
Like many children, I went through both a dinosaur phase and a volcano phase. I collected gemstones and fossils, and my parents took me to some quarries in Germany where I searched for specimens with my geologist's hammer. For a while I even aspired to become a geologist, until I realized that the profession would also require field expeditions in harsh weather conditions.
Several years ago, I was delighted to finally visit some lava fields and observe a volcanic crater up close. When Fagradalsfjall first erupted, I considered flying to Iceland immediately, but I worried that the eruption might end before I could arrive. My concerns proved justified—the eruption had indeed ceased by the time I could have made the trip.
Earlier this year, while browsing new popular science books at Foyles, I noticed a book about volcanoes, which piqued my interest. Mountains of Fire. The Secret Lives of Volcanoes by Clive Oppenheimer is a captivating blend of memoir, scientific exploration, and historical narrative that delves into the power, mystery, and human connection to volcanoes. The author, a volcanologist at the University of Cambridge, reflects on the sublime beauty and danger of volcanoes, illustrating how they dwarf human concerns and inspire both fear and fascination. His firsthand experiences are the foundation of the book’s rich narrative, as he recounts his journeys to some of the most remote and hostile volcanic sites on Earth, from Antarctica’s Mount Erebus to North Korea’s sacred Mount Paektu.
Oppenheimer's research, particularly his analysis of volcanic gases, often placed him in extreme and hazardous situations, such as working dangerously close to active craters. These perilous ventures, especially in the early days of his career, are recounted with both humility and an awareness of their recklessness. I was reminded of some of my own attempts to find a vantage point for an even better photo. Yet these risky endeavors also allowed Oppenheimer to contribute significantly to the science of volcanology, even if some early data proved fruitless. He uses these experiences not only to reflect on his development as a scientist but also to emphasize the critical role of fieldwork and direct observation in understanding natural phenomena.
What elevates Mountains of Fire is its dual structure: while chronicling Oppenheimer’s personal journey, it also traces the historical arc of volcanology itself. He introduces readers to early thinkers like Athanasius Kircher and Lazzaro Spallanzani, who sought to explain volcanic activity through the lenses of their time, often mixing science with myth. These stories are skillfully interwoven with modern-day accounts, including Oppenheimer’s collaborations with filmmaker Werner Herzog and his role in projects like the documentary Into the Inferno.
Beyond the science and history, the book makes a compelling case for volcanoes as central to human civilization. Oppenheimer explores how volcanoes have shaped not just the landscape but human culture, history, and even evolution. From the obsidian tools of early hominins to the role of eruptions in shaping political and religious shifts, such as the Icelandic conversion to Christianity, he draws a powerful link between geology and society. He also touches on contemporary issues, such as the urgent need for disaster preparedness.
Ultimately, Mountains of Fire is a meditation on the meaning and magic of volcanoes. It celebrates scientific curiosity, embraces the unpredictability of discovery, and reveals how studying Earth’s most volatile phenomena can lead to profound insights about our world and ourselves. Oppenheimer’s writing, rich with personal detail and philosophical musing, invites readers to see volcanoes not merely as destructive forces but as vital, even life-sustaining elements of the planet. Through this lens, the book becomes not just a chronicle of one scientist’s adventures but a call to appreciate the dynamic, interconnected nature of Earth’s geology and humanity’s place within it.