From the acclaimed author of Rewild Yourself comes a brilliant new book that reveals the natural joys to be discovered on your doorstep.
In the autumn of 2020, Simon Barnes should have been leading a safari in Zambia, but Covid restrictions meant his plans had to be put on hold. Instead, he embarked on the only voyage of discovery that was still open to him. He walked to a folding chair at the bottom of his garden, and sat down. His to sit in that very same spot every day for a year and to see - and hear - what happened all around him. It would be a stationary garden safari; his year of sitting dangerously had begun.
For the next twelve months, he would watch as the world around him changed day by day. Gradually, he began to see his surroundings in a new way; by restricting himself, he opened up new horizons, growing even closer to a world he thought he already knew so well.
The Year of Sitting Dangerously is a wonderfully evocative read; it inspires the reader to pay closer attention to the marvels that surround us all, and is packed with handy tips to help bring nature even closer to us.
Although I like Simon Barnes as a writer, the structuring of this book just didn't work for me at all. The daily diary aspect soon became really repetitive and boring. There are only so many times you can read that he tipped water off his camping chair and watched a (insert bird name here) flying/swooping/hovering/diving/cackling/cheeping/singing in the rain/sun/hail/snow/sleet.
It's sad really because I love wildlife, nature and am fascinated by the birds and creatures in my own garden, but this just didn't cut it for me. Meh. Never mind.
This is a lovely gentle book, written in diary form, about the nature the author sees from his chair at the bottom of his garden over the course of a year. It gets a little repetitive when reading in big chunks so I’d recommend perhaps reading within the month that’s being written about, or day by day.
Numa altura da minha vida em que, também eu, me sento diariamente, no jardim, observando as aves e seguindo o seu canto na App Merlim (moderníces), a leitura deste livro revelou-se um exercício de quase meditação. À medida que ia lendo sobre a passagem dos dias descritos em grande beleza pelo autor e sobre aves que o visitavam no seu jardim, estava também a observar as aves que por aqui aparecem. Um livro escrito durante a pandemia do Covid, uma altura em que nos tornámos mais solitários, mais eremitas, e talvez mais pensadores e contempladores. Quero crer que nem tudo foi mau. O único aspeto negativo é a eventual repetição e a inevitável monotonia de 365 dias, sentado, perigosamente neste Safari de Jardim. Adorei.
I really enjoyed this read and reading over a longer period of time made it even better. It was nice and comfortable to return to it here and there. A meditative and relaxing read.
This is an account of someone birding from the same seat in their garden every day for a year. I love birding in my garden, I love the concept for this book. The author does a good job of conveying the magic of birding, the calm and inspiration it gives him. Unfortunately I was bored reading this and I'll never reread it. I feel mean saying that because this is a lovely book.
For bird watchers this is a fantastic book, unfortunately I am not an avid fan. I thought the book would be more about the seasons and changing wildlife. Sorry but not for me.
"You never know what you will find...and the process of looking is good in itself. It makes an explorer of you."
"Everything that lives is worth knowing about."
Well, happy belated Earth Day, with a thoroughly delightful book about the wonders of our natural world. I started this at a perfect time: on a plane, while leaving the United Kingdom, the crisp green of spring a memory. (Funnily, the book, written as a travel book without the actual travel, has a running plane metaphor, which couldn't help but hit home when 33,000 feet above the Atlantic). I've also been spending rather a lot of time, when not traveling, out back of my house, reading in the grass at the foot of an old oak, a sparkling retention pond my most prominent sight. Our resident ducks know me by sight, and I know them the same. I've seen a hawk lose her territory to a kite, and win it back again. A traveling colony of bees have come, briefly inhabiting the tree, and gone on. While not as structured as Simon Barnes' experiment, I couldn't help but to feel some kinship, and draw parallels from his experiences in Norfolk to my own in sunny Florida.
As for Simon Barnes, he is a damn good birdwatcher, despite his humility in the craft. Humble absolutely defines his telling of his year, as does patient, and kind, and gentle. He proves a wonderfully heady, emotionally-tuned tour guide, guiding the reader through the changing seasons and the many creatures of his environs while he, in turn, took guidance from the world, coping with the struggles of COVID lockdown and parental loss, past and future. One weird Nicole Kidman comment aside (in Paddington, no less! For shame!), his commentary popped with character, knowledge, and wisdom.
By the nature of the experiment, there was some repetition over time, (the same deadwood tip, repeated asides about horse nerves, and a few besides), and I could see where the day by day ruminations could feel samey or boring to some, but I enjoyed it fully, and read it cover to cover over a full day of aerial travel. This is a rather perfect read for anyone wanting a gentle nature book, regardless of the creatures that call their place home, and is sure to give some thoughtful new perspective on the world around you.
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--Don't let the summary fool you as it did me: this is about 75% a birding book, with only chance mention of other creatures. Though it didn't at all detract from the book's power, the realization chafed when it came
--From gay swans to polyamorous harriers, we get some fitting reminders of the rampant queerness that runs through so many populations. Odd that despite our feelings of higher evolution, we may be the cruelest species in our response to it
--This is an endlessly quoteable book, and it took effort to not paste whole passages, especially as many of them are so context-dependent. It reads like your most scholarly elder relative dropping constant soundbites amongst strings of anecdote
--Ornithologists really do just name birds whatever the hell they want. Hats off to them. And their tits
--In today's Reptile Report, we have one day featuring a snake, and alas, our darling author seems to have negative feelings about them! ("The damn thing" and all that). We all have our biases I suppose (wasps and ticks and fleas will never be my forte), but it was a little disappointing to see an all-encompassing lover of nature be anti-snake in a way that felt presumptive that his audience felt the same
A beautiful sojourn through a difficult year that more than justified the experiment, 9/10
One September day, Simon Barnes sat down in his garden and resolved to do the same thing everyday for one year. This was no ordinary September. This was the September in the year of lockdowns and restrictions caused by the Covid pandemic. Barnes, who normally spends his time leading African safaris and writing entertaining books about bad birdwatching as well as sports commentary, had nowhere to go except into his garden.
Sit in one place and watch the seasons go by. See what you spot. I like the idea. I did the same during that strange hot Spring of Covid. I sat in my garden and watched. I was rewarded with bee-flies, birds, and flowers that I hadn’t known even came into my garden. As he says, “There are two landscapes out there, one inhabited by me, one by everything else.”
Barnes is easy to read and often funny and self-deprecating about his abilities. It has to be said, though, that Simon’s “Garden” looks out over Norfolk marshes, he has a canoe AND a kayak, he has nice binoculars and things in the distance to look at with them. That’s a world of difference from a suburban garden or an urban balcony. Barnes has marsh harriers and kingfishers but he also spies dragonflies, butterflies and hover flies which are as easy to see in urban environments as in rural Norfolk. Okay warblers and white throats aren’t going to land on your washing line but he mentions blackbirds and wrens, goldfinches and long-tailed tits. And gulls and pigeons get everywhere.
Committed to the diary format, it can get a little repetitive, meaning that there’s a lot of mention of harriers flying, the antics of the swans and how many birds he can hear. It’s quite a simple book, sometimes little more than a list of birds he’s seen that day, with some very simple pointers like which bird book to buy, so I suppose the nature ID aspect of the book isn’t really aimed at me but at people who aren’t out in nature much but want to be. He also peppers the entry with literature quotes, observations about his own practice and how to withstand bad weather, and notes about his family.
As the year advances, he weaves in, gently to begin with, the background to all this sitting still which is the Covid epidemic and the restrictions it imposed on our lives for a couple of years. There is a genuinely sad and moving entry where he reveals that his father has died in London, following a Covid infection, almost at the end of the restrictions. The final month of the book then becomes something of a record of his deep sadness at losing the man who gave him his love of wildlife and how much he misses him but offers the consolation of nature to those who are grieving or struggling.
“Wise people keep telling us to go into nature to seek wellbeing. My experience is that if you go into nature to seek nature, you are far more likely to find a spot of wellbeing.” is a sentiment I can get behind. By engaging your senses fully and being willing to learn about your surroundings, you can find great peace and an escape from pain.
I’m also very much onboard with his call to love what’s close at hand and view it with fresh eyes. What may seem commonplace is actually quite remarkable: “Those of us who live in the seasonal lands tend to reserve our amazement for rainforest and desert, blinded by habit to our doorstep marvels. 'Most of our faculties lie dormant because they can rely upon Habit, wrote Marcel Proust. This project is about trying to break Habit so that we can see deeply familiar things for the first time” Amen to that!
A wholesome book about a nature lover diarising the wildlife he spotted during the pandemic. I wanted to enjoy this book so much but found it really repetitive and not engaging enough. It's very calming in tone, and great if you need something to read to wind down, but I didn't think there was a lot of substance or enough information about the birds and wildlife to keep me interested. I also felt there was a lack of developmental background story over the year the book covers.
Overall, a lovely toilet/before bed book if you are looking for something that's often poetic and relaxing, but not an enthralling or particularly educational read.
A truly wonderful book, a simple concept - sit in the same spot for a year and see what you see, but demonstrates how simplicity can be wonderful and also how teeming and complex a small area of wet wildlife habitat can be. When I started reading the boom (and I think when Simon Barnes stated his year long vigil) I thought 'I'm not sure there's enough here for a book', but as his year and the book progressed the mindful process of seeing what's around you produced a fascinating read. At the end I wished there was another year to read about.
I normally really enjoy Simon Barnes writing but this one just didn't quite work out for me. The idea is simple. During Covid times he would sit in his Norfolk garden, in the very same spot, every day for a year and to see - and hear - what happened all around him. I love a nature diary and I expected repetition, but I'm afraid I started to get bored. It's hard to explain but I couldn't help feeling it was all a bit forced. Horrible title too.
While the world turned upside-down during the pandemic, Simon Barnes sat quietly in his Norfolk patch and observed wildlife. This beautiful and inspiring book is the result. There is so much delight to be had in contemplation of the ordinary, and practical tips about how to go about seeing what is all around us. If you just need pointing in the right direction, this is the book (and the man) for you.
I really enjoyed this book, even though it was quite repetitive. But at the moment I needed that. I learned a lot from this book and it helped me to calm down, slow down too and listen and watch more attentively. I would like to pay more attention to the world around me thanks to this book. I recommend it, but just be prepared that it is what it is: a diary of a nature watcher who would sit every day in the same spot in his garden. 🦆🦢🪶
The author writes, being outdoors is 10 minutes of getting through and then the next hour goes by in 10 minutes. In the same way this book, once you embrace it, is a glorious journey through time, life and at the end, grief. I absolutely love it. I listened to it on audio book but will also add to my library.
I loved the slow observational pace of this book. Simon writes so well dropping in humour and facts as his thoughts wander whilst just hearing and seeing what is going on in his patch from his fixed vantage point of his garden chair. Lovely.
Interesting 12 month account of sitting in his garden by a nature reserve recording what he sees and hears in diary type format ! Educational as well .. in line with how to be a bad bird watcher 😅 also how it helped him deal with his dads passing n covid times
A lovely book that always left me with a smile after I’d read a daily entry. I’m not a huge bird fan and don’t live in the UK but still enjoyed the book particularly some of the life hints in the book. Also enjoyed hearing about the author’s family too.
Written during Covid, this book was the author's way of escaping from lockdown. A fascinating (almost) day-by-day record of a stretch of the Norfolk Broads. I seriously envy him his Marsh Harriers.
No not for me - not interested enough - would rather watch nature myself than listen to his reflectuons and comments. Gave up before i got a bthird of the way through.
3.5 ⭐ As each short chapter is a day, I think I'd have enjoyed it more if I'd read a day at a time, on the same date as that in the book. Reading a lot in a go made it feel a bit repetitive.
I low key enjoyed this, but there was nothing especially compelling about it. I did enjoy the author's experience of the slow passage of nature and also the role his father played in the book -- as Covid lockdowns slowed the world down to a crawl.