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The Stubborn Light of Things: A Nature Diary
A SUNDAY TIMES NATURE BOOK OF THE YEARA nature diary by award-winning novelist, nature writer and hit podcaster Melissa Harrison, following her journey from urban south London to the rural Suffolk countryside.'A writer of great gifts.' Robert Macfarlane'The journal of a writer to compare to Thomas Hardy. Melissa Harrison is among our most celebrated nature writers.' John Carey, The TimesA Londoner for over twenty years, moving from flat to Tube to air-conditioned office, Melissa Harrison knew what it was to be insulated from the seasons. Adopting a dog and going on daily walks helped reconnect her with the cycle of the year and the quiet richness of nature all around swifts nesting in a nearby church; ivy-leaved toadflax growing out of brick walls; the first blackbird's song; an exhilarating glimpse of a hobby over Tooting Common.Moving from scrappy city verges to ancient, rural Suffolk, where Harrison eventually relocates, this diary - compiled from her beloved Nature Notebook column in The Times - maps her joyful engagement with the natural world and demonstrates how we must first learn to see, and then act to preserve, the beauty we have on our doorsteps - no matter where we live.A perceptive and powerful call-to-arms written in mesmerising prose, The Stubborn Light of Things confirms Harrison as a central voice in British nature writing.
196 pages, Kindle Edition
First published November 5, 2020
40 people are currently reading
1235 people want to read
About the author
Melissa Harrison
14 books242 followersMelissa Harrison is the author of the novels Clay and At Hawthorn Time, which was shortlisted for the Costa Novel Award and longlisted for the Bailey's Women's Prize, and one work of non-fiction, Rain, which was longlisted for the Wainwright Prize. She is a nature writer, critic and columnist for The Times, the Financial Times and the Guardian, among others. Her new novel All Among the Barley is due for publication in August, 2018..
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 101 reviews
October 29, 2020
Here we have a chronological selection of the articles Melissa Harrison published in her nature columns and podcasts from 2014 to date, the last ones just recent enough to take in the first months of lockdown in the UK. They cover time she spent living both in London and in rural Suffolk.
She doesn’t set herself up as an expert and stresses that we can all tune in to the natural world if only we take the time to pay attention to what is going on around us in even the most unlikely corners of a city, let alone the open spaces of the countryside. Her descriptions of plants and animals are just gorgeous and spring from her obvious passion for nature. I could quote so many passages that I’d practically be reproducing her whole book, but this one touched me especially.
When crocuses open fully to the sun they make me think of baby birds’ wide and importuning gapes: greedily, each clutch reaches skywards on delicate stems, top-heavy and hungry for light and life. Meanwhile, in the still bare trees above them, birds are beginning to pair up: great tits and blue tits are singing the shape of their new territories, and by the time the crocus’s leaves have died back there’ll be a new generation giving voice in our parks and gardens. Spring - as the crocus shouts - is nearly here.
Coming so soon after I’d read David Attenborough’s ‘A Life on our Planet’, her book served to reinforce the same message for me but in a more gentle, locally-focused, intimately relatable way - the need to preserve the diversity of our landscape for the good of the wildlife it supports and of ourselves. On the downside:
It’s hard to believe that in a month there’ll be more summer migrants and even greater volume, harder still to comprehend that the breathtaking dawn chorus we’re still lucky enough to be able to hear each spring is a shadow of what it once was, even one generation ago.
It is hard for us, with our short lifetimes, to fully experience the losses taking place around us; declines can also seem normal, or somehow inevitable. Certainly, I grew up with the sense that there being less of everything than ‘once upon a time’ was just the way it was.
But on the upside, her final paragraphs are inspirational and full of hope for the future beyond Covid:
When your life’s work is trying to connect people to nature, seeing so many newly tuning in to birdsong, revelling in rain showers and hungry for the rites of spring is deeply satisfying. Suddenly, it seems, there’s space for the small, seasonal pleasures that sustain some of us, but which have gone unnoticed by many, stuck on the exhausting treadmill of travel and shopping and work: the first swift, the heady scent of lilac, a blackbird’s evening song.
If we could take one thing from this nightmarish period and carry it into whatever world is to come, I’d choose this fragile new awareness, this new need for nature, this sudden new love. It contains everything we need in order to transform the way we live, individually and collectively - if we can only nurture it. This could be the start of something wonderful.
Wholeheartedly recommended, I’ll be urging everyone I know to read this gorgeous book.
PS. I couldn’t agree more about the dog poo. As she says, why bag it up only to abandon it - or, worse, hang it on a bush or fence? It makes no sense to me at all. Me neither.
She doesn’t set herself up as an expert and stresses that we can all tune in to the natural world if only we take the time to pay attention to what is going on around us in even the most unlikely corners of a city, let alone the open spaces of the countryside. Her descriptions of plants and animals are just gorgeous and spring from her obvious passion for nature. I could quote so many passages that I’d practically be reproducing her whole book, but this one touched me especially.
When crocuses open fully to the sun they make me think of baby birds’ wide and importuning gapes: greedily, each clutch reaches skywards on delicate stems, top-heavy and hungry for light and life. Meanwhile, in the still bare trees above them, birds are beginning to pair up: great tits and blue tits are singing the shape of their new territories, and by the time the crocus’s leaves have died back there’ll be a new generation giving voice in our parks and gardens. Spring - as the crocus shouts - is nearly here.
Coming so soon after I’d read David Attenborough’s ‘A Life on our Planet’, her book served to reinforce the same message for me but in a more gentle, locally-focused, intimately relatable way - the need to preserve the diversity of our landscape for the good of the wildlife it supports and of ourselves. On the downside:
It’s hard to believe that in a month there’ll be more summer migrants and even greater volume, harder still to comprehend that the breathtaking dawn chorus we’re still lucky enough to be able to hear each spring is a shadow of what it once was, even one generation ago.
It is hard for us, with our short lifetimes, to fully experience the losses taking place around us; declines can also seem normal, or somehow inevitable. Certainly, I grew up with the sense that there being less of everything than ‘once upon a time’ was just the way it was.
But on the upside, her final paragraphs are inspirational and full of hope for the future beyond Covid:
When your life’s work is trying to connect people to nature, seeing so many newly tuning in to birdsong, revelling in rain showers and hungry for the rites of spring is deeply satisfying. Suddenly, it seems, there’s space for the small, seasonal pleasures that sustain some of us, but which have gone unnoticed by many, stuck on the exhausting treadmill of travel and shopping and work: the first swift, the heady scent of lilac, a blackbird’s evening song.
If we could take one thing from this nightmarish period and carry it into whatever world is to come, I’d choose this fragile new awareness, this new need for nature, this sudden new love. It contains everything we need in order to transform the way we live, individually and collectively - if we can only nurture it. This could be the start of something wonderful.
Wholeheartedly recommended, I’ll be urging everyone I know to read this gorgeous book.
PS. I couldn’t agree more about the dog poo. As she says, why bag it up only to abandon it - or, worse, hang it on a bush or fence? It makes no sense to me at all. Me neither.
November 4, 2020
This was every bit as exquisite as I thought it would be and is not only a feast for the senses and imagination but a real treat in these strange times when going outside and experiencing these wonders of mother nature for ourselves is not so straightforward anymore. The unbridled passion Harrison shows for the natural world coupled with her love of conservation and topped off with a curious mind eager to learn more about the wide-ranging topics that fall under the ’nature’ umbrella each contribute to making this a joy to read. There are indeed too many wonderful aspects of this book to mention, as I would risk taking up far too many pages, but it is a beautifully written and keenly observed set of essays I unreservedly recommend to all fans of the countryside, the natural world and readers of authors such as Robert Macfarlane. Many thanks to Faber & Faber for an ARC.
August 10, 2021
I have never been one to keep a journal or a diary, but I can see why people do it, especially nature diaries. if you are noting the arrival of swifts and the first flush of May flowers then you will never remember the exact day unless you have it written down somewhere.
For writers like Melissa Harrison, it is essential. The seasons grind relentlessly on and if you don’t note those details that you see when out and about then they are missed. This book is a collection of her diary columns for the Nature Notebook in The Times. They go back to August 2014 and are not only a record of what she saw prior to the column being written but a glimpse into her personal life as she moved from a busy city life to the big skies of Suffolk.
One of things that you will notice is her observation skills. This is something that her father taught her and her other five siblings as they were led on walks over Dartmoor looking for all sorts of things. Walking is her preferred method of interacting with nature. It is fast enough to take in a variety of different habitats over the course of the walk, but slow enough that you don’t miss the things than if you were cycling. Harrison also takes the time to sit, watch and absorb the things around her; the water slipping by a jetty in a river, the way that the light fades at dusk when sitting in a favourite oak tree with a glass of wine.
Each tree, then, is a record of difficulties faced and overcome: tempered as we all are, by each passing year.
I really liked this, her prose is richly detailed without feeling overwritten. . Harrison has a wide interest in all manner of things from the state of the verges to the joy of being able to see a barn owl quartering the field opposite her home in Suffolk. She often says that she is no expert, she is not interested in chasing the tick for a particular species, rather she is walking the footpaths of her village just to spend time in the natural world and to see what is there that particular day. Even though she says she is no expert, the particles of knowledge are building up every time she ventures out, she can now recognise a Cetti’s warbler from their song spotting holes in a riverbank where voles live and spotting dragonflies on a tributary of the Stour in Dorset.
What is also evident is her fury; she rightly gets angry about the sorry state of the natural world and the catastrophic collapses in invertebrates and migrant birds. She was instrumental in getting a contractor to remove the netting from a site in my hometown of Guildford that they had placed over trees just before the nesting season had started. Even though they have been published before, these are the full articles for her country column that have not had the newspaper editor
Her award-winning podcast is here:
For writers like Melissa Harrison, it is essential. The seasons grind relentlessly on and if you don’t note those details that you see when out and about then they are missed. This book is a collection of her diary columns for the Nature Notebook in The Times. They go back to August 2014 and are not only a record of what she saw prior to the column being written but a glimpse into her personal life as she moved from a busy city life to the big skies of Suffolk.
One of things that you will notice is her observation skills. This is something that her father taught her and her other five siblings as they were led on walks over Dartmoor looking for all sorts of things. Walking is her preferred method of interacting with nature. It is fast enough to take in a variety of different habitats over the course of the walk, but slow enough that you don’t miss the things than if you were cycling. Harrison also takes the time to sit, watch and absorb the things around her; the water slipping by a jetty in a river, the way that the light fades at dusk when sitting in a favourite oak tree with a glass of wine.
Each tree, then, is a record of difficulties faced and overcome: tempered as we all are, by each passing year.
I really liked this, her prose is richly detailed without feeling overwritten. . Harrison has a wide interest in all manner of things from the state of the verges to the joy of being able to see a barn owl quartering the field opposite her home in Suffolk. She often says that she is no expert, she is not interested in chasing the tick for a particular species, rather she is walking the footpaths of her village just to spend time in the natural world and to see what is there that particular day. Even though she says she is no expert, the particles of knowledge are building up every time she ventures out, she can now recognise a Cetti’s warbler from their song spotting holes in a riverbank where voles live and spotting dragonflies on a tributary of the Stour in Dorset.
What is also evident is her fury; she rightly gets angry about the sorry state of the natural world and the catastrophic collapses in invertebrates and migrant birds. She was instrumental in getting a contractor to remove the netting from a site in my hometown of Guildford that they had placed over trees just before the nesting season had started. Even though they have been published before, these are the full articles for her country column that have not had the newspaper editor
Her award-winning podcast is here:
November 4, 2021
"We often overlook what's on our own doorsteps, believing that nature is something grand and green that we have to get in the car to go see. But the towns and cities that over 80 per cent of us live in are a habitat too; in fact, they can be a very rich one, teeming with clever and adaptable creatures that would reward our attention a thousand times over if only we didn't pass them by in search of a rural idyll."
This nature diary, compiled from several years of Melissa Harrison's nature column in The Times was just a joy to read. Not slogged down with gloom and doom, but making it clear change needs to happen, these short essays left me feeling hopeful and excited for what we have and what we can do to with and for the natural world around us.
"We can turn things around, and when we do, he natural world is often ready to forgive us. But we have to have hope, and the energy to try. There's clear blue water between the paralysis of despair and Pollyanna-ish naivety, and it's vital that we inhabit it."
A few more passages I took note of:
"The things we choose to look at in life loom large, changing the version of reality we live in, whether it's cars or fashion or the natural world. Knowing one bird from another tells me how many different species are around me, populating my urban world with their lives; learning about trees has made my city seem greener, because my eye no longer passes over them as though they were hardly there. If you live in a city and miss 'nature', the answer doesn't have to be to move out; it's to tune in."
"This kind of piousness seems to be everywhere at the moment, and as a distorted, purist exaggeration of the general message to care for the environment it risks impinging on our ability to interact with nature in any meaningful way. Of course it's wrong to collect birds' eggs now that so many species are in decline, and the nasty trend for releasing butterflies at weddings should be discouraged; but if kids aren't allowed to pick common wildflowers, pebbles can no longer be taken from beaches and naturalists can't handle the creatures they're studying we may as well give up on relating to anything at all beyond our screens."
"While on the village litter-pick I had ample time to consider what's become a ubiquitous but barely regarded blight on the environment. I don't mean rubbish (though that is a serious issue), but over-tidiness: road verges mown in full bloom when there's no visibility issue, valuable dead wood cleared away, hedges topped from habit twice yearly, making them useless as wildlife habitats or corridors, and urban pavements, paths and the bases of park trees sprayed with glyphosate to prevent any unsanctioned eruption of life."
I recently moved to a state I have never lived in before. It was in the depths of winter when we arrived and I joyed every day as spring came on too see this new to me area come alive. What pleased me the most was that the verges and fields in my new township and the surrounding city were not mown down but left to flower and grow for months. Some might find in scraggly and unkempt looking but I love it and the insects and wildlife that are able to better thrive because it was all left to grow instead of being mown down every couple of weeks.
This nature diary, compiled from several years of Melissa Harrison's nature column in The Times was just a joy to read. Not slogged down with gloom and doom, but making it clear change needs to happen, these short essays left me feeling hopeful and excited for what we have and what we can do to with and for the natural world around us.
"We can turn things around, and when we do, he natural world is often ready to forgive us. But we have to have hope, and the energy to try. There's clear blue water between the paralysis of despair and Pollyanna-ish naivety, and it's vital that we inhabit it."
A few more passages I took note of:
"The things we choose to look at in life loom large, changing the version of reality we live in, whether it's cars or fashion or the natural world. Knowing one bird from another tells me how many different species are around me, populating my urban world with their lives; learning about trees has made my city seem greener, because my eye no longer passes over them as though they were hardly there. If you live in a city and miss 'nature', the answer doesn't have to be to move out; it's to tune in."
"This kind of piousness seems to be everywhere at the moment, and as a distorted, purist exaggeration of the general message to care for the environment it risks impinging on our ability to interact with nature in any meaningful way. Of course it's wrong to collect birds' eggs now that so many species are in decline, and the nasty trend for releasing butterflies at weddings should be discouraged; but if kids aren't allowed to pick common wildflowers, pebbles can no longer be taken from beaches and naturalists can't handle the creatures they're studying we may as well give up on relating to anything at all beyond our screens."
"While on the village litter-pick I had ample time to consider what's become a ubiquitous but barely regarded blight on the environment. I don't mean rubbish (though that is a serious issue), but over-tidiness: road verges mown in full bloom when there's no visibility issue, valuable dead wood cleared away, hedges topped from habit twice yearly, making them useless as wildlife habitats or corridors, and urban pavements, paths and the bases of park trees sprayed with glyphosate to prevent any unsanctioned eruption of life."
I recently moved to a state I have never lived in before. It was in the depths of winter when we arrived and I joyed every day as spring came on too see this new to me area come alive. What pleased me the most was that the verges and fields in my new township and the surrounding city were not mown down but left to flower and grow for months. Some might find in scraggly and unkempt looking but I love it and the insects and wildlife that are able to better thrive because it was all left to grow instead of being mown down every couple of weeks.
May 27, 2021
This nature diary of two halves is recorded over a few years, the first half in London, the second in rural Suffolk. The detailed and rich descriptions were delightful, a surprising amount of wildlife in London, more than I realised. I have liked Melissa Harrison's previous books, both fiction and non fiction, and look forward to more.
October 21, 2020
Nature writer Melissa Harrison moved from London to rural Suffolk with her adopted dog and this book chronicles some of her nature observations and experiences from 2014 to 2020 in both locations. In London she appreciated enormous parks, nature reserves and hundreds of bird species and many animals. As wonderful as that was, Suffolk had even more in store, layer upon layer of nature. Wild nature.
There is so much to say about this gorgeously written book! As a forager and nature person I crave...NEED...nature and must be immersed as much as possible. Like the author, when moving house the most crucial aspect to me is not the house but its proximity to nature. Her descriptions are breathtaking and riveting, wondrously introspective. She engages all senses and invites readers to do the same.
You will read about red kites, witch hazel, voles, numerous flowers, hedgehogs, nightengales, ladybirds, bees, moths, swifts, ivy, blackberries, oak, hedgerows, insects and so many more. Not only that but the author discusses the effects of weather, climate, pesticides and traffic. But this journal is far more. It encourages us to really, really watch and listen and engage, even in little plots in cities. We can learn about habitats and diets of birds, for example, or identify wildflowers.
This book really resonated with me as this past spring and summer due to covid plans changed with travel bans. So, I took up bird watching in earnest which led to improving my photography. As pointed out, we sometimes take information we grew up with for granted but what we can glean is unbelievably rewarding.
The book reads like a feast. It is gentle and lovely. If you are at all interested in nature...or wish to be...allow this to be your inspiration. You cannot do better.
My sincere thank you to Faber and Faber Ltd. for providing me with an ARC of this deeply compelling book in exchange for an honest review. Much appreciated.
There is so much to say about this gorgeously written book! As a forager and nature person I crave...NEED...nature and must be immersed as much as possible. Like the author, when moving house the most crucial aspect to me is not the house but its proximity to nature. Her descriptions are breathtaking and riveting, wondrously introspective. She engages all senses and invites readers to do the same.
You will read about red kites, witch hazel, voles, numerous flowers, hedgehogs, nightengales, ladybirds, bees, moths, swifts, ivy, blackberries, oak, hedgerows, insects and so many more. Not only that but the author discusses the effects of weather, climate, pesticides and traffic. But this journal is far more. It encourages us to really, really watch and listen and engage, even in little plots in cities. We can learn about habitats and diets of birds, for example, or identify wildflowers.
This book really resonated with me as this past spring and summer due to covid plans changed with travel bans. So, I took up bird watching in earnest which led to improving my photography. As pointed out, we sometimes take information we grew up with for granted but what we can glean is unbelievably rewarding.
The book reads like a feast. It is gentle and lovely. If you are at all interested in nature...or wish to be...allow this to be your inspiration. You cannot do better.
My sincere thank you to Faber and Faber Ltd. for providing me with an ARC of this deeply compelling book in exchange for an honest review. Much appreciated.
June 19, 2021
This was a great example of nature journaling.
Melissa Harrison gets it just right, the pitch between personal thoughts, musings and ideas, coupled with detailed and interesting observations on nature.
The read feels easy and light work, like chatting with a friend over lunch.
Well recommended for any nature lovers.
Melissa Harrison gets it just right, the pitch between personal thoughts, musings and ideas, coupled with detailed and interesting observations on nature.
The read feels easy and light work, like chatting with a friend over lunch.
Well recommended for any nature lovers.
December 7, 2020
“At this time of year everything seethes with life: the nettles are thick with aphids, pollen rides the warm June air, the undergrowth is busy with baby birds and cuckoo spit froths overnight. It feels intoxicating”
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I’ve loved gently dipping in and out of The Stubborn Light of Things each evening learning about ladybirds that nip and Roman snails that hibernate in chalk-rich soil, building a little lid for their shells and sealing themselves in for the winter. 2020 feels like a year where we all have a lot in common with Roman snails
Set out like a nature diary, this book has allowed me to slow the pace of my reading and absorb everything on the page just as if I was walking across Hampsted Heath or a frosted meadow alongside Melissa Harrison. At a time when life feels frenetic, it was almost an exercise in mindfulness-meditation. I can also thoroughly recommend her podcast of the same name.
Thank you to Faber Books and NetGalley for my ARC
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I’ve loved gently dipping in and out of The Stubborn Light of Things each evening learning about ladybirds that nip and Roman snails that hibernate in chalk-rich soil, building a little lid for their shells and sealing themselves in for the winter. 2020 feels like a year where we all have a lot in common with Roman snails
Set out like a nature diary, this book has allowed me to slow the pace of my reading and absorb everything on the page just as if I was walking across Hampsted Heath or a frosted meadow alongside Melissa Harrison. At a time when life feels frenetic, it was almost an exercise in mindfulness-meditation. I can also thoroughly recommend her podcast of the same name.
Thank you to Faber Books and NetGalley for my ARC
February 20, 2021
“At last, the shy snowdrops have arrived to light up the woods and verges like tiny, candle-carrying nuns. They seem to me both brave and supplicatory; their white coifs modest, their eyes cast down. Amid the mud and the cold, wet leaf litter they remain pure and inviolate; tiny, delicate harbingers of spring.
Yet they are tough as old boots, with hardened leaf-tips that can break up and out through frozen soil, and anti-freeze as proof against the worst of the weather, keeping them flowering undaunted through frost and snow. Should they briefly slump, they’ll always recover to hold their heads up once again.
I’ve never seen anywhere with as many snowdrops as this village. There are crowds of them in the copses, massed chairs in the churchyard, pious vistas glimpsed through sparse winter hedges and congregations lining the margins of the carnser. ‘Spring will come,’ they whisper to me quietly as dull winter drags on and on. ‘Have faith.’ ”
Yet they are tough as old boots, with hardened leaf-tips that can break up and out through frozen soil, and anti-freeze as proof against the worst of the weather, keeping them flowering undaunted through frost and snow. Should they briefly slump, they’ll always recover to hold their heads up once again.
I’ve never seen anywhere with as many snowdrops as this village. There are crowds of them in the copses, massed chairs in the churchyard, pious vistas glimpsed through sparse winter hedges and congregations lining the margins of the carnser. ‘Spring will come,’ they whisper to me quietly as dull winter drags on and on. ‘Have faith.’ ”
March 20, 2022
I think this diary style book did a great job at trying to connect the reader with the natural world by telling of the nature she experienced in London in contrast to Suffolk, both places she lived. Harrison was making the point that if we pay attention then nature is all around us in cities as well as the countryside. That lack of nature in the city is almost a myth eg. I loved her examples of the Thames and the many fish that now live in there & even sea horses have been found when we are lead to think it is murky, dirty & redundant.
I thought it fabulous how she would go out when normally it would be time she would watch TV & climb a tree and sit there in silence ( even with a glass of wine😂) to listen & see what happened & she got her rewards!. It did make me think about where I live I know I certainly spent more time through lockdown connecting & feeling the urge to get out by the riverside where I would see birds, rabbits, squirrels etc but then when life returned to normal & work it limits the time I now spend there however I always feel the benefit!.
I am a fan of this book it really made me think & I have now saved the podcast to listen to, I’m buying the paper to read her article & have the other books on my wishlist . I loved her style I found it really easy to read & enjoyed her humour too!.
I thought it fabulous how she would go out when normally it would be time she would watch TV & climb a tree and sit there in silence ( even with a glass of wine😂) to listen & see what happened & she got her rewards!. It did make me think about where I live I know I certainly spent more time through lockdown connecting & feeling the urge to get out by the riverside where I would see birds, rabbits, squirrels etc but then when life returned to normal & work it limits the time I now spend there however I always feel the benefit!.
I am a fan of this book it really made me think & I have now saved the podcast to listen to, I’m buying the paper to read her article & have the other books on my wishlist . I loved her style I found it really easy to read & enjoyed her humour too!.
October 23, 2020
Thanks to Faber and Faber and Netgalley for an advance copy of this book.
The Stubbon Light of this is an honest and absolute delight of a book. I could not put it down and felt completely transported to the natural world for its entire reading.
Melissa is incredibly knowledgable and passionate, and I was comforted by the simple acknowledgement that you don't have to know everything to enjoy what's around you.
The end message of the book about taking time to listen to what's around us, to tune in, I thought was incredibly insightful. I can attest to the consistent, ever plodding on of nature and the comfort it brings me in these uncertain times.
The only improvement for me would be a clearer explanation of terms (I was reaching for my Kindle dictionary in almost every page), as I feel this could be a possible barrier to readers. I would also love to see this book with more images and illustrations to show you what the species described look like.
Overall though, a lovely and delightful book filled to the brim with nature, a few hours of pure escapism.
The Stubbon Light of this is an honest and absolute delight of a book. I could not put it down and felt completely transported to the natural world for its entire reading.
Melissa is incredibly knowledgable and passionate, and I was comforted by the simple acknowledgement that you don't have to know everything to enjoy what's around you.
The end message of the book about taking time to listen to what's around us, to tune in, I thought was incredibly insightful. I can attest to the consistent, ever plodding on of nature and the comfort it brings me in these uncertain times.
The only improvement for me would be a clearer explanation of terms (I was reaching for my Kindle dictionary in almost every page), as I feel this could be a possible barrier to readers. I would also love to see this book with more images and illustrations to show you what the species described look like.
Overall though, a lovely and delightful book filled to the brim with nature, a few hours of pure escapism.
June 11, 2021
A collection of Harrison’s newspaper nature column. Benefits from tracing her move from my part of London to the Suffolk countryside, and also as the years pass the looming impact of COVID and lockdown on life and wildlife (she produced a nature podcast from lockdown, as people started noticing nature more).
Observant and reflective, and really engaging.
Observant and reflective, and really engaging.
December 18, 2020
This collects five and a half years’ worth of Harrison’s monthly Nature Notebook columns for The Times. The book falls into two rough halves, “City” and “Country”: initially based in South London, Harrison moved to the Suffolk countryside in late 2017. In the grand tradition of Gilbert White, she records when she sees her firsts of a year. Often, she need look no further than her own home and garden. I appreciated how hands-on and practical she is: She’s always picking up dead animals to clean up and display the skeletons, and she never misses an opportunity to tell readers about ways they can create habitat for wildlife (e.g. bat and bird nest boxes that can be incorporated into buildings) and get involved in citizen science projects like moth recording.
See my full review at Shiny New Books.
See my full review at Shiny New Books.
March 13, 2021
This series of essays about the natural world, especially in combination with Harrison's podcast of the same name, were exactly the push I needed to begin to pay closer attention to my own urban environment. Beautifully written, beautifully observed. Harrison brings her enthusiasm to all aspects of urban and rural living.
July 29, 2024
Of found this a wonderfully hopeful book.
August 7, 2024
I realize this is written in diary style, but I really wish some of her entries were longer. She writes beautifully and there were many times I wanted to linger longer in the scene she was describing. Nevertheless, it’s a lovely book.
March 21, 2021
The Stubborn Light of Things: A Nature Diary by Melissa Harrison is a stunning collection of essays, thoughts, and reflections by the author that center around her connections with nature and the outdoors within her life that left me mesmerized and yearning for more.
This wonderful collection is associated with Ms. Harrison's popular, and equally impressive, podcast and columns that delve into her reflections and experiences concerning the natural world. I have to be honest in that I shamefully have not read or heard anything by this author before now. I have to say that I am now most certainly a huge fan. I have now already listened to several of her episodes from the similarly titled Podcast as well.
Ms. Harrison has a true gift as a nature writer. Her passion, knowledge, drive, and emotions are beautifully transcribed into a narrative and prose that just takes my breath away.
Through her daily life and travels in London and then Suffolk, I am transported to gardens, fields, terraces, woods, landscapes, and atmospheres as if I am physically there as well. Her descriptions of what she sees, feels, hears, and smells I also experience. Her knowledge of so much is just so stunning.
I learned so much in such a short time frame that it shows me how little I truly know of our natural world, despite the fact that I majored in Biology in undergrad. I yearn for more. I have already been paying more attention on my daily walks with our family canine to the birds' songs and flights just in this last week.
I am so enamored by this book that I have already pre-ordered it and am looking at her other previous works. This will easily be one of my top reads of 2021.
This book is for anyone that loves, needs, or wants to experience the natural world and I dare anyone to finish this book and say that they do not have a newfound yearning and love for all that is rich that surrounds us.
5/5 stars enthusiastically
Thank you EW and Faber & Faber for this wonderful arc and in return I am submitting my unbiased and voluntary review and opinion.
I am posting this review to my GR, Bookbub, and Instagram accounts immediately and will post it to my Amazon, Instagram, Watersones, and B&N accounts upon publication on 4/20/21.
This wonderful collection is associated with Ms. Harrison's popular, and equally impressive, podcast and columns that delve into her reflections and experiences concerning the natural world. I have to be honest in that I shamefully have not read or heard anything by this author before now. I have to say that I am now most certainly a huge fan. I have now already listened to several of her episodes from the similarly titled Podcast as well.
Ms. Harrison has a true gift as a nature writer. Her passion, knowledge, drive, and emotions are beautifully transcribed into a narrative and prose that just takes my breath away.
Through her daily life and travels in London and then Suffolk, I am transported to gardens, fields, terraces, woods, landscapes, and atmospheres as if I am physically there as well. Her descriptions of what she sees, feels, hears, and smells I also experience. Her knowledge of so much is just so stunning.
I learned so much in such a short time frame that it shows me how little I truly know of our natural world, despite the fact that I majored in Biology in undergrad. I yearn for more. I have already been paying more attention on my daily walks with our family canine to the birds' songs and flights just in this last week.
I am so enamored by this book that I have already pre-ordered it and am looking at her other previous works. This will easily be one of my top reads of 2021.
This book is for anyone that loves, needs, or wants to experience the natural world and I dare anyone to finish this book and say that they do not have a newfound yearning and love for all that is rich that surrounds us.
5/5 stars enthusiastically
Thank you EW and Faber & Faber for this wonderful arc and in return I am submitting my unbiased and voluntary review and opinion.
I am posting this review to my GR, Bookbub, and Instagram accounts immediately and will post it to my Amazon, Instagram, Watersones, and B&N accounts upon publication on 4/20/21.
August 1, 2021
Essentially a collection of articles written for the Times as a nature correspondent, firstly when living in London, and towards the end of the book, having moved to rural Suffolk. The majority of the book is the London section, which illustrates the depth and breadth of nature that does exist in the city and what you can see and observe if you know where to look. Some articles are upbeat; others focus more on the loss of diversity and habitat that we have been experiencing across the country over the last few decades. I quite enjoyed this, but I think it suffered a bit from its history - as individual articles, the pieces stand alone quite well, but drawn into a book, it felt a bit repetitive. Nothing is examined in much detail, so at times, I was left with a sense of wanting to know more, but turning the page led to a new article about a new topic. The contrast between city and country is interesting though and overall, these are well-written pieces, drawing our attention to what's around us that we frequently miss. But I would have liked more detail in places.
January 26, 2021
really enjoyed this series of articles detailing authors observations and musing on natural world - spanning multiple years initially in London and then rural England
She has developed quite an expertise - but focus here is on enjoying and appreciating nature - open to everyone
the podcast of the same name last year was a joy during Covid lock down and same voice is evident in this diary
She has developed quite an expertise - but focus here is on enjoying and appreciating nature - open to everyone
the podcast of the same name last year was a joy during Covid lock down and same voice is evident in this diary
October 25, 2020
If "The Stubborn Light of Things" was an object other than a book, it would be a wooden countryside gate, drifting open at the gentlest of touches to let you onto the path beyond.
Nature-writing is a tricksy beast of a genre. I find myself less enamoured as time goes by of the books that are purely about people – Amy Liptrot’s "The Outrun" was enjoyable, and even won a prestigious nature-writing prize. But it’s not about nature. And many other books on the same shelf, while they’re (mostly) not about people, fall victim to the author’s urge to make the most elaborate constructions of words – to the point that it becomes about the language and not the wonders of the natural world they’re meant to be evoking.
Melissa Harrison doesn’t bother with any of that. Her writing is accessible, in the best possible way. She begins "The Stubborn Light of Things" by admitting that it took her a long time to realise she could be a nature-writer, because she didn’t feel she had the knowledge, and she lived in an urban environment instead of the country. Perhaps many other people feel the same about reading nature-writing, if not writing it.
So let Harrison lead you onto the path. Each 'entry' in this book is short, originally published as part of the Nature Notes series in The Times from 2014 to early 2020. They follow the author’s seasonal observations of the life in the small world around her, ever-changing, ever-vibrant. The writing itself is often quite sparing, though scattered with lovely turns of phrase (like puddles of blue shining in a field). You learn new things about the natural world almost by stealth. And you marvel at Harrison’s powers of observation, you want to live up to it. I delighted in moments such as
“the mud under the tannin-rich oaks is blacker than the surrounding earth…”
I’ve never noticed this; now I’ll look for it.
Harrison is also adept at weaving subtle devastation into her observations and her musings about the wider human/natural world. She speaks of the loss of species and abundance, and the loss of human knowledge that could help us see what’s happening. She puts environmental problems into simple words:
“In making the countryside work so hard for humans, its ability to support other creatures began to be lost.”
Harrison practices what she preaches. She writes of choosing plants for her garden based on what creatures need them at what times of the year. She describes the time she had a great tit nest in her garden, and she calculated when the chicks would fledge so she could sit vigil on that day and protect the fledglings with a water pistol (“I’m proud to say they all survived.")
By the end of the book, it’s clear that Harrison has become a lot more learned than she claims or believes herself to be. But she still doesn’t present herself as part of an erudite clique. She wants to share the observations and knowledge that are the result of her love and help her to love the natural world more. As Helen Macdonald said in her recent book Vesper Flights, there’s a joy and wonder in being able to recognise and name things. Still, Harrison doesn’t want a lack of scientific understanding or memory to ever be a barrier:
“While wildlife identification brings richness and particularity to the world, wonder happens with or without it. We should never let taxonomy be a barrier to engagement.“
If you’ve never read nature-writing before, or you have and you’re not sure about it, or if you revel in it – then this book is for you. It’s for your loved ones. It’s for everyone.
"The Stubborn Light of Things" is published on 5 November. With thanks to Faber & Faber and NetGalley for an advance copy of the ebook in exchange for an honest review.
Nature-writing is a tricksy beast of a genre. I find myself less enamoured as time goes by of the books that are purely about people – Amy Liptrot’s "The Outrun" was enjoyable, and even won a prestigious nature-writing prize. But it’s not about nature. And many other books on the same shelf, while they’re (mostly) not about people, fall victim to the author’s urge to make the most elaborate constructions of words – to the point that it becomes about the language and not the wonders of the natural world they’re meant to be evoking.
Melissa Harrison doesn’t bother with any of that. Her writing is accessible, in the best possible way. She begins "The Stubborn Light of Things" by admitting that it took her a long time to realise she could be a nature-writer, because she didn’t feel she had the knowledge, and she lived in an urban environment instead of the country. Perhaps many other people feel the same about reading nature-writing, if not writing it.
So let Harrison lead you onto the path. Each 'entry' in this book is short, originally published as part of the Nature Notes series in The Times from 2014 to early 2020. They follow the author’s seasonal observations of the life in the small world around her, ever-changing, ever-vibrant. The writing itself is often quite sparing, though scattered with lovely turns of phrase (like puddles of blue shining in a field). You learn new things about the natural world almost by stealth. And you marvel at Harrison’s powers of observation, you want to live up to it. I delighted in moments such as
“the mud under the tannin-rich oaks is blacker than the surrounding earth…”
I’ve never noticed this; now I’ll look for it.
Harrison is also adept at weaving subtle devastation into her observations and her musings about the wider human/natural world. She speaks of the loss of species and abundance, and the loss of human knowledge that could help us see what’s happening. She puts environmental problems into simple words:
“In making the countryside work so hard for humans, its ability to support other creatures began to be lost.”
Harrison practices what she preaches. She writes of choosing plants for her garden based on what creatures need them at what times of the year. She describes the time she had a great tit nest in her garden, and she calculated when the chicks would fledge so she could sit vigil on that day and protect the fledglings with a water pistol (“I’m proud to say they all survived.")
By the end of the book, it’s clear that Harrison has become a lot more learned than she claims or believes herself to be. But she still doesn’t present herself as part of an erudite clique. She wants to share the observations and knowledge that are the result of her love and help her to love the natural world more. As Helen Macdonald said in her recent book Vesper Flights, there’s a joy and wonder in being able to recognise and name things. Still, Harrison doesn’t want a lack of scientific understanding or memory to ever be a barrier:
“While wildlife identification brings richness and particularity to the world, wonder happens with or without it. We should never let taxonomy be a barrier to engagement.“
If you’ve never read nature-writing before, or you have and you’re not sure about it, or if you revel in it – then this book is for you. It’s for your loved ones. It’s for everyone.
"The Stubborn Light of Things" is published on 5 November. With thanks to Faber & Faber and NetGalley for an advance copy of the ebook in exchange for an honest review.
June 2, 2021
The Stubborn Light of Things: A Nature Diary. By Melissa Harrison.
Prompt: An educational read.
"If you live in a city and miss ‘nature’, the answer doesn’t have to be to move out; it’s to tune in.”
These days, one often hears of folks going on weekend trips or short getaways to the country side to spend sometime with nature. How I have wished I could go deep into the woods or to the lakeside for some peaceful communion with nature! However, reading Melissa Harrison's book, "The Stubborn Light of Things: A Nature Diary," has turned such thoughts on it's head, jolted me and opened my eyes and mind to the power of observation, which is in essence, the secret to enjoying nature.
I was pleasantly surprised to learn that Melissa's "love of nature was gloriously nourished in the city, something that’s eminently possible for any city-dweller willing to start looking and noticing –”
From the various entries in this delightful book, I learnt how one can 'tune in', by observing our surroundings -the trees and plants, flowers and insects, birds and bird songs! It would be wonderful to know their names and identify them! Even the neglected undergrowth is teeming with natural wildlife! "If you live in a city and miss ‘nature’, the answer doesn’t have to be to move out; it’s to tune in.”
This book is a study of nature in the city of London. But it provides a basis from which to connect to nature, where ever you may live. How guilty I felt after reading this book! I had never ventured out in the dusk, leave alone at night. And I'm not a morning person, my claims to being a nature lover seem to be a mendacious story. I have been inspired and have decided to do something about it!
Melissa Harrison, thank you for patiently teaching me to "tune in". I'm ready to begin right away!
Prompt: An educational read.
"If you live in a city and miss ‘nature’, the answer doesn’t have to be to move out; it’s to tune in.”
These days, one often hears of folks going on weekend trips or short getaways to the country side to spend sometime with nature. How I have wished I could go deep into the woods or to the lakeside for some peaceful communion with nature! However, reading Melissa Harrison's book, "The Stubborn Light of Things: A Nature Diary," has turned such thoughts on it's head, jolted me and opened my eyes and mind to the power of observation, which is in essence, the secret to enjoying nature.
I was pleasantly surprised to learn that Melissa's "love of nature was gloriously nourished in the city, something that’s eminently possible for any city-dweller willing to start looking and noticing –”
From the various entries in this delightful book, I learnt how one can 'tune in', by observing our surroundings -the trees and plants, flowers and insects, birds and bird songs! It would be wonderful to know their names and identify them! Even the neglected undergrowth is teeming with natural wildlife! "If you live in a city and miss ‘nature’, the answer doesn’t have to be to move out; it’s to tune in.”
This book is a study of nature in the city of London. But it provides a basis from which to connect to nature, where ever you may live. How guilty I felt after reading this book! I had never ventured out in the dusk, leave alone at night. And I'm not a morning person, my claims to being a nature lover seem to be a mendacious story. I have been inspired and have decided to do something about it!
Melissa Harrison, thank you for patiently teaching me to "tune in". I'm ready to begin right away!
October 30, 2020
The Stubborn Light of Things is a collection of 62 easy-reading essays on the English countryside by novelist Melissa Harrison. Arranged chronologically from the autumn of 2014 until mid-2020, they form a calendar of seasons and a mosaic of countryside issues.
The book begins in London. Harrison journals about red kites, life in the Thames, fossil-collecting, bird-friendly architecture, wetlands projects, and why we must keep nature words in children’s dictionaries.
Through her eyes, the city sheds its smog and concrete, and becomes a place of three million gardens, nature reserves, and chalk grasslands with species including foxes, seahorses, and avocets.
In the winter of 2017, Harrison moves to Suffolk, and there begins the second half of the book. She writes of barn owls and bagged dog poo, bats and dusk walks, and the importance of wild, messy verges.
Throughout the book Harrison builds towards one point: that nature is for the ordinary person to see, identify, and enjoy; it’s not the preserve of wildlife cameramen and ornithologists. And by noticing nature, even in city hearts, we change the version of reality we live in.
The books ends with the coronavirus lockdown which has given fresh urgency to our relationship with nature. Harrison notes that within this ‘fragile new awareness’ and ‘sudden love’ is ‘everything we need in order to transform the way we live individually and collectively.’
Melissa Harrison’s essays were originally published in the Nature Notebook column in The Times. The brevity of each piece -around 800 words- keeps the information light, and makes for an easy, down-to-earth, page-turning read.
Spotted throughout The Stubborn Light of Things are black and white linocuts by Joanna Lisowiec, whose nature illustrations -in particular her birds- are well-worth admiring on her website.
The book begins in London. Harrison journals about red kites, life in the Thames, fossil-collecting, bird-friendly architecture, wetlands projects, and why we must keep nature words in children’s dictionaries.
Through her eyes, the city sheds its smog and concrete, and becomes a place of three million gardens, nature reserves, and chalk grasslands with species including foxes, seahorses, and avocets.
In the winter of 2017, Harrison moves to Suffolk, and there begins the second half of the book. She writes of barn owls and bagged dog poo, bats and dusk walks, and the importance of wild, messy verges.
Throughout the book Harrison builds towards one point: that nature is for the ordinary person to see, identify, and enjoy; it’s not the preserve of wildlife cameramen and ornithologists. And by noticing nature, even in city hearts, we change the version of reality we live in.
The books ends with the coronavirus lockdown which has given fresh urgency to our relationship with nature. Harrison notes that within this ‘fragile new awareness’ and ‘sudden love’ is ‘everything we need in order to transform the way we live individually and collectively.’
Melissa Harrison’s essays were originally published in the Nature Notebook column in The Times. The brevity of each piece -around 800 words- keeps the information light, and makes for an easy, down-to-earth, page-turning read.
Spotted throughout The Stubborn Light of Things are black and white linocuts by Joanna Lisowiec, whose nature illustrations -in particular her birds- are well-worth admiring on her website.
November 15, 2023
I thought this was an excellent nature diary that seeks to reconnect people with nature and the huge variety of wildlife that exists in this country that may otherwise go unnoticed without a determined effort to go walking outdoors regularly, in order to discover what is happening in parks, gardens, railway stations, and every type of environment one can think of. The author makes us aware of all the mistakes that have been made by humans that have been to the detriment of the survival of animals, birds, insects and small mammals over time, and yet when changes have been made to improve the environment such as allowing hedges, grasses and trees to grow without mowing or cutting back, allowing everything to flourish naturally then the increase in species is truly remarkable. I think the title of this diary is says it all really, that nature will not be permanently thwarted by mans efforts to control the natural world. Nature will always seek to bounce back as soon as the right conditions are brought back.
March 9, 2023
3.5 rounded up. I feel really conflicted about how to rate this book. On the one hand, Harrison’s observations are beautiful and written with a simple elegance. She captures the easy beauty of things that most overlook, without over-explaining or adding too many personal digressions. I appreciated her comments about how changes in her local landscapes have affected various wildlife populations.
On the other hand, I understand that these nature diaries were originally part of a weekly column in the Times and I can’t help but feel like that’s a better format. Reading all of the entries back to back for hundreds of pages takes away some of the magic. There isn’t really and overarching narrative in the book format, so it feels a little monotonous (this is coming from someone who loves nature and gardens). I will likely pickup something else by this author because I did enjoy the writing, but I don’t think this book did it justice.
On the other hand, I understand that these nature diaries were originally part of a weekly column in the Times and I can’t help but feel like that’s a better format. Reading all of the entries back to back for hundreds of pages takes away some of the magic. There isn’t really and overarching narrative in the book format, so it feels a little monotonous (this is coming from someone who loves nature and gardens). I will likely pickup something else by this author because I did enjoy the writing, but I don’t think this book did it justice.
November 12, 2020
This is an exquisitely written book, that I absolutely loved reading. Melissa Harrison is a writer for The Times and this is her collection of columns written in both London and Sussex on all things nature.
I found myself really slowing down to read this book properly and take in each word. Harrison has that rare gift of being able to make words transcend scribbled marks on a page to create detailed and colourful images inside the readers imagination. This book is not simply nice words collected though either, it is packed full of information on everything from flowers to bats, bees to badgers and I got to the end and felt I had gained a lot of knowledge and picked up the writers enthusiasm for the natural world. Eloquent, evocative and enlightening, definitely one to read.
Thank you to Faber and NetGalley for giving me an ARC in exchange for an honest review.
I found myself really slowing down to read this book properly and take in each word. Harrison has that rare gift of being able to make words transcend scribbled marks on a page to create detailed and colourful images inside the readers imagination. This book is not simply nice words collected though either, it is packed full of information on everything from flowers to bats, bees to badgers and I got to the end and felt I had gained a lot of knowledge and picked up the writers enthusiasm for the natural world. Eloquent, evocative and enlightening, definitely one to read.
Thank you to Faber and NetGalley for giving me an ARC in exchange for an honest review.
May 12, 2021
In her novels the natural world always plays a starring role so I was interested in this non fiction collection of column writing focusing on just that. Harrison is amazing with language, evocative with detail and totally accessible. She ignites a passion to observe, a confidence that you can learn and just an overwhelming encouragement to notice life around you. Loved it!
February 8, 2025
Read little by little since the start of this year. Thankful this book got pushed in my hands during a Doodle Hour. Interesting to see so many references to hashtags on Twitter that I would have looked up before The Richie Rich ding dong killed it for me. Hope the birders have another way of connecting. Did look up the woodcut artist and many names for plants I was not familiar with.
Favorite quotes:
"Surely even lepidopterophobics must warm to a moth with a taste for fags and booze."
"Papery, elegant little discs, in a chic colour combination of chartreuse with magenta hearts, they decorate the spring branches and dress the ground below."
Favorite quotes:
"Surely even lepidopterophobics must warm to a moth with a taste for fags and booze."
"Papery, elegant little discs, in a chic colour combination of chartreuse with magenta hearts, they decorate the spring branches and dress the ground below."
January 14, 2023
Thoughtful, beautiful, detailed. I came to this book through her podcast, and as I read it I could hear her voice in my head as if she was talking to me personally.
December 13, 2020
Absolutely loved this, one of the best things I have read this year.
December 6, 2021
Hugely enjoyed Harrison's style and will keep this handy for whenever I need a little nature boost.
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