People cool off as they dance in a swimming pool in an event at a local restaurant during a heatwave on July 2, 2023 in Beijing, China. China's capital city and northern parts of the country have experienced unseasonably high temperatures in the last days, sometimes reaching more than 40 degrees celsius, causing local governments to issue heat warnings. (Photo by Kevin Frayer/Getty Images)

A model holds a 18,18 carat pink diamond called “Fortune Pink” that could fetch 30 million U.S. dollars during a preview at Christie’s before the auction sale in Geneva, Switzerland on November 2, 2022. (Photo by Denis Balibouse/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.

The book “Elektroschutz in 132 Bildern” (Electrical Protection in 132 Pictures) was published in Vienna in the early 1900s by a Viennese physician named Stefan Jellinek (1878-1968, a founder of the Electro-Pathological Museum). The pictures are nice and direct and unambiguous; they teach, graphically, that the surest way to kill yourself with electricity is to form a complete path from source (usually the bright red arrow) to ground (the screened back, pink arrow). Arrowheads provide the path for current flow. (Photo by The Vienna Technical Museum)

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 man holds his umbrella during snowfall on the Areopagitou pedestrian street beneath the Acropolis hill during snowfall in Athens, Greece, January 10, 2017. (Photo by Alkis Konstantinidis/Reuters)

Cast member Shu Qi poses during a photocall for the film “The Assassin” (Nie yin niang) in competition at the 68th Cannes Film Festival in Cannes, southern France, May 21, 2015. (Photo by Eric Gaillard/Reuters)

A man climbs up a wooden pole to get a prize during celebration of Maslenitsa, or Pancake Week, a pagan holiday marking the end of winter, near Rumyantsevo, Moscow region, Russia, February 26, 2017. (Photo by Sergei Karpukhin/Reuters)