![]() ![]() I need to remember the dark abates, that light and life return. I needed-I need-to remember the seasons change. Maybe like how in the winter it’s hard to imagine spring, I forgot there was anything else besides despair. Here, the presence of grief and mental health struggles creates a balanced tone, and while the book as a whole feels a little evanescent, it’s a lovely read. Winter is hard to trudge through, but offers compensatory blessings: “You stand inside the house of your friends and feel and see and everyone is in love and alive and you get to be here, grateful, too, however long, this time, the winter lasts.”Ī danger with seasonal books is that, with nostalgia tingeing everything, you end up with twee, obvious reflections. Autumn has always been for falling in or out of love. Summer makes her think of riding bikes on dusty roads and a pregnant dog that turned up just before a storm. Spring brings to mind the Persephone legend and Vivaldi’s compositions. The relaxed collages of experience and research blend stories from childhood and later life with references to etymology, literature, music, mythology and poetry. Depression can linger and mock by contrast the external signs of growth and happiness it’s no wonder that spring is dubbed the “suicide season.” These four essays, which were originally commissioned for The Stranger, Seattle’s alternative weekly, and appeared in print between 20, move methodically through the four seasons and through the weather of the heart, which doesn’t always follow nature’s cues. I was delighted to learn from a recent Shelf Awareness newsletter that she had a new book, and its Didion-esque title intrigued me. You Tell the Stories You Need to Believe: On the four seasons, time and love, death and growing up by Rebecca Brownīrown has shown up twice now in my November novella reading ( Excerpts from a Family Medical Dictionary in 2016 and the excellent The Gifts of the Body in 2018). (I also mention a few other March releases that I have written about elsewhere or will be reviewing soon.) Today I have a collection of essays on the seasons and mental health, a novella inhabiting a homeless girl’s situation, and a memoir about how skills of observation have been invaluable to a neurologist’s career. As busy as I am with house stuff, I’m endeavouring to keep up with the new releases publishers have been kind enough to send. ![]()
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