The Goshawk: Review

The Goshawk

T H White’s The Goshawk is renowned as a classic of the English pastoral genre- a terrifying tale of man’s eternal struggle to tame nature, interspersed with White’s account of his own personal struggles at the time.

Much like Helen Macdonald’s stunning memoir H is for Hawk (you can read my review of that excellent book HERE), which draws inspiration from The Goshawk, White’s book is about more than just the training of a bird. Filled with historical titbits, hawking trivia as well as passages of great personal sentiment, the book is an excellent reminder tha toyu are not alone in the struggle to find your place in the world.

White’s hawk, whom he names Gos in an uninspired attempt to distance the animal from becoming a pet, is lively and spirited, and White, who at the time was struggling through a quagmire of personal suffering, was completely inexperienced in hawk training, having gained much of his knowledge from books on the subject.

The result is as catastrophic as you would expect, and documented beautifully in White’s terse prose. The book is a triumph of writing versus subject- whilst it may sound dull to read 150 odd pages of a man trying (and failing) to tame a goshawk, the books depiction of this battle is what makes it so readable.

H is For Hawk: Review

H is for Hawk

I have promised before, so here you go: my thoughts on Helen Macdonald’s H is for Hawk, which is one of my all-time favourite books and one which I would throughly recommend.

This beautiful memoir offers an emotive insight into Macdonald’s struggle as she searched for a meaning and a purpose to her life following the death of her father. This is the real focus of the book, with the Hawk, Mabel, and the struggle Macdonald had in training her, highlighting the depth of the sorrow and depression she felt at that time.

The inspiration for the text came from T.H White’s The Goshawk, a book which Macdonald frequently references. This books tells a similar story: White, a former school master turned author, decided to train a goshawk, a pursuit which later turned into an obsession.

In the same fashion Macdonald becomes increasingly fixated on training the hawk: it is as she reaches success and begins to hunt properly with the bird, learning its patterns and following its thoughts, that she sees that she is becoming less of herself.

This touching chapter of Macdonald’s life is written into this fascinating book with true skill: the author clearly has a strong knowledge of the history of hunting with hawks and a number of other rural pursuits, which she showcases with ease.

There are also some areas of near perfect description which highlight Macdonald’s passion and love for birds of prey. The very best example, and the one which has stayed with me ever since I first read this book over a year ago, is the depiction of Macdonald collecting her hawk on a Scottish quay. The breeder is meeting someone else, and has bought both Macdonald’s hawk and the other buyer’s with him. Macdonald describes the hawk she is supposed to take in the most glorious fashion:

“She came out like a Victorian melodrama: a sort of madwoman in the attack. She was smokier, and darker, and much, much bigger, and instead of twittering, she wailed; great, awful gouts of sound like a thing in pain, and the sound was unbearable.”

This stunning, passionate recount of meeting the hawk (which the breeder swapped for the younger bird at Macdonald’s request) is an excellent example of the skilled, sumptuously descriptive use of language that pervades throughout H is for Hawk.

To conclude then, my suggestion is this: READ THIS BOOK IMMEDIATELY. Get a copy in any way you can. There are some pretty covers available for those who judge books by their cover, but whether you fancy the flowery one or are happy with the beige, please read the words within, as they make for a fascinating insight into topics including humanity, history and goshawks. Which are frankly the only three topics one should ever take any interest in.

 

The Shepherd’s Life, by James Rebanks: Review

cover.jpg.rendition.460.707

The Shepherd’s Life: A Tale of the Lake District, represents a continuation of the revival of the pastoral genre, which was reinvigorated last year with the phenomenal success of Helen Macdonald’s excellent memoir H is for Hawk.

Primarily the comparison between The Shepherd’s Life and H is for Hawk is what drew me to Rebanks’ superb recollection of life rearing sheep in the Lake District. The books have been heavily compared and Macdonald is even quoted on the back cover of my copy.

Don’t get me wrong, the two books are fairly dissimilar. The subject matters differ greatly and there is a certain arrogance to Rebanks’s prose which contrasts with the self-deprication and uncertainty of Macdonald’s. However, there is a shared connection: the love of their landscape and the animals they rear on it.

Rebanks’ book focuses on his fascinating life as a shepherd working on the fells of the Lake District, interspersed with aspects of his  life outside of his work, his Oxford education and his family, which forms an intrinsic part of the narrative. Split between the four sessions, spring, summer, autumn and winter, the book charts both the farming calendar and his family’s progression, from the days of his beloved Grandfather, to his dad taking over the farm, through to teaching his young children the traditional ways that are still used to farm the fells.

As someone who grew up, for the most part (both in the sense that I didn’t live there all my life, and also am yet to fully grow up) in rural Dorset, I feel a certain empathy for the way Rebanks talks about the land he loves and the history of it. Rich history is a key part of rural communities and reading someone recount this with such vigour and overall understanding is a true pleasure. Rebanks’s passion, both for his animals and his land, is evident throughout the book, and enhances the brilliant narrative and strong, almost lyrical descriptions that at times make the book read like an extended poem.

Overall, this book is a real antidote to the excesses of modern life- escaping modern technology as much as they can, and avoiding mention of anything they cannot escape, the book highlights the traditions and evolutions of a landscape which is a central part of Britain’s rural heritage. A must read for anyone with a desk job looking for an intelligent and often witty insight into a world that seems so very far removed from their own.