My whole life has revolved around insects. As a small child, I would catch, hold and admire insects in the garden, mostly because they were easier to catch than the birds. Today, I am lucky enough to travel around Europe, researching the endlessly fascinating world of insect migration, and insects still provide a great source of happiness for me: the thrill of the hunt for a rare bee, the joy of discovering an insect I have never seen before or the relaxing hours of just looking and observing. Dave Goulson's books make it clear that he is cut from a similar cloth.

Silent Earth is simultaneously a love letter to insects and a battle paean for the fight against climate change and biodiversity loss. It is a factual and scientific book, yet there is so much extraordinary within the invertebrate world that reading it feels like watching a parallel universe, one that is intimately entwined with our own, and at the same time strange and unknown. The approachability of Silent Earth is a great boon to those of us who are studying this alternate universe: the book clearly and uncompromisingly describes key issues we want the wider public to understand and appreciate. Yet it is also terrifying.

The book is full of moments that reach deep into your chest, and twist, leaving you breathless and heartbroken. The ‘poisoned land’ chapter, for example, and the fact that nobody alive can remember just how many cowslips there once were; the recipes that once called for the collection of gallons of the flowers that are now painfully obsolete. A friend described my feelings well when they said: ‘I threw the book across the room regularly in my fury at our species’ arrogance.’ Echoing Rachel Carson's Silent Spring with her ‘fable for tomorrow’, Dave Goulson gives a stark warning towards the end of the book with ‘A view from the future’, writing from his son's point of view 60 years from now. The world has continued upon its catastrophic trajectory and has left life nearly unrecognisable. As I am writing this in Somerset, in the 40 ˚C heatwave of July 2022, every Buddleja bush I walk past is devoid of butterflies. The warning cannot be heeded soon enough.

When reading Silent Earth, I was thankful that between consecutive chapters, as a break from the terror, Goulson intersperses small monographs about the remarkable world of insects. My personal favourite was learning that earwigs are right-‘handed’: they have two penises and prefer to use the right-hand one! And despite the gloom, Goulson infuses his book with hope. The final chapters are dedicated to what we can all do and the benefits we will gain. Simple plans bullet pointed across the pages lay out actions anyone can take, from national governments through every profession and every way of life: farmers and gardeners, office and factory workers, people shopping and travelling. Each one of us can play a key role and it will repay us all with greater food security, cleaner landscapes and better mental health.

This year of all years, people are noticing the lack of insects in their gardens and parks. I hope this book scuttles and flutters its way out to the widest possible public, taking its message to everyone: Westminster Village to city scape and rural lanes, chief of industry to chef, bus driver to scientist. Everyone needs to be talking about and noticing insects and what they do for us, giving us a chance to rebuild the natural support networks that we, quite simply, will not survive without.