Wintering: The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times

After reading about this on NPR, I was enticed as it seemed the perfect book for what is clearly going to be a winter unlike all others. However, this is not a thoughtful essay on Winter and cultural connections in a personal voice, but rather a memoir of a well-off white lady doing hygee after an average sounding illness. Truly. You read how busy she was, but now she has time to light candles. You read about her wooly socks and her meditation. She makes jam. But she is evidently so worn down that she can only read children’s books, and so the examples that are supposed to add a layer of meaning, and each chapter gets one, are bits from those. Other examples are as deeply wrought as a Wikipedia entry. I rarely stop reading a book, but this one was cringe-inducing with her problems of privilege that I could not make it though December. Definitely not the book that was being sold on NPR.

What do you think of when you think of winter? Is it a stressful imagining or a peaceful one? Cozy? Uncomfortable? Necessary? With the inevitable approach of colder months, many of our memories or associations with the season – good or bad – are bound to be emphasized by the ongoing COVID pandemic. Author Katherine May invites us to embrace this winter with all that it has to offer. And May doesn’t just mean the season, but rather the “fallow period in life when you’re cut off from the world, feeling rejected, sidelined, blocked from progress, or cast into the role of the outsider.” Sounds fairly familiar at the moment, right? We’re struggling for community in ways that many of this generation could never have anticipated. In ‘Wintering’, May gives us a playbook and philosophy to handle our own personal winters.

Beautifully written, May was inspired to share her experiences from her own periods of winter and what she has learned from the radical act of real self-care (i.g. getting enough sleep, being restful, and generally slowing down our routines to combat the workaholic culture). May fearlessly combats the wave of toxic positivity – a newly morphed Instagramable version of bootstrap mentality – that has taken over many of the books that attempt to discuss our reactions to stress. What one can instead expect from ‘Wintering’ is a guide that is more akin to sharing a coffee with a friend than reading a self-help book.

‘Wintering’ is difficult to place into any one genre. It is the type of British narrative nonfiction I love and is reminiscent in tone and style to the introspection found in Helen Macdonald’s H is for Hawk. Like Macdonald, May reminds us that opting out of misery isn’t an option. Instead we must embrace it and learn from it.

May doesn’t just look at weathering personal winters, she turns her pen to the anthropological and the historical as she examines how other cultures and creatures prepare for winter. May seeks out the peace and solace found in nature’s winter. Observing everything from the hibernating nests of dormice, wolf dens, and the survival tactics of bees, to the practice of ice swimming, the wonder of the northern lights, and the frigid cold of the Arctic Circle and how those who choose to live there embrace winter. Casting her net wide a little closer to home, May writes about different spiritual practices that welcome winter; such as attending the winter equinox celebration at Stonehenge, discussing the rituals of winter with her Finnish friends, and evaluating the experiences of those who are battling with Seasonal Affective Disorder. May even includes the literary aspect of wintering by weighing the importance of snow in fairy tales, meditating on John Donne’s poem “A Nocturnal upon St. Lucy’s Day” and Sylvia Plath’s “Wintering”. May concludes that to welcome winter is to survive it. It is a hopeful and philosophical approach that I found deeply comforting.

In a lovely bit of writing, May reveals that in times of distress she likes to travel north. That the cold air feels clean and uncluttered and that she can think straight. I adhere to May’s belief that the cold has healing properties. As she writes, “you apply ice to a joint after an awkward fall. Why not do the same to life?” There will always be winters. There will always be periods of sadness and solitude. Therefore, we must prepare for them as best we can. What does this look like in practice? Baking? Soup making? Reading my candlelight in cozy socks? Yes and no. Those things certainly aren’t going to hurt your mentality when dealing with winters. However, it is more about recognizing when you need to coil into yourself. Protect yourself. Sleep. Slow down. Grow. Anticipate spring. Feel the turning of the year with gratitude.

I was initially drawn to pick up ‘Wintering’ because winter is my favorite season. Reading May’s book was like finally being clued in to the operating tenets of a fan club. May and I speak the same language in our love of winter. She eloquently expresses her appreciation of the season on every page. The solitude of the cold dark. The cleansing power of breathing in the scent of snow. The ritual of lighting a home fire or candles in the long evenings. Of hygge. She is also realistic, blunt, and deeply practical, clearly defining band-aids for confronting winter and actual solutions.

If, as you have grown, find that you are sinking into workaholic tendencies, that the highlights of the year (like holidays) pass with little joy and too much stress, if you missing feeling the different seasons and instead seem surprised upon their arrival – this book is for you.

If you enjoy cultural studies and nonlinear narrative histories – this book is for you.

If you like observant and engaging authors who are honest and not prone to navel-gazing – this book is for you.

If you enjoy guided meditations – this book is for you.

I would recommend this book to just about everyone. Based on the variety of topics within, the likability of the author, and the intriguing chapter layout, ‘Wintering’ makes for an engaging read that I already want to reread and buy more copies to giveaway.

Thoroughly enjoyed the companionship of this book, especially as we move into the winter holidays which are always an emotional smorgasbord for me.

In my teens and 20s, I would have predicted that by age 60 I would have moved past all of this angst (if I made it that long). Not so, and not productive to continue to push against it. Lean in.

How did Katherine May know how to put words so poetic, so beautiful to my own times of loss, confusion and struggle? I am left knowing for sure that the human experience is truly shared by another. Wintering is a warm and wonderful invitation to share intimately the cold barren times of our lives. A gift of comfort and validation in vivid imagery and personal stories that delight, encourage and light the way through the dark days and long nights of our own wintering. My soul is nurtured and given hope for warmer seasons to come.

I found this book to be a lovely invitation to listen to my deepest needs. As Christmas approaches during this pandemic, I will be celebrating not the joys of gathering with family and friends but the tacit joys of solitude. As May writes with unflinching honesty, courage, and compassion for herself, she invites readers to winter, to slow down, to shed the skin of an old life no longer necessary, to be made imperfectly, humanly, beautifully new. As an introvert, I welcome the invitation, particularly now, to find freedom in this season, to allow myself to turn uncompromisingly inward and take stock of what lies waiting there. Many thanks to the author for the gift of this book to the world!

Galaxyaudiobook Member Benefit

- Able to comment

- List watched audiobooks

- List favorite audiobooks

- Bookmark will only available for Galaxyaudiobook member