This Is an extraordinary book in a series about the hidden lives of ordinary things. Nicole Walker uses a confiding style, which is perfect for purpose. She presents a thoroughly unsystematic exploration of eggs, which slides from topic to topic and from prose-poem imagery to philosophical speculations to recipes to anecdotes on testing just how rotten A thing has to be before it is truly inedible.
She begins with very personal accounts of fertility difficulties- "These eggs fulfilled neither me nor their destiny." - and a close friendship lost and regained.
The particular is moved to cosmic scale with brief descriptions of the role of eggs in the creation myths of the Dogon, the Vedic myth, the Chinese myth of Pangu, etc., interspersed with frank autobiographical disclosures. "Getting outside the egg isn't easy. Humans are particularly bad at it but maybe it's the one thing writers have going for them."
A recipe for soufflé moves on, in cookery book style, to a recipe for global warming and a recipe for turtle extinction, with ingredients and methods listed in each case.
Walker wanders, on the path of friendship, into a short discussion of Primo Levi, concentration camps and how a cookery book survived in most unlikely circumstances.
The only negative is a double misunderstanding of Wordsworth's Daffodils.
"If you make it a little about you, your prose style won't sound like you're pressing hard boiled eggs through a sieve."
Good advice, that Walker follows, leading to a wide-ranging skim over the topic, with deep dives at any moment and spiced up with insights like clicking through on the web being like breaking an egg shell.
Walker wishes: "I want my books and my kids to be expansive, like meringue." In the case of this multi-faceted book, she has fully succeeded.