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Light Rains Sometimes Fall: A British Year Through Japan's 72 Seasons
Across seventy-two short chapters and twelve months, writer and nature lover Lev Parikian charts the changes that each of Japan’s ancient microseasons (of a just a few days each) bring to his local British patch – garden, streets, park and wild cemetery.
From the birth of spring (risshun) in early February to ‘the greater cold’ (daikan) in late January, Lev draws our eye to the exquisite beauty of the outside world, day-to-day.
Instead of Japan’s lotus blossom, praying mantis and bear, he watches bramble, woodlouse and urban fox; hawthorn, dragonfly and peregrine. But the seasonal rhythms – and the power of nature to reflect and enhance our mood – remain.
By turns reflective, witty and joyous, this is both a nature diary and a revelation of the beauty of the small and subtle changes of the everyday, allowing us to
‘look, look again, look better’.
It is perfect Spring book to read in real time across the British year.
From the birth of spring (risshun) in early February to ‘the greater cold’ (daikan) in late January, Lev draws our eye to the exquisite beauty of the outside world, day-to-day.
Instead of Japan’s lotus blossom, praying mantis and bear, he watches bramble, woodlouse and urban fox; hawthorn, dragonfly and peregrine. But the seasonal rhythms – and the power of nature to reflect and enhance our mood – remain.
By turns reflective, witty and joyous, this is both a nature diary and a revelation of the beauty of the small and subtle changes of the everyday, allowing us to
‘look, look again, look better’.
It is perfect Spring book to read in real time across the British year.
272 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2021
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731 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 47 reviews
September 23, 2021
My thanks to Elliot and Thompson and NetGalley for a review copy of this book.
‘Stop and smell the roses’ we are sometimes told or tell ourselves. Slow down, look about, and take in the beauty and wonders of life around you at all times—it isn’t just flowers, but birds, insects, bees and butterflies, trees and plants, and much more. And that’s what Lev Parikian’s Light Rains Sometimes Fall: A British Year through Japan’s 72 Seasons invites us to do.
We usually think of seasons in terms of the typical four—spring, summer, autumn, and winter, but really, depending on where in the world one is, these vary and can be more or less in number (here in India, the monsoon is, of course, another). The Japanese conception of seasons is very different with the four seasons divided into six and further three subdivisions, totalling to 72 micro-seasons of five days each. Each of these reflect the subtle little changes in weather, the coming or going of seasonal birds, insects, frogs, or flowers, the ripening or harvest of a fruit or a crop and such. Using these micro-seasons as a guide, the author charts his observations of the changes in the place where he lives—South London—mostly his home and neighbourhood, and the cemetery where he takes his daily walks, for the year he writes his experiences of began in February 2020, and not long after he started, lockdown began.
From new leaves appearing in spring, to subtle changes in the weather, the arrival of the seasonal birds he watches out for every year, to butterflies, bees, and dragonflies, little insects or spiders, or even mushrooms cropping up in hidden corners, mosses and lichens, the author traces it all. Each chapter is named after his own observations of that period such as ‘Dunnock defies the traffic noise’, ‘Bird song fills the air’, ‘Maple reaches peak of glory’ or ‘Bracken turns to bronze’. Alongside, we also find in each chapter, the name of its Japanese counterpart (oftentimes very different) like ‘Chrysanthemums bloom’, ‘First lotus blossoms’, ‘Thick fog descends’, ‘Silkworms start feasting on mulberry leaves’, or ‘Tachibana citrus tree leaves turn yellow’ (both in English and Kanji)—some names in either case, are poetic and others plain.
The book is written in a casual, chatty tone (the ‘f’ word creeps in quite a few times) pretty much as though the author is speaking to us of his experiences, but is filled with lovely, detailed descriptions of all that he observes, but at the same time also a thread of humour running through it, which I enjoyed. (Besides the actual humour, I also found myself laughing a little at his terming 30oC weather as baking coming from a place where 44 is quite regularly reached; and our winter sees 2oC too, even if we don’t have snow and ice.) But don’t let the humour and causal tone fool you, for the author, a keen birder with other books to his credit, knows his birds, and even though he is a little self-deprecatory about it, he also knows about other aspects of nature as well, and his knowledge shines through in the book.
The seasons themselves, even when subdivided into such small periods, aren’t quite so easy to compartmentalize, as the author tells as, for nature ‘rolls and waves, ebbs and flows, the distinctions often too blurred for us to notice’. They also have the ability to surprise for even the birds the author knows to expect at a certain time, can still surprise him while alongside, on some occasions there are bigger surprises in the sighting of unexpected birds or butterflies, among others. But whether commonplace or unusual, much of what the author sees, because of how closely he observes it, and the attention he pays to it, has the ability to amaze, surprise and cause his eyes to pop with wonder. As he writes
‘…looking closely at something as it were for the first time—it’s a way of finding beauty and interest in the mundane, learning to appreciate the things that form the backdrop to everyday life’.
And it is not just the aesthetics of these but also the feats they are able to accomplish—from tiny creatures migrating several thousand miles every year, to others knowing just where they have hidden hundreds of acorns. The author has his favourites among them of course, and also some he doesn’t approve of—as would any person. (Of course, I don’t, like him, find poor parakeets or grey squirrels annoying, nor am I able to not get queasy about the unpleasant sides of nature—I might not fault the predator, but I do pity the prey.).
Nature is all around us, yet in our daily lives, ‘civilised’ as we call ourselves, most of us have all but cut ourselves from it. As the author writes, ‘we have become estranged from the rhythms of nature’ (this is in contrast to Japanese culture which has words for moon-viewing (tsukimi), viewing the cherry blossoms (hanami) and even leaf viewing (momijigiri)—a connect with nature lacking in others, and more so in modern life). We try to master and control it or fear it, rather than treating it with the respect or love it deserves. Even if not as intently as the author, if we would stop for a moment and take in the wonders that the world around us has—from the smallest to the largest thing—not only would our daily lives be a little brighter, perhaps, one would be able to avoid catastrophes like the one we have landed ourselves in now.
I really enjoyed reading the book, which also led me to look up a lot of British birds that I was unfamiliar with like dunnocks, firecrests etc. My favourite part though turned out to be a very straightforward sentence about the Harvest Moon—‘The Harvest Moon is simply the full moon that occurs nearest the autumn equinox’, for this was the full moon I stood up on my terrace looking at just the day I was reading this book, and indeed the next evening in line with the moon festival and Tsukimi!
A wonderful read for birders and nature lovers.
4.5 stars
(p.s. There’s a ‘Gods’s daisy chain’ quote which Wodehouse fans will enjoy; and my favourite fact that I discovered in the book was that the Bavarian term for squirrels translates to ‘Oak Kitten’!)
‘Stop and smell the roses’ we are sometimes told or tell ourselves. Slow down, look about, and take in the beauty and wonders of life around you at all times—it isn’t just flowers, but birds, insects, bees and butterflies, trees and plants, and much more. And that’s what Lev Parikian’s Light Rains Sometimes Fall: A British Year through Japan’s 72 Seasons invites us to do.
We usually think of seasons in terms of the typical four—spring, summer, autumn, and winter, but really, depending on where in the world one is, these vary and can be more or less in number (here in India, the monsoon is, of course, another). The Japanese conception of seasons is very different with the four seasons divided into six and further three subdivisions, totalling to 72 micro-seasons of five days each. Each of these reflect the subtle little changes in weather, the coming or going of seasonal birds, insects, frogs, or flowers, the ripening or harvest of a fruit or a crop and such. Using these micro-seasons as a guide, the author charts his observations of the changes in the place where he lives—South London—mostly his home and neighbourhood, and the cemetery where he takes his daily walks, for the year he writes his experiences of began in February 2020, and not long after he started, lockdown began.
From new leaves appearing in spring, to subtle changes in the weather, the arrival of the seasonal birds he watches out for every year, to butterflies, bees, and dragonflies, little insects or spiders, or even mushrooms cropping up in hidden corners, mosses and lichens, the author traces it all. Each chapter is named after his own observations of that period such as ‘Dunnock defies the traffic noise’, ‘Bird song fills the air’, ‘Maple reaches peak of glory’ or ‘Bracken turns to bronze’. Alongside, we also find in each chapter, the name of its Japanese counterpart (oftentimes very different) like ‘Chrysanthemums bloom’, ‘First lotus blossoms’, ‘Thick fog descends’, ‘Silkworms start feasting on mulberry leaves’, or ‘Tachibana citrus tree leaves turn yellow’ (both in English and Kanji)—some names in either case, are poetic and others plain.
The book is written in a casual, chatty tone (the ‘f’ word creeps in quite a few times) pretty much as though the author is speaking to us of his experiences, but is filled with lovely, detailed descriptions of all that he observes, but at the same time also a thread of humour running through it, which I enjoyed. (Besides the actual humour, I also found myself laughing a little at his terming 30oC weather as baking coming from a place where 44 is quite regularly reached; and our winter sees 2oC too, even if we don’t have snow and ice.) But don’t let the humour and causal tone fool you, for the author, a keen birder with other books to his credit, knows his birds, and even though he is a little self-deprecatory about it, he also knows about other aspects of nature as well, and his knowledge shines through in the book.
The seasons themselves, even when subdivided into such small periods, aren’t quite so easy to compartmentalize, as the author tells as, for nature ‘rolls and waves, ebbs and flows, the distinctions often too blurred for us to notice’. They also have the ability to surprise for even the birds the author knows to expect at a certain time, can still surprise him while alongside, on some occasions there are bigger surprises in the sighting of unexpected birds or butterflies, among others. But whether commonplace or unusual, much of what the author sees, because of how closely he observes it, and the attention he pays to it, has the ability to amaze, surprise and cause his eyes to pop with wonder. As he writes
‘…looking closely at something as it were for the first time—it’s a way of finding beauty and interest in the mundane, learning to appreciate the things that form the backdrop to everyday life’.
And it is not just the aesthetics of these but also the feats they are able to accomplish—from tiny creatures migrating several thousand miles every year, to others knowing just where they have hidden hundreds of acorns. The author has his favourites among them of course, and also some he doesn’t approve of—as would any person. (Of course, I don’t, like him, find poor parakeets or grey squirrels annoying, nor am I able to not get queasy about the unpleasant sides of nature—I might not fault the predator, but I do pity the prey.).
Nature is all around us, yet in our daily lives, ‘civilised’ as we call ourselves, most of us have all but cut ourselves from it. As the author writes, ‘we have become estranged from the rhythms of nature’ (this is in contrast to Japanese culture which has words for moon-viewing (tsukimi), viewing the cherry blossoms (hanami) and even leaf viewing (momijigiri)—a connect with nature lacking in others, and more so in modern life). We try to master and control it or fear it, rather than treating it with the respect or love it deserves. Even if not as intently as the author, if we would stop for a moment and take in the wonders that the world around us has—from the smallest to the largest thing—not only would our daily lives be a little brighter, perhaps, one would be able to avoid catastrophes like the one we have landed ourselves in now.
I really enjoyed reading the book, which also led me to look up a lot of British birds that I was unfamiliar with like dunnocks, firecrests etc. My favourite part though turned out to be a very straightforward sentence about the Harvest Moon—‘The Harvest Moon is simply the full moon that occurs nearest the autumn equinox’, for this was the full moon I stood up on my terrace looking at just the day I was reading this book, and indeed the next evening in line with the moon festival and Tsukimi!
A wonderful read for birders and nature lovers.
4.5 stars
(p.s. There’s a ‘Gods’s daisy chain’ quote which Wodehouse fans will enjoy; and my favourite fact that I discovered in the book was that the Bavarian term for squirrels translates to ‘Oak Kitten’!)
November 2, 2021
All of my life I have known four seasons spring, summer, autumn and winter. as the world turns on each of the solstices and equinoxes each season brings certain delights. Over my life, these have been In recent years with the coming catastrophe that is climate change, it feels like we have been reduced to two seasons: warm wet winters and cool wet summers. Unseasonal weather throughs people too; another effect of climate change, wearing a T-shirt in November on a hot day or suffering the inclement weather as the summer holidays start is becoming more and more common.
It wasn’t until I saw this book that it had even crossed my mind that there would be more than four seasons, but different parts of the world actually have different seasons that we do here in the Northern hemisphere. Japan though is unique in having 72 seasons. They are called micro seasons and they only last four or five days each. The system is, as you would expect from the Japanese, incredibly detailed and deeply rooted in their culture. For example, the micro season of Pure and Clear is between the 5th and 9th of April and it is when the swallows return in the spring there.
Parikian has taken these micro seasons and sees how they fit our seasons and place on the globe. Each chapter has what the micro season is in Japanese and the translations and for each small period, he heads out onto his local streets to discover what is happening on his local patch and to make notes about it. This is during the time of lockdown so he is only allowed out for the permitted hour to see what he can see in that brief period of time.
Even that restricted time and locale gives him plenty of opportunities to spot all manner of animals, plants, lichens and especially birds. It seems by having that dramatically restricted time available has sharpened his senses to what is around. The local graveyard is a favourite spot, the absence of traffic brings extra peace to his walks there. His observations are full of wonder for even the most mundane of creatures, the joy at seeing a blue tit for the first time after having to isolate kind of sums him up. It is laced with humour, the description of a squirrel running across a branch is hilarious, but there is also a fury to his writing as he has the time to consider the perilous state of our wildlife in this country.
This is another cracker of a book by Parikian. Following on from Into the Tangled Bank, this is another book that is very much set in his locale. The plan had been to write the book set in various locations around the country, but I think that it is a richer experience because of the limits placed on him. Liked his other books, this made me laugh a lot which I am not sure natural history books are supposed to do… It is also a reminder that the natural world is all around us. You don’t need to chase after the rarities, you can have as much joy in looking at a squirrel trying to get at a bird feeder as you can listening to a hedge full of sparrows fall silent as you approach and then start up again as you pass. Very much worth reading. 4.5 stars
It wasn’t until I saw this book that it had even crossed my mind that there would be more than four seasons, but different parts of the world actually have different seasons that we do here in the Northern hemisphere. Japan though is unique in having 72 seasons. They are called micro seasons and they only last four or five days each. The system is, as you would expect from the Japanese, incredibly detailed and deeply rooted in their culture. For example, the micro season of Pure and Clear is between the 5th and 9th of April and it is when the swallows return in the spring there.
Parikian has taken these micro seasons and sees how they fit our seasons and place on the globe. Each chapter has what the micro season is in Japanese and the translations and for each small period, he heads out onto his local streets to discover what is happening on his local patch and to make notes about it. This is during the time of lockdown so he is only allowed out for the permitted hour to see what he can see in that brief period of time.
Even that restricted time and locale gives him plenty of opportunities to spot all manner of animals, plants, lichens and especially birds. It seems by having that dramatically restricted time available has sharpened his senses to what is around. The local graveyard is a favourite spot, the absence of traffic brings extra peace to his walks there. His observations are full of wonder for even the most mundane of creatures, the joy at seeing a blue tit for the first time after having to isolate kind of sums him up. It is laced with humour, the description of a squirrel running across a branch is hilarious, but there is also a fury to his writing as he has the time to consider the perilous state of our wildlife in this country.
This is another cracker of a book by Parikian. Following on from Into the Tangled Bank, this is another book that is very much set in his locale. The plan had been to write the book set in various locations around the country, but I think that it is a richer experience because of the limits placed on him. Liked his other books, this made me laugh a lot which I am not sure natural history books are supposed to do… It is also a reminder that the natural world is all around us. You don’t need to chase after the rarities, you can have as much joy in looking at a squirrel trying to get at a bird feeder as you can listening to a hedge full of sparrows fall silent as you approach and then start up again as you pass. Very much worth reading. 4.5 stars
November 14, 2021
I love the idea behind this one; taking the ancient Japanese system of seasons, if which there are 72, and applying them to the authors local patch, thus 'Bears start hibernating in their dens' becomes 'Unremitting grey skies'. This was a lovely book to dip into and savour. Apparently, the original idea was to travel the UK, but this was written in 2020 and so, lockdown. I think I preferred having it set in one location and getting to know that part more intimately.
I loved how the author takes pleasure in the small things that sometimes go unnoticed, like a spiders web, a wasp nest, or the mosses and lichens, as well as the everyday that we take for granted. I see Blue and Great Tits everyday flocking around the bird table, and love watching them; they are so acrobatic, and yet because they are always around, it could be easy to take little notice of them. I also found reading about his lockdown experience interesting, staring forlornly through the gates of the cemeter,y which would have been a part of his usual walking route but was shut up, and joy when it was re-opened. It was also shot through with humour; take this imaginary conversation between two (dead) creatures:
""Humans?"
"Yeah. How about you?"
"Humans"
"What did you do?"
"Built a nest. You?"
" dunno really. I think I was just there."
"What is their problem?"
"No idea."I
What indeed?
I'm looking forward to reading this again over a year so I can read about each season as it's happening.
*Many thanks to Netgalley and the publishers for a review copy in exchange for an honest opinion*
I loved how the author takes pleasure in the small things that sometimes go unnoticed, like a spiders web, a wasp nest, or the mosses and lichens, as well as the everyday that we take for granted. I see Blue and Great Tits everyday flocking around the bird table, and love watching them; they are so acrobatic, and yet because they are always around, it could be easy to take little notice of them. I also found reading about his lockdown experience interesting, staring forlornly through the gates of the cemeter,y which would have been a part of his usual walking route but was shut up, and joy when it was re-opened. It was also shot through with humour; take this imaginary conversation between two (dead) creatures:
""Humans?"
"Yeah. How about you?"
"Humans"
"What did you do?"
"Built a nest. You?"
" dunno really. I think I was just there."
"What is their problem?"
"No idea."I
What indeed?
I'm looking forward to reading this again over a year so I can read about each season as it's happening.
*Many thanks to Netgalley and the publishers for a review copy in exchange for an honest opinion*
September 16, 2021
The idea of 72 micro seasons really appeals to me, who doesn’t take a moment to notice when a season changes, there is always spotting the first blossom on a tree or noticing when that tree turns red, seemingly over night, imagine having 72 seasons…that is 72 times a year you can stop what you are doing and have a look to see what nature is up to (of course it does mean you get distracted from those YouTube videos 72 times in a year).
Like all of us in 2020 Lev was faced with a lockdown, not able to travel and see nature in all it’s glory he decides to explore the area around his house and taking inspiration from Japanese idea of 72 seasons he constructs his own versions. The seasons are 5 to 6 days each and Lev restricts each chapter/season to 5 or 6 pages…each, once he had that all sorted it was time for nature to step up and do it’s part. One of the things I love about Lev’s writing is his ability to make the reader see or hear things in a different way, after reading Into the Tangled Bank I was straight outside looking for bugs in the hedges, this time he tells us to sit down and listen so that’s what I did. 6pm in my back garden, Basingstoke, this is what I heard over 1minute:
Cars on the ring road
A drill echoing off the houses
My dog chewing his foot
A magpie shouting at me that the bird table was out of meal worms
A really cool guy on his motorbike on the ring road going very fast and loud
A mum shouting to her kid “Shut the F*** up or I’ll F****** give you a slap”
Aaaah the joys of living in a housing estate.
I could have walked further afield and heard some much better sounds but this is what I hear most of the time when out reading in my garden so I thought I’d share. I would love to be able to identify birds from sight or sound as well as Lev does, he puts himself down a lot but he is still very quick to identify, I can identify the bird by sight if it stays still long enough, my failing is identifying their song, blooming useless.
Lev’s writing is impeccable as always, he has a wicked sense of humour and this book is full of it, yes it is a nature book but it is so easy to read, instead of poetically describing a bird’s mating call that could bore many he tells us that the bird is gagging for it and that works for me, you can instantly picture the little bird singing for all its worth. Now you should be warned there are a few swear words in these pages and I think that is perfectly acceptable, you ever seen a blue tit sitting on a branch and singing whilst looking right at you? I have and I’m fairly certain it was being rather abusive towards me. There are loads of interesting info here too, I never knew about the dark side of woodpeckers and there are some crazy facts about butterflies.
This has been a joy to read, I’ve laughed loads and have been inspired yet again, if you’ve never read anything by this chap then you are missing out so get yourself a copy of all his books.
Blog review: https://felcherman.wordpress.com/2021...
Like all of us in 2020 Lev was faced with a lockdown, not able to travel and see nature in all it’s glory he decides to explore the area around his house and taking inspiration from Japanese idea of 72 seasons he constructs his own versions. The seasons are 5 to 6 days each and Lev restricts each chapter/season to 5 or 6 pages…each, once he had that all sorted it was time for nature to step up and do it’s part. One of the things I love about Lev’s writing is his ability to make the reader see or hear things in a different way, after reading Into the Tangled Bank I was straight outside looking for bugs in the hedges, this time he tells us to sit down and listen so that’s what I did. 6pm in my back garden, Basingstoke, this is what I heard over 1minute:
Cars on the ring road
A drill echoing off the houses
My dog chewing his foot
A magpie shouting at me that the bird table was out of meal worms
A really cool guy on his motorbike on the ring road going very fast and loud
A mum shouting to her kid “Shut the F*** up or I’ll F****** give you a slap”
Aaaah the joys of living in a housing estate.
I could have walked further afield and heard some much better sounds but this is what I hear most of the time when out reading in my garden so I thought I’d share. I would love to be able to identify birds from sight or sound as well as Lev does, he puts himself down a lot but he is still very quick to identify, I can identify the bird by sight if it stays still long enough, my failing is identifying their song, blooming useless.
Lev’s writing is impeccable as always, he has a wicked sense of humour and this book is full of it, yes it is a nature book but it is so easy to read, instead of poetically describing a bird’s mating call that could bore many he tells us that the bird is gagging for it and that works for me, you can instantly picture the little bird singing for all its worth. Now you should be warned there are a few swear words in these pages and I think that is perfectly acceptable, you ever seen a blue tit sitting on a branch and singing whilst looking right at you? I have and I’m fairly certain it was being rather abusive towards me. There are loads of interesting info here too, I never knew about the dark side of woodpeckers and there are some crazy facts about butterflies.
This has been a joy to read, I’ve laughed loads and have been inspired yet again, if you’ve never read anything by this chap then you are missing out so get yourself a copy of all his books.
Blog review: https://felcherman.wordpress.com/2021...
December 16, 2021
It was only 2018 that I read Why Do Birds Suddenly Disappear? but since then we’ve had another three books from Lev Parikian. It’s now hard to imagine a year without one of his genial nature books. Here he adapts Japan’s famous 72 microseasons to an English year, with every five days or so taking on a slightly different character and welcoming in the subtle changes that add up to big ones. Given the Japanese inspiration, it’s appropriate that his entries sometimes read like haikus. Here’s one from the start of 2–7 September: “The streets. Rumble of traffic. Gentle wind in trees. Soft chrrr of blue tit. Furious cawing, stage left.”
Parikian’s patch is South London, specifically his local cemetery – which, since the book starts in February 2020, was closed off to him for a short time a month later when the first UK lockdown hit. This only served to increase his appreciation for the place when it reopened. (Cemeteries are amazing places for wildlife in general, especially the more park-like ones: I can remember seeing muntjac at Cemetery Junction in Reading, and red-tailed hawks perched in the trees in Mount Auburn Cemetery in Cambridge, Massachusetts.) Here, his star sighting was an occasional peregrine on the church tower.
The idea behind this book of mini nature essays is to try to see things again as if for the first time. In the pandemic year, he finds that time is elastic: it seems both fast and slow, and paying close attention is a way of valuing nature and experience. After all, as Parikian quotes from Confucius, “Everything has beauty, but not everyone can see it.” This reminded me particularly of Birdsong in a Time of Silence, but the tone is refreshingly light, as readers will have come to expect of Parikian.
Controversially, because I picked this up in September, I started reading it from the first September chapter, carried on to the end and then began again at the beginning and caught myself up, a strategy I have only ever taken with Mark Cocker’s Claxton (another month-by-month nature diary-type narrative) before. Initially, it was a nice way of following along with the seasons. I kept this as a bedside book and would read a chapter before bed. Most of us live in cities or suburbs, so I particularly appreciated the enthusiastic advocacy for the value of urban spaces for nature. I recommend this one for reading your way slowly and attentively through the seasons.
Originally published on my blog, Bookish Beck.
Parikian’s patch is South London, specifically his local cemetery – which, since the book starts in February 2020, was closed off to him for a short time a month later when the first UK lockdown hit. This only served to increase his appreciation for the place when it reopened. (Cemeteries are amazing places for wildlife in general, especially the more park-like ones: I can remember seeing muntjac at Cemetery Junction in Reading, and red-tailed hawks perched in the trees in Mount Auburn Cemetery in Cambridge, Massachusetts.) Here, his star sighting was an occasional peregrine on the church tower.
The idea behind this book of mini nature essays is to try to see things again as if for the first time. In the pandemic year, he finds that time is elastic: it seems both fast and slow, and paying close attention is a way of valuing nature and experience. After all, as Parikian quotes from Confucius, “Everything has beauty, but not everyone can see it.” This reminded me particularly of Birdsong in a Time of Silence, but the tone is refreshingly light, as readers will have come to expect of Parikian.
Controversially, because I picked this up in September, I started reading it from the first September chapter, carried on to the end and then began again at the beginning and caught myself up, a strategy I have only ever taken with Mark Cocker’s Claxton (another month-by-month nature diary-type narrative) before. Initially, it was a nice way of following along with the seasons. I kept this as a bedside book and would read a chapter before bed. Most of us live in cities or suburbs, so I particularly appreciated the enthusiastic advocacy for the value of urban spaces for nature. I recommend this one for reading your way slowly and attentively through the seasons.
Originally published on my blog, Bookish Beck.
January 24, 2023
Light Rains Sometimes Fall: A British Year through Japan’s 72 Ancient Seasons is a charming nature memoir set over a year that begins in February 2020. Thus it is shaped by the pandemic as well as the 72 Japanese micro-seasons that provide the structure. This would have been quite a different book without covid; I wonder whether the project would have worked so well in a more precedented year? The fragmentary nature of the 72 short chapters might have lacked continuity without the spatial limitations of lockdown life. I inadvertently chose a very suitable time of year to read this book, as it begins on February 4th. Much as I like winter, during the dispiriting cold of late January it is pleasant to be reminded that greener, lighter, and less frozen days are ahead.
Parikian's writing is notable for memorable descriptions like, 'Old scraggle-beard, the beaky reminder of the dinosaur ancestry of all birds. Pterodactyl in a grey shawl. A heron.' He is an enthusiastic amateur naturalist, who observes the wildlife to be seen and heard in his garden or on walks through his South London neighbourhood. His sense of wonder is infectious:
In a self-deprecating and non-expert tone, Parikian explains how easy and rewarding it is to pay greater attention to the natural world around you:
I also appreciated his acknowledgement of the built environment, particularly hard to ignore in London:
Finally, Parikian's childish love of snow made me smile as I'm just the same. A fall of snow never fails to cheer me up.
Light Rains Sometimes Fall: A British Year through Japan’s 72 Ancient Seasons is a highly readable, vivid, and persuasive argument for paying closer attention to our surroundings and the wildlife sharing our neighbourhood. Although the structure makes it episodic rather than deeply insightful, it's fun to read and rather inspiring.
Parikian's writing is notable for memorable descriptions like, 'Old scraggle-beard, the beaky reminder of the dinosaur ancestry of all birds. Pterodactyl in a grey shawl. A heron.' He is an enthusiastic amateur naturalist, who observes the wildlife to be seen and heard in his garden or on walks through his South London neighbourhood. His sense of wonder is infectious:
If my mind boggles at the thought of bird migration, it throws up its hands and concedes defeat when contemplating the same phenomenon in butterflies. No matter how often I read that ‘the red admiral is a strongly migratory species’, part of me will protest, “But… I mean, how?”
In a self-deprecating and non-expert tone, Parikian explains how easy and rewarding it is to pay greater attention to the natural world around you:
If only it were that simple. There are, inevitably, exceptions.
Moths are nocturnal, except the ones that aren’t; butterflies have brightly coloured wings; except the ones that don’t; moths rest with their wings spread, while butterflies hold them above their back – except for all the ones that behave differently. It’s like learning Russian irregular verbs.
The most reliable distinction seems to be in the antennae.
I also appreciated his acknowledgement of the built environment, particularly hard to ignore in London:
But what I’m really getting at is the landscape, the background, the things that make up our world, whether they’re man-made or ‘natural’, and how they affect our daily existence. The colour of brick, the texture of concrete, the shadows cast by railings on a pavement.
Almost by accident, this exercise in observation has made me see things differently. It started with an idea to chart nature’s gradual changes through a year of small increments. But it’s impossible to do that without taking note of the man-made environment which surrounding it and, for better or worse, assessing it in some way. Which isn’t to say, “Ooh, let’s celebrate the beauty of this slab of concrete.” Concrete has its uses, but give me a singing blackcap any day. It’s just useful to acknowledge it. And if it has a patch of lichen on it, then so much the better.
Finally, Parikian's childish love of snow made me smile as I'm just the same. A fall of snow never fails to cheer me up.
I am a mature adult, nearly fifty-six years on the planet. […] I am, to all outward appearances – or most of them, at least – a ‘grown-up’.
But show me even the prospect of snowfall and my inner eight-year-old bursts out in a giddy cloud of excitement and starts shouting “SNOW SNOW SNOW” at the top of his voice while dancing a manic happy dance.
Light Rains Sometimes Fall: A British Year through Japan’s 72 Ancient Seasons is a highly readable, vivid, and persuasive argument for paying closer attention to our surroundings and the wildlife sharing our neighbourhood. Although the structure makes it episodic rather than deeply insightful, it's fun to read and rather inspiring.
October 10, 2021
I requested this because I was hoping to find oit more about the Japanese concept of micro-seasons -- what they entail, how this translates to Western climate, how & when this system was established, that kind of thing, combined with the author's examination and exploration of the natural world surrounding him using the kō system. What I got was some guy in London describing his daily walks. That's basically it. Not all that exciting, also written in a rather workman-like prose I didn't find especially evocative, so sadly it didn't even make for escapist reading. I was also surprised that it did not feature any illustrations, as I thought the gorgeous cover hinted at more beauty inside.
I'm now looking into sekki and kō by myself, seeing if I can find/work out a correlation with my local climate zone; I actually DNF this, but probably will return to it throughout the year whenever I feel like it.
Thank you, Netgalley and publisher, for the opportunity to read an ARC of this book.
I'm now looking into sekki and kō by myself, seeing if I can find/work out a correlation with my local climate zone; I actually DNF this, but probably will return to it throughout the year whenever I feel like it.
Thank you, Netgalley and publisher, for the opportunity to read an ARC of this book.
May 15, 2022
This book fascinates me as all my current writing is based on the seasons. However, I cannot write a full review of this book as I'm only reading a chapter at a time, as it happens in real life. So, currently, we are in autumn and specifically in the mini-season 'Starlings Start To Gather'. Everything about this book is a reminder of what many do not notice these days, the passing of the seasons! It is like a meditation on Mother Earth. Hopefully, if humanity and I survive long enough, I will return in a years time to complete the review!
January 19, 2022
This book is such a delightful read! I am so glad that i picked this one up after seeing some bookstagrammers posted about this book on their Instagram accounts. I am really thankful to the publisher, Elliot & Thompson and NetGalley for giving me the opportunity to read this book!.
The unique thing and one of the most fascinating things that i learned from this book is the Japanese Micro-seasons /Ko (pronounced as 'Koo'). Naturally,there are only four seasons that are familiar to us; Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter and 12 months in our western calendar (January, February, March, April, May, June, July, August, September, October, November & December).
However, the ancient Japanese came up with 72 micro-seasons instead, whereby they sub-divided their 24 seasons further into 3 ,making it 72 smaller divisions/Sekki and gave distinctive names for each seasons.
Each micro-seasons/Ko (pronounced 'Koo') have their own unique features/characteristics symbolizing the beginning or the ending of the seasons,from which is based from the observation of the changes of the natural phenomena,starting with Risshun (Beginning Of Spring),ending with Daikan (Greater Cold). Each Koo lasts for a period of 5 days. For instance, Risshun (Beginning Of Spring) approximately begins from February 4-8 from which the natural phenomena indicator would be where the east wind melts the ice, then from February 9-13 where the Bush Warblers start singing in the mountains and February 14-18 where the fish emerge from the ice.
What this author does here through this book is,he not only introduces to us this unique concept of 72 Japanese micro-seasons but also incorporates into his own daily natural walks that he took in his local hometown, in West Norwood (South London) where he makes his own daily observations of his own surroundings using the Japanese micro-seasons as his guide/reference by adapting to the British seasons and natural surroundings of his place. For instance, 30 January-3 February (Greater Cold/Daikan), the natural indicator at his place would be the Jay birds retrieve the acorns instead of the Japanese, hens start laying eggs.
In short, this book will take you on a long yet meditative walk from the backyard of the author in West Norwood across the local town,streets,parks and the cemetery in that area which surprisingly sounds like delightful and serene places (based on the descriptions of the author) and brimming with interesting wildlifes and nature! Imagined how many various species of birds,trees and flowers/shrubs that he found/discovered just in those areas. There are even some migratory birds from faraway places,from as far as Africa!.
Surprisingly, i find the idea of taking a slow,daily walks in one's local neighbourhood to be pretty relaxing and suitable with my interests of outdoor and nature activities,whatmore it is more suitable and accessible to do during this pandemic as it can be done solitarily,of one's own company. At the same time, i myself used to do the minuscule observations like he did by observing my natural surroundings as my previous house was situated in natural settings (near the woods and the natural reservoir),we even have our own lush green gardens. Hence, i made my own daily observations just from my own garden and backyard, from the minuscle or tiny things (the insects,the leafs,etc) until the biggest and most obvious things such as the birds and the wildlifes that came into our garden. I even named those birds and squirrels that reside in our garden and i can tell each of them apart,individually distinguishing them based on their own distinctive features! (i just knew which bird is which or whether its the same bird or not that came).
So in conclusion, i agreed with the author that this simple routines may sounds like boring and silly sometimes but actually it is teaching us a lot of things such as patience, being observant, and impermanence. At the same time, we are learning to be mindful of our surroundings which is very important, not only to our health and well-being but also to the ecosystems. Through our closer observations then only we realised something's not right with our environmental surroundings. With realization, comes awareness and with awareness comes actions. The great floods that hit my country recently is one such example of negligence due to lack of awareness of the conditions of the natural surroundings and because of that, many suffered great losses; loss of homes,properties and loved ones.
All in all, this is a book i would recommend to anyone who is into nature and who loves a slow but relaxing read and a few good laughs (to a British humour) even though sometimes i didn't quite get some of the jokes due to cultural differences but i still had a great time reading this.
The unique thing and one of the most fascinating things that i learned from this book is the Japanese Micro-seasons /Ko (pronounced as 'Koo'). Naturally,there are only four seasons that are familiar to us; Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter and 12 months in our western calendar (January, February, March, April, May, June, July, August, September, October, November & December).
However, the ancient Japanese came up with 72 micro-seasons instead, whereby they sub-divided their 24 seasons further into 3 ,making it 72 smaller divisions/Sekki and gave distinctive names for each seasons.
Each micro-seasons/Ko (pronounced 'Koo') have their own unique features/characteristics symbolizing the beginning or the ending of the seasons,from which is based from the observation of the changes of the natural phenomena,starting with Risshun (Beginning Of Spring),ending with Daikan (Greater Cold). Each Koo lasts for a period of 5 days. For instance, Risshun (Beginning Of Spring) approximately begins from February 4-8 from which the natural phenomena indicator would be where the east wind melts the ice, then from February 9-13 where the Bush Warblers start singing in the mountains and February 14-18 where the fish emerge from the ice.
What this author does here through this book is,he not only introduces to us this unique concept of 72 Japanese micro-seasons but also incorporates into his own daily natural walks that he took in his local hometown, in West Norwood (South London) where he makes his own daily observations of his own surroundings using the Japanese micro-seasons as his guide/reference by adapting to the British seasons and natural surroundings of his place. For instance, 30 January-3 February (Greater Cold/Daikan), the natural indicator at his place would be the Jay birds retrieve the acorns instead of the Japanese, hens start laying eggs.
In short, this book will take you on a long yet meditative walk from the backyard of the author in West Norwood across the local town,streets,parks and the cemetery in that area which surprisingly sounds like delightful and serene places (based on the descriptions of the author) and brimming with interesting wildlifes and nature! Imagined how many various species of birds,trees and flowers/shrubs that he found/discovered just in those areas. There are even some migratory birds from faraway places,from as far as Africa!.
Surprisingly, i find the idea of taking a slow,daily walks in one's local neighbourhood to be pretty relaxing and suitable with my interests of outdoor and nature activities,whatmore it is more suitable and accessible to do during this pandemic as it can be done solitarily,of one's own company. At the same time, i myself used to do the minuscule observations like he did by observing my natural surroundings as my previous house was situated in natural settings (near the woods and the natural reservoir),we even have our own lush green gardens. Hence, i made my own daily observations just from my own garden and backyard, from the minuscle or tiny things (the insects,the leafs,etc) until the biggest and most obvious things such as the birds and the wildlifes that came into our garden. I even named those birds and squirrels that reside in our garden and i can tell each of them apart,individually distinguishing them based on their own distinctive features! (i just knew which bird is which or whether its the same bird or not that came).
So in conclusion, i agreed with the author that this simple routines may sounds like boring and silly sometimes but actually it is teaching us a lot of things such as patience, being observant, and impermanence. At the same time, we are learning to be mindful of our surroundings which is very important, not only to our health and well-being but also to the ecosystems. Through our closer observations then only we realised something's not right with our environmental surroundings. With realization, comes awareness and with awareness comes actions. The great floods that hit my country recently is one such example of negligence due to lack of awareness of the conditions of the natural surroundings and because of that, many suffered great losses; loss of homes,properties and loved ones.
All in all, this is a book i would recommend to anyone who is into nature and who loves a slow but relaxing read and a few good laughs (to a British humour) even though sometimes i didn't quite get some of the jokes due to cultural differences but i still had a great time reading this.
August 31, 2023
I was a little hesitant about buying this book and in hindsight, I should have listened to my gut!
The premise for this was so good, a bit different, looking at a year through a set of micro seasons. Except that this is Parikian! And so, that's not quite the whole story is it?! There are the dad type jokes and repeated attempts at overly sarky humour. There seems to be a lot of swearing (I know I can't talk as I eff and jeff like a sailor but still, this is a book aimed at a mass audience! Fucking this and pissing that! Really?!!) The theme soon becomes very repetitious; there are only so many ways to describe birdsong, the thrill of seeing a bird of prey, the joy of walking in a cemetery. There is waaaaay too much description of the weather- it rained, WE GET IT!!!!!
This was just a disappointing mess if I'm honest. I think Lev should stick to his day job as a composer!
A paltry 1 star and off to the library for donation.
The premise for this was so good, a bit different, looking at a year through a set of micro seasons. Except that this is Parikian! And so, that's not quite the whole story is it?! There are the dad type jokes and repeated attempts at overly sarky humour. There seems to be a lot of swearing (I know I can't talk as I eff and jeff like a sailor but still, this is a book aimed at a mass audience! Fucking this and pissing that! Really?!!) The theme soon becomes very repetitious; there are only so many ways to describe birdsong, the thrill of seeing a bird of prey, the joy of walking in a cemetery. There is waaaaay too much description of the weather- it rained, WE GET IT!!!!!
This was just a disappointing mess if I'm honest. I think Lev should stick to his day job as a composer!
A paltry 1 star and off to the library for donation.
December 22, 2021
The author Parikian here applies the concept of the 72 Japanese micro-seasons to the British year. Closely he observes the nature around his home in London. On walks he notices the birds, bee's, insects, fungi, lichens etc and the change in them.
I really liked the humour of the book and the simple underlying messages about slowing down and taking time to appreciate the simple/natural things in life which I think Covid made us do.
A very enjoyable read.
My thanks go to the author, publisher & Netgalley for providing this arc in return for a honest review.
I really liked the humour of the book and the simple underlying messages about slowing down and taking time to appreciate the simple/natural things in life which I think Covid made us do.
A very enjoyable read.
My thanks go to the author, publisher & Netgalley for providing this arc in return for a honest review.
July 16, 2023
A beautiful book written during the height of Covid. Parikian shares his local 1/2 square mile of London with us and all the nature that we do often overlook amidst the familiar. He made me laugh and he reminded me to wonder.
September 8, 2021
There is no shortage of recent books about nature, but Lev Parikian takes a very clever and original approach in this highly enjoyable book. As Parikian points out, the division of the year into seasons is entirely arbitrary and artificial: while we have four, three and six are just as common, so Parikian decides to adopt the traditional Japanese custom of dividing the year into seventy-two microseasons, each lasting five or six days. Variations in weather and climate mean that these microseasons won't necessarily all be the same year on year, but by breaking the year down into such small segments, Parikian creates an opportunity to look carefully at the world around him and notice the gradual, almost imperceptible changes which are constantly at work.
We follow Parikian through one cycle of 72 seasons, beginning in February 2020. This obviously means that this is also a chronicle of the first year of Covid-19, and the scope of Parikian's project changes as a result - rather than venturing further afield, his observations are confined to his neighbourhood in West Norwood, particularly his garden and his local cemetery where he takes his daily walks, lending the book a focus and clarity beyond what was originally conceived. The pandemic casts a shadow over the book but is only mentioned on a handful of occasions, and is never allowed to dominate. As Parikian observes, this only goes show how nature carries on regardless of human activity (or lack of it).
Parikian proves an excellent companion and commentator through these seasons: never pious, worthy or sentimental, he offers the enthusiasm and exuberance of a recent convert, making us feel we are just as capable of paying close attention to our surroundings as he is. His tone is often irreverent but he captures some moments of true beauty, and engages seriously with weightier questions of climate change and the impact of human behaviour on the natural world.
This is quite a slow read - the book would become a blur of details if devoured too quickly - and might be most enjoyed of all if read in real time with one chapter every five days or so. This is not a weakness of the book but rather a reflection of what Parikian is trying to communicate: the benefits of slowing down and paying attention. I loved this book and it has definitely made me think differently about the passing of time over a year and the changes we see in the world around us.
Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for sending me an ARC to review.
We follow Parikian through one cycle of 72 seasons, beginning in February 2020. This obviously means that this is also a chronicle of the first year of Covid-19, and the scope of Parikian's project changes as a result - rather than venturing further afield, his observations are confined to his neighbourhood in West Norwood, particularly his garden and his local cemetery where he takes his daily walks, lending the book a focus and clarity beyond what was originally conceived. The pandemic casts a shadow over the book but is only mentioned on a handful of occasions, and is never allowed to dominate. As Parikian observes, this only goes show how nature carries on regardless of human activity (or lack of it).
Parikian proves an excellent companion and commentator through these seasons: never pious, worthy or sentimental, he offers the enthusiasm and exuberance of a recent convert, making us feel we are just as capable of paying close attention to our surroundings as he is. His tone is often irreverent but he captures some moments of true beauty, and engages seriously with weightier questions of climate change and the impact of human behaviour on the natural world.
This is quite a slow read - the book would become a blur of details if devoured too quickly - and might be most enjoyed of all if read in real time with one chapter every five days or so. This is not a weakness of the book but rather a reflection of what Parikian is trying to communicate: the benefits of slowing down and paying attention. I loved this book and it has definitely made me think differently about the passing of time over a year and the changes we see in the world around us.
Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for sending me an ARC to review.
January 30, 2024
I have read this micro season by micro season as the year went on. A revisit to the pandemic year showing the pleasures to be found in the local areas. Getting to know your patch. Lovely gentle reading keeping me in tune with the seasons.
November 24, 2024
I really enjoyed spending time with the author on their local walks. This book has reminded me of the deliciousness of walking alone in nature, where you can stop, listen, stare and wonder for as long as you like without interruption or worrying about boring your fellow walkers.
February 6, 2023
Wonderful informative beautifully written book. Engaging and has humour against the backdrop of the magic of nature
May 26, 2022
I like the overall concept of observing nature on a daily basis and I appreciated the author’s sentiment. It was a bit too long for my liking, I guess it works better if you read it throughout the year. I found the quirky style of the author a bit forced sometimes, although I did chuckle a couple of times. I wish it were a little more evocative. Also, a little too much about birds and not enough flora, but that’s really a personal preference.
September 4, 2021
Light Rains Sometimes Fall - Lev Parikian
We like to divide things up as a species and the year is no exception. Here we have four seasons but in the ancient Japanese calendar it is divided into 72 microseasons. Five days each, with the occasional six-dayer to even it up. Each have beautiful names, specific to Japan’s island climate such as ‘east wind melts the ice’ and ‘frogs start singing’. In this book the author uses the micro seasons to look at the natural world in his local patch, the familiar and the everyday.
Just a couple of fabulous moments from this book that I have loved:
I started this book in the middle as I thought I would read about the season I am currently in. ‘Fruit falls to the ground’ 23-27 August was my first micro season. I was immediately caught by ‘two simple truths: there’s a lot more out there than anyone sees, and you can’t see without looking.’
This really resonated with me, it’s not until you really start looking that you do in fact see so much more, this micro season in my little patch revealed huge numbers of butterflies, tortoiseshells and my favourite Peacocks, hugely abundant, warming themselves on the brick wall by our back door, it has been a simple pleasure to sit and watch them so close up.
I found myself smiling as I read with the observations, the open mouthed magic and wonder of looking at intricate spiders webs, and then a dead pigeon on the grass and the magic is somehow forgotten…this book has given me real joy. The way the author writes is so natural, it’s like he is just chatting with ease and reading makes you feel good and also keen to get out and about and have a look, I certainly am going to look for Ivy Bees with their ginger fuzz in my overgrown patch of garden now!
The more I read, the more I wanted to read and to be honest I could pick out so many fabulous little moments from this book it would be the worlds longest review - so I’ll leave it at that.
This is the perfect book to have to hand to pick up and dip in and out of. The warm humour and observations shine through, a wonderful companion to the evenings closing in and to journey through our glorious seasons, all 72 of them
Thanks to Elliot and Thompson for my copy of this book
We like to divide things up as a species and the year is no exception. Here we have four seasons but in the ancient Japanese calendar it is divided into 72 microseasons. Five days each, with the occasional six-dayer to even it up. Each have beautiful names, specific to Japan’s island climate such as ‘east wind melts the ice’ and ‘frogs start singing’. In this book the author uses the micro seasons to look at the natural world in his local patch, the familiar and the everyday.
Just a couple of fabulous moments from this book that I have loved:
I started this book in the middle as I thought I would read about the season I am currently in. ‘Fruit falls to the ground’ 23-27 August was my first micro season. I was immediately caught by ‘two simple truths: there’s a lot more out there than anyone sees, and you can’t see without looking.’
This really resonated with me, it’s not until you really start looking that you do in fact see so much more, this micro season in my little patch revealed huge numbers of butterflies, tortoiseshells and my favourite Peacocks, hugely abundant, warming themselves on the brick wall by our back door, it has been a simple pleasure to sit and watch them so close up.
I found myself smiling as I read with the observations, the open mouthed magic and wonder of looking at intricate spiders webs, and then a dead pigeon on the grass and the magic is somehow forgotten…this book has given me real joy. The way the author writes is so natural, it’s like he is just chatting with ease and reading makes you feel good and also keen to get out and about and have a look, I certainly am going to look for Ivy Bees with their ginger fuzz in my overgrown patch of garden now!
The more I read, the more I wanted to read and to be honest I could pick out so many fabulous little moments from this book it would be the worlds longest review - so I’ll leave it at that.
This is the perfect book to have to hand to pick up and dip in and out of. The warm humour and observations shine through, a wonderful companion to the evenings closing in and to journey through our glorious seasons, all 72 of them
Thanks to Elliot and Thompson for my copy of this book
December 3, 2025
Light Rains Sometimes Falls
This is a book that was written during lockdown in which the author aligns the Western concept of the four seasons with the Japanese seventy two seasons of a year. These are micro seasons and only last 4-5 days. They are indicated in the chapter headings.
During each of the micro seasons he went out for the permitted hour as I did at that time and recorded what he saw in his locality: birds, small mammals, plants, butterflies and moths amongst many others. He is based in SE London, where I grew up and lived for most of my life, and explores West Norwood Cemetery and the Rookery on Streatham Common, both of which I know very well as well as his garden. I recall the improved air quality during lockdown, probably due to the lack of traffic in the air and on the road, and where I was at the time, nature thrived. It was the first time that I’d had a back garden all to myself and that year there was an amazing crop of plums which never happened again. The weather was so good which made lockdown a little more bearable.
The author records his walks and what he finds with such pleasure and wonderment – dragonflies! A kestrel! Peregrines! An urban fox! And a man who can appreciate the beauty of a mint moth is a man after my own heart.
On seeing a kestrel he remarks:
‘The animals live their lives, unaware that they have an audience.’
And on hearing a blackcap singing he comments
‘ and now this bird, singing to and for itself, unaware and uncaring that it might give another living things the purest and most personal of pleasures.’
I felt that hearing an owl hooting for a mate at the bottom of the garden one Spring night made me experience the same feeling.
I’m sure that this book will repay multiple readings as a record of a time receding into memory when people were taken out of their ordinary lives and routines and had to create a new, albeit temporary, way of life. Maybe people appreciated Nature for that time only but others, like the author, already a birdwatcher, perhaps appreciated more than most as with the intricacy of webs.
I loved my walks around the local marsh and meadow as I saw Nature unfolding and going about its life unaware that anything had changed.
A book full of vivid writing and images.
This is a book that was written during lockdown in which the author aligns the Western concept of the four seasons with the Japanese seventy two seasons of a year. These are micro seasons and only last 4-5 days. They are indicated in the chapter headings.
During each of the micro seasons he went out for the permitted hour as I did at that time and recorded what he saw in his locality: birds, small mammals, plants, butterflies and moths amongst many others. He is based in SE London, where I grew up and lived for most of my life, and explores West Norwood Cemetery and the Rookery on Streatham Common, both of which I know very well as well as his garden. I recall the improved air quality during lockdown, probably due to the lack of traffic in the air and on the road, and where I was at the time, nature thrived. It was the first time that I’d had a back garden all to myself and that year there was an amazing crop of plums which never happened again. The weather was so good which made lockdown a little more bearable.
The author records his walks and what he finds with such pleasure and wonderment – dragonflies! A kestrel! Peregrines! An urban fox! And a man who can appreciate the beauty of a mint moth is a man after my own heart.
On seeing a kestrel he remarks:
‘The animals live their lives, unaware that they have an audience.’
And on hearing a blackcap singing he comments
‘ and now this bird, singing to and for itself, unaware and uncaring that it might give another living things the purest and most personal of pleasures.’
I felt that hearing an owl hooting for a mate at the bottom of the garden one Spring night made me experience the same feeling.
I’m sure that this book will repay multiple readings as a record of a time receding into memory when people were taken out of their ordinary lives and routines and had to create a new, albeit temporary, way of life. Maybe people appreciated Nature for that time only but others, like the author, already a birdwatcher, perhaps appreciated more than most as with the intricacy of webs.
I loved my walks around the local marsh and meadow as I saw Nature unfolding and going about its life unaware that anything had changed.
A book full of vivid writing and images.
May 23, 2022
From the birth of spring (risshun) in early February to ‘the greater cold’ (daikan) in late January the Japanese have an ancient set of micro-seasons which allows more scope to appreciate what is going on around you than do our own four seasons of Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter. In this delightful appreciation of the British year, Lev Parikian takes the notion of this micro-season and applies it to the intricacies of the world of nature on his doorstep. All of which is brought into sharp focus when the country goes into lockdown in March 2020. Set in the area of London the author calls home we undertake, with him as our guide, a rather special journey of discovery.
The idea of dividing the year into short four day bursts inspires each cleverly worded introduction and each of the different sections are so wonderfully descriptive I found myself going back to read parts again. Easily readable in short chapters which you can dip into and out of at whim, the book unfolds in delightful kaleidoscope of natural beauty. In the 72 short chapters of Light Rains Sometimes Fall we are enriched by the wonder of nature as the author appreciates all that he has previously passed without a second glance. A quiet cemetery with it's watchful gaze is home to a myriad of creatures who scuttle and bustle away from prying eyes. The glory of butterflies who flutter and dance in tall grasses, some naturally camouflaged and others gloriously splendid with wings outstretched in a rare burst of sunshine. A kestrel, a cormorant, a family of finches, the chip of a woodpecker, the rat-at-tat of a wren, the ragged sleekness of an urban fox , all are creatures hiding in plain sight but who are there if only we would stop, look and listen.
Whilst lockdown brought its many challenges, it also gave us a unique opportunity to see the world around us with an entirely different focus. With time on our hands we had the chance to observe the intricacies of nature in all its natural beauty and Light Rains Sometimes Fall is testament to the art of natural observation and whether we be townsfolk or country folk it's good to be reminded that nature is all around us, we only need look.
The idea of dividing the year into short four day bursts inspires each cleverly worded introduction and each of the different sections are so wonderfully descriptive I found myself going back to read parts again. Easily readable in short chapters which you can dip into and out of at whim, the book unfolds in delightful kaleidoscope of natural beauty. In the 72 short chapters of Light Rains Sometimes Fall we are enriched by the wonder of nature as the author appreciates all that he has previously passed without a second glance. A quiet cemetery with it's watchful gaze is home to a myriad of creatures who scuttle and bustle away from prying eyes. The glory of butterflies who flutter and dance in tall grasses, some naturally camouflaged and others gloriously splendid with wings outstretched in a rare burst of sunshine. A kestrel, a cormorant, a family of finches, the chip of a woodpecker, the rat-at-tat of a wren, the ragged sleekness of an urban fox , all are creatures hiding in plain sight but who are there if only we would stop, look and listen.
Whilst lockdown brought its many challenges, it also gave us a unique opportunity to see the world around us with an entirely different focus. With time on our hands we had the chance to observe the intricacies of nature in all its natural beauty and Light Rains Sometimes Fall is testament to the art of natural observation and whether we be townsfolk or country folk it's good to be reminded that nature is all around us, we only need look.
April 12, 2023
This is a book I wish I had written! It took me back to the lockdown walks when, like Lev, I trod the same paths and noticed nature as I had rarely noticed it before. I love the magnifying glass he puts on the environment around him, not as a professional expert but as a nature lover. As Lev says in his introduction - "It's the noticing that counts".
He takes the concept of the 72 Japanese 'micro seasons' and comes up with his own UK take on them, starting with 'Clear Light Shines Through Mist' and finishing with 'Jays Retrieve Acorns'. His descriptions of each encounter are wonderful - from the moving and stirring through to those that are amusing, full of facts or exciting. We sit on Lev's shoulder as he walks through his local area, down the garden or looks out of his kitchen window.
It's made me realise that as I have returned to my busy life, I have not stayed connected enough with nature and need to make more effort to notice. I'm going to follow Lev's lead and look at flora and fauna as if for the first time. I want to learn more bird songs, and enjoyed his conductor's take on the songs and calls he hears. I need to get closer to the lichens and mosses in my local woodland. Lev invites us to see the British year afresh, and I certainly will. Thank you.
He takes the concept of the 72 Japanese 'micro seasons' and comes up with his own UK take on them, starting with 'Clear Light Shines Through Mist' and finishing with 'Jays Retrieve Acorns'. His descriptions of each encounter are wonderful - from the moving and stirring through to those that are amusing, full of facts or exciting. We sit on Lev's shoulder as he walks through his local area, down the garden or looks out of his kitchen window.
It's made me realise that as I have returned to my busy life, I have not stayed connected enough with nature and need to make more effort to notice. I'm going to follow Lev's lead and look at flora and fauna as if for the first time. I want to learn more bird songs, and enjoyed his conductor's take on the songs and calls he hears. I need to get closer to the lichens and mosses in my local woodland. Lev invites us to see the British year afresh, and I certainly will. Thank you.
November 30, 2021
Into the Tangled Bank was, and is, a book I want to hug. Light Rains Sometimes Fall is a book whose premise I embraced instantly and whose gestation I have followed... and I wondered for a while if it might not quite hold up to the weight of eager expectation. But in the end, no. The book forced me (gently) to slow down and stroll and peer along with the author, a man in whose literary (and I include Twitter in that) company it always seems good to spend time.
Yes, it is a pandemic book... but that wasn't its genesis and need not disturb those who can't bear any more of it. It is a parochial book in the best Gilbert White-ish way - not so much a British Year as a year in a tight circle around Lev Parikian's West Norwood home. But basing the book on traditional Japanese microseasons, assigning his own names whilst giving those from the original systems, means it doesn't feel at all insular. There is a sense of what is the same and what is different, in nature and in human priorities.
It is the very best sense of pedestrian and ultimately a glory which inspires each reader to name the 72 for themselves too.
Yes, it is a pandemic book... but that wasn't its genesis and need not disturb those who can't bear any more of it. It is a parochial book in the best Gilbert White-ish way - not so much a British Year as a year in a tight circle around Lev Parikian's West Norwood home. But basing the book on traditional Japanese microseasons, assigning his own names whilst giving those from the original systems, means it doesn't feel at all insular. There is a sense of what is the same and what is different, in nature and in human priorities.
It is the very best sense of pedestrian and ultimately a glory which inspires each reader to name the 72 for themselves too.
November 10, 2021
This was an absolute delight to read. Parikian takes the idea of the 72 Japanese micro-seasons, each lasting 5-6 days and attempts to apply them in a similar fashion to the British year, using a close observation of the natural world. Originally he was to have ranged up and down the country, but COVID stopped play and meant that he was confined to within a short distance of his London home.
I think the book is all the better for it. It forces Parikian to be even more attentive and noticing and create an ongoing relationship with some of the creatures that he encounters, the graveyard fox and the peregrine that he sees perching on the church spire are just two examples. It gives a real sense of belonging to the writing that. I loved. Birds are his main passion but here he branches out to explore other animals and plants. Dragonflies and horse chestnut trees, the life cycle of plants, the vagaries of the weather, the urban streets and the green.
This is gentle and thoughtful and extremely lovely. Just reading it made me feel calm.
I think the book is all the better for it. It forces Parikian to be even more attentive and noticing and create an ongoing relationship with some of the creatures that he encounters, the graveyard fox and the peregrine that he sees perching on the church spire are just two examples. It gives a real sense of belonging to the writing that. I loved. Birds are his main passion but here he branches out to explore other animals and plants. Dragonflies and horse chestnut trees, the life cycle of plants, the vagaries of the weather, the urban streets and the green.
This is gentle and thoughtful and extremely lovely. Just reading it made me feel calm.
August 3, 2021
'Light Rains Sometimes Fall' is a great book for winding down to. Premised on the Japanese approach of 72 "microseasons", Parikian weaves his own 72 microseasons from the urban wildlife of London, encouraging us to slow down and appreciate the nature so close to us.
Owing to when the book was written, the microseasons mainly overlap with the 2020 lockdowns, lending an urgency to draw solace from the natural world that you can palpably feel as a reader. Most of Parikian's writing is pure observation, though he throws in morsels of natural history from time to time. His style is affable and inviting, and I found the book really enjoyable to dip into at the end of each day. Due to its nature, it didn't have the narrative drive to keep me slavishly turning the pages, but it was nevertheless a delightful foray into London's wild wonders.
(With thanks to Elliott & Thompson and NetGalley for this ebook in exchange for an honest review)
Owing to when the book was written, the microseasons mainly overlap with the 2020 lockdowns, lending an urgency to draw solace from the natural world that you can palpably feel as a reader. Most of Parikian's writing is pure observation, though he throws in morsels of natural history from time to time. His style is affable and inviting, and I found the book really enjoyable to dip into at the end of each day. Due to its nature, it didn't have the narrative drive to keep me slavishly turning the pages, but it was nevertheless a delightful foray into London's wild wonders.
(With thanks to Elliott & Thompson and NetGalley for this ebook in exchange for an honest review)
September 11, 2021
How often have we ever stopped to appreciate a spider's web and the care that was taken to create it? If you enjoy slow walks down the garden path, this book is perfect.
This nature-journal style book takes you by the hand and leads you on a walk with the author as an experience of intentional recognition of the seasons. Through stories of romanticized walks, the author describes appreciating a bird song to noting the veins of leaves. This book has stayed with me long after I finished it because of the writing style of the author, as you experience the journey through the seasons it feels like you were on the walks too. I thoroughly enjoyed it and will reread it!
This book was provided to me through NetGalley for an Honest Review.
This nature-journal style book takes you by the hand and leads you on a walk with the author as an experience of intentional recognition of the seasons. Through stories of romanticized walks, the author describes appreciating a bird song to noting the veins of leaves. This book has stayed with me long after I finished it because of the writing style of the author, as you experience the journey through the seasons it feels like you were on the walks too. I thoroughly enjoyed it and will reread it!
This book was provided to me through NetGalley for an Honest Review.
August 16, 2021
Lev Parikian’s beautiful book is a very clever and unique melding of Japanese wisdom and British pragmatism. In seventy-two short chapters he views the changes in the British seasons through the prism of the Japanese concept of micro-seasons.
Wandering his favourite local areas including his own garden, the surrounding streets, park and local cemetery, he spots beauty in the wild as well as the mundane.
We get delightful chapters entitled “Sogginess Prevails” and “Starling Hullabaloo” to remind us that we definitely are still in Britain. There is something wonderfully non-digital about this book which offers a welcome break from our hectic modern lives.
Wandering his favourite local areas including his own garden, the surrounding streets, park and local cemetery, he spots beauty in the wild as well as the mundane.
We get delightful chapters entitled “Sogginess Prevails” and “Starling Hullabaloo” to remind us that we definitely are still in Britain. There is something wonderfully non-digital about this book which offers a welcome break from our hectic modern lives.
December 21, 2022
Almost the definition of the phrase every cloud has a silver lining! This book was originally planned to cover a much wider geographical area, but the 2020 restrictions on movement due to the pandemic ensured that Parikian couldn't travel anywhere beyond half a mile from his house in South London. As a result, his writing is much more approachable for a wider audience and all the better for it. The message that nature is all around us and matters just as much as the rolling hills of the Yorkshire Dales is one I can certainly get behind!
August 13, 2021
An enjoyable look at a year in a town in London by a local naturalist in the midst of the pandemic. Reads like a well written detailed journal with bits of humor about the things the author observes while out and about. The author describes all of the boots that catches his eye in such a way that the reader can visualize the biodiversity of the authors neighborhood.
Want to read
October 20, 2021An interesting application of Japan's seasons to those in a small town in England. This is not the type of book that you read, but rather you peruse it. Because of that, I feel it would have been greatly enhanced by some illustrations and made into more of a beautiful coffee table book. I'm a little envious of the author; it must have been terrible fun to write!
January 4, 2023
I loved this book. I read it slow, along with the seasons and really enjoyed watching how nature mirrors, or doesn’t mirror our expectations. Made me pause and think, delight in the everyday joys of the natural world we can open our eyes too. I also love Japan so having some references to their seasons was a very nice touch.
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