Parts of the country have been struck by a severe cold snap this last couple of days; on my walk yesterday I certainly felt the scenery was quite bleak. Yesterday was the end of Advent, twelfth night, and a natural end, for me, of a period of reflection: about the year that has gone and the one that is to come. In June last year I started this blog and I have loved posting every week about my reading and hearing from readers what you have enjoyed. In the past 12 months I have read over 30 books, the bulk of those since starting this blog, and that feels like quite an achievement. I hope to improve on that this year.
My top five favourite reads last year were:
- A Little Life, by Hanya Yanagihara (shortlisted for the Man Booker and many other prizes in 2015)
- Hot Milk, by Deborah Levy (shortlisted for the Man Booker last year)
- All the Light We Cannot See, by Anthony Doerr (published 2014)
- The Green Road, by Anne Enright (shortlisted for the Man Booker in 2015)
- H is for Hawk, by Helen Macdonald (published in 2015)
My fifth choice was the book I was reading this time last year, when 2015 became 2016. I wrote a review of it ages ago, but haven’t posted it here yet, mainly, I think, because it just hasn’t felt right. It is a book for midwinter. And that is why I am choosing to tell you about it now.
This book was a long slow read for me, but in a way that suits the type of book that it is. It is an account of bereavement. In that sense it bears reading over a long period because it covers a period of more than a year following the death of the author’s father.
It’s fascinating because it’s not a traditional account of loss; it’s about how a grieving daughter finds a coping strategy in the acquisition and training of a goshawk. Goshawks are hunting birds, rare in the wild in the UK. They have a long history in the tradition of falconry but, according to the author, are notoriously difficult to train. Helen Macdonald took up falconry in her childhood and this was a hobby she shared with her photographer father, who was, by her account, something of an introvert, a man who enjoyed his own company and loved the outdoors.
The book begins with an account of her father’s passing and its initial impact on the family. The rest of the book is about her journey in coming to terms with her grief. She acquires the goshawk and sets about training it, using as her guide a book published in the 1950s by an underachieving schoolmaster (T H White) who wrote of his own frustrations at trying to tame and train a goshawk; ultimately he failed and his goshawk escaped. Helen Macdonald encounters her own fair share of ups and downs (excuse the pun!) in her attempts to train her goshawk and this is an apt metaphor for her grieving process.
This book is not an easy read, but it’s ultimately a rewarding one. It won the Samuel Johnson Prize for non-fiction in 2014 and the Costa Book Award in the same year and has been highly acclaimed. It is an impressive achievement. Birds are not really my thing but I found it fascinating to learn about this creature. The accounts of the natural environment are stark – mostly nature is conveyed as hostile and barren, rather like the world of grief the author finds herself immersed in, and very like the goshawk, who is not at all a friendly or sympathetic character in this tale.
The emotions in this book are quite raw, so any reader who has experienced a recent loss themselves could either find it very cathartic or very painful. Grief is not objectified, we are there living it with the author.
I’d recommend this book. It’s a good one for long winter nights, but not for the beach.
If you have read H is for Hawk did you find it bleak or uplifting?
What were your top reads of 2016?
3 thoughts on “A book for reading in Winter”
Thanks for posting this Julia; your review highlights the reason why, when I read this during a Summer holiday on Jersey 2 years ago, I got impatient with it and stopped 2/3 of the way through (in the second week, once the rain stopped!) I think you’re amazing to read so much, year ’round; thank you for your précis of books I’d love to explore if only there were 36 hours in a day.
If only, Louise, if only!
Yes, I think I would have found it difficult in the Summer. The landscapes in the book always seem so barren and hostile.