Lifelines, by Julian Hoffman, is an exquisitely written homage to home and the importance of what that means to each of us. Hoffman and his wife, Julia, read a book about the Prespes Lakes in north central Greece and decide to settle there, never thinking they would be there for more than 20 years. Hoffman’s meditative observations include birds, animals, and people who live in the mountains and forests of Northern Greece and who come and go until finally they feel comfortable and settled.
Hoffman’s keen eye that observes nature, migrations, climate change, fire, and the challenges of growing seasons, neighbors, and the people of the small village where they live are brilliant. In fact, his sensitive, deeply thought-out connections to his environment are often profound and fascinating. As a person who grew up in the remote Rocky Mountains and later lived in the Himalayas and then on an island in the South Pacific, I felt, throughout the book, as if Hoffman were speaking to me and my individual quest for a home. I have been to Northern Greece over 20 times, including Prespes, and I feel fortunate, indeed, through Hoffman’s perceptions, to be able to ruminate with purpose on everything he presents to his readers. Living in a state now that has a large Native population, I am also reminded of the sacrosanct position place plays in Native culture.
Hoffman’s study of birds and their migrations in particular are incredibly instructive. His incorporation of the times of the pandemic and at the same time the destruction of the Dalmatian pelican leads to tragedy as the pelicans are taken over by Avian influenza. However, eventually, the pelicans begin to return and flourish.
Hoffman’s contemplative focus on the Prespes Lakes, bordered by Albania and North Macedonia as well as Greece, helps us understand how the three countries can work cooperatively in order to maintain support for wildlife. There is also humor in Hoffman’s observations about how he and Julia live in the village, including Julia’s determination to become a Greek citizen. Hoffman also teaches readers about important and sad times in Greek history, including the Greek Civil War, the time of the junta, and the isolation of the village of Psarades. We also learn about the Vlachs and the Sarakatsanis, transhumant shepherds of Northern Greece.
It’s not often that I am bent on reading a book twice, but I definitely want to read Hoffman’s book again for the pure pleasure of the finely described environment of his and his wife’s home—in Prespes.
Thank you to Elliott and Thompson publishers and Net Galley for the opportunity to read this important and beautifully described book.

Hoffman and his wife start anew in Prespa, a small town in Greece where three countries and ecosystems merge.
I have had my fair share of reading experience about living in harmony with nature, and I appreciate each of them.
The highlight in this book for me was how the author covers various ingredients of their life from the poisons used against animals to reciprocity (ironic, how my examples defines the range as such), from being an advocate of biodiversity to everyday nuisances.
I am a bit familiar with the Balkans, and Greece, but Prespa sounds particularly amazing.

The author masterfully turns little anecdotes into more meaningful stories.

I live this book because as a city girl at heart and someone who was raised in the country it’s a beautiful look at life and what can await us if we are open to possibilities and change.