This just got here in paperback. Nina MacLaughlin, whom I’ve never heard of, says it’s “[A]n exultant take on the natural world… . [Connors] describes his lookoutry with understated exuberance, an engaging and measured enthusiasm for being alone in a beautiful place.” She’s right.
If you’ve never read Connors, you might start with this piece for n+1, which is in my essay Hall of Fame, or this one for Lapham’s Quarterly.
