This is a fascinating and deeply absorbing travel book, but one with a most unusual theme. The author roams the world searching for pockets of natural darkness. Along the way, he makes a compelling argument for the inestimable value of the night. As he points out: “In ways we have long understood, in others we are just beginning to understand, night’s natural darkness has always been invaluable for our health and the health of the natural world, and every living creature suffers from its loss.” An overabundance of artificial lighting is driving away the beautiful mystery of night, and as it does, it also eliminates the overwhelming sense of wonder we derive from viewing uncountable stars in the firmament above us – because light pollution is blinding us to them.

It is only recently, with the advent of electricity, that over-lighting has become a threat. In the past, for most of human history, people witnessed the true dark. Vincent van Gogh’s classic painting The Starry Night epitomizes the wonder of the darkness with its extravagant pinwheels of light in the night sky. Bogard writes that “this is a painting of our world from before night had been pushed back to the forest and the seas, from back when sleepy towns slept without streetlights.” He does not claim that a modicum of lighting doesn’t deter crime, but he does present a compelling argument that the crass over-lighting that many modern populations centers indulge in not only has the opposite effect, but also costs us much beauty in the process.

At fault, of course, is our often irrational fear of darkness. I personally am not immune to this fear; I have always slept with a nightlight on after waking up in a pitch-dark room in India and sensing a ghost-like presence. But Bogard rightly asks: “What do we lose – men and women alike – when we are so afraid of darkness that we never experience its beauty or understand its value for our world, while allowing our lights to grow ever brighter?”

To understand what’s at stake, he journeys to locations such as Paris, the so-called City of Lights, to London, to Toronto, to the Canary Islands, to Walden Pond, to various remote astronomical observatories and U.S. national parks, and to many other locations. In the course of his interviews and research on these sites, he uncovers many fascinating facts. For instance, night shift workers such as doctors and nurses in emergency rooms are never able to fully adjust to their abnormal schedules. Even if they have been working these shifts for decades, the unusual hours continue to take their toll physically and psychologically. And over-lighting is detrimental to local ecologies as well, because the natural rhythm of animal behavior is closely linked to the patterns of light and darkness. As an example he looks at misunderstood and maligned bats, which are misrepresented as evil but in fact play vital roles in their ecosystems. He also emphasizes that cultural differences account for various attitudes toward night. Western cultures fear the darkness, while various indigenous cultures recognize the night as a completion of the day, as a chance for the earth to rest, as a time of wandering spirits, as well as an opportunity for our own spirits to grow by entering dream worlds.

Bogard writes: “I have often wondered how hard anyone should have to work to simply see a truly starry sky, to simply know a truly dark night.” He laments that “what was once a most common human experience has become so rare.” As he interviews active members of various dark sky societies, the common refrain is that what they are attempting to accomplish may be too little and too late. He is concerned that habitations of the future may be so saturated with bright lights that children to come may never even be aware of the wondrous beauty of the night sky. This book is a wake-up call. Take heed. We spend much of our lives attempting to fend off the darkness of night. Instead, why not embrace it as it is: the quiet, lovely, bejeweled alter-ego of the day?