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3.82 AVERAGE
3.82 AVERAGE
This is a book of several simultaneous strands, some of which I found more interesting than others. I found the people more compelling than the wildlife. The hawk-training got somewhat repetitive. Helen's dad and TE White are the most interesting characters, though I'm not convinced their stories were concluded properly. All in all this is a good book, but I don't see how it's prize-winningly good.
I wanted so badly to like this, and at times I did but for the most part I found it quite tedious. It does contain beautiful writing but the majority of the time I felt like I was reading a dissertation or thesis.
Oh. Dear. God.
I had such huge expectations for this book. And they were met and thensome. Hope I’m not raising yours haha.
Well I guess it depends on what you’re into. I’ve always been around in nature as a kid, loved falcons and predatory birds. And have a very close relationship with my father.
So a book about hawks, a greiving daughters relationship with her deceased father and nature will hit very close to home.
The book mixes facts, history, biology and litterature in a flawless mix. All the while written beautifully and had me crying several times. Highly recommendable.
I had such huge expectations for this book. And they were met and thensome. Hope I’m not raising yours haha.
Well I guess it depends on what you’re into. I’ve always been around in nature as a kid, loved falcons and predatory birds. And have a very close relationship with my father.
So a book about hawks, a greiving daughters relationship with her deceased father and nature will hit very close to home.
The book mixes facts, history, biology and litterature in a flawless mix. All the while written beautifully and had me crying several times. Highly recommendable.
This is a story of grief told in parallels and I have not read anything this beautifully written and felt in...perhaps ever. I put this book aside so that it wouldn't end, so that I could stay in this world of whirling, articulated hawks and the madness of grief, the almost-biography of T.H. White a counterpoint.
But that isn't why this is five stars. Here is why.
We move through this world and we hold things in our hearts, and sometimes we show them to others in offering. We show them, and we hope that they understand. And sometimes they do, but that understanding is...not the same as yours. It's enough to let your heart leap while being stung with a feeling that is deeper than disappointment. It's the ache of being misunderstood. It's the pain of not being able to truly share something in the way that you experience it. You are caught between wanting to explain more - maybe if I explain they'll truly get it - and wanting to never share anything close to your heart again.
This book felt like me sharing something that lurks so deep inside my heart, so carefully protected, so strewn with feelings like vines and bits of moss that shake off as I hold it out. It felt like sharing that something and absolutely, 100%, knowing that the recipient understood, with every fiber of their being. A knowing look, words only cementing the feeling, my heart soaring.
But that isn't why this is five stars. Here is why.
We move through this world and we hold things in our hearts, and sometimes we show them to others in offering. We show them, and we hope that they understand. And sometimes they do, but that understanding is...not the same as yours. It's enough to let your heart leap while being stung with a feeling that is deeper than disappointment. It's the ache of being misunderstood. It's the pain of not being able to truly share something in the way that you experience it. You are caught between wanting to explain more - maybe if I explain they'll truly get it - and wanting to never share anything close to your heart again.
This book felt like me sharing something that lurks so deep inside my heart, so carefully protected, so strewn with feelings like vines and bits of moss that shake off as I hold it out. It felt like sharing that something and absolutely, 100%, knowing that the recipient understood, with every fiber of their being. A knowing look, words only cementing the feeling, my heart soaring.
dark
emotional
reflective
slow-paced
emotional
hopeful
informative
reflective
relaxing
sad
medium-paced
emotional
informative
reflective
medium-paced
Helen Macdonald's memoir comes together as an unexpected but perfectly balanced throuple, comprised of personal grief, goshawk training, and the author T.H. White.
“There is a time in life when you expect the world to be always full of new things. And then comes a day when you realise that is not how it will be at all. You see that life will become a thing made of holes. Absences. Losses. Things that were there and are no longer. And you realise, too, that you have to grow around and between the gaps..."
This memoir is of a relatively short period in Macdonald's life, it covers the months just after losing her beloved father. Macdonald receives her goshawk, who she names Mable, and sets out to train her relatively soon after her loss. She shares her obsessiveness with Mable and her dawning realization that she is a bit of a mess, that she's maybe not handling her grief all that well, she's depressed. In her exploration of T.H. White, Macdonald shares her judgements of his experiences in training his goshawk - Gos - as detailed in his book The Goshawk. It provides an excellent comparison for her own experiences. With time, Macdonald's understanding of White and his actions deepens (though she maintains her dislike for many of his decisions). Through her experiences with Mable and research of White, Macdonald is able to extend certain amounts of empathy and grace not only to White, but also to herself.
“Nature in her green, tranquil woods heals and soothes all affliction,’ wrote John Muir. ‘Earth hath no sorrows that earth cannot heal.’ Now I knew this for what it was: a beguiling but dangerous lie. I was furious with myself and my own conscious certainty that t his was the cure I needed. Hands are for other humans to hold. They should not be reserved exclusively as perches for hawks. And the wild is not a panacea for the human soul; too much in the air can corrode it to nothing.”
A book that is not just a tidy narrative. My impression was of a book that was exceedingly easy to read, well-structured, knowledgeable, and honest. There is also a decent amount of humor to be found in this memoir - I find the best explorations of grief hit on moments of dark or even just ridiculous situational humor. Though this book is very English and at times clearly from an academic, you really get a multi-faceted look at the person Helen Macdonald is - she is intelligent, funny, introspective, sometimes petty, as self-centered as most, judgmental, kind, and stubborn. This is a wonderful example of specificity being the gateway to universality.
emotional
informative
reflective
medium-paced
It was an interesting mix of falconry, processing grief, and the life of TH White.
reflective
medium-paced
emotional
funny
hopeful
informative
inspiring
lighthearted
reflective
sad
slow-paced