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The Jay, The Beech and the Limpetshell: Finding Wild Things With My Kids
Weren't they richer, rock pools, wasn't the seashore busier, when I was a kid?
Richard Smyth had always been drawn to the natural world, but when he became a father, he found a new joy, and a new urgency in showing his kids the everyday wild things around them. As he and his children explore rockpools in Whitley Bay, or the woods and moors near his Yorkshire home, he imagines the world they might inhabit as they grow up.
Through different objects discovered on their wanderings - a beech leaf, jay feather, or limpet shell - Smyth examines his own past as well as that of the early natural historians, weaving together history, memoir, and environmentalism to form a new kind of nature writing: one that asks both what we have lost, and what we have yet to find
Richard Smyth had always been drawn to the natural world, but when he became a father, he found a new joy, and a new urgency in showing his kids the everyday wild things around them. As he and his children explore rockpools in Whitley Bay, or the woods and moors near his Yorkshire home, he imagines the world they might inhabit as they grow up.
Through different objects discovered on their wanderings - a beech leaf, jay feather, or limpet shell - Smyth examines his own past as well as that of the early natural historians, weaving together history, memoir, and environmentalism to form a new kind of nature writing: one that asks both what we have lost, and what we have yet to find
- GenresNatureNonfiction
196 pages, Kindle Edition
Published March 30, 2023
2 people are currently reading
40 people want to read
About the author
Richard Smyth
38 books10 followersRichard Smyth is a writer, researcher and editor based in Bradford. He is a regular contributor to Bird Watching magazine, and reached the final of Mastermind with a specialist subject of British birds. He writes and reviews for The Times, Guardian, Times Literary Supplement, Literary Review, New Statesman, BBC Wildlife, New Humanist, Illustration and New Scientist. He also writes novels and short fiction, and has written several books on English history.
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Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews
June 3, 2023
I know Smyth for his writing on birds (A Sweet, Wild Note and An Indifference of Birds) and his somewhat controversial commentary on modern nature writing. This represents a change in direction for him toward more personal reflection, and with its focus on the phenomena of childhood and parenthood it recalls Wild Child by Patrick Barkham and The Nature Seed by Lucy Jones and Kenneth Greenway. But, as I knew to expect from previous works, he has such talent for reeling in the tangential and extrapolating from the concrete to the abstract that this lively read ends up being about everything: what it is to be human on this fading planet.
And this despite the fact that four of five chapter headings suggest pandemic-specific encounters with nature. Lockdown walks with his two children, and the totems they found in different habitats – also including a chaffinch nest and an owl pellet – are indeed jumping-off points, punctuating a wide-ranging account of life with nature. Smyth surveys the gateway experiences, whether books or television shows or a school tree-planting programme or collecting, that get young people interested; and talks about the people who beckon us into greater communion – sometimes authors and celebrities; other times friends and family. He also engages with questions of how to live in awareness of climate crisis. He acknowledges that he should be vegetarian, but isn’t; who does not harbour such everyday hypocrisies?
It’s still, unfortunately, rare for men to write about parenthood (and especially pregnancy loss – I only think of Native by Patrick Laurie and William Henry Searle’s books), so it’s great to see that represented, and it’s a charming idea that we create “downfamily” because the “upfamily” doesn’t last forever. Although there’s nostalgia for his childhood here, and anxiety about his kids’ chances of seeing wildlife in abundance, Smyth doesn’t get mired in the past or in existential dread. He has a humanist belief that people are essentially good and can do positive things like build offshore wind farms, and in the meantime he will take Genevieve and Daniel into the woods to play so they will develop a sense of wonder at all that lives on. Even for someone like me who doesn’t have children, this was a captivating, thought-provoking read: We’re all invested in the future of life on this planet.
Originally published on my blog, Bookish Beck.
And this despite the fact that four of five chapter headings suggest pandemic-specific encounters with nature. Lockdown walks with his two children, and the totems they found in different habitats – also including a chaffinch nest and an owl pellet – are indeed jumping-off points, punctuating a wide-ranging account of life with nature. Smyth surveys the gateway experiences, whether books or television shows or a school tree-planting programme or collecting, that get young people interested; and talks about the people who beckon us into greater communion – sometimes authors and celebrities; other times friends and family. He also engages with questions of how to live in awareness of climate crisis. He acknowledges that he should be vegetarian, but isn’t; who does not harbour such everyday hypocrisies?
It’s still, unfortunately, rare for men to write about parenthood (and especially pregnancy loss – I only think of Native by Patrick Laurie and William Henry Searle’s books), so it’s great to see that represented, and it’s a charming idea that we create “downfamily” because the “upfamily” doesn’t last forever. Although there’s nostalgia for his childhood here, and anxiety about his kids’ chances of seeing wildlife in abundance, Smyth doesn’t get mired in the past or in existential dread. He has a humanist belief that people are essentially good and can do positive things like build offshore wind farms, and in the meantime he will take Genevieve and Daniel into the woods to play so they will develop a sense of wonder at all that lives on. Even for someone like me who doesn’t have children, this was a captivating, thought-provoking read: We’re all invested in the future of life on this planet.
Originally published on my blog, Bookish Beck.
January 28, 2023
Wow. This book took me places. I wasn’t expecting it to hit me as much as it did but wow. It’s more than a nature book. It’s more than a book to include your kids in the natural world. It touches upon so many things and written so so well I just couldn’t put it down. It exceeded my expectations and then some !! And can we just appreciate the humour the author has too? He had me laughing out loud (and tearing up goddamnyou!) but I was hanging off every word.
I think I must have annihilated the book in a day as it was so effortless. Easy to pick up, easy to read and easy to keep reading. It felt like a privilege that Richard was sharing these memories with us, the memories and moments of his family and his experiences. And one that I am grateful for.
The topics were broad and interesting, with smatterings of influential literature that Richard has found throughout his life and for his kids. He touched upon so many important subjects with ease and without preach, from eating meat free to climate change. Everything written was to point out and state and not to attack which is always appreciated when reading books on such difficult topics that people can easily take offense over either way! So kudos.
It’s a book that I would read again no doubt. It’s worthy of its five stars and worthy of some shelf space! Loved it.
Thank you to the author and publisher for this book on NetGalley in return for my honest thoughts and review.
I think I must have annihilated the book in a day as it was so effortless. Easy to pick up, easy to read and easy to keep reading. It felt like a privilege that Richard was sharing these memories with us, the memories and moments of his family and his experiences. And one that I am grateful for.
The topics were broad and interesting, with smatterings of influential literature that Richard has found throughout his life and for his kids. He touched upon so many important subjects with ease and without preach, from eating meat free to climate change. Everything written was to point out and state and not to attack which is always appreciated when reading books on such difficult topics that people can easily take offense over either way! So kudos.
It’s a book that I would read again no doubt. It’s worthy of its five stars and worthy of some shelf space! Loved it.
Thank you to the author and publisher for this book on NetGalley in return for my honest thoughts and review.
November 8, 2023
Nature catches us by surprise. Both with what is there and what is no longer there. This is the premise of Richard Smyth's charming book The Jay, The Beech, and the Limpetshell. A lifelong lover of the natural world, Smyth has found a new prism with which to explore and enjoy now he has two young children. Part-biography, part-essay the book considers how both our "upfamily" (our parents, elders, siblings, etc.) and our "downfamily" (children) shape what our view of the natural world can be, and how the impact of our actions has children this world, in some cases, permanently.
Smyth's relaxed writing style mean that when he swerves into the heavier territory of climate breakdown and species extinction, the discussion feels safe (but not too safe!) and is framed by the question of what do we show our children in our words and deeds that will educate them and give them the tools they need to understand a world we can't quite imagine.
It's not often (if ever) that Charles Darwin and Julia Donaldson, Octonauts and Sir Peter Scott occupy the same page, but the delight of The Jay, The Beech and the Limpetshell is that references to both famed naturalists and modern children's entertainment sit hand in hand and help shape the clear link between the then and now, and in it's own way offers a path ahead through the deep dark forest- which may not be deep and dark after all!
A fun, thoughtful, and beautiful book, The Jay, The Beech and The Limpetshell, is at once nostalgic and forward thinking, revelling in the world around us, whilst teasing out the questions of what we can do to protect it. For nature-lovers, and particulary anyone who loves being in the great outdoors with their up and down family, this really is a must read.
Smyth's relaxed writing style mean that when he swerves into the heavier territory of climate breakdown and species extinction, the discussion feels safe (but not too safe!) and is framed by the question of what do we show our children in our words and deeds that will educate them and give them the tools they need to understand a world we can't quite imagine.
It's not often (if ever) that Charles Darwin and Julia Donaldson, Octonauts and Sir Peter Scott occupy the same page, but the delight of The Jay, The Beech and the Limpetshell is that references to both famed naturalists and modern children's entertainment sit hand in hand and help shape the clear link between the then and now, and in it's own way offers a path ahead through the deep dark forest- which may not be deep and dark after all!
A fun, thoughtful, and beautiful book, The Jay, The Beech and The Limpetshell, is at once nostalgic and forward thinking, revelling in the world around us, whilst teasing out the questions of what we can do to protect it. For nature-lovers, and particulary anyone who loves being in the great outdoors with their up and down family, this really is a must read.
March 10, 2023
I was really looking forward to reading this Book as when I grew up various people taught me a lot about the Nature around us & I always loved collecting bits to take to School for the Nature Table , some thing I continued with our children & my daughters name also happens to be Genevieve& she now does the same with her own children all be it 7,000 miles away in Japan ! plus I have carried on the tradition with our eldest granddaughter here in the UK.
The only reason I've given the Book 3 Stars is because some sections were rather too long winded & I started to loose interest . #NetGally, #GoodReads, #Amazon.co.uk, #FB, #Instagram, #
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The only reason I've given the Book 3 Stars is because some sections were rather too long winded & I started to loose interest . #NetGally, #GoodReads, #Amazon.co.uk, #FB, #Instagram, #
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December 7, 2023
After reading a positive review of the book in Resurgence & Ecologist magazine, I ordered a copy from my library. The discussion about introducing a Natural History GCSE Vs the counter-idea that nature really needs to be 'felt' and experienced to be loved and appreciated, rather than 'learnt' (though that's important too) was interesting, as were musings about nature defecit and shifting baselines (although thankfully that tired phrase wasn't used).
Ultimately though, the book felt way too padded out with reminiscence about various characters and storylines in children's literature and TV, which I have little interest in. Thus, overall the book felt thin on content.
I don't have kids, so perhaps I'm not the target audience, but as someone new to educating children outdoors I hoped to pick up some insight into engaging children in nature; there were moments of this, but not enough to be really useful. The speculation around why young beech trees don't drop their leaves until spring - now that interested me!
Ultimately though, the book felt way too padded out with reminiscence about various characters and storylines in children's literature and TV, which I have little interest in. Thus, overall the book felt thin on content.
I don't have kids, so perhaps I'm not the target audience, but as someone new to educating children outdoors I hoped to pick up some insight into engaging children in nature; there were moments of this, but not enough to be really useful. The speculation around why young beech trees don't drop their leaves until spring - now that interested me!
December 5, 2023
The title presents this as a book about sharing the joys of nature with your children, and while it is about that it’s about so much more. Avoiding the more Fotherington-Tomas cliches of nature writing, it emerges as a moving, approachable, and absorbing study of a connection forged with the natural world. Also finds a way to reference Calvin and Hobbes. If you were once a child that came home covered in mud, you’ll adore this book. I sincerely believe that Smyth is an underappreciated giant of British nature writing
February 9, 2023
This an enjoyable, thoughtful musing on the importance of nature in all our lives, with particular emphasis on the need for our children to explore, examine, and question the natural world around them. Smyth slips between stories of his childhood to those of his two young children. His writing style meanders between past and present. While some may find this erratic, I enjoyed following his thought process and interpretation of his experiences.
November 19, 2024
long winded prose. the author comes across as a pretentious gasbag.
April 30, 2024
I liked this a lot and might now be keener to try his other books in case their tenor too belies his on Twitter persona which can be offputtingly ungenerous.
I liked that he is clearly someone who has spent and still spends almost the entirety of his life in the North (this does not however give him a free 'Yorkshireman' pass on grumpiness) and not in a particularly cosmopolitan way. I wasn't aware this was a voice I was looking for until I found it.
It's not a pandemic book - but these children were very young or even born during that time. Hats off to anyone who had to deal with that and I was touched at the air of 'getting on with it' that he conveys and all that he says about 'upfamilies' and 'downfamilies' The 'my' kids in the title is important - there are things that could be learned from reading this book but it is more of a memoir than a guide.
I liked that he is clearly someone who has spent and still spends almost the entirety of his life in the North (this does not however give him a free 'Yorkshireman' pass on grumpiness) and not in a particularly cosmopolitan way. I wasn't aware this was a voice I was looking for until I found it.
It's not a pandemic book - but these children were very young or even born during that time. Hats off to anyone who had to deal with that and I was touched at the air of 'getting on with it' that he conveys and all that he says about 'upfamilies' and 'downfamilies' The 'my' kids in the title is important - there are things that could be learned from reading this book but it is more of a memoir than a guide.
Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews