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The way Laing writes is the way I like to read: to sink into a world that explores a theme by collecting things that seem to have little to do with each other but are held together by the thread that is Laings ability to see the connection and write it all into a beautiful, vulnerable tapestry. In this one she once again weaves together elements of literature, art, politics, history, philosophy and the personal in a way that make every turn of the page a surprise. I never knew where she was going, but I was more that happy to led myself be led through the gardens - whether they were fictional or real, long gone or still blooming, private or there for everyone to enjoy.

I have a thing for gardens, so maybe I am biased. Whenever I encounter a closed off garden I am overcome by an urge to be in there, as if every garden holds a secret I need to dig up. And after reading The Garden Against Time, I realize that maybe, they do. The secrets aren’t always wonderful revelations about life and nature and beauty, sometimes they are terrible and come at a high cost. But secrets they are, and Laing makes a beautiful case to go diggging for them - or at the very least stop and stand still whenever you encounter a carefully planted garden, wondering what stories might be hidden in the soil.