Winter offers a chance for renewal. In an intimate meditation on solitude and transformation, English journalist, essayist, and fiction writer May reflects on changes that occur, in nature and in one's sense of self, during the cold, dark season. Wintering, she writes, "is a fallow period in life when you're cut off from the world, feeling rejected, side-lined, blocked from progress, or cast into the role of an outsider." The author homes in on one particular winter that began in September with her husband's emergency appendectomy, which confronted her with the fragility of life and immanence of death. As the season progressed, she also was beset by ailments: tonsillitis during a trip to Iceland, debilitating stomach pain that required months of investigation, insomnia, depression, and bouts of anxiety. Chronicling the months from fall to the coming of spring in March, the author shares her observations of the changes--migration, hibernation, and the dropping of leaves--that seemed "a kind of alchemy, an enchantment performed by ordinary creatures to survive." Like hibernating animals, May, too, found herself craving more sleep as the days became shorter. Instead of migrating to warmer climates, though, she traveled to see the aurora borealis, and she took a New Year's swim in frigid water, experiences she found exhilarating. Interwoven with her observations of nature are myths, folktales, and children's stories in which wintry landscapes often take on a magical quality. For May, winter is "a time for reflection and recuperation, for slow replenishment, for putting your house in order," and for accepting "the endless, unpredictable change that is the very essence of this life." Readers enduring forced hibernation during the pandemic may find wise counsel from May: When "feeling the drag of winter, I began to treat myself like a favoured child: with kindness and love," eating and sleeping enough, and spending time "doing things that soothed me." A serene evocation of a dark season. Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

In this elegant memoir, journalist May (Burning Out) finds beauty and transformation in a difficult period of her life. In the span of six months, May's husband falls ill with acute appendicitis; her six-year-old son, who is bullied and suffers from anxiety, stops going to school; and she leaves her job as a university lecturer after suffering severe stomach pains from malabsorption. Though May centers her thoughts on these harrowing events, she is more interested in reflecting on the internal process they set into motion (what May calls "wintering,") and embraces the harshness of life as part of the cycle of nature: "When everything is broken, everything is also up for grabs. That's the gift of winter: it's irresistible. Change will happen in its wake, whether we like it or not." She traces events that transpire between September and March as she weathers winter through a mix of traditions--winter solstice at Stonehenge, Finnish saunas, and polar bear plunges--that reaffirm her purpose and see her through to the next phase of her life: "Mine is a personal animism, hushed by my conscious brain, nurtured by my unconscious." May's evocative ode to retreat will appeal to fans of Deborah Levy's The Cost of Living. (Dec.)

Winter sends animals to hibernation and people to their homes to settle before a fire. But winter, according to May, can come at any season. Hers started in early autumn with her husband's appendicitis and her own illness. Suddenly her days bring slow-cooked meals and coloring with her son rather than university lectures and frantic writing schedules. As the author draws into herself, she begins to see the healing powers of cold and quiet. Moving through the calendar year, May talks to men and women who have mastered the art of living in the cold. She interviews a Finnish woman whose childhood revolved around months of snow; she discovers a man who tracks wolves to keep them away from flocks and safe from hunters. May attends a St. Lucia festival, visits Stonehenge, swims in frigid water, and crosses the Arctic Circle in search of the northern lights and guidance. And through it all, she ponders her son's difficulties in school and her own loss of voice. In this introspective, beautifully written mix of memoir and philosophy, May explores life's hardest season and the lessons of acceptance. With a pandemic keeping us isolated in so many ways, May offers much-needed solace and comfort and a reminder that seasons eventually turn.