Starred Review Like Bill Bryson on hard science, or John McPhee with attitude, journalist Hohn travels from beaches to factories to the northern seas in pursuit of a treasure that mystifies as much as it provokes. His quest is to determine what happened to a load of 28,800 Chinese manufactured plastic animals in a container that fell off a ship en route to Seattle in 1992. Hohn's inquiry leads him to 10 Little Rubber Ducks (2005), children's author Eric Carle's idealized board-book version, and also to the plastic-strewn beaches of an Alaskan island, a Hong Kong toy fair, and the Sesame Street origins of the rubber duck's popularity. By turns thoughtful, bemused, or shocked, Hohn finds the story growing beyond his wildest visions as he learns about the science of ocean currents and drift and the lure of cheap plastic in a consumer culture that has dangerously lost its way. The resulting book is a thoroughly engaging environmental/travel title that crosses partisan divides with its solid research and apolitical nature. Rubber ducks as harmless, ubiquitous symbols of childhood? Not anymore, not by a long shot. This dazzles from start to finish.

A finely spun chronicle of the wide-ranging quest to track the wanderings of a rubber duck lost at sea, from Harper's senior editor Hohn. In 1992, a crate toppled off a container ship and dumped much of its cargo into the Pacific Ocean. Among the lost items were thousands of rubber toys. Ten years later, a yellow rubber duck of the same manufacture, barnacled and tortured by the elements, washed ashore in Maine. Could it have made it through the Northwest Passage? Thus began Hohn's pursuit for an answer. In prose that varies in tone from reflective to unaffectedly cool to delightfully wide-eyed ("[w]hat misanthrope, what damp, drizzly November of a sourpuss, upon beholding a rubber duck afloat, does not feel a Crayola ray of sunshine brightening his gloomy heart?"), the author follows in the wake of a half-dozen Virgils on a tour through driftology, oceanography, environmental degradation and the economics of toy-making. The characters are an engaging bunch—some crusty, some charismatic, some just doing their jobs—all with a touch of local color and all raising as many questions as they answer. Hohn spent time in the company of flotsam gatherers, on the shop floor of a Chinese toy company and with scientists exploring the toxic nature of plastic, and he learned about monster waves and the mysteries of tides and currents. He also crossed the Pacific on a container ship to refresh his sense of awe. To his credit, he doesn't dodge difficult questions: Should we tackle pollution at the source or on the beach? How do you measure the value of place? Can a small rubber duck push through the murderous climes of the Arctic? There are no easy answers, but it's the hunt that counts, and Hohn makes it a gladdening, artful journey of discovery.