A boy dressed as the Star Wars character Darth Vader attends a Star Wars themed church service, at the Zion Church in Berlin, Sunday, December 20, 2015. About 500 people, some carrying light saber props or wearing Darth Vader masks, attended the service, more than twice as many as usual on a Sunday. (Photo by Markus Schreiber/AP Photo)

Boys dressed in historical uniforms stand before a military parade in Red Square in Moscow November 7, 2014. The parade marked the anniversary of the 1941 parade when Soviet soldiers marched through the Red Square towards the front lines of World War Two. (Photo by Maxim Shemetov/Reuters)

The “Strandbeest” sculpture created by Dutch artist Theo Jansen walks at Federation Square on February 1, 2012 in Melbourne, Australia. The 12 metre long, 4 metre high and 2 metre wide structure built of plastic tubes and bottles designed to walk using wind energy will be on display at Federation Square until February 26. (Photo by Scott Barbour/Getty Images)

A reveller takes part with her dogs in the annual halloween dog parade at Manhattan’s Tompkins Square Park in New York, U.S. October 22, 2016. (Photo by Eduardo Munoz/Reuters)

While communism, collectivism, worms, dry rot and casual looting failed to destroy the majestic wooden churches of Russia, it may be ordinary neglect that finally does them in. Dwindled now to several hundred remaining examples, these glories of vernacular architecture lie scattered amid the vastness of the world’s largest country. Just over a decade ago, Richard Davies, a British architectural photographer, struck out on a mission to record the fragile and poetic structures. Austerely beautiful and haunting, “Wooden Churches: Traveling in the Russian North” (White Sea Publishing; $132) is the result. Covering thousands of miles, Mr. Davies described how he and the writer Matilda Moreton tracked down the survivors from among the thousands of onion-domed structures built after Prince Vladimir converted to Christianity in 988.

A copy of part of the Dead Sea Scrolls is displayed at the “Dead Sea Scrolls: Life and Faith in Biblical Times” exhibition at Discovery Times Square on December 16, 2011 in New York City. (Photo by Spencer Platt/Getty Images)

Looking towards the Times Building on Times Square, the Paramount Building is on the right, and Seventh Avenue on the left crossing Broadway. (Photo by General Photographic Agency/Getty Images). Circa 1930

While communism, collectivism, worms, dry rot and casual looting failed to destroy the majestic wooden churches of Russia, it may be ordinary neglect that finally does them in. Dwindled now to several hundred remaining examples, these glories of vernacular architecture lie scattered amid the vastness of the world’s largest country. Just over a decade ago, Richard Davies, a British architectural photographer, struck out on a mission to record the fragile and poetic structures. Austerely beautiful and haunting, “Wooden Churches: Traveling in the Russian North” (White Sea Publishing; $132) is the result. Covering thousands of miles, Mr. Davies described how he and the writer Matilda Moreton tracked down the survivors from among the thousands of onion-domed structures built after Prince Vladimir converted to Christianity in 988.