see Helen Macdonald's reference to him in H is for Hawk ( )

In this book, author T. H. White recounts a year in his life in rural England in the 1930s. I really wanted to like the book, and I would give five stars to about 10% of the book. White makes some very perceptive observations about the passing of time, the incursion of the city into the countryside, and the need to calibrate work to the natural rhythms of life, and these are very beautifully written. His sensitive recognition of class structures in the countryside does not spare his own snobbery and dilettantism, for which I commend him.

However, the detailed accounting of hunting, fishing, shooting, and aviation, with specific numbers of birds shot in a day, point-by-point retellings of minor incidents in his flying lessons, descriptions of different kinds of fishing flies, and explanations of the minutiae of riding in a fox hunt take up about 80-90% of the book. I simply could not get interested in learning how many birds and rabbits White shot on October 10. Like the diary it ostensibly is, the entries merely recount what he did each day. Unfortunately (personally) most of the things White did on most days were not compelling to me. Plus, I don't mind the idea of hunting for food, but I had trouble stomaching his apologia for fox hunting. But he would probably say that's just the contemporary city dweller in me.

This book will probably be very interesting to people with interests in literature, history, and British country sports. I've got two out of three there, but the third really overwhelms the book. I just was not the proper audience for most of its content. ( )

A bit long in parts...typical dry wit covering typical English pastimes from a legendary English writer. ( )