is richer and more resilient when a variety of cognitive profiles contribute to how we observe, interpret, and act. Harkness also does an effective job of bridging personal narrative with broader advocacy. The book does not merely document subjective experiences; it points to practical implications. For educators, policymakers, and environmental organisations, the message is clear: supporting neurodiversity is not just a matter of fairness, it is essential for fostering innovation, resilience, and ecological understanding.
That said, the book is neither a policy manual nor a comprehensive scientific account. It does not dwell on empirical studies in depth, nor does it provide exhaustive data to support its claims about the prevalence of neurodivergent professionals in conservation. Rather, it relies on anecdotal evidence and the rich texture of lived experience. Readers seeking dense scientific analysis may need to supplement this book with academic sources. In conclusion, Neurodivergent, By Nature is a thoughtful, humane, and timely work that challenges conventional divides between mind and environment. Joe Harkness has crafted a book that is both a personal testament and a call to action, one that invites readers to rethink not only how we value neurodiversity, but how we understand our place within the wider ecology of life. Whether you come to it seeking affirmation, insight, or inspiration for change, this book offers a compelling argument for why neurodiversity deserves a central place in conversations about biodiversity, conservation, and community.
I would recommend this book for anyone interested in nature writing, cognitive diversity, or social transformation, as this book is a meaningful and engaging read, one that holds the promise of opening minds as much as opening eyes to the wild world around us. If you’re a neurodivergent ally or you have a suspected diagnosis of one of the many neurodivergent conditions, you may also find this book helpful in finding solutions to problems or solace in the fact that you are not alone. I sincerely hope that my experiences that are peppered throughout the narrative of this book are helpful to many of those that read Neurodivergent, By Nature.
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