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zackolantern 's review for:
H is for Hawk
by Helen Macdonald
“All the way home on the train I thought of Dad and the terrible mistake I had made. I’d thought that to heal my great hurt, I should flee to the wild. It was what people did. The nature books I’d read told me so. So many of them had been quests inspired by grief or sadness. Some had fixed themselves to the stars of elusive animals. Some sought snow geese. Others snow leopards. Others cleaved to the earth, walked trails, mountains, coasts and glens. Some sought wildness at a distance, others closer to home. ‘Nature in her green, tranquil woods heals and soothes all afflictions,’ 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 unconscious certainty that this was the cure I needed. Hands are for other human hands 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.”
I have conflicting feelings on this book. On the one hand, some of the writing is drop dead gorgeous and brought tears to my eyes at certain points. I absolutely loved learning about the surprisingly deep history of falconry and those who engaged in the practice. Interlacing Macdonald’s story of training a goshawk with T.H. White’s experience I thought was an incredibly clever way of organizing this memoir.
On the other hand, there were many times throughout this book where I was incredibly bored and wished that Macdonald would talk about something else. During long passages about T.H. White I wished she would instead write about her goshawk. During the goshawk training sections I then wished that she’d instead write about her grief (which is practically its own character in this story).
Perhaps this says more about the (less than ideal) mental state I was in while reading this book rather than its content and writing. I completely understand why people tout this book - there are some incredible moments, but the moments where I wondered if I should put the book down were unfortunately more numerous.
Now I knew this for what it was: a beguiling but dangerous lie. I was furious with myself and my own unconscious certainty that this was the cure I needed. Hands are for other human hands 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.”
I have conflicting feelings on this book. On the one hand, some of the writing is drop dead gorgeous and brought tears to my eyes at certain points. I absolutely loved learning about the surprisingly deep history of falconry and those who engaged in the practice. Interlacing Macdonald’s story of training a goshawk with T.H. White’s experience I thought was an incredibly clever way of organizing this memoir.
On the other hand, there were many times throughout this book where I was incredibly bored and wished that Macdonald would talk about something else. During long passages about T.H. White I wished she would instead write about her goshawk. During the goshawk training sections I then wished that she’d instead write about her grief (which is practically its own character in this story).
Perhaps this says more about the (less than ideal) mental state I was in while reading this book rather than its content and writing. I completely understand why people tout this book - there are some incredible moments, but the moments where I wondered if I should put the book down were unfortunately more numerous.