Paco Calvo’s Planta Sapiens is more than a book—it’s a wake-up call to stop and truly see the plants around us, not just as silent beings, but as intelligent, adaptive, and aware. Growing up in India, I was always intrigued by J.C. Bose’s experiments with plants, especially his belief that they could feel and respond to their environment, even to the point of using chloroform to ease their pain during transplantations. Bose’s early work fascinated me as a child, planting a seed in my mind that plants are not just passive entities—they are living, breathing participants in the world around us.
Calvo picks up where Bose left off, pushing the idea even further. Plants are sapient, not in the way we typically define intelligence, but in their own deliberate, thoughtful way. He makes you question everything you thought you knew about life forms, blurring the line between plant and animal intelligence. I wasn’t immediately convinced, but I couldn’t shake the questions Calvo raised. And that’s the beauty of this book—it sticks with you, quietly challenging you to rethink.
The chapter on Growbots stands out as particularly eye-opening. Why do we insist on designing robots to mimic animal movements? Why not take inspiration from plants, which grow and adapt their way through space, using nature’s wisdom to solve problems? Plants climb, reach, and grasp, adapting to their environment. This idea—robots that grow rather than move—is revolutionary. Calvo’s argument that plants can teach us to rethink robotics got me thinking about the broader implications for AI and automation. We’ve been so fixated on creating robots that walk or roll, when the answer may have been in nature all along.
But Calvo doesn’t stop there. He asks us to go beyond biomimesis—to stop looking at plants just for their forms and instead focus on their behaviors. The way plants grow through space, adapt to harsh conditions, and solve problems with flexibility should be a lesson not just for engineers but for all of us. In this book, plants aren’t just food sources or oxygen providers—they are partners in our shared journey toward sustainability.
It reminded me of Ken Robinson’s iconic TED talk, Do Schools Kill Creativity?, which I’ve watched countless times. Robinson spoke about how schools often reduce creativity by focusing too much on rote learning. Calvo echoes this sentiment, referring to schools as “hippocampus-fattening farms”—places that prioritize memorization over true thinking. He suggests, much like Robinson, that we need to be encouraged to know less and think more. In the same way that Robinson advocated for creativity in education, Calvo advocates for creativity in how we understand and interact with the plant world.
And then there’s the concept of plant-blindness, a term Calvo uses to describe our failure to see plants as active agents in our ecosystems. We humans must accept that infinite growth on a finite planet is unsustainable. It’s a sobering thought, but one that feels urgently necessary. Calvo argues that we treat plants as resources to be exploited, when in fact, they should be **partners** in our quest for a more sustainable future.
One of the most exciting parts of the book for me was the discussion of soft robotics and the way plants, with their fluidity in growth and strength in structure, are inspiring new designs. Take the cucumber’s coiled spring, which plants use to grasp and climb—Calvo shows how this simple mechanism is influencing new technologies. The University of Georgia’s prototype robot tendril is just the beginning, and it’s thrilling to imagine where this plant-inspired technology could take us.
I also appreciated how Calvo weaves in the thoughts of biologist Sydney Brenner, who argued that being an expert can sometimes limit our thinking. Brenner believed that fresh perspectives from different fields can breathe new life into old problems. This ties in beautifully with Calvo’s call to involve laypeople in scientific discourse—science shouldn’t be an isolated domain. If we want to tackle the big problems of the future, we need everyone involved, asking questions, thinking creatively, and imagining new possibilities. This sentiment mirrors Darwin’s beginner’s mind, which I admire and practice myself—a mindset open to new ideas, free from the rigidity of expertise.
Calvo’s exploration of plant sentience was thought-provoking, even if I’m not fully convinced. He doesn’t push too hard on the idea that plants have consciousness, but he invites us to see plants as more than what we’ve traditionally assumed. It’s less about proving plant sentience and more about broadening our understanding of intelligence—one that encompasses a wide array of life forms, not just humans or animals.
At its heart, Planta Sapiens isn’t just a book about plants. It’s about a shift in perspective —a call to see the world more holistically, to recognize that intelligence comes in many forms, and to partner with the natural world rather than dominate it. For me, this book is a bridge between the insights of J.C. Bose and the creative vision of Ken Robinson—a reminder that true progress comes from collaboration, from stepping back, and from being open to new ways of thinking.
So if you’re ready to challenge your assumptions, to engage with nature in a deeper way, and to rethink what it means to be intelligent, Planta Sapiens is a must-read. Maybe, just maybe, it will change the way you see the world around you. It certainly did for me.
You can find Planta Sapiens at your local independent bookstore, like The Thinking Spot, where I often go to find gems like this. If you're not nearby, consider ordering it from bookshop.org , where a good portion of your purchase helps support indie bookstores across the U.S. and U.K. By buying from them, you’re not only getting a thought-provoking book—you’re investing in the survival of independent booksellers, who bring books and ideas to communities everywhere.
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