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The Light in the Dark: A Winter Journal
As November stubs out the glow of autumn and the days tighten into shorter hours, winter’s occupation begins. Preparing for winter has its own rhythms, as old as our exchanges with the land. Of all the seasons, it draws us together. But winter can be tough.
It is a time of introspection, of looking inwards. Seasonal sadness; winter blues; depression – such feelings are widespread in the darker months. But by looking outwards, by being in and observing nature, we can appreciate its rhythms. Mountains make sense in any weather. The voices of a wood always speak consolation. A brush of frost; subtle colours; days as bright as a magpie’s cackle. We can learn to see and celebrate winter in all its shadows and lights.
In this moving and lyrical evocation of a British winter and the feelings it inspires, Horatio Clare raises a torch against the darkness, illuminating the blackest corners of the season, and delving into memory and myth to explore the powerful hold that winter has on us. By learning to see, we can find the magic, the light that burns bright at the heart of winter: spring will come again.
It is a time of introspection, of looking inwards. Seasonal sadness; winter blues; depression – such feelings are widespread in the darker months. But by looking outwards, by being in and observing nature, we can appreciate its rhythms. Mountains make sense in any weather. The voices of a wood always speak consolation. A brush of frost; subtle colours; days as bright as a magpie’s cackle. We can learn to see and celebrate winter in all its shadows and lights.
In this moving and lyrical evocation of a British winter and the feelings it inspires, Horatio Clare raises a torch against the darkness, illuminating the blackest corners of the season, and delving into memory and myth to explore the powerful hold that winter has on us. By learning to see, we can find the magic, the light that burns bright at the heart of winter: spring will come again.
208 pages, Hardcover
First published November 1, 2018
70 people are currently reading
1531 people want to read
About the author
Horatio Clare
36 books98 followersHoratio Clare (b. 1973) is a writer, radio producer and journalist. Born in London, he and his brother Alexander grew up on a hill farm in the Black Mountains of south Wales. Clare describes the experience in his first book Running for the Hills (John Murray 2006) in which he sets out to trace the course and causes of his parents divorce, and recalls the eccentric, romantic and often harsh conditions of his childhood. The book was widely and favourably reviewed in the UK, where it became a bestseller, as in the US.
Running for the Hills was nominated for the Guardian First Book Award and shortlisted for the Sunday Times Young Writer of the Year Award. Horatio has written about Ethiopia, Namibia and Morocco, and now divides his time between South Wales, Lancashire and London. He was awarded a Somerset Maugham Award for the writing of A Single Swallow (Chatto and Windus, 2009).
Running for the Hills was nominated for the Guardian First Book Award and shortlisted for the Sunday Times Young Writer of the Year Award. Horatio has written about Ethiopia, Namibia and Morocco, and now divides his time between South Wales, Lancashire and London. He was awarded a Somerset Maugham Award for the writing of A Single Swallow (Chatto and Windus, 2009).
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 128 reviews
December 7, 2018
I don't think I have ever felt so well understood by a book! The Light in the Dark is Horatio Clare's journal of his transition through the British autumn to winter months. It goes into great detail about both his emotional and mental responses to the season's change, as well as nature's physical one. As the months progress, he also journeys backwards and shares snippets from winters past.
What immediately struck me about this journal was the startling quality of Clare's writing. I was mesmerised from the very first page. Each and every sentence was structured with such exquisite beauty that I often found myself staring into space, just marvelling in the joy of sublime penmanship. He creates a riot for the senses with his words, and I can only compare his lyrical style as being confronted with a vivid painting and being allowed to touch its textured layers with your hands. His words seem to hold far more than they should be able to.
The other most noticeable trait is Clare's affinity with nature. He writes not as though he understands our ever-shifting natural world but with a deep-rooted respect for it, that borders on the passionate. Throughout I was reminded continually of my ardent love for Emily Bronte's Wuthering Heights. She writes of her moors like Clare writes of the world.
My third source of adoration stemmed from the confrontation of mental illness. There is a rawness that betrays the emotions this writer was feeling, also also a straight-forward honesty that denies any cowardice of it. He is brutal with himself, laying bare his soul for the reader. I fell in love with his writing and wondered at his ability to recreate nature's beauty, but it is here that I felt my affinity for this book stick. His candour is to be commended and, though not without its pain, this ends on a hopeful note that leave me, deep into the winter months, already longing to reread and to remind myself what the other side looks like.
What immediately struck me about this journal was the startling quality of Clare's writing. I was mesmerised from the very first page. Each and every sentence was structured with such exquisite beauty that I often found myself staring into space, just marvelling in the joy of sublime penmanship. He creates a riot for the senses with his words, and I can only compare his lyrical style as being confronted with a vivid painting and being allowed to touch its textured layers with your hands. His words seem to hold far more than they should be able to.
The other most noticeable trait is Clare's affinity with nature. He writes not as though he understands our ever-shifting natural world but with a deep-rooted respect for it, that borders on the passionate. Throughout I was reminded continually of my ardent love for Emily Bronte's Wuthering Heights. She writes of her moors like Clare writes of the world.
My third source of adoration stemmed from the confrontation of mental illness. There is a rawness that betrays the emotions this writer was feeling, also also a straight-forward honesty that denies any cowardice of it. He is brutal with himself, laying bare his soul for the reader. I fell in love with his writing and wondered at his ability to recreate nature's beauty, but it is here that I felt my affinity for this book stick. His candour is to be commended and, though not without its pain, this ends on a hopeful note that leave me, deep into the winter months, already longing to reread and to remind myself what the other side looks like.
January 7, 2020
The harshness of winter in the north and west (The Pennines and North Wales mainly) told by the author who is very prone to depression, always at its worst in the winter. He keeps a journal in order to record his thoughts, sights and events. It is a coping mechanism for him and a privilege for us to be able to share it.
At first, I found the negative and almost constant self-absorption irritating, but this was often redeemed by sublime writing. I marvelled how, even in the depths of despair and anxiety, his powers of observation and wonderful recall were so outstandingly good.
A little snippet must suffice:
“2 February:
Friday-evening trains from Manchester Victoria into the Pennines are a triumph of human spirit. We board the usual old thing, a tattered and achy sort of train which has had many owners, currently the German state railway, Deutsche Barn, via Arriva, via Northern: a poor train for poor people, they all conclude. The passengers board it gently, careful with each other, sweetly polite.We bear slowly east into the dusk. Three girls are budgeting. They are Rochdalians….”
As well as being a powerful evocation of winter, its darkness and light, Clare takes us into past scenes, worlds and experiences he has had in the course of his life and draws on these and his wide reading knowledge to point things out to the reader. He reminded me here of the tendency of our Saxon ancestors to describe a man/woman according to the number of winter’s they had experienced: a thumb’s guide to staying power and character.
At first, I found the negative and almost constant self-absorption irritating, but this was often redeemed by sublime writing. I marvelled how, even in the depths of despair and anxiety, his powers of observation and wonderful recall were so outstandingly good.
A little snippet must suffice:
“2 February:
Friday-evening trains from Manchester Victoria into the Pennines are a triumph of human spirit. We board the usual old thing, a tattered and achy sort of train which has had many owners, currently the German state railway, Deutsche Barn, via Arriva, via Northern: a poor train for poor people, they all conclude. The passengers board it gently, careful with each other, sweetly polite.We bear slowly east into the dusk. Three girls are budgeting. They are Rochdalians….”
As well as being a powerful evocation of winter, its darkness and light, Clare takes us into past scenes, worlds and experiences he has had in the course of his life and draws on these and his wide reading knowledge to point things out to the reader. He reminded me here of the tendency of our Saxon ancestors to describe a man/woman according to the number of winter’s they had experienced: a thumb’s guide to staying power and character.
September 26, 2019
(2.75) As the summer of 2017 drew towards a close, Horatio Clare made a resolution: instead of dreading the coming winter, he was going to closely observe and even celebrate its coming by keeping a diary. He’d often experienced depression at the onset of winter – a “loathsome ball of negativity, clamped to my ankle” that exacerbated his insomnia and hypochondria. This year, he hoped that noticing the incremental changes of the seasons and marking winter’s gifts as well as its challenges would make all the difference.
Clare lives in Hebden Bridge, a left-leaning community of offcomers, and teaches creative writing at Liverpool. His family is composed of his partner Rebecca, their five-year-old son Aubrey, and her older boy Robin. Over the course of the book he also makes multiple trips back to Wales, where he grew up and his mother still lives. Early on there’s a crisis back on the Welsh farm when badger baiters kill several of his mum’s sheep.
Winter in the countryside is much more gruelling than it is in the city, Clare decides. When he lived in London it was a doddle to dash between indoor spaces: the Tube, the office, cafés, and home. In Yorkshire, though, the cold seeps in – sometimes literally, as when a drip starts up over his bed. There are some wonderful descriptions of the season’s gloom:
I was a bit confused to find that, having started in September, the book so quickly jumps to mid-December. Christmas is here almost before you know it, rather than appearing as a long-awaited bright spot in the murk, as it is in real life. Most of the diary focuses on January and February, which is perhaps appropriate given how long those frigid months can drag on.
Throughout, Clare intersperses current happenings with memories of childhood events and the years that he and Rebecca spent in Italy. Ironically, these flashbacks can be a lot more interesting than the 2017‒18 material. Much as he intends to rescue winter from its melancholy associations, the author doesn’t totally succeed in making the march of days other than dreary.
So while there are some dazzling lines here – “There was a pink Chinese silk balloon sun in a mustard sky” – the book as a whole is somewhat lacklustre. Still, I expect that, rather like Matt Haig’s Reasons to Stay Alive, it may be meaningful to pessimists who struggle to see how they’re going to get through another winter.
Clare lives in Hebden Bridge, a left-leaning community of offcomers, and teaches creative writing at Liverpool. His family is composed of his partner Rebecca, their five-year-old son Aubrey, and her older boy Robin. Over the course of the book he also makes multiple trips back to Wales, where he grew up and his mother still lives. Early on there’s a crisis back on the Welsh farm when badger baiters kill several of his mum’s sheep.
Winter in the countryside is much more gruelling than it is in the city, Clare decides. When he lived in London it was a doddle to dash between indoor spaces: the Tube, the office, cafés, and home. In Yorkshire, though, the cold seeps in – sometimes literally, as when a drip starts up over his bed. There are some wonderful descriptions of the season’s gloom:
“It does not do to romanticise drizzle, rain on motorways, months of strip-lighting, office windows black at four o’clock, concrete skies, sock-damp, rain-prickle, mould-steam, deadbeaten fields, sodden livestock and the chilly tug like foot-sucking mud that winter can exert upon the spirit.”
“There are winter days like this that seem to set out to break you, thick cloud and the horizons grime-grey, sludging into dirty brown, when windscreen spray and wipers have no effect on the view. You think the glass must be filthy, but no, a murky, heavy oppression lowers from the clouds, permeating the horizons.”
I was a bit confused to find that, having started in September, the book so quickly jumps to mid-December. Christmas is here almost before you know it, rather than appearing as a long-awaited bright spot in the murk, as it is in real life. Most of the diary focuses on January and February, which is perhaps appropriate given how long those frigid months can drag on.
Throughout, Clare intersperses current happenings with memories of childhood events and the years that he and Rebecca spent in Italy. Ironically, these flashbacks can be a lot more interesting than the 2017‒18 material. Much as he intends to rescue winter from its melancholy associations, the author doesn’t totally succeed in making the march of days other than dreary.
So while there are some dazzling lines here – “There was a pink Chinese silk balloon sun in a mustard sky” – the book as a whole is somewhat lacklustre. Still, I expect that, rather like Matt Haig’s Reasons to Stay Alive, it may be meaningful to pessimists who struggle to see how they’re going to get through another winter.
December 27, 2019
Thoughts soon.
November 8, 2018
This was such a stunning read, full of wonderful imagery and beautiful writing. I rationed myself each day as I read so I that could truly appreciate what I was reading.
I don’t suffer from S.A.D. or depression like the writer, but I don’t enjoy the darker days of winter. When the sky is constantly grey and it’s cold or wet, I don’t want to venture outside, even though I know it’s sensible thing to do. Horatio Clare made me realise that there is beauty to be found outside in the depths of winter, if I will seek it out. He made me realise that I don’t need to be looking for enormous signs written in the sky, but that something very small or simple might catch my eye at the right moment and bring me joy for the whole day.
This book made me want to go out and take photos of the natural world again, to enjoy the sunsets and the beauty in the winter months.
I definitely recommend this if you enjoy beautifully written nonfiction and memoirs.
Thanks so much to the publishers for paperback copy.
I don’t suffer from S.A.D. or depression like the writer, but I don’t enjoy the darker days of winter. When the sky is constantly grey and it’s cold or wet, I don’t want to venture outside, even though I know it’s sensible thing to do. Horatio Clare made me realise that there is beauty to be found outside in the depths of winter, if I will seek it out. He made me realise that I don’t need to be looking for enormous signs written in the sky, but that something very small or simple might catch my eye at the right moment and bring me joy for the whole day.
This book made me want to go out and take photos of the natural world again, to enjoy the sunsets and the beauty in the winter months.
I definitely recommend this if you enjoy beautifully written nonfiction and memoirs.
Thanks so much to the publishers for paperback copy.
Read
December 15, 2019A diary of making it through the darkness, and inevitably one I approach at something of a remove, because it's summer that I dread. Still, there's inevitably some common ground: "It does not do to romanticise drizzle, rain on motorways, months of strip-lighting, office windows black at four o'clock, concrete skies, sock-damp, rain-prickle, mould-steam, deabeaten fields, sodden livestock and the chilly tug like foot-sucking mud that winter can exert upon the spirit. But the cold does offer great compensations, like the subtle colours, the days as bright as a magpie's cackle, and those stretched tones that bruise the blue of a cold sky in its fading." And he writes well enough that one can empathise even when opposed, as when he talks of enjoying winter as a child; equally, I used to quite enjoy summer – but of course, as the old cliche of nostalgia doesn't run, the summers were shorter and less hot then. And this is the point at which my connection to the book does break down, because the antidotes Clare recommends are exactly the ones I used to use – taking solace in permanence, in the cycles of nature, in knowing this too shall pass. Which really doesn't work anymore when you know all too well that yes, the spring is coming – sooner and sooner, hotter and hotter, more and more disjointed each year. True, winter's bleak days can be really bloody bleak, but at least they're not killing the world, or me via heatstroke. But Hell, it's not like any of that is Clare's fault, or at least no more than it's all of ours; he's just trying his best to keep it together, and I wish him luck, and joy to anyone who can find that here. And despite my cavils, I did too, not least upon meeting "Little Frieda (our dog, a black Labrador compiled of love, greed and folly)", or being reassured that I'm not the only pagan who loves singing Christmas carols. Still, it's strange reading a book by a man who suffers seasonal depression and repeatedly thinking how weirdly, almost delusionally optimistic it seems, from the obscene line "Thank goodness for work" to the bizarre assertion "I think there is a trick in the old rhyme 'One for sorrow'. You almost never see a single magpie, they are compulsively companionable." Seriously? I mostly see them alone. That's one of the reasons I hate them, though way behind what they do to songbirds. And that's even before one considers the Journey Into Mystery line, which I've found worryingly plausible since I first read it: "Do you know the magpie rhyme, Loki? One for sorrow, two for joy, three for a girl and so on and on. You count the number of magpies and so predict the future. It’s wrong. A mistake, a failing of perspective. Humans see groups of magpies. Magpies don’t. Magpies know they stand alone. It’s just that occasionally they stand alone in company. In truth, there’s only ever one magpie. There’s only ever one for sorrow. This cannot end well."
February 13, 2019
2.5
Horatio Clare lives in Yorkshire and struggles with the Yorkshire winters which trigger off mental health and depressive issues in him.
I too live in Yorkshire and have dealt with many more of these winters than has Clare. Fortunately I can cope with them and just get on with what Yorkshire throws at us each year.
Each winter there's a whole lot of articles in the papers about the depression and SAD that winter can bring - and a lot of these articles indicate a positive side, showing that there is help and advice out there which can bring huge benefits.
So why doesn't Clare seek medical advice? He is very self aware, knowing how his behaviour affects not just him but everyone around him, especially the Paragon of Virtue he is married to.
If he was my husband he'd have been absolutely straight down to the local GP before the leaves had fallen from the trees, I'd have made sure of that!
But unbelievably he doesn't go until the very end of the book when Spring is already just around the corner.
And I couldn't help thinking that if he'd gone earlier we wouldn't have this self indulgent book, redeemed only by some beautiful nature writing.
Horatio Clare lives in Yorkshire and struggles with the Yorkshire winters which trigger off mental health and depressive issues in him.
I too live in Yorkshire and have dealt with many more of these winters than has Clare. Fortunately I can cope with them and just get on with what Yorkshire throws at us each year.
Each winter there's a whole lot of articles in the papers about the depression and SAD that winter can bring - and a lot of these articles indicate a positive side, showing that there is help and advice out there which can bring huge benefits.
So why doesn't Clare seek medical advice? He is very self aware, knowing how his behaviour affects not just him but everyone around him, especially the Paragon of Virtue he is married to.
If he was my husband he'd have been absolutely straight down to the local GP before the leaves had fallen from the trees, I'd have made sure of that!
But unbelievably he doesn't go until the very end of the book when Spring is already just around the corner.
And I couldn't help thinking that if he'd gone earlier we wouldn't have this self indulgent book, redeemed only by some beautiful nature writing.
January 22, 2021
As beautiful inside as out. The author evoked tangible, visceral memories of rural winters, growing up in Wales with my brother, Mum and Dad. He captures exactly the feel of frozen mud ruts beneath wellies, the pockets of light and dark, the healing breathing power of cold air, snow, nature, blanketing darkness and landscape, alongside a viseral portrayal of the sludge and relentless suck of seasonal depression and patterned with the irrepressable joy and wonder of small children, warmth, community and family. I read this a little each night over December and January, a gift both to me and my Mum from her best friend to help us through the dark of winter and covid separation. Each depiction was a treasured gem that I took comfort and solace in each evening. It has made me yearn for the bringing together of winter, despite ardent hopes for spring, green shoots, snowdrops and being able to meet up again in rural Pembrokeshire with my Mum.
March 12, 2020
Thanks to a Goodreads friend Amanda for drawing my attention to this book.
November 7, 2018
For me, each season has its highlights, the freshness and vitality of spring, the balmy days of summer, the quality of the autumn light and crisp days of winter. However, for others, not every season is loved equally and winter for some is the toughest season. Days are short, often gloomy cold and wet and it becomes a time when people feel at their lowest ebb. These pensive moments can lead to depression and long-term mental health issues.
Horatio Clare is one of those who suffers from this seasonal woe. This diary of his thoughts, feelings and fears written from mid-October, that time of the year as the nights draw into the 20th March, the spring equinox. In this diary, he is open and brutally honest about how the darkest part of the year affects him, how when he is teaching at John Moores University the words that would come naturally to him are scarce. Calder Valley, where he lives has a high suicide rate, attributed to a feeling that there is no way out and his very bleakest moments hurt his relationships with his loved ones.
Thin wisps of bird song come through bare woods and I am aware of gathering every sign of life and nature against a lowering threat.
But in amongst all the gloom of the season, he finds light and beauty around when he ventures outside. The skeletal starkness of trees, jewel-like frost sparkling in the sun, sunsets the colour of fire and that day went he spots the snowdrops have begun to open and realises that winter is actually on the wane. He is open about his anxieties that causes him to worry about so many things; money, the future, Brexit and his ability to teach; it causes him to frequently wake in the middle of the night mindlessly scrolling through a list of worries. Clare’s writing is taut, sparse and charged with emotion as he details the battles against his own personal demons of winter. This moving book should be essential reading for those that are suffering from seasonal affective disorder (SAD) and also for those that know someone who is afflicted.
Horatio Clare is one of those who suffers from this seasonal woe. This diary of his thoughts, feelings and fears written from mid-October, that time of the year as the nights draw into the 20th March, the spring equinox. In this diary, he is open and brutally honest about how the darkest part of the year affects him, how when he is teaching at John Moores University the words that would come naturally to him are scarce. Calder Valley, where he lives has a high suicide rate, attributed to a feeling that there is no way out and his very bleakest moments hurt his relationships with his loved ones.
Thin wisps of bird song come through bare woods and I am aware of gathering every sign of life and nature against a lowering threat.
But in amongst all the gloom of the season, he finds light and beauty around when he ventures outside. The skeletal starkness of trees, jewel-like frost sparkling in the sun, sunsets the colour of fire and that day went he spots the snowdrops have begun to open and realises that winter is actually on the wane. He is open about his anxieties that causes him to worry about so many things; money, the future, Brexit and his ability to teach; it causes him to frequently wake in the middle of the night mindlessly scrolling through a list of worries. Clare’s writing is taut, sparse and charged with emotion as he details the battles against his own personal demons of winter. This moving book should be essential reading for those that are suffering from seasonal affective disorder (SAD) and also for those that know someone who is afflicted.
November 6, 2018
This is a very personal insight into the authors struggle with depression. The beginning of the book reads like a nostalgic trip into his past, and those memories interrupt the present as he gives a perspective on his life and his childhood.
At first everything appears to be idyllic, as he speaks about the remote farm he grew up on and his family. Then just like the remote steep Welsh hills, his words, thoughts and life start a descent, then an ascent and so on. The downwards and upwards scale of emotional turmoil inside his mind is connected viscerally to the seasonal changes, especially the months of winter.
The colder it gets the more oppressive it feels, which is countered simultaneously with the stark contrast of the beauty of winter. The contrast is important, especially if one replaces the beauty of his surroundings with the assumption that everyone else sees the world that way, whilst he experiences something completely different. This is an excellent example of how people with mental health issues experience the world in comparison to others.
I think one of the most poignant moments in the book is when Clare acknowledges he needs help and in doing so makes it clear why so many people, but in this case men in particular, don’t reach out and are unwilling to take medication. There is still so much stigma attached to mental health issues in our society – it helps when stories like this shed a light on the issues.
It’s a memoir, a personal journey from despair to holding out a reluctant hand for help. Leaving aside the beauty of the prose and the honesty with which it is written, I think it is commendable that the author has opened a door into his heart, mind and soul for us.
If just one person takes away something from this journal of struggle and darkness, and they will, then he can take a moment of positivity and strength from knowing he has built a bridge others can use to find a way through their own darkness. It’s a brave, beautiful and a very honest account of a personal struggle
*I received a copy courtesy of the publisher*
At first everything appears to be idyllic, as he speaks about the remote farm he grew up on and his family. Then just like the remote steep Welsh hills, his words, thoughts and life start a descent, then an ascent and so on. The downwards and upwards scale of emotional turmoil inside his mind is connected viscerally to the seasonal changes, especially the months of winter.
The colder it gets the more oppressive it feels, which is countered simultaneously with the stark contrast of the beauty of winter. The contrast is important, especially if one replaces the beauty of his surroundings with the assumption that everyone else sees the world that way, whilst he experiences something completely different. This is an excellent example of how people with mental health issues experience the world in comparison to others.
I think one of the most poignant moments in the book is when Clare acknowledges he needs help and in doing so makes it clear why so many people, but in this case men in particular, don’t reach out and are unwilling to take medication. There is still so much stigma attached to mental health issues in our society – it helps when stories like this shed a light on the issues.
It’s a memoir, a personal journey from despair to holding out a reluctant hand for help. Leaving aside the beauty of the prose and the honesty with which it is written, I think it is commendable that the author has opened a door into his heart, mind and soul for us.
If just one person takes away something from this journal of struggle and darkness, and they will, then he can take a moment of positivity and strength from knowing he has built a bridge others can use to find a way through their own darkness. It’s a brave, beautiful and a very honest account of a personal struggle
*I received a copy courtesy of the publisher*
October 31, 2018
I am becoming quite a fan of Horatio Clare’s writing this is my second book in a matter of a few weeks. Released on 1st November is The Light in the Dark: A Winter Journal (Elliott & Thompson) is a book written in the form of a diary that starts in October and works its way through from autumn through the winter months.
I am someone who loves the outdoors and all things nature, the dark winter months trapped in an office has often left me feeling tired and exhausted and then come the weekend I cherish every moment of the hours of daylight.
Here in Horatio Clare’s excellent diary, he talks openly of how he to suffers as we move from kicking our way through the autumn leaves and then as the days grow shorter and then into November one of the darkest months of the year. I really found Horatio’s open and honest account to be very reassuring. Many of us suffer in silence especially in the workplace.
The excitement of Christmas comes to Horatio Clare and his family, with memories of childhood and now with his own family. But silently he suffers knowing that there is a tax bill and other debts to be paid and how he is going to find the money to pay all this. It is during the winter months he becomes more or less withdrawn to save money. At times there is a little tension in the household.
Seasonal depression is not something anyone should suffer in silence with (all except me apparently). Nature too shuts down but there is joy to be found in nature during the darkest months. The joy of chilly frosty morning walks at the weekend. There is so much we can enjoy about winter but we have to appreciate its beauty. The Light in the Dark is a moving and poetic look at this time of year and one book I rejoice in. This is a torch to guide us through the dark winter days until Spring’s first rays of light warm us. I am delighted to highly recommend The Light in the Dark: A Winter Journal.
208 Pages.
I am someone who loves the outdoors and all things nature, the dark winter months trapped in an office has often left me feeling tired and exhausted and then come the weekend I cherish every moment of the hours of daylight.
Here in Horatio Clare’s excellent diary, he talks openly of how he to suffers as we move from kicking our way through the autumn leaves and then as the days grow shorter and then into November one of the darkest months of the year. I really found Horatio’s open and honest account to be very reassuring. Many of us suffer in silence especially in the workplace.
The excitement of Christmas comes to Horatio Clare and his family, with memories of childhood and now with his own family. But silently he suffers knowing that there is a tax bill and other debts to be paid and how he is going to find the money to pay all this. It is during the winter months he becomes more or less withdrawn to save money. At times there is a little tension in the household.
Seasonal depression is not something anyone should suffer in silence with (all except me apparently). Nature too shuts down but there is joy to be found in nature during the darkest months. The joy of chilly frosty morning walks at the weekend. There is so much we can enjoy about winter but we have to appreciate its beauty. The Light in the Dark is a moving and poetic look at this time of year and one book I rejoice in. This is a torch to guide us through the dark winter days until Spring’s first rays of light warm us. I am delighted to highly recommend The Light in the Dark: A Winter Journal.
208 Pages.
March 11, 2020
4.5 stars
A delicious little book of observations on winter and its associated negatives and (limited) benefits.
I liked that the book mentioned many places that are familiar to me so I could envisage where the author was referring to.
Clare's ability to create poetic descriptions of place and atmosphere is second to none.
As a naysayer of winter, I loved this book.
I only took off half a star for the hefty discussion about "feeling God" and the associated religious connotations. It disinterested me.
A delicious little book of observations on winter and its associated negatives and (limited) benefits.
I liked that the book mentioned many places that are familiar to me so I could envisage where the author was referring to.
Clare's ability to create poetic descriptions of place and atmosphere is second to none.
As a naysayer of winter, I loved this book.
I only took off half a star for the hefty discussion about "feeling God" and the associated religious connotations. It disinterested me.
October 17, 2019
This is the book that’s been lent to me by my friend April, and it’s not something that I would’ve picked up and read myself.
This is been quite a intriguing read, gentle and relaxing. It’s got a lovely Unrushed pace when you read it which is quite nice after finishing two very hectic night shifts.
I like Horatio’s voice when he tells the story of his life his struggles and what he does to improve himself and that has made this an enjoyable read.
This is been quite a intriguing read, gentle and relaxing. It’s got a lovely Unrushed pace when you read it which is quite nice after finishing two very hectic night shifts.
I like Horatio’s voice when he tells the story of his life his struggles and what he does to improve himself and that has made this an enjoyable read.
October 1, 2019
My thanks to Lovereading for the book review invite as part of their Book Buzz Ambassadors. ‘The Light In The Dark’ by Horatio Clare is published by Elliott and Thomson LTD on 01/11/2019 in hardback and ebook formats.
”In turmoil we are drawn to water,to space,to the high places and the wider views.It must be a very simple reflex:a need for escpae and perspective which weather and landscape fulfil.The sea has a power to draw out and rearrange our anxieties in simpler patterns;on the coast paths and the empty beaches I found a deep untangling.There is this in winter,too,in its reductions and parings,simplicity.”
This is an incredibly intimate, and forthright memoir, as Horatio takes the reader through the season of winter, aiming to find the beauty and worth in a time that causes him a depressive state. Seasonal Affective Disorder or SAD is a debilitating condition with lots of associated mental and physical symptoms which affects not only the author’s perception of life, but also the natural world that he quite clearly loves. His hopes, laid out at the start of the memoir, are to keep a journal from October through to March, partly to recognise his triggers and partly to record his observations of the change from autumn to winter then back to spring.
”Winter as a moaning,dripping spectre,a ghost untombed ,unhoused and the swedes as a treasure hoard, transfiguring winter’s spirit with an epiphany of colour,texture and accumulation;what attention,what strength of soul,to catch the uplifting moment.”
It is painfully honest and interspersed with poems and vignettes on the farm life that he grew up in, are snippets of his family life, writing life and his state of mind. It is beautiful yet bleak, resplendent in his appreciation of nature despite what it does to him mentally and totally shows his love for his family, clearly the thing which is both spurring him to both get help and tackle this pervasive condition.
”The struggle is intensifying.It is like being sealed into a grey snowball which keeps gathering defeats.However much i wash,I seem to smell of dirty winter trains and exhaust.”
His observations are astutue and lyrical, it feels strange to say that on finishing this book I felt joyful because to the casual reader it could look like a bleak book, with a potential subheading of ‘why I hate winter.’ It could not be more opporite, in this journal,Horatio is trying to unpack his memories, find his joy and imrpove life not just for him, but also his family. He goes to his GP and asks for help, he seeks therapy and takes advice on board as well as asking for it. It is wonderful that he details this, there is no sense in him being ‘a failure’ in the slightest, I thoroughly applaud his action to seek support rather than muddle through, there is never anything wrong with this. And I think in times when masculinity is seen as ‘fragile’ , being told to ‘man up’ for the sake of your sex, to uphold widely held ‘masculine values’ ,this is so needed.
As someone who suffers from summer SAD and who longs for that first whiff of autumn on the breeze,I was intrigued to read a book about finding the joy of winter when you hate it, it actually gave me something to look forward to and rejoice in the midst of a heatwave, followed by an Indian summer, which has left me feeling low and vulnerable. It also aided me to understand how and why SAD works in winter and how to support those who have it, as well as recommending appropriate causes of action to seek support and advice.
What he finds is that it is not so much bringing light out of the shadows, as his winter time focus,it is more on what the light illuminates. This is particularly significant for those with SAD as the lack of direct sunlight has such a detrimental affect on mood.
It is an intriguing nature based memoir that made an afternoon just fly by, and before you know it, you were reading the afterword and moaning ‘Aw!’ very quietly , so that the dog doesn’t jump on you and lick your face to pieces, as he has a habit of doing if you express dismay too loudly He’s lovely but thinks he is much littler than a full grown springer and slobbers. A lot).
Highly recommended, I learnt a lot about farming, bird migration and folklore as well as finding a new writer whose works I absolutely need to read. Recommended for lovers of Matt Haig
”In turmoil we are drawn to water,to space,to the high places and the wider views.It must be a very simple reflex:a need for escpae and perspective which weather and landscape fulfil.The sea has a power to draw out and rearrange our anxieties in simpler patterns;on the coast paths and the empty beaches I found a deep untangling.There is this in winter,too,in its reductions and parings,simplicity.”
This is an incredibly intimate, and forthright memoir, as Horatio takes the reader through the season of winter, aiming to find the beauty and worth in a time that causes him a depressive state. Seasonal Affective Disorder or SAD is a debilitating condition with lots of associated mental and physical symptoms which affects not only the author’s perception of life, but also the natural world that he quite clearly loves. His hopes, laid out at the start of the memoir, are to keep a journal from October through to March, partly to recognise his triggers and partly to record his observations of the change from autumn to winter then back to spring.
”Winter as a moaning,dripping spectre,a ghost untombed ,unhoused and the swedes as a treasure hoard, transfiguring winter’s spirit with an epiphany of colour,texture and accumulation;what attention,what strength of soul,to catch the uplifting moment.”
It is painfully honest and interspersed with poems and vignettes on the farm life that he grew up in, are snippets of his family life, writing life and his state of mind. It is beautiful yet bleak, resplendent in his appreciation of nature despite what it does to him mentally and totally shows his love for his family, clearly the thing which is both spurring him to both get help and tackle this pervasive condition.
”The struggle is intensifying.It is like being sealed into a grey snowball which keeps gathering defeats.However much i wash,I seem to smell of dirty winter trains and exhaust.”
His observations are astutue and lyrical, it feels strange to say that on finishing this book I felt joyful because to the casual reader it could look like a bleak book, with a potential subheading of ‘why I hate winter.’ It could not be more opporite, in this journal,Horatio is trying to unpack his memories, find his joy and imrpove life not just for him, but also his family. He goes to his GP and asks for help, he seeks therapy and takes advice on board as well as asking for it. It is wonderful that he details this, there is no sense in him being ‘a failure’ in the slightest, I thoroughly applaud his action to seek support rather than muddle through, there is never anything wrong with this. And I think in times when masculinity is seen as ‘fragile’ , being told to ‘man up’ for the sake of your sex, to uphold widely held ‘masculine values’ ,this is so needed.
As someone who suffers from summer SAD and who longs for that first whiff of autumn on the breeze,I was intrigued to read a book about finding the joy of winter when you hate it, it actually gave me something to look forward to and rejoice in the midst of a heatwave, followed by an Indian summer, which has left me feeling low and vulnerable. It also aided me to understand how and why SAD works in winter and how to support those who have it, as well as recommending appropriate causes of action to seek support and advice.
What he finds is that it is not so much bringing light out of the shadows, as his winter time focus,it is more on what the light illuminates. This is particularly significant for those with SAD as the lack of direct sunlight has such a detrimental affect on mood.
It is an intriguing nature based memoir that made an afternoon just fly by, and before you know it, you were reading the afterword and moaning ‘Aw!’ very quietly , so that the dog doesn’t jump on you and lick your face to pieces, as he has a habit of doing if you express dismay too loudly He’s lovely but thinks he is much littler than a full grown springer and slobbers. A lot).
Highly recommended, I learnt a lot about farming, bird migration and folklore as well as finding a new writer whose works I absolutely need to read. Recommended for lovers of Matt Haig
January 20, 2024
Pros:
--Beautiful descriptive writing, particularly of Wales and the occasional bird
Cons:
--The unflagging negativity makes it slog
--The overblown descriptions of absolute bitter cold when the temperature is about 20 degrees F (it is 6 degrees F at my house at the moment)
--Complaints of the unending overwhelming winter when the snowdrops come up on January 27. My sympathy is faltering.
I understand that the author is suffering from SAD and I am sorry for him, but I actually like winter and simply found this overblown and depressing.
--Beautiful descriptive writing, particularly of Wales and the occasional bird
Cons:
--The unflagging negativity makes it slog
--The overblown descriptions of absolute bitter cold when the temperature is about 20 degrees F (it is 6 degrees F at my house at the moment)
--Complaints of the unending overwhelming winter when the snowdrops come up on January 27. My sympathy is faltering.
I understand that the author is suffering from SAD and I am sorry for him, but I actually like winter and simply found this overblown and depressing.
May 8, 2019
Loved the poetic and lyrical descriptions of the author's life during winter time. I could feel the coldness of outside and the warmth of inside. Sadly my favourite time of year is the author's period of despair, as he struggles with the winter blues from November to March.
November 22, 2022
I too loved this book. I found it flowed so easily that I read the majority in one sitting. It is open, raw & honest.
Even when at his lowest points Clare was still able to look outwards & marvel at nature & people and his love & affection towards his family & their individual characters was so touching. What was evident was that it was never a pitying read more showing how common depression/ SAD is, the fact that Clare’s Father & Sister also suffered and then at the end the book hinted at his psychiatric nurse that was accessing him!.
I enjoyed the elements of ‘gentle humour’? too. When Clare talks about his work building miserable atmosphere having discovered it was on the site of the old Liverpool workhouse made me laugh! ( if that is the right word considering what went on in those places!😬). He labels it Psychogeography-
“ Its as if the desperation of old souls seeps up through the floors” . This was certainly one of the many moments in the books that made me reflect.
Even when at his lowest points Clare was still able to look outwards & marvel at nature & people and his love & affection towards his family & their individual characters was so touching. What was evident was that it was never a pitying read more showing how common depression/ SAD is, the fact that Clare’s Father & Sister also suffered and then at the end the book hinted at his psychiatric nurse that was accessing him!.
I enjoyed the elements of ‘gentle humour’? too. When Clare talks about his work building miserable atmosphere having discovered it was on the site of the old Liverpool workhouse made me laugh! ( if that is the right word considering what went on in those places!😬). He labels it Psychogeography-
“ Its as if the desperation of old souls seeps up through the floors” . This was certainly one of the many moments in the books that made me reflect.
January 26, 2019
I really wanted to love this book. It sounded so lovely, I had high hopes and wanted to read about how other people experience winter, find meaning in it, and deal with (seasonal) depression.
But this book fell short of that for me. I didn't care for this writer's endless description of weather and various birds; the individual entries felt meaningless to me and it annoyed me how a book this beautifully produced, with a wonderful cover and typography could contain so little of anything.
After about 50% I resumed to skimming the pages for mentions of depression, or anything besides weather and birds. There is very little of it in here, and it's not in depth at all; I think of it as mismatched marketing.
We don't get to know the writer in this book, not really: Even the descriptions of moods, feelings, feel disconnected and on the surface. I know that depression can make you feel that way, but in my mind, writing that doesn't at least sometimes get to a deeper level or manage profound and authentic statements has failed.
I also think the journal format didn't really fit: Yes, he goes through a winter, but there is nothing more than the idea of days that guides the dates. It might just as well have been a series of unconnected paragraphs without dates.
Now, the writing is certainly descriptive when it comes to the environment and other people; it's not bad writing. I just didn't get on with it and felt bored and annoyed by it because the book was not giving me what I had expected. He was talking about birds (really!) and the sky where I wanted to hear how he was feeling, what he was going through.
I also hadn't known the author previous to this; so if you do, you might get a different sense of connection.
The very last section didn't feel matched to the lengthy quietness and aimlessness that I was reading about all through the book.
So, all in all I can see that the book has merit, and it's beautiful in some ways, but I didn't like it and it felt very disappointing to read.
But this book fell short of that for me. I didn't care for this writer's endless description of weather and various birds; the individual entries felt meaningless to me and it annoyed me how a book this beautifully produced, with a wonderful cover and typography could contain so little of anything.
After about 50% I resumed to skimming the pages for mentions of depression, or anything besides weather and birds. There is very little of it in here, and it's not in depth at all; I think of it as mismatched marketing.
We don't get to know the writer in this book, not really: Even the descriptions of moods, feelings, feel disconnected and on the surface. I know that depression can make you feel that way, but in my mind, writing that doesn't at least sometimes get to a deeper level or manage profound and authentic statements has failed.
I also think the journal format didn't really fit: Yes, he goes through a winter, but there is nothing more than the idea of days that guides the dates. It might just as well have been a series of unconnected paragraphs without dates.
Now, the writing is certainly descriptive when it comes to the environment and other people; it's not bad writing. I just didn't get on with it and felt bored and annoyed by it because the book was not giving me what I had expected. He was talking about birds (really!) and the sky where I wanted to hear how he was feeling, what he was going through.
I also hadn't known the author previous to this; so if you do, you might get a different sense of connection.
The very last section didn't feel matched to the lengthy quietness and aimlessness that I was reading about all through the book.
So, all in all I can see that the book has merit, and it's beautiful in some ways, but I didn't like it and it felt very disappointing to read.
October 16, 2021
Beautifully written but self-indulgent and essentially pointless.
November 3, 2018
This review was originally posted on my blog: https://rathertoofondofbooks.com/
I was drawn to The Light in the Dark as soon as I was offered a copy for review, it felt like serendipity and now I’ve read it I can say it really was the perfect book at the exact moment I needed to read it.
The Light in the Dark is a diary of the slow journey into winter – beginning with autumn and the months leading up to Christmas arriving, which brings some lighter moments, before the long, dark months that are January and February.
I used to love this time of year as the nights draw in and you can enjoy all the cosiness of closing the curtains and lighting a scented candle etc but ten years ago a very traumatic thing happened in my life and ever since then the darker nights and colder weather make me feel very down. Clare writes of an awful thing that happened on his mother’s farm at a similar time of year and while it’s completely different to my own story, it felt like it mirrored a lot of my own emotions about this time of year. The way that life is a struggle anyway for many of us as the days get shorter and then to have something terrible happen in these months somehow makes it all feel even worse. Clare captures this all so well, it brings a lump to the throat.
There’s real beauty in this book even when the subject matter is more melancholy. I loved the way you can feel the change into winter through the writing, with the break in the depressive feelings as Christmas arrives. Then there’s the long, seemingly never-ending January days, where the memories of how oppressive that month can feel at times really comes through on the page.
‘This loathsome ball of negativity, clamped to my ankle by a chain of self-loathing, follows me around. It is like being stalked by a ghoul. Turn your gaze outwards, I keep telling myself. You do not matter, other people matter, the land matters, the sky and the world. If only you would get out of the way of your own view!’
I really appreciated how open and honest Clare is about his own feelings of depression and how his work environment, and the never getting to see much daylight in the winter months, make his emotions so much harder to cope with. I could identify with so many of his thoughts at this time of year, and it helps to know you’re not the only one. This book is never depressing or maudlin though; it’s stunningly written and Clare has such a lyrical way of writing that this lifts the book through the darker moments. This book brought me such solace and it made me feel less alone in my winter melancholy.
There are so many beautiful passages in this book that evoke such wonderful imagery; Clare really does have such a brilliant turn of phrase. I highlighted quite a few paragraphs, and also found myself reading some aloud to my husband which I’ve never felt compelled to do before. This line was one of my favourites – it says so much in so few words:
‘A solar panel farm gazes darkly at the clouds, its feet in water.’
The Light in the Dark is a beautiful, moving and poignant meditation on the changing of the seasons. It gave me solace as the nights draw in ever faster and left me with a sense of hope for the spring to come. I adored reading this book and I know it will be one I read again in the years to come. I’ll definitely be buying copies for friends and I’ll be recommending it every chance I get. It’s a beautiful book and one I won’t forget!
I was drawn to The Light in the Dark as soon as I was offered a copy for review, it felt like serendipity and now I’ve read it I can say it really was the perfect book at the exact moment I needed to read it.
The Light in the Dark is a diary of the slow journey into winter – beginning with autumn and the months leading up to Christmas arriving, which brings some lighter moments, before the long, dark months that are January and February.
I used to love this time of year as the nights draw in and you can enjoy all the cosiness of closing the curtains and lighting a scented candle etc but ten years ago a very traumatic thing happened in my life and ever since then the darker nights and colder weather make me feel very down. Clare writes of an awful thing that happened on his mother’s farm at a similar time of year and while it’s completely different to my own story, it felt like it mirrored a lot of my own emotions about this time of year. The way that life is a struggle anyway for many of us as the days get shorter and then to have something terrible happen in these months somehow makes it all feel even worse. Clare captures this all so well, it brings a lump to the throat.
There’s real beauty in this book even when the subject matter is more melancholy. I loved the way you can feel the change into winter through the writing, with the break in the depressive feelings as Christmas arrives. Then there’s the long, seemingly never-ending January days, where the memories of how oppressive that month can feel at times really comes through on the page.
‘This loathsome ball of negativity, clamped to my ankle by a chain of self-loathing, follows me around. It is like being stalked by a ghoul. Turn your gaze outwards, I keep telling myself. You do not matter, other people matter, the land matters, the sky and the world. If only you would get out of the way of your own view!’
I really appreciated how open and honest Clare is about his own feelings of depression and how his work environment, and the never getting to see much daylight in the winter months, make his emotions so much harder to cope with. I could identify with so many of his thoughts at this time of year, and it helps to know you’re not the only one. This book is never depressing or maudlin though; it’s stunningly written and Clare has such a lyrical way of writing that this lifts the book through the darker moments. This book brought me such solace and it made me feel less alone in my winter melancholy.
There are so many beautiful passages in this book that evoke such wonderful imagery; Clare really does have such a brilliant turn of phrase. I highlighted quite a few paragraphs, and also found myself reading some aloud to my husband which I’ve never felt compelled to do before. This line was one of my favourites – it says so much in so few words:
‘A solar panel farm gazes darkly at the clouds, its feet in water.’
The Light in the Dark is a beautiful, moving and poignant meditation on the changing of the seasons. It gave me solace as the nights draw in ever faster and left me with a sense of hope for the spring to come. I adored reading this book and I know it will be one I read again in the years to come. I’ll definitely be buying copies for friends and I’ll be recommending it every chance I get. It’s a beautiful book and one I won’t forget!
Read
July 15, 2021The Light in the Dark is a book that caught my eye since seasonal depression is something that I have experienced myself. For Horatio Clare to write so personally and deeply about his experiences with seasonal depression is very admirable and powerful. His writing is poetic and expressive, focusing on minute details as well as vivid and valid feelings, to recreate the experiences that Horatio Clare went through. The concept of writing about winter, not only in a personal manner, but in a way that is very naturalistic in its details, Horatio Clare brings honesty and reality, taking us through the ups and the downs of seasonal depression. The writing in this book was excellent and just rich with detail, some of his words hit close to home.
Though as a reader, I wish Horatio Clare wrote more reflecting on his experiences with seasonal depression. There were scenes in this book that focused less on him and more on the world around him, specifically nature scenes. I do understand how focusing on the outer world speaks to what Horatio is going through internally, but it'd just be interesting and narrow the focus if Horatio strictly wrote about seasonal depression.
Overall, this book is an uncovered gem with gorgeous writing and though it meanders, it is an enjoyable read.
Though as a reader, I wish Horatio Clare wrote more reflecting on his experiences with seasonal depression. There were scenes in this book that focused less on him and more on the world around him, specifically nature scenes. I do understand how focusing on the outer world speaks to what Horatio is going through internally, but it'd just be interesting and narrow the focus if Horatio strictly wrote about seasonal depression.
Overall, this book is an uncovered gem with gorgeous writing and though it meanders, it is an enjoyable read.
September 25, 2019
A personal view of the winter months.
My goodness. I think I may have just discovered a new to me favourite author. The Light in the Dark is a glorious read.
Horatio Clare’s attempt to find the positives in his winter induced depression, through keeping a winter journal, is a touching, honest and beautiful account that celebrates life even in the depths of despair. I think anyone who suffers seasonal winter blues through to full blown depression can dip into The Light in the Dark and find a passage that will lift their spirits and help them feel they are not alone in their suffering. Even though the author is honest in the editing he has done to remove the worst of his experiences from The Light in the Dark, I found this a compellingly truthful book that really touched me.
Horatio Clare’s writing is utterly, utterly, wonderful – ethereal at times. I think he might be the most poetic prose writer I’ve ever read. His descriptions of nature, especially birds and the weather, filled me with absolute joy. It truly lifted my heart to read his perfectly crafted language, especially when he created new compound descriptors or used vivid imaginative metaphors that painted images in my mind. This author has a skill beyond compare and I feel privileged to have read him.
I’ve finished reading The Light in the Dark feeling I have had a rich and stimulating experience. The Light in the Dark isn’t a just a beautifully written book. It is manna for the soul and an absolute joy to read. I loved it.
My goodness. I think I may have just discovered a new to me favourite author. The Light in the Dark is a glorious read.
Horatio Clare’s attempt to find the positives in his winter induced depression, through keeping a winter journal, is a touching, honest and beautiful account that celebrates life even in the depths of despair. I think anyone who suffers seasonal winter blues through to full blown depression can dip into The Light in the Dark and find a passage that will lift their spirits and help them feel they are not alone in their suffering. Even though the author is honest in the editing he has done to remove the worst of his experiences from The Light in the Dark, I found this a compellingly truthful book that really touched me.
Horatio Clare’s writing is utterly, utterly, wonderful – ethereal at times. I think he might be the most poetic prose writer I’ve ever read. His descriptions of nature, especially birds and the weather, filled me with absolute joy. It truly lifted my heart to read his perfectly crafted language, especially when he created new compound descriptors or used vivid imaginative metaphors that painted images in my mind. This author has a skill beyond compare and I feel privileged to have read him.
I’ve finished reading The Light in the Dark feeling I have had a rich and stimulating experience. The Light in the Dark isn’t a just a beautifully written book. It is manna for the soul and an absolute joy to read. I loved it.
January 1, 2021
Managed to finish this just before midnight last night, so I managed to complete my reading challenge for 2020!
Despite having to power-read through the last 40 pages, I found this book quite... comforting. I love the winter as much as any other season, and especially a good northern winter. It is depressing at times but it toughens you up. I enjoyed Clare’s descriptions of nature as the winter progresses; the smells and the wildlife and the cold, the claustrophobia of the short days, that beautiful description of the Welsh hills early on in the book; I also liked how he addresses his growing depression - amidst all the other things he’s noticing and thinking about, it’s there and it’s getting worse but life carries on no matter how much he hates himself and feels useless. I found it to be a very relatable account of depression, without the dramatic metaphors. I think this is a useful book to read if you’re trying to understand somebody else’s mental health, but also if you yourself are just trying to appreciate winter.
Despite having to power-read through the last 40 pages, I found this book quite... comforting. I love the winter as much as any other season, and especially a good northern winter. It is depressing at times but it toughens you up. I enjoyed Clare’s descriptions of nature as the winter progresses; the smells and the wildlife and the cold, the claustrophobia of the short days, that beautiful description of the Welsh hills early on in the book; I also liked how he addresses his growing depression - amidst all the other things he’s noticing and thinking about, it’s there and it’s getting worse but life carries on no matter how much he hates himself and feels useless. I found it to be a very relatable account of depression, without the dramatic metaphors. I think this is a useful book to read if you’re trying to understand somebody else’s mental health, but also if you yourself are just trying to appreciate winter.
February 2, 2025
A melancholy meandering meditation on winter | I didn't intend that to be alliterative, but it is what it is. This is a quiet and quick book, meant for reading in comfort while the reader is also experiencing the depths of the winter doldrums, and it's a lovely book. It is not, however, a book that leaves one lighthearted. I had read the author's memoir of his Welsh childhood, after which I picked up this book and promptly forgot I had it. I'm glad my library's winter reading challenge had a prompt that made me give it a try, but I'm deeply disappointed in the way the book wraps up still embracing the idea that a psychiatric diagnosis and medication would have been the end of the world. It's a 1980s perspective rammed into a 2018 book, and it's ridiculous. Plenty of writers create while taking prescription psychiatric medication, they just don't feel the need of making it part of their author bios.
January 10, 2019
Lots of these books around at the moment and this one is beautifully written and very easy to read. I just think I've read too many of them lately. A lovely cover (cover love) tends to keep attracting me to them. I suspect I am going about my dreary daily winter grind of a routine, passing people in Morrisons ,who if given the talent for writing prose ,could offer similar content for life diaries. I think I just need a break from this genre of books ,as I have read too many. I can understand the cathartic need of writers to produce these works but there needs to be more to them , than reading about daily routines, with family and extended family. I just didn't need the birth story (we all have them) and the Adelphi Hotel piece. As I said -I've read a few books in this vein where nature/home has played a redemptive role in 'saving' the writer ,like Amy Liptrot's ,The Outrun. I suppose, they have a story to tell ,rather than a a stream of everyday thoughts,feelings and back stories committed to paper in the form of an idea for a book ,sent to publishers . My problem I guess is, I want to read to take me away from my everyday life ,not read about the same Northern, SAD inducing daily grinds I am currently experiencing. This said the childhood Christmas piece was lovely and reminded me of Miss Read , Truman Capote and Dylan Thomas and the pieces about mum in Wales were interesting too . Maybe I'm not getting it and this was the whole idea of the book , to contrast one life with the other ? A pleasant read ,with lovely, gentle, clever prose and a lovely cover.
January 21, 2019
Beautiful book and beautiful writing. A very personal and moving account of a British winter as experienced by Horatio Clare. I will definitely read this again next winter and it has reminded me to observe the light and magic this winter.
“It does not do to romanticise drizzle, rain on motorways, months of strip-lighting, office windows black at four o’clock, concrete skies, sock-damp, rain-prickle, mould-steam, deadbeaten fields, sodden livestock and the chilly tug like foot-sucking mud that winter can exert upon the spirit. But the cold does offer great compensations, like the subtle colours, the days as bright as a magpie’s cackle, and this stretched tones that bruise the blue of a cold sky in its fading.”
“It does not do to romanticise drizzle, rain on motorways, months of strip-lighting, office windows black at four o’clock, concrete skies, sock-damp, rain-prickle, mould-steam, deadbeaten fields, sodden livestock and the chilly tug like foot-sucking mud that winter can exert upon the spirit. But the cold does offer great compensations, like the subtle colours, the days as bright as a magpie’s cackle, and this stretched tones that bruise the blue of a cold sky in its fading.”
December 16, 2023
The writing was beautiful, full of atmospheric descriptions not just of winter but of the feelings it brings up. Occasionally, it was a bit over the top, but overall I enjoyed reading this journal. What I didn’t appreciate was the attitude.
The author mentioned bipolar disorder repeatedly, expressing his fear about having it. When it turned out that he didn’t he called his wife and said “I am not mad”. Seriously? I, being bipolar, am not mad either. It was an unpleasant and insensitive remark. It doesn’t affect my rating though.
I’m glad he sought help.
The author mentioned bipolar disorder repeatedly, expressing his fear about having it. When it turned out that he didn’t he called his wife and said “I am not mad”. Seriously? I, being bipolar, am not mad either. It was an unpleasant and insensitive remark. It doesn’t affect my rating though.
I’m glad he sought help.
January 6, 2021
I thoroughly enjoyed this book. Beautifully written and brutally honest as the author fights his own inner demons. All reflected in the raw descriptions of the natural world, set near Hebden Bridge, home of one of our poetic geniuses, Ted Hughes. By overcoming the long, dark winter months you can almost hear him sigh with relief as you close the book on the last page. Spring is thankfully around the corner!
February 10, 2020
This book really made me think about how to appreciate the beauty in winter, at the same time as living with its corresponding ugliness. Absolutely gorgeous language from Clare, and very relatable ponderings on life, the seasons, people and the world.
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