August 3, 2020
Themes of the natural world and of mental health are juxtaposed in this reflective, lyrical work from memoirist Clare (Running for the Hills) that charts one winter as endured in northern England. “Last winter, I thought I would go mad with depression,” he admits, thanks to “the absence of light and the feeling of living in an ugly country, streaming roofs, weeping windows, dank inside and out.” Clare explores the fulfillment he finds in his roles as a father, a teacher, and a husband, as well as the worries he feels about succeeding in these roles under the weight of depression, that “terrible disabler,” which makes “you constantly pause and doubt and disbelieve.” Through his struggles, his rock is his wife, Rebecca, whose resilience moves him to muse that “it is dreadful to live with the depressed, and astonishing to live with someone dealing with it as Rebecca does.” Above all, Clare vividly conveys his impressions of winter, whether the joy of a snow storm (“weather that overwhelms, subordinating all human plans. It lays white, thrilling drifts over the gloom”) or the “cruel hostility” of mornings when one awakens to find “sleet falling, the sky grown grey and cold to overflowing.” By the end, too, he has found a measure of peace, thanks both to professional help and his journaling. Clare beautifully captures the changeability of both the seasons and the human mind.