Earlier this year, I stumbled across the concept of human seasonal rhythms and how capitalism and toxic productivity draw us into unhealthy and unsustainable patterns and behaviours by interrupting these rhythms by expecting 100% from people 100% of the time. As I was exploring this concept, I was drawn into some pioneering organizations that have structured their businesses around these rhythms effectively winding down almost entirely in the winter for a period of restoration and recharging. This was the context in which I was drawn to this book… and, geez, was I ever disappointed.
More on context: Right off the bat, I noticed the difference in my perspective as a Canadian living in the UK to the author’s as an Australian in the UK. I loved the Canadian winters of my rural Ontario childhood and find the UK’s rainy, dark winters quite depressing. In fact, I wasn’t touched by seasonal affective disorder (or debilitating chilblains!) until I moved to the UK.
What worked for me:
❄️ The cover art is beautiful and while I personally loathe the Corporate Memphis style, I did appreciate the care that was given to curating a colour palette and artwork to complement the book.
❄️ I genuinely think the idea of the book is coming from the right place.
What didn’t work for me:
❄️ The introduction is waaaaay too long (and waffley) and the messy, repetitive structure we experience in the intro continues throughout the book. Large parts of this book felt like filler: flowery metaphors, overlong descriptions, and so much repetition. There are sections of this that read like AI-generated copy.
❄️ Repetition deserves its own point because it was so prevalent: repeating the same points, but worded slightly differently, in tandem paragraphs or repeating the same verbiage almost verbatim across sections. This sometimes came across as insulting over-explaining, other times it’s just frustrating as we’re retreading the same ground over and over again.
❄️ The book lacked substance and felt gimmicky. Unless you’re brand new to winter, basic self-care, gentle movement, or keeping your home warm, there might not be anything novel for you in this book. I felt it overly simplistic, unhelpfully generalized, and where assumptions were made about the reader (the book felt targeted at middle-aged women in the paid workforce, with kids, that own their own homes) where there wasn’t much room for nuance, specifics, or depth.
❄️ The science info-dumping juxtaposed with some pretty unsciencey stuff (capitalization of Nature, gendered pronouns for celestial bodies, seeing your deceased grandad appear as a stoat) was so jarring. It honestly felt like the science sections were written by an academic technical writer and the rest of it by someone else. In general, the writing style was dry and the author felt distractingly present (“I have you covered” “I wrote this book to…” “I do this…”).
❄️ This whole book hits different in the wake of climate breakdown both from a planetary stewardship level (the suggestions on self care ranged from environmentally harmful to common sense leaving a lot to be desire, especially around environmental impact.) as well as generally warmer winters (even in Canada, the winters of my childhood are largely a thing of the past. I don’t think I’ve ever seen enough sticking snow in the UK for many of the outdoor activities suggested!).
I felt like this book didn’t know what it wanted to be: self-help, science, pseudoscience, workbook, biography… and it suffers greatly as a result. As it stands, it probably didn’t have to be a book: the content doesn’t naturally stretch to a book without the filler and repetition which directly impacts the reader experience. The content might’ve worked better as a magazine graphic feature, leaflet, or interactive webpage with more robust editing creating intentional, curated, and purposeful content.
I was privileged to have my request to read this book accepted through NetGalley. Thank you for letting me give this a try, Aster.