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kingarooski's review against another edition
4.0
This is a slow-moving and lovely book. I really enjoyed the author's description of his father and their relationship. Wonderful descriptions of the British countryside and nature, but what really spoke to me was this quote:
"There is no walking to compare with walking in snow.It is transcendental cleansing, walking in order to walk away from oneself,the rhythmic creak-creak of boots on snow drawing the mind away across the blank white canvas of the countryside..."
I love walking in snow.
"There is no walking to compare with walking in snow.It is transcendental cleansing, walking in order to walk away from oneself,the rhythmic creak-creak of boots on snow drawing the mind away across the blank white canvas of the countryside..."
I love walking in snow.
schopflin's review against another edition
4.0
The writing style took me a while to get used to, but I ended up enjoying this moving rumination on walking the British landscape and father-son relations. I was not familiar with this prolific writer at all and will seek out more. Bonus is that his visits include places not on every walking writer's ambit.
I should say in case anyone is put off walking in Britain that he clearly liked walking in cold weather best. I walk a lot throughout the year and it's not always must, rain, driving winds and temperatures of 7 degrees.
I should say in case anyone is put off walking in Britain that he clearly liked walking in cold weather best. I walk a lot throughout the year and it's not always must, rain, driving winds and temperatures of 7 degrees.
halfmanhalfbook's review against another edition
3.0
Late in 2015, Christopher Somerville lost his father after a short battle with cancer. He had had a tempestuous relationship with him as a teenager, partly because of the teenage angst, but also because of his father’s job. They tried to bond by undertaking longer walks through the countryside, but it didn’t always work. As they both grew older and a little wiser the relationship strengthened and the walks that they undertook brought them back together.
Undertaking a walk in a different part of the country for each month, Somerville weaves together a mix of personal recollection of his father, the countryside he is wandering through, and the natural wonders he sees around him. He walks in the floods in the West country, the tiny Isle of Foula near Shetland, round Sherwood Forest and along the Lancashire coast and heads to Lyme Regis for a family gathering. He uses these walks to look at the man his father was and to try to comprehend him. He worked at GCHQ, and could not say a word about his work to anyone and that led to many frustrating moments in their relationship.
This is no fair weather walking book, he is not scared to venture out in the rain to follow his route. It is quite readable and at certain points he shows his class as a writer. He can be quite reflective as he muses about his father and the things that will forever remain secret. I really liked the verses from the song ‘The January man’ by Dave Goulder that accompany a beautiful sketch at the beginning of each chapter, they added a nice touch to the book. Worth reading I think, but it didn’t quite soar for me.
Undertaking a walk in a different part of the country for each month, Somerville weaves together a mix of personal recollection of his father, the countryside he is wandering through, and the natural wonders he sees around him. He walks in the floods in the West country, the tiny Isle of Foula near Shetland, round Sherwood Forest and along the Lancashire coast and heads to Lyme Regis for a family gathering. He uses these walks to look at the man his father was and to try to comprehend him. He worked at GCHQ, and could not say a word about his work to anyone and that led to many frustrating moments in their relationship.
This is no fair weather walking book, he is not scared to venture out in the rain to follow his route. It is quite readable and at certain points he shows his class as a writer. He can be quite reflective as he muses about his father and the things that will forever remain secret. I really liked the verses from the song ‘The January man’ by Dave Goulder that accompany a beautiful sketch at the beginning of each chapter, they added a nice touch to the book. Worth reading I think, but it didn’t quite soar for me.
kingjason's review against another edition
5.0
I have thoroughly enjoyed this book about the joys of walking and there are so many little titbits of information that shall stick with me for ages, particularly about badgers on the side of the road...I even went hunting for scurvy grass until I realised that was featured in a different month to the one I was experiencing so the flowers were probably past it now....still I got to have a play on the motorway.
One of the things about walking that I enjoy is how your mind wonders, it's amazing how many issues at work I've solved during my lunchtime walk on the common and that part of walking features heavily in this book. Somerville's mind wanders again and again to his father, about how distant he was when Somerville was a lad and how once he had retired they were able to bond over long distance walking, it was a great homage to a father and at times quite heart-breaking.
I liked how this book was laid out, a walk per month, usually with a reason for walking in that area ie: lambing season or particular birds arriving back in the UK. The walk is only a small part of the chapter, so much history has been included and a lot of nature crammed in too. A favourite part for me was when he did St Cuthbert's walk, an area of Scotland I have been too a few times and he covered the bit of the route I have done, it absolutely tipped it down for me at the same spot and it would be funny if we took shelter at the same place.
The writing is very good, easily drawing in the reader and not getting boring at any point. Somerville has written a lot of books so I'll have to check another one out soon.
Blog review: https://felcherman.wordpress.com/2020/08/12/the-january-man-by-christopher-somerville/
One of the things about walking that I enjoy is how your mind wonders, it's amazing how many issues at work I've solved during my lunchtime walk on the common and that part of walking features heavily in this book. Somerville's mind wanders again and again to his father, about how distant he was when Somerville was a lad and how once he had retired they were able to bond over long distance walking, it was a great homage to a father and at times quite heart-breaking.
I liked how this book was laid out, a walk per month, usually with a reason for walking in that area ie: lambing season or particular birds arriving back in the UK. The walk is only a small part of the chapter, so much history has been included and a lot of nature crammed in too. A favourite part for me was when he did St Cuthbert's walk, an area of Scotland I have been too a few times and he covered the bit of the route I have done, it absolutely tipped it down for me at the same spot and it would be funny if we took shelter at the same place.
The writing is very good, easily drawing in the reader and not getting boring at any point. Somerville has written a lot of books so I'll have to check another one out soon.
Blog review: https://felcherman.wordpress.com/2020/08/12/the-january-man-by-christopher-somerville/
halfmanhalfbook's review against another edition
3.0
Late in 2015, Christopher Somerville lost his father after a short battle with cancer. He had had a tempestuous relationship with him as a teenager, partly because of the teenage angst, but also because of his father’s job. They tried to bond by undertaking longer walks through the countryside, but it didn’t always work. As they both grew older and a little wiser the relationship strengthened and the walks that they undertook brought them back together.
Undertaking a walk in a different part of the country for each month, Somerville weaves together a mix of personal recollection of his father, the countryside he is wandering through, and the natural wonders he sees around him. He walks in the floods in the West country, the tiny Isle of Foula near Shetland, round Sherwood Forest and along the Lancashire coast and heads to Lyme Regis for a family gathering. He uses these walks to look at the man his father was and to try to comprehend him. He worked at GCHQ, and could not say a word about his work to anyone and that led to many frustrating moments in their relationship.
This is no fair weather walking book, he is not scared to venture out in the rain to follow his route. It is quite readable and at certain points he shows his class as a writer. He can be quite reflective as he muses about his father and the things that will forever remain secret. I really liked the verses from the song ‘The January man’ by Dave Goulder that accompany a beautiful sketch at the beginning of each chapter, they added a nice touch to the book. Worth reading I think, but it didn’t quite soar for me.
Undertaking a walk in a different part of the country for each month, Somerville weaves together a mix of personal recollection of his father, the countryside he is wandering through, and the natural wonders he sees around him. He walks in the floods in the West country, the tiny Isle of Foula near Shetland, round Sherwood Forest and along the Lancashire coast and heads to Lyme Regis for a family gathering. He uses these walks to look at the man his father was and to try to comprehend him. He worked at GCHQ, and could not say a word about his work to anyone and that led to many frustrating moments in their relationship.
This is no fair weather walking book, he is not scared to venture out in the rain to follow his route. It is quite readable and at certain points he shows his class as a writer. He can be quite reflective as he muses about his father and the things that will forever remain secret. I really liked the verses from the song ‘The January man’ by Dave Goulder that accompany a beautiful sketch at the beginning of each chapter, they added a nice touch to the book. Worth reading I think, but it didn’t quite soar for me.
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