I absolutely loved this book.

Helen Macdonald's writing is so beautiful, I would probably read anything she released.
She has such a wonderful way with words, even the mundane sparkles.

The book is a collection of short essays each focusing on a specific experience then relating this to the natural world. The writing conjured up many emotions but overall a feeling of hope.

This is a book I will return to again & again

A collection of precious jewels, beautifully strung together, needing to be individually savoured

Helen MacDonald, in this book, a collection of reflections on various topics, mainly connected to the natural world, reminds me in many ways of Olivia Laing’s writing. So much so, that I needed to remind myself of which of the two I was reading. And I mean that as high praise, for BOTH women, who share many characteristics in their writing which invariably has me high five starring both :

Both writers are clearly fiercely, fiercely intelligent, writing from a place of both incisive intellectual curiosity, exploration and examination, AND an emotional/visceral/feeling intelligence, equally fierce. They seem to have minds, and hearts, that can turn a searchlight both on what they look upon, and upon themselves in the looking.

Both write beautifully, without contrivance. This reader does not feel, with either, that they are aiming to impress me, rather the sense is of a truthfulness and precision is being searched for. The beauty of the writing arrives out of clarity of thought, clarity of feeling, not self-indulgence. Both writers seem to have internalised a maxim credited to Noel Coward ‘Murder Your Darlings’ – a warning to beware self-indulgence and pompousity.

Both writers are, to some extent, eccentrics, oddballs, outsiders, and come from a place of some vulnerability, some wounding, and are willing to communicate from that sometimes raw, authentic place.

There is a genre both inhabit – beautifully – writing ABOUT carefully researched factual subject, but also about their own responses to what they are looking at. This is writing which exposes the illusion that somehow there are only indisputable facts. Whatever is observed is influenced by, and influences, the observer. Although there are men in academia who write from the position of the self-observing observer, it does seem to be more often found in writing by women. When it works – as it absolutely does here – there is the sense of authentic human connection going on. The writer is talking, one to one, to the reader, creating the absorption she feels in the subject matter, and inviting US to share that absorption, and have our own experience with the subject matter.

I call this holistic writing.

MacDonald, I think, is even more ‘raw’ than Laing, and so reading her I feel forced to inhabit myself, as I read, even more presently. Sometimes this means that the intensity of feeling, of thinking, for the reader, (well, for this reader) becomes almost overwhelming, and I had to put the put the book down and go for a walk, to give time for my whirling thoughts and feelings to settle.

This is absolutely NOT a book to race through. It is one which deserves to be read, slowly and attentively

Each chapter is like a different jewel on a necklace, or a differently flavoured fine chocolate in a luxury collection. I did not greedily guzzle, but fully appreciated the quality and identity of each. The collection is a harmonious whole, and speaks, pleads, that we should properly be here, learn how to accord true respect to the other in the world – and particularly the non-human other. This is in the end, a book that asks the reader to be in this world with empathy and appreciation, to transcend self-centredness, and to embrace connectedness. We are creatures within a world of other creatures, all inhabiting the greater community of a planet, within a community of other planets.

Invidious to single out any of the many chapter jewels, or fine chocolates, but what touched me most lingeringly was the chapter exploring ‘Swan Upping’ MacDonald does not actively state that this is the meaning of the close encounter she had with a swan, but, as I read it, my own response was that the swan which settled by her had chosen to offer healing, and was powerful in this action.

I realise this overlong eulogy has been less than adequate in explaining what this book is about. So I have linked a couple of powerful statements MacDonald makes, in her introduction :

“Working as a historian of science revealed to me how we have always unconsciously and inevitably viewed the natural world as a mirror of ourselves, reflecting our own world-view, and our own needs, thought and hopes………I hope my work is about a thing that seems to me of the deepest possible importance in our present-day historical moment: finding ways to recognise and love difference. The attempt to see through eyes that are not your own. To understand that your way of looking at the world is not the only one. To think what it might mean to love those that are not you. To rejoice in the complexity of things”

I am reminded also, of Wordsworth’s Pantheistic sense that the natural world can teach us how to be most fully, most radiantly human.

To love those that are NOT you, can at times be difficult, human between human. Ego (mine, yours, but most probably mine) gets between me and you – but, to learn to see through YOUR eyes is an easier, unegoic lesson, when I learn, or try to learn, to ‘see’ the world through a tree, a bird. Learning to work the muscle of empathy, rather than only seeing the world as there for my benefit.

I am so grateful to MacDonald for this rich book. It has been a beautiful and positive support in this most difficult year

Thank you also to Netgalley, and Random House UK/Jonathan Cape for offering this as an ARC

How to review such a sparkling wonderful collection of essays - disparate but connected essays and musings and vignettes that evoke a wonder in the face of nature.
After devouring H is for Hawk, I knew that Macdonald can write - and boy can she write! - and that beautiful eye for description and detail is apparent here, rich in sensory description and a Romantic sense of awe and respect for the beauty and power of the natural world.
A perfect lockdown read for which I thank Helen Macdonald

Vesper Flights is such a treat, a book of essays about the natural world and how humanity tries and fails to make sense of it, written so passionately and beautifully by Helen MacDonald. I had read and loved MacDonald's memoir "H is For Hawk", which centres on the authors project of taming and training a goshawk while grieving for her father. I knew she must have had some interest in falconry and birds before this but I didn't realise how knowledgeable she is on so many far reaching topics. She describes herself as a historian of science, and how that gives her insight in how we use the natural world for a mirror through which to catch a glimpse at ourselves and who we really are.

What I liked most about her first book was her argument that many nature writers were gay and could talk about their love for birds or other animals in ways that they couldn't talk about their own desire. Similarly, in Vesper Flights, several of her essays discuss writers who use nature as allegories of empire, of imagining other worlds, how instructions to not feed or encourage wild animals mirror classist and racist language and impulses, how nature has been her own refuge from trauma, and how teaching a love of nature can inspire conservationism. The woods too, don't teach her to be mindful in that she can empty her head, more so they connect her to a deeper history. Storms, and that quiet before them, feel as she does watching the next bad news story about to break.

As she tells us, animals dont exist to teach us things, but we learn from them all the same. This is such a gorgeous love letter to the possibilities of the beautiful world around us, and it urges us to take stock of it before all is lost.

Beautifully written, engaging writing and a revelation after her wonderful book, 'H is for Hawk', though in the same awed tone about the wonders of nature through her well-researched and knowledgeable eye. Lovely!

A beautifully written anthology by a very talented author, what a treat!

Helen shares essays on nature, life and experiences with such poetry that you can't help but be drawn in. She paints such a vivid picture in your head, it really is very absorbing.

Mushroom picking and the vesper flight explanation were two very high points for me

This book is a thick blanket on a frosty day. 5*

Some interesting insights into birds. Quite thought provoking in many ways. I do enjoy Helen’s writing.

Helen Macdonald quotes a radio broadcast sent out in 1942 where the presenter Julian Huxley says ‘if you don’t know your birds you can’t fully understand your country.’ He went on to say that birds were what he was fighting for during the war. Helen Macdonald helps those of us disconnected from bird life and nature reconnect with the countryside and our wildlife. This is a touching, inspiring and timely book, reminding us to look local, look close with wonder and gratitude. I will definitely buy this book of essays for friends and family. Thank you for the chance to read.

My thanks to Random House U.K. for an advance reading copy via NetGalley of ‘Vesper Flights: New and Collected Essays’ by Helen Macdonald.

This is a fascinating collection of short essays about the human relationship with the natural world. It is a combination of history, both natural and social, with personal anecdotes from the author’s life. While I read it in a single sitting, it is a perfect book for dipping into.

I found this a beautiful testimony to nature that was heartbreaking in places. I was especially moved by her account of weeping when she encountered a meadow that she had seen bursting with exuberant life throughout the years but now under new management has been treated like a lawn: blank and neat and flat.

In her chapter on ‘What Animals Taught Me’ she wrote: “Animals don’t exist in order to teach us things, but that is what they have always done, and most of what they teach us is what we think we know about ourselves.” She goes on to write about the purpose of animals in medieval bestiaries and also links with Tarot cards. Having worked with the Tarot I found this particularly interesting as symbolic animals feature prominently in most Tarot decks.

Overall, a thought provoking and very accessible collection to compliment her award winning ‘H is for Hawk’.

Helen Macdonald writes with passion and soul. She can find words I’d never dream of to describe a deer magically appearing through the mist in a woodland, or to handle some violent and blood-thirsty act. She puts joy into her words, and brings out the compassion and horror connected with the darker side of life.

Through this series of articles and vignettes written for various publications over the years, and possibly some that are special for this, she provides a tender snapshot of the dichotomy of English life the late 20-teens. The divisions brought about by the Brexit referendum were only to get worse, but this sets some of the cultural issues relating to wildlife, travel and the state of the environment into context. If anything, it gave me a certain nostalgia for the time before us Brits descended into a world of complete madness.

Reading about wildlife is often uplifting. MacDonald gives us plenty of joyous occasions, not least when she releases a rescued baby swift into the wild. After a heart-stopping moment it flies off, to the cheers of the local cricket teams, who stopped play to watch. But she also gives us plenty to mull over, not least the plight of refugees, who could be aiding us in all the areas we urgently most need professional input. These people are stuck in detention centres that are worse than prisons, with no end to their sentence in sight. Reading this article has at least made me share refugee appeals on social media.

Some of the pieces are enjoyable, some surprising, most are educational, if you want to learn something to take away into your life. But above all, they are of our time, of the state of our world, and we would do well to take Ms MacDonald’s words and turn them into our own actions. Vesper Flights is a remarkable book. Buy it!

After H is for Hawk, it was an absolute delight to reconnect with Helen Macdonald's luminous prose. These essays are varied in their subjects although birds figure - of course - prominently, but what binds them together is less a subject matter than a whole way of seeing the world. And it is with such generous words that Helen describes the landscapes, the animals that roam and fly, but also her extraordinary human encounters. She shares her knowledge in a simple, straightforward way, so that you're almost caught by surprise by how much you've learnt while enjoying the pure poetry of these pieces. A comfort read in the sense that, if there were more Helen Macdonalds among us, the world would be a better place.

I've never read anything by Helen MacDonald before. Not even her hugely popular 'H is for Hawk'. A mistake I will soon rectify.
I approach every new (to me) author with a degree of trepidation. Life is too short to read bad books. I was reassured by Helen's first essay and by about the third or fourth I realized I was reading with drunken joy.
The author describes herself as a writer and historian but in all these autobiographical pieces she comes across as so much more. Her knowledge is vast as witnessed by the diversity of subjects touched upon. From Swift's forecasting the weather, to comments on Daphne du Maurier's famous story 'The Birds', to I Ching.
The love of what she writes about permeates every page and makes one realize how important it is we all fight to protect the good things left on this planet.

In this luminous collection of short essays from Helen Macdonald, each piece has its charm, and all are written in the gorgeous prose we have come to expect of Macdonald. In these often short pieces, she repeatedly touches on themes of biodiversity loss and many other vital and pertinent issues relating to humanity’s connection to the natural world (and our detrimental impact on it). Macdonald’s warmth and heartfelt love of nature shine through every new story and vignette. Her delightfully concise essay on wild boars and luminous description of her experience watching migratory birds atop the Empire State Building were personal favourites. However, each new vignette is charming, contemplative and thought-provoking. It is always a pleasure to read anything Macdonald writes, and I have no doubt I will dip in and out of this collection to re-read favourite essays many times as I eagerly await her next long-form non-fiction narrative.

This acclaimed naturalist and gifted author draws you in with her insightful view of how we share this world with birds and wildlife in general. Written in beguiling, poetic prose this varied collection of essays might swing from joyous to thoughtful, sad and reflective topics, but they all share a general theme of awe and wonder, and succeed in opening our eyes to the vagaries and delights of nature.

Vespers itself is a sunset evening prayer service which is mainly practised by the Roman Catholic or Orthodox churches. Prayers are uttered to welcome in the evening. It’s a time for winding down for rest and expressing gratitude for the hours that have gone before. So it’s an apt title for a book which has gratitude implicitly at its heart, and a restful way of sharing pertinent thoughts.

Dusk is typically a time when we can hear birdsong. A Vesper sparrow might be among their number. Vesper flights suggest a waning of the avian population too, because several species are at risk of diminishing numbers in their usual habitats. Ecology issues, including safeguarding endangered species, is a background theme playing softly throughout this book.

There is no heavy-handedness here. In threading memoir with scientific knowledge, information and personal experience, the general impression is a gentle, inspirational call to pay greater attention. Because our lives are inextricably woven with wildlife, whether we are aware of it or not. But the benefits of seeing how closely we are connected are inestimable.

Without explicitly saying so, these disparate, beautifully written essays suggest we can become more caring custodians by deepening our appreciation of the created world around us and paying careful attention to it. This is a terrific follow up to H Is for Hawk, and an amazing book in its own right as well. Highly recommended. Grateful thanks to Random House UK, Vintage and NetGalley for the ARC.

Much as I loved H is for Hawk, I found myself a little disappointed by Vesper Flights even though I enjoyed reading it. Very difficult to put my finger on exactly why but I would posit that for such a broad spectrum of essays it would be inevitable that some would resonate more than others. I read Hawk when it was published and perhaps my head has changed somewhat in that time. Having said all that, if you enjoyed Hawk then it is worth your while to read Vesper Flights as your head may have changed less than mine.

The award winning Helen Macdonald's eye wanders far and wide in this thoughtful, sensitive, poetic and beautifully written collection of essays, some more substantial than others, on the complexities of the natural world, the environment, climate change, and people. She looks at flocks, made up of huge numbers of individual birds, a marvel of nature, linking it with attitudes to refugees, often seen as a mass to be judged and feared, a parallel where Helen suggests they should be viewed as individuals just like us, who want what we want. Animals and birds are often judged through human eyes as those that are acceptable and those that are not, much like the undeserving and deserving poor, a divisive perspective that promotes and justifies inequalities.

A recurring strand through this book is that humans view the natural world with its animals and birds as mirrors of ourselves, of our wants and needs, but of the difficulties of seeing beyond to this to intuit and see animals as sentient beings in their own right, with their own needs, wants and lives separate from humans. The non-religious Helen interest wanders into philosophy, theology and religion, looking for answers to the mystery, the patterns, the sacred and magic of nature, such as the Vesper Flights of swifts, although I was surprised that she didn't venture to look at and explore the Eastern philosophies and religions, and indigenous peoples' perspectives such as the those of Native American Indian and Aborigines. There is much that is autographical, such as her childhood exploration of the teeming with life meadows, observing the changes, and the shrinking of natural habitata. One incident stayed in my mind, the Great British Ostrich Bubble, and where Helen finds herself putting an ostrich out of its misery with a rock and a novelty penknife.

There is so much Macdonald touches on, such as the planet Mars, rewilding projects, the sorrow of birds in cages, cuckoos, life and nature in high rise Manhattan, the comic pushing of goats, politics, inequalities, even Brexit, marginal communities and a boy and parrot's immediate connection and dance with each other. I am not going to able to do justice to this fascinating and riveting book, but I appreciated the inclusion of the arts, culture and particularly literature, such as Barry Hines's Kes, and excerpts from William Blake's epic poem Milton. I think many readers will love and adore this, and I can see myself coming back and rereading parts again in the future. Highly recommended. Many thanks to Random House Vintage for an ARC.

Short essays looking at the natural world, and, above all, our relationship with it. From field guides to swifts, from berries to watching naturalists themselves, I felt that Helen Macdonald had something new and interesting to say, that I wanted to hear.

I wasn’t always enamoured with her writing style, but as I settled into it I began to appreciate the slowing down I needed to re-read sentences, and the stretching of my vocabulary. Regardless, I thought this book was quite wonderful and will be buying a print copy to reread.

Vesper Flights is one of those books that you will return to for years to come, savouring beguiling descriptions like ‘The deer drift in and out of the trees like water’ or ‘A winter wood reveals the bones of the landscape it grows upon’. Macdonald weaves a strange kind of magic into her words, giving the simplest notions a sense of beauty and casting altogether ordinary things in an unearthly light. Among these enchanting stories lie more factual pieces, often exposing parts of history you would never have discovered otherwise. I learnt of the impacts of major events such as WWII on man’s relationship with nature; how the plight of particular species brought about by egg collecting became a matter of public conscientiousness as the peace of Britain was similarly under attack. This intriguing relationship between man and nature is explored fully in this collection of essays and remains a focus throughout the novel, despite the contrasting subjects chosen for scrutiny.

For those readers put off by Vesper Flights’ description as a ‘collection of essays’, I assure you that these are undoubtedly worth your time and many read far more like personal stories than what you might consider an ‘essay’, sometimes almost seeming conversational. British readers especially will adore this book, particularly if, like me, they have visited some of the places Macdonald describes in her book. It was fascinating to hear about the author’s experience in Wicken Fen and learn some of its history I simply hadn't looked into before. Macdonald certainly takes you to a variety of locations around the world, with an equally intriguing variety of creatures described; boars in Britain and honeyeaters in Australia, or Eurasian cranes in Hungary. She aptly demonstrates the sheer amount of biodiversity on our planet.

Going further into the author’s focus on man’s interactions with nature, I was glad to see that Macdonald put significant emphasis on the dangers of climate change. Overall, Vesper Flights sends an empowering message of saving the environment and claims that literature can be as important as science in raising awareness of what has been lost and is being lost, which I wholeheartedly agree with. Regarding nature’s own effects on humans, she offers a contemplative outlook on lessons which can be learnt from nature and its power to bring us together. Macdonald shares touching stories about wildlife rehabilitation and makes a moving appeal to people’s humanity in accepting refugees, using a wonderful description of a flock of cranes to demonstrate that we must not look upon refugees as a singular mass, but as individuals with their own minds and their own stories.

Helen Macdonald’s variety of subject matter was in many ways a great positive, but it did result in the occasional change in writing style which caught me by surprise a few times and was slightly jarring. However, this was never without a purpose and I adjusted soon enough. I also found the pacing to be rather variable; at times there is an almost overwhelming flow of facts and information, dates and minute details, which generally served to augment the tales being told, albeit with a disruption to my flow of reading, though I rarely found that this detracted significantly from my enjoyment of the text. An issue which stood out to me personally was some of the word choices. I can normally see the effect Macdonald is going for, but a lot of the time a different word would suffice with a less confusing effect.

It is worth mentioning that I read this book fairly quickly to get on top of my TBR, and this definitely had an effect on my engagement with Vesper Flights. Often it was difficult to keep sustained interest, as I was constantly skimming through some of the more factual sections (but don’t get me wrong, some of these passages were very interesting). It’s true that at times the detail can be frustrating when you want to get back to the nature descriptions, but I feel like this is one of those books which is perfect to dip into from time to time, to fully appreciate the messages hidden in the text. Different people will take different things from Vesper Flights, but I am sure that wonder and a newfound appreciation for the natural world will be among them.

All in all, I would consider this a greatly enjoyable read for fans of H is for Hawk and other readers delving into nature books. My precise rating is a 3.8, but Netgalley only works with whole numbers, so I’ve rounded it up to 4.

Thanks to the publisher and Netgalley for providing me with this ARC in exchange for an honest review.

I had previously read H is for Hawk, which I very much enjoyed. The author's love and interest in wildlife and descriptive powers are wonderful.
The author's observations of wildlife and it's impact with humans and the environmental impact are thought provoking. She gives her own experiences in an almost spiritual way and draws many parallels between animal behaviour and human expectation.
The book is beautifully written and explained. You cannot read this quickly, nor should you. I found it uplifting, worrying, philosophical and quite moving. Wonderful book.

A book of essays about nature and in particular, our relationship to nature and how what we think about it has a massive impact on our behaviour both environmentally speaking and emotionally. Many of the themes of H is for Hawk are investigated further here including what wildness is, how thinking about animals shapes our responses to them and our understanding of them and ourselves. I am particularly interested in the ideas around borders and immigration which Macdonald explores in terms of creatures like cuckoos for example. I was particularly interested in her interview with an asylum seeker and the parallels she draws between understanding wildness to have a better sense of our humanity. The essays that have stuck with me the most are the ones about swifts. Fascinating stuff.