I thought this was a really beautiful book. And covered the reality and complexity of depression in a great manner. ( )

A Travel Book.

For me, each season has its highlights, the freshness and vitality of spring, the balmy days of summer, the quality of the autumn light and crisp days of winter. However, for others, not every season is loved equally and winter for some is the toughest season. Days are short, often gloomy cold and wet and it becomes a time when people feel at their lowest ebb. These pensive moments can lead to depression and long-term mental health issues.

Horatio Clare is one of those who suffers from this seasonal woe. This diary of his thoughts, feelings and fears written from mid-October, that time of the year as the nights draw into the 20th March, the spring equinox. In this diary, he is open and brutally honest about how the darkest part of the year affects him, how when he is teaching at John Moores University the words that would come naturally to him are scarce. Calder Valley, where he lives has a high suicide rate, attributed to a feeling that there is no way out and his very bleakest moments hurt his relationships with his loved ones.

Thin wisps of bird song come through bare woods and I am aware of gathering every sign of life and nature against a lowering threat.

But in amongst all the gloom of the season, he finds light and beauty around when he ventures outside. The skeletal starkness of trees, jewel-like frost sparkling in the sun, sunsets the colour of fire and that day went he spots the snowdrops have begun to open and realises that winter is actually on the wane. He is open about his anxieties that causes him to worry about so many things; money, the future, Brexit and his ability to teach; it causes him to frequently wake in the middle of the night mindlessly scrolling through a list of worries. Clare’s writing is taut, sparse and charged with emotion as he details the battles against his own personal demons of winter. This moving book should be essential reading for those that are suffering from seasonal affective disorder (SAD) and also for those that know someone who is afflicted. ( )

I'm not a regular reader of non-fiction so when I do pick it up it's usually because there's something specific about it that captures my interest. With The Light in the Dark, it was Horatio Clare's thoughts on winter, a season which has an adverse effect on so many. Personally, I quite enjoy the dark nights and the dismal weather (I'm a strange sort!) but I completely understand how just those things can induce depression and sadness.

Clare suffers in this way and so writes a diary from November through to March, to the first signs of spring. It's a beautifully written and lyrical look at the winter months from his point of view, following him as he deals with it on a day to day basis, covering his life in the north, trips to see his mother in rural Wales, family life and, most tellingly, his own feelings.

Despite the fact that he's obviously suffering, Clare's prose is stunning, even about the things that are depressing him. He's obviously able to see the beauty in nature, the weather and his surroundings, even if that beauty cannot penetrate his mind.

It's quite an introspective read and I'm not sure that it would help if your thoughts on winter are in a similar vein to that of the author's, although maybe seeing it through another's eyes would be beneficial. If you want a book that focuses on winter and the changing of the seasons then this poetic and melancholy read is perfect. ( )

‘’Winter in the mountains is arresting in its drama, the light melting over the Brecon Beacons as though it carries cold in it, not heat. There are the lakes of mist, too, the sun riding high over the bracken-red ridges as they surface through pearlescent cloud, heaving up like whales. Winter by the sea is another kind of theatre, like standing in a great and empty auditorium.’’

It is very difficult, almost impossible to convey the feelings and thoughts born from reading this book. ‘’Book’’? No, this isn’t the proper word this time. This is an ode to winter in its most sinister form, in all its wildness, harshness, in its darkest moments. An elegy for lives broken and united, lost and gained, in the heart of the British cold that is beautiful and ferocious, haunting and heartless. These are the musings, the memories of a charismatic man, a talented writer who pours his soul in the pages with bravery and tenderness.

The dangers that threaten people and livestock. The menacing darkness, the isolation. The beautiful scenery painted in white, grey and cobalt blue. The joy of Christmas, the chance for the family to be together during the long nights. A confused, misinformed society that tries to predict the unknown ‘’winter’’ brought about by the absurd Brexit. The monsters of depression, the hopelessness and pain that seem to become more acute once temperatures plummet, Clare shares his fears and insecurities, the love for his family and his students and discovers that winter can be loved and enjoyed even in its most vicious form.

This is not a pleasant read. Quality books are NOT pleasant. It isn’t a hymn to the romantic white of winter. It is a cry and a song, an atmospheric, haunting and powerful account of a human being that could have been our father, our partner, our friend. The depiction of how tiny we stand when facing Mother Nature. If you love winter, you will come to love the beautiful and fierce season even more after reading The Light In The Dark. If you don’t call winter your favourite season, you might reconsider. This is what Horatio Clare did. His confession will stay with you long after you let your wander in the last paragraph.

No more of my blabbering. The following extracts speak for themselves:

‘’Over the western plain the sky was clear; as we approached Manchester we came under a dark bar of cloud. Now, as we close with the fingers of the moors, the windows of the foothill towns are lighting and there is a peace in the glooming valleys, a drawing - in as the earth turns us and night comes down from the wild tops as if drawn to the warmth of our settlements.’’

‘’Now the power cuts. I dash out to see if it is just us - but it is the world, the world transformed, released into darkness, moonlight, stars and frost. It is the first time I have ever seen our valley as it is in itself at night. Under a half-moon, with the hills’ bacla princkled with stars, its character has entirely changed. The dark no longer hunches around the few street lights. It is dimly luminous, stretching and languid, the moonlight a soft sweeping, rounding and gentling the ridges. The constriction of the valley is gone, the silvered fields wide under the mantling moon.’’

My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com ( )