Review of Anjana Khatwa’s: ‘The Whispers of

Rock: Stories from the Earth’ (2025)

Nant Ffrancon Valley, Snowdonia – Alan Parkinson, CC licensed

In June 2025, I sat in the Ondaatje Theatre as Professor Murray Gray

received the Royal Geographical Society’s prestigious Busk Medal. This
was recognition for his pioneering work in geodiversity: valuing and
conserving places that inform us about the 4.6-billion-year history of the
Earth and highlighting the many ways that society benefits from living on
a geologically diverse planet. He explained how the minerals in the rocks
are found within the food we eat – we are part rock ourselves. Rocks
deserve more of our attention. Few of us hear their whispers and
appreciate their stories.

I have been aware of Anjana’s work even before she gave the public
lecture at the Geographical Association’s conference in 2021, where she
also received the Association’s Award for Excellence. She had previously
been involved with the educational work of the Jurassic Coast and other
geologically related endeavours. She was back at the GA Conference in
2025 to preview this book, which she had been working on the intervening
period. The proposal for the book had even been longlisted for the Nan
Shepherd Award. I am grateful to have received an advance copy, which I
have read twice, and enjoyed tremendously.

Anjana’s wonderful book begins with her search for her dharti: a Hindi
word describing the grounding of oneself through soil, rock and land –
similar perhaps to the Welsh notion of cynefin. She also references ideas
from Shintōism and other beliefs, such as the Incan notion of Pachamama.
There are also links to a range of creation stories, which range away from
the more well-known, taking in the Gwichya Gwich’in – First Nation people
from Canada, Pele on Hawai’i and the Māori of Aotearoa New Zealand –
explaining the formation of such dramatic landscapes involves some
storytelling alongside the eventual scientific explanations. The workings of
the rock cycle are mirrored in the actions of the Egyptian god Osiris, who
represents the cyclicity of nature. The Norse skalds captured imagery
representing volcanic activity in the poem called Hallmundarkviða. More
recently, Anjana references the wonderful work of Robin Wall Kimmerer
who has influenced many people’s thinking about the natural world and
our relationship with it, and who is mentioned in the book. 1

The book certainly roves around the world, visiting sites of geological
significance, whether that be at a personal or even global level. Some of
the visits are virtual whereas others the author made in person. Anjana
returns to locations which were important in her childhood, searches for
fossils in the Red Sea, drinks coffee in the Kiambu district of Kenya, visits
Ironbridge gorge, searches for fossils on the Jurassic Coast, reflects on
links with the development of the Silk Road and walks in the English
countryside reflecting in a similar way to Anita Sethi 2 on how (un)welcome
she feels.

There are discussions of volcanic eruptions of the past, and the links with
art such as Munch’s ‘The Scream’, the appropriation of Lakota land at Mt.
Rushmore, and the development of the Carioca landscape of Rio de
Janeiro. Anjana explores how money made by the Pennant family from
slavery was used to develop Penrhyn Quarry in Wales, which became the
largest slate quarry in the world and ‘roofed the world’. She also visits a
number of locations within the UK, many of which are in areas which are
now called National Landscapes (formerly Areas of Outstanding Natural
Beauty)3 or are designated as UNESCO GeoParks.4 They include the Whin
Sill on which Hadrian’s Wall sits – now a UNESCO World Heritage Site, and
an area I know well between Lyme Regis and Charmouth in Dorset. The
campaign for the World Heritage Site listing for the Jurassic Coast was
driven by the late geomorphologist Professor Denys Brunsden. Anjana was
helpful when I was asked to write his obituary for the Geographical
Association’s magazine in 2024 and described how his work helped
cement her interest in geology as an ‘A’ level student.

Anjana shares details and images of some of the rock samples she has
collected over the years. I have a similar small collection by my desk,
including some ash from the eruption of Eyjafjallajökull of 2010 (Anjana
visited Iceland and shares my love of þingvellir), iron pyrites from
1
Kimmerer, R.W. (2015) ‘Braiding Sweetgrass’ – Milkweed Editions, Chicago
2
Sethi, A. (2022) ‘I belong here’ – Bloomsbury, London
3
https://national-landscapes.org.uk/national-landscapes - they each have their own logo
– how many have you visited?
4
https://www.unesco.org/en/iggp/geoparks?hub=67817#full-list-of-unesco-global-
geoparks
Castleton in the Peak District, Welsh slate from Dolgellau and some sand
from Erg Chebbi in the Sahara. She reminds us that to hold a piece of
chalk in our hand is to hold death.

Tephra from Eyjafjallajökull eruption, Iceland, 2020 – Alan Parkinson, CC licensed

I have also visited Umpire Rocks in Central Park which Anjana describes in
the book, not because I knew that their Manhattan schist represented the
roots of mountains, but because there was a famous publicity shot of
Genesis taken in 1972 and I wanted to visit the location.

Threaded through the book are examples of the significance of geology in

our quotidian lives: from the impact of different lava types on the taste of
the coffee we choose to drink, to the impact on groundwater safety – very
much in the news with the fracking debate, to the gold in our wedding
rings. Everyone shares a common connection in that beneath all our feet
lies bedrock. This will vary depending on your location: from the flood
basalts of Iceland to the chalk of the Norfolk coast and the sandstone
ridge on which the school where I teach sits in Ely – an island surrounded
by Fenland clays and silts. There are also deep and powerful examples of
how specific places are sources of power. In Brazil, she explores the
concept of Carioca: a way of living which harks back to the Portuguese
colonisation of the country. Valongo Wharf was for many of African origin
the place where their descendants arrived, and each year it is a focus for
their remembrance. Pedro do Sal, an outcrop of gneiss “is the place where
samba and carnival were born” and where capoeira was performed.

In a chapter looking at the significance of coal Anjana introduces the

Awabakal people of New South Wales and their stories of how coal came
into being. The significance of coal measures on the planet is explored as
well as on communities. I grew up on the South Yorkshire coalfield; my
maternal grandfather was a coal miner as were many classmates when
they left school, and I remember the Battle of Orgreave being fought just
a few miles from home. Coal has changed everyone’s lives.

Anjana skilfully weaves the scientific and the spiritual together – the book
starts at Stonehenge, where so much effort was made to bring Welsh
stone to a flat plain in Wiltshire for contested reasons, particularly Stone
56, the main sarsen stone. Anjana visits on the Summer Solstice – a rare
opportunity to step inside the circle. Here I was reminded of Robert Reed’s
electronic album ‘Cursus 123 430’.5 She reflects on the structures and
minerals of the rock being like the brushstrokes of a painting. Rocks,
although abiotic are still part of nature and have been created by natural
forces unique to a particular time and place. Rocks therefore have their
own fingerprints. One of the visitors to the circle on that crowded Solstice
morning ponders whether the rocks will feel relieved when everyone has
left. Here, as at other times in the book, Anjana’s thoughts and feelings
are also accompanied by a very clear explanation of the often geologically
complex circumstances which led to the rocks being discussed forming
hundreds of millions of years ago, billions of years ago in the case of
Lewisian gneiss or just a few years ago, depending on their location.

Many of the locations she visits will be familiar to geography teachers

from classic case studies and sections from the book would add additional
nuance to the teaching of several geographical topics. I make 3D
cardboard versions of Old Harry Rocks near Swanage with my Year 8
students to model the erosion of chalk headlands – they are curious as to
what the black lines are, and I explain the presence of flints – used for
early tools. There is also discussion of the recent activity on the Reykjanes
peninsula in Iceland – rapidly commercialised by local people: living next
to volcanoes generally involves a calculated risk and some pose a higher
risk than others.

There are plenty of mentions of plate tectonics, and the early work of
Alfred Wegener and others to develop the theory beyond the obvious
jigsaw-piece fit of Africa and South America. Here, as throughout the book
she reminds us of the contribution of female geologists and scientists,
such as Marie Tharp, who along with Bruce Heezen mapped the floor of
the Atlantic Ocean and uncovered other hidden geological processes.
Rocks are always moving, whether at this tectonic level, or as glacial
erratics and sediments, several examples of which are explored. I
remember annual visits to the Norber erratics in North Yorkshire with 6 th
form students from my school back in the 1980s and 1990s: sandstone
and slate boulders perched on limestone plinths.

5
https://robertreed.bandcamp.com/album/cursus
There are also connections to historical events and the formation of the
USA, including the Californian ‘gold rush’ of 1848, which apparently
resulted in the movement of 12 billion tons of rocks and gravel from
riverbeds and hillsides, but more significantly hastened the genocide of
the Native American peoples, whose burial sites were also desecrated in
the search for gold. She references the concentration of arsenic in
groundwater in Bangladesh and West Bengal since the 1990s, which is
due to the geology of the Himalayas and the erosive power of the GBM
river system. This shaping of the Earth is also the focus for Maxim
Samson’s new book ‘Earth Shapers’, which I have also read this summer.

Close contact with rocks reminded me of ‘rock-draping’, as popularised by

my Geographical Association colleagues Paula Owens and Steve
Rawlinson as a sensory way to ‘encounter’ rocks. 6 Here I am draping on
the (supposed) roche-moutonnée down the valley from Cwm Idwal.

Rock draping, Nant Ffrancon, Snowdonia – Claire Kyndt, CC licensed

I’m also reminded of one of my lecturers at Huddersfield Polytechnic in the

early 1980s, Tony Vann, who encouraged us to work out the texture of soil
samples by putting some in our mouth and feeling the grittiness (or
otherwise) of the mineral fraction between our teeth.

The book also served to lengthen the lists of places to visit on my bucket
list: the numinous Lalibela churches of Ethiopia, the Street of Façades and
the Siq in Petra, the Carioca landscape of Rio de Janeiro, Arches National
Park in the USA, the cenotes of the Yucatán, Kumakivi rock in Finland and
the sight of the Makrana marble of the Taj Mahal in the early morning sun.
6
Owens, P. (2014) Bodies in Space Primary Geography Autumn 2014 pp.20-21
‘The Whispers of Rock’ would make a perfect companion piece to Judith
Scheele’s masterful recent human history of the Sahara ‘Shifting Sands’.
Both offer fresh perspectives on the persistence or otherwise of the fabric
of the Earth, geological timescales and puncturing stereotypes about
geomorphology. It will influence readers to look at rocks in a different way
and perhaps be more receptive to their voices, appreciative of their
formative role in human evolution and our everyday geographies. Anjana
has been sharing some of her ‘rock whispering’ techniques in videos on
her Instagram page.7

In an excellent chapter on negative space, Anjana writes about the extent

of the extractive nature of humanity, and how this is often done without
care. This reflects a similar sentiment to Barry Lopez’s ‘Apologia’ to the
animal casualties of road traffic, which are not treated with the dignity
they deserve.8 Some geological locations have been protected: it is no
longer permitted to climb Uluru since 2019, and the Anangu now have
agency for its care. However, geological features and outcrops are still
subject to damage through vandalism, sometimes filmed for social media
views, or the political policies of governments who fail to value their worth
beyond the short-term financial gains for themselves or company
shareholders.

Anjana fulfils the promise of the book’s subtitle by telling compelling

stories from the Earth. I will finish writing now and follow Anjana’s own
closing advice, by closing the book, putting on my walking shoes and
prepare to “step out into a new world to see the unseen.”

‘The Whispers of Rock’ is published on 4th of September by

Little Brown.
Purchase from an independent book shop or
https://uk.bookshop.org/

7
https://www.instagram.com/anjanakhatwa/?hl=en
8
Lopez, B. (1998) ‘Apologia’ – University of Georgia Press, USA
Review by Alan Parkinson, Vice President of the Royal Geographical
Society and Head of Geography, King’s Ely Prep