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Enchantment: Awakening Wonder in an Anxious Age
From the New York Times-bestselling author of Wintering, an invitation to rediscover the feelings of awe and wonder available to us all.
Many of us feel trapped in a grind of constant change: rolling news cycles, the chatter of social media, our families split along partisan lines. We feel fearful and tired, on edge in our bodies, not quite knowing what has us perpetually depleted. For Katherine May, this low hum of fatigue and anxiety made her wonder what she was missing. Could there be a different way to relate to the world, one that would allow her to feel more rested and at ease, even as seismic changes unfold on the planet? Might there be a way for all of us to move through life with curiosity and tenderness, sensitized to the subtle magic all around?
In Enchantment, May invites the reader to come with her on a journey to reawaken our innate sense of wonder and awe. With humor, candor, and warmth, she shares stories of her own struggles with work, family, and the aftereffects of pandemic, particularly feelings of overwhelm as the world rushes to reopen. Craving a different way to live, May begins to explore the restorative properties of the natural world, moving through the elements of earth, water, fire, and air and identifying the quiet traces of magic that can be found only when we look for them. Through deliberate attention and ritual, she unearths the potency and nourishment that come from quiet reconnection with our immediate environment. Blending lyricism and storytelling, sensitivity and empathy, Enchantment invites each of us to open the door to human experience in all its sensual complexity, and to find the beauty waiting for us there.
Many of us feel trapped in a grind of constant change: rolling news cycles, the chatter of social media, our families split along partisan lines. We feel fearful and tired, on edge in our bodies, not quite knowing what has us perpetually depleted. For Katherine May, this low hum of fatigue and anxiety made her wonder what she was missing. Could there be a different way to relate to the world, one that would allow her to feel more rested and at ease, even as seismic changes unfold on the planet? Might there be a way for all of us to move through life with curiosity and tenderness, sensitized to the subtle magic all around?
In Enchantment, May invites the reader to come with her on a journey to reawaken our innate sense of wonder and awe. With humor, candor, and warmth, she shares stories of her own struggles with work, family, and the aftereffects of pandemic, particularly feelings of overwhelm as the world rushes to reopen. Craving a different way to live, May begins to explore the restorative properties of the natural world, moving through the elements of earth, water, fire, and air and identifying the quiet traces of magic that can be found only when we look for them. Through deliberate attention and ritual, she unearths the potency and nourishment that come from quiet reconnection with our immediate environment. Blending lyricism and storytelling, sensitivity and empathy, Enchantment invites each of us to open the door to human experience in all its sensual complexity, and to find the beauty waiting for us there.
212 pages, Hardcover
First published February 28, 2023
About the author
Katherine May
12 books1,199 followersKatherine May is an internationally bestselling author and podcaster living in Whitstable, UK. Her hybrid memoir Wintering: The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times became a New York Times, Sunday Times and Der Spiegel bestseller, was adapted as BBC Radio 4’s Book of the Week, and was shortlisted for the Porchlight and Barnes and Noble Book of the Year. The Electricity of Every Living Thing, her memoir of a midlife autism diagnosis, is currently being adapted as an audio drama by Audible. Other titles include novels such as The Whitstable High Tide Swimming Club, and The Best, Most Awful Job, an anthology of essays about motherhood which she edited. Her journalism and essays have appeared in a range of publications including The New York Times, The Observer and Aeon.
Katherine’s podcast, The Wintering Sessions, ranks in the top 1% worldwide, and she has been a guest presenter for On Being’s The Future of Hope series. Her next book, Enchantment, will be published in 2023.
Katherine lives with her husband, son, two cats and a dog. She loves walking, sea-swimming and pickling slightly unappealing things.
Katherine’s podcast, The Wintering Sessions, ranks in the top 1% worldwide, and she has been a guest presenter for On Being’s The Future of Hope series. Her next book, Enchantment, will be published in 2023.
Katherine lives with her husband, son, two cats and a dog. She loves walking, sea-swimming and pickling slightly unappealing things.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 1,281 reviews
March 19, 2023
I was so excited to get this book - after finishing May’s “Wintering,” I went ahead and bought this straight away. This book was all over the place, and frankly sounded more like she was grasping for things to write about and likely had to meet a deadline. There were a few chapters I enjoyed, but I found myself skipping pages towards the end. It tried way too hard to be insightful, and it fell flat.
November 25, 2022
I went into this book with a handful of doubt as to whether I could love it as much as Katherine May’s previous book, Wintering. But Enchantment: Awakening Wonder in an Anxious Age resonated with me just as deeply. It gently and beautifully guides us to reignite the innate spark of hope, wonder, even magic, that became buried for so many of us through the challenges of recent years.
“The awe-inspiring, the numinous, is all around us, all the time. It is transformed by our deliberate attention. It becomes meaningful when we invest it with meaning. The magic is of our own conjuring. Hierophany—that revelation of the sacred—is something we bring to everyday things, rather than something that is given to us.”
“The awe-inspiring, the numinous, is all around us, all the time. It is transformed by our deliberate attention. It becomes meaningful when we invest it with meaning. The magic is of our own conjuring. Hierophany—that revelation of the sacred—is something we bring to everyday things, rather than something that is given to us.”
April 1, 2023
I was a big fan of Katherine May’s Wintering, which published just before the pandemic and, as if presciently, offers strategies for coping with seasons of depression. Coming after a few years of upheaval and disconnection, this follow-up voices May’s longing for rituals of the transcendent that will allow her to live in harmony and close attention to the world around her. Her usual way of communing with nature and other people was group swims in the sea, but that temporarily stopped with lockdown. She sought alternatives, such as visiting a sacred well with a friend, beekeeping, cultivating a wild garden, and chasing a meteor shower. The Earth – Water – Fire – Air structure is sometimes forced, and the content sparse; like Raynor Winn, May, I feel, was pressured to capitalize on the success of her previous work and quickly publish unfinished and rather nebulous material. It’s all surprisingly woo-woo from an English author. Yet May’s writing is unfailingly lovely and this went down easy a chapter at a time. It’s a comparable read to Wanderland by Jini Reddy.
Originally published on my blog, Bookish Beck.
Originally published on my blog, Bookish Beck.
January 2, 2023
Katherine May I owe you an apology. Do not let the time between start and finish fool you. I started this book yesterday and finished it today and feel I should apologize for not reading it sooner. This new book is amazing. It’s exactly what many of us experienced and experience during Covid put into words. That restless not sure what to do with yourself but this isn’t it feeling put into actual words with a suggestion of a road map to get out. It was honestly like eating fine chocolate and really enjoying it and delighting in knowing you will be able to savor it again. March will not come quick enough for me to share this amazing book (though I do love winter now thanks to her first so I’m looking forward to savoring the next two months). Yes to this book. Absolutely yes.
May 3, 2023
May does not write well, and I’m afraid I was just too irritated to continue beyond page 35.
December 23, 2022
I received this book in a giveaway and was so excited to read it, but this book was definitely not my favorite. The title and description really don’t fit the book. It seems like it’s going to be more applicable to everyone, but it’s really just a handful of stories about the author. It tries to come off more insightful than it is and a lot of it is just really surface level and basic. It peppers in some relatable modern day anxieties and post Covid existence, but it just doesn’t live up to what the title is. The first half of the book is pretty negative and complaining which was off putting and the epilogue tries to tie in the title and premise of the book that the last 200 pages really didn’t do. The whole book just feels very disjointed. I feel like this tried to be similar to Braiding Sweetgrass and it just isn’t it.
March 13, 2023
4.0⭐️
lovely | wise | unusual
What will stay with me:
• gentle invitations to really look at the world in front of us
• her apt way of describing the sense of disconnection that many of us feel after living through Covid
Lines I underlined:
“That is what I am searching for, the chance to merge into the wild drift of the world, to feel overcome, to enter into its weft so completely that sometimes I can forget myself.”
“How do we worship now? How do we get past the blunt knowing of our disenchanted age and tap back into the magic that we used to perceive everywhere?”
“We need to double down on the storytelling, and find new ways to tell out our meanings. Perhaps that is what we’re meant to do, remake our stories until we finally find one that fits.”
“Certainties harden us, and eventually we come to defend them, as if the world can’t contain a multiplicity of views. We are better off staying soft. It gives us room to grow and absorb, to make space for all the other glorious notions that will keep coming at us across a lifetime.”
lovely | wise | unusual
What will stay with me:
• gentle invitations to really look at the world in front of us
• her apt way of describing the sense of disconnection that many of us feel after living through Covid
Lines I underlined:
“That is what I am searching for, the chance to merge into the wild drift of the world, to feel overcome, to enter into its weft so completely that sometimes I can forget myself.”
“How do we worship now? How do we get past the blunt knowing of our disenchanted age and tap back into the magic that we used to perceive everywhere?”
“We need to double down on the storytelling, and find new ways to tell out our meanings. Perhaps that is what we’re meant to do, remake our stories until we finally find one that fits.”
“Certainties harden us, and eventually we come to defend them, as if the world can’t contain a multiplicity of views. We are better off staying soft. It gives us room to grow and absorb, to make space for all the other glorious notions that will keep coming at us across a lifetime.”
May 25, 2023
The author's Wintering was a major bestseller, so I thought I should see what the fuss was about. Maybe I should have read Wintering itself, because this, her latest, was a disastrous mess which left me disliking her voice on the page so much, I certainly will not be returning for more.
Me reading this book:
May scrambles madly, searching for what this book should be about; then, in the acknowledgements, she straight-up admits to throwing away several ideas and struggling to figure out what to write about. A kinder editor would have given her time and space to feel passionate about something, but instead she was clearly forced to rush this out to try to capitalize on Wintering. Mostly we hear about how cell phones are bad, the pandemic was harder on Katherine May than anyone else, and some bullshit spiritualism. My mistake for thinking this book would be about nature, or anything.
Rarely have I encountered a book that inspires so precisely the opposite of what it claims to. Which is almost wondrous in and of itself -- just in a bad way.
Me reading this book:
May scrambles madly, searching for what this book should be about; then, in the acknowledgements, she straight-up admits to throwing away several ideas and struggling to figure out what to write about. A kinder editor would have given her time and space to feel passionate about something, but instead she was clearly forced to rush this out to try to capitalize on Wintering. Mostly we hear about how cell phones are bad, the pandemic was harder on Katherine May than anyone else, and some bullshit spiritualism. My mistake for thinking this book would be about nature, or anything.
Rarely have I encountered a book that inspires so precisely the opposite of what it claims to. Which is almost wondrous in and of itself -- just in a bad way.
December 15, 2022
If you, like me, mistakenly took this book for some kind of self-help type book, you will be disappointed. (Though I’ve had Wintering on my TBR for ages I didn’t read it before Enchantment, so clearly I just missed the memo.) This book is rather a collection of personal essays and the introspections of the author. It was so thought-provoking and profound. I’ve truly never read anything like it before and absolutely devoured it in just a few days. If you want to reframe your perspective on the world and how we humans live and create meaning in our own lives, you will adore this read.
Thank you so much to Riverhead for the advance copy!
Thank you so much to Riverhead for the advance copy!
May 23, 2023
Q:
In Orwell’s Roses, Rebecca Solnit shares the Etruscan word saeculum, which describes “the span of time lived by the oldest person present, sometimes calculated to be about a hundred years.” This can be understood as living memory, the extent of contact we have with each passing era. “Every event has its saeculum,” says Solnit, “and then its sunset.” (c)
Q:
Do I see this in Bert now? Not quite. Not yet. But I can recognise the way the walk leads him deeper into quiet. I quieten, too. He is absorbed completely in the quality of his own attention, his peace like a cloud around him, tangible, contagious. As is so often the case, he got there before I did, more directly and with less angst. He has a route map to this place and never needed my assistance to get there.After a while, because I can’t resist it, I say, “Is it nice there, in your head?”
A pause. He turns to me slowly, his eyes blinking as he surfaces. “Sometimes I feel like my mind is growing branches,” he says.
“Yes,” I say, delighted at this point of contact. “Yes! I know that feeling exactly.”
“And every time you talk to me, you cut one of them off.” (c)
Q:
I miss the sense of worship that comes when I get into the sea. I miss the feeling that I am entering a vast cathedral, and, rather than sitting in its dry pews, that I am merging with it. I miss how when I feel the pull of the tides, I am also feeling the pull of the whole world, of the moon and the sun; that I am part of a chain of interconnection that crosses galaxies. (c)
Q:
“So,” she said, “how is everything going?”
It was a loaded question, and I didn’t want to answer it, so instead I blurted out the thought that was at the front of my mind. “Everywhere I’ve been this week has set on fire.”
It was true, or true enough to feel real. I had spent Saturday afternoon shopping, and seen later on the news that a fire had broken out in one of the stores. The next day, driving out of a village where we’d stopped for lunch, I saw a curl of smoke rising from one of the fields, and later heard that it was an act of vandalism that had stopped the traffic for hours. And, well, here I was, having nearly burned down everything I’d worked so hard to achieve. That was surely something worth mentioning.
I was used to being scolded for abrupt changes of subject or for flippant comments, but the professor didn’t do that. She thought for a moment and then said, “You should pay attention when things like that happen. It might mean something.”
And it did, then and now. (c)
Q:
Perhaps I shouldn’t fear this present-day burnout after all. It shows me only that I’m ready to be made again. How have I allowed this great pleasure in my life—the act of sitting quietly with a book and drinking in its words—to become so heavy, so freighted with obligation? Somewhere along the line, I lost the sense of playfulness that drew me towards it in the first place. (c)
Q:
I want to keep on going deep into the uncertain act of making, to see the unknown world stretch out before me and to devote myself to exploring it.
So I begin again, just as I have before. I have learned to be grateful for these losses, painful and disorienting as they are. They make me small again. The next world is so tantalising, lying across a million unread pages, and in which I am nothing, nobody, new. (c)
Q:
The boy is clever and keen to learn, but he has one flaw: he can’t resist drawing cats wherever he goes. After drawing cats all over the screens in the temple, he is cast out of the monastery and given some final words of advice by the abbot: “At night, avoid large places. Keep to small.” (c)
Q:
Deep play is a labyrinth and not a maze, a twisting path with no destination. The walking is the thing. You are the walk. There is no end to it. (c)
In Orwell’s Roses, Rebecca Solnit shares the Etruscan word saeculum, which describes “the span of time lived by the oldest person present, sometimes calculated to be about a hundred years.” This can be understood as living memory, the extent of contact we have with each passing era. “Every event has its saeculum,” says Solnit, “and then its sunset.” (c)
Q:
Do I see this in Bert now? Not quite. Not yet. But I can recognise the way the walk leads him deeper into quiet. I quieten, too. He is absorbed completely in the quality of his own attention, his peace like a cloud around him, tangible, contagious. As is so often the case, he got there before I did, more directly and with less angst. He has a route map to this place and never needed my assistance to get there.After a while, because I can’t resist it, I say, “Is it nice there, in your head?”
A pause. He turns to me slowly, his eyes blinking as he surfaces. “Sometimes I feel like my mind is growing branches,” he says.
“Yes,” I say, delighted at this point of contact. “Yes! I know that feeling exactly.”
“And every time you talk to me, you cut one of them off.” (c)
Q:
I miss the sense of worship that comes when I get into the sea. I miss the feeling that I am entering a vast cathedral, and, rather than sitting in its dry pews, that I am merging with it. I miss how when I feel the pull of the tides, I am also feeling the pull of the whole world, of the moon and the sun; that I am part of a chain of interconnection that crosses galaxies. (c)
Q:
“So,” she said, “how is everything going?”
It was a loaded question, and I didn’t want to answer it, so instead I blurted out the thought that was at the front of my mind. “Everywhere I’ve been this week has set on fire.”
It was true, or true enough to feel real. I had spent Saturday afternoon shopping, and seen later on the news that a fire had broken out in one of the stores. The next day, driving out of a village where we’d stopped for lunch, I saw a curl of smoke rising from one of the fields, and later heard that it was an act of vandalism that had stopped the traffic for hours. And, well, here I was, having nearly burned down everything I’d worked so hard to achieve. That was surely something worth mentioning.
I was used to being scolded for abrupt changes of subject or for flippant comments, but the professor didn’t do that. She thought for a moment and then said, “You should pay attention when things like that happen. It might mean something.”
And it did, then and now. (c)
Q:
Perhaps I shouldn’t fear this present-day burnout after all. It shows me only that I’m ready to be made again. How have I allowed this great pleasure in my life—the act of sitting quietly with a book and drinking in its words—to become so heavy, so freighted with obligation? Somewhere along the line, I lost the sense of playfulness that drew me towards it in the first place. (c)
Q:
I want to keep on going deep into the uncertain act of making, to see the unknown world stretch out before me and to devote myself to exploring it.
So I begin again, just as I have before. I have learned to be grateful for these losses, painful and disorienting as they are. They make me small again. The next world is so tantalising, lying across a million unread pages, and in which I am nothing, nobody, new. (c)
Q:
The boy is clever and keen to learn, but he has one flaw: he can’t resist drawing cats wherever he goes. After drawing cats all over the screens in the temple, he is cast out of the monastery and given some final words of advice by the abbot: “At night, avoid large places. Keep to small.” (c)
Q:
Deep play is a labyrinth and not a maze, a twisting path with no destination. The walking is the thing. You are the walk. There is no end to it. (c)
March 7, 2023
I loved Katherine May's Wintering: The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times but I'm afraid I don't quite get the point of Enchantment. She begins this short book with a good description of how I feel post-covid, and how I think many others feel - exhausted, disconnected, and isolated. The author then goes on to try and define and search for enchantment: “small wonder magnified through meaning, fascination caught in the web of fable and memory.” I was still with her at this point, and then she began a series of personal essays divided into Earth, Water, Fire, and Air. May writes about beekeeping, swimming in the ocean, and watching meteors, all of which are quite nice, and maybe even enchanting. But I never got a sense of the "Awakening" in the subtitle. I think she was trying to say that enchantment is around us if we only look, but “if we wait passively to become enchanted, we could wait a long time.” I understand that, but this seemed like a lot to arrive at this simple conclusion. This book just didn't speak to me, so 2.5 stars rounded up.
February 20, 2023
Was so looking forward to this one but I found it not as strong as Wintering. Some relatable pandemic struggles and advice for reconnecting with nature with good narration but it was a little weird the narrator was trying the author. I would have preferred to hear from her in her own voice. Much thanks to @prhaudio for the complimentary ALC!
May 16, 2023
”Poate că asta ne este menit să facem: să ne refacem poveștile până găsim în cele din urmă una care să ni se potrivească.”
February 28, 2023
Every year I read scores of books I like, dozens I really enjoy and a handful which I love and become part of my book collection that I’m guaranteed to dip in and out of for the rest of my life. However sometimes another type of book comes along that makes you stop and think about the beauty of words. That show that letter by letter, word by word that something can be created, that ceases to be really about a plot or development, but instead creates a painting through sentences. May has that rare ability and the title of her book sums up what she has created best of all, an enchantment.
‘Enchantment’ is a collection of essays on May’s experiences of the past and present, about the wonders and joy in everyday life and essentially what it is to be human. This book is very aptly timed as as we come out of the pandemic I think so many of us feel a bit lost and floating through life unanchored, something the author herself experiences. Through the fragments of memories and her current life that she writes about we realise that living is a really a collection of things; the moments we take with us into the future, our hopes, dreams and maybe fears too- these are all things that shape us.
This is very much a book to read slowly and savour. I think many people will really enjoy it, especially those who working out what life will look like in this post-pandemic world. There is lots of hope, lots of curiosity but most of all lots of wonder within its pages.
Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for sending me an ARC in exchange for an honest review.
‘Enchantment’ is a collection of essays on May’s experiences of the past and present, about the wonders and joy in everyday life and essentially what it is to be human. This book is very aptly timed as as we come out of the pandemic I think so many of us feel a bit lost and floating through life unanchored, something the author herself experiences. Through the fragments of memories and her current life that she writes about we realise that living is a really a collection of things; the moments we take with us into the future, our hopes, dreams and maybe fears too- these are all things that shape us.
This is very much a book to read slowly and savour. I think many people will really enjoy it, especially those who working out what life will look like in this post-pandemic world. There is lots of hope, lots of curiosity but most of all lots of wonder within its pages.
Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for sending me an ARC in exchange for an honest review.
September 18, 2023
Yeah, so I don't know why I keep trying Personal Growth books expecting something that's going to help me change my life, but here we are. The acknowledgments for Enchantment suggest Katherine May struggled to write it, and while as a writer, it's sometimes necessary to push through those struggles of a book that fights to come together, sometimes the uphill battle is a sign that there isn't really a book to grow where you're trying to plant it.
We are in an anxious age, and awakening wonder amidst *gestures at everything* feels impossible for many of us. May's solution points to the typical "slow down, ditch your phone, notice and learn and become intimate with nature" mantra, which feels a bit obvious, and much of the book details her personal forays into new experiences like re-learning to swim and beekeeping. Absent are the privileges and circumstances one must often have to achieve these things, which begs the question: do we really need a(nother) self improvement book by a wealthy white lady who lives by the sea?!
The COVID pandemic is referenced often, and I long ago decided I'm pretty done with pandemic perspectives from people who had the ability to stay home and protect themselves. Where are the stories from frontline workers and the examination of a lack of wonder in their lives under the crushing thumb of capitalism? I want to know how a grocery clerk working 12-hour masked shifts with an angry general public can calm their anxieties. Beyond that, how does one slow down when they live in poverty, when they're disabled, when they're a caregiver (May is a parent, so there was a little bit of discussion there), when they're stuck in the never-ending grind with no help in sight? Perhaps this isn't a fair critique, as May is British and many systemic oppressions related to these things are distinctly American. But I do think this book could have benefitted from the author looking to outward research and perspectives, instead of so much autobiographical writing.
We are in an anxious age, and awakening wonder amidst *gestures at everything* feels impossible for many of us. May's solution points to the typical "slow down, ditch your phone, notice and learn and become intimate with nature" mantra, which feels a bit obvious, and much of the book details her personal forays into new experiences like re-learning to swim and beekeeping. Absent are the privileges and circumstances one must often have to achieve these things, which begs the question: do we really need a(nother) self improvement book by a wealthy white lady who lives by the sea?!
The COVID pandemic is referenced often, and I long ago decided I'm pretty done with pandemic perspectives from people who had the ability to stay home and protect themselves. Where are the stories from frontline workers and the examination of a lack of wonder in their lives under the crushing thumb of capitalism? I want to know how a grocery clerk working 12-hour masked shifts with an angry general public can calm their anxieties. Beyond that, how does one slow down when they live in poverty, when they're disabled, when they're a caregiver (May is a parent, so there was a little bit of discussion there), when they're stuck in the never-ending grind with no help in sight? Perhaps this isn't a fair critique, as May is British and many systemic oppressions related to these things are distinctly American. But I do think this book could have benefitted from the author looking to outward research and perspectives, instead of so much autobiographical writing.
July 8, 2023
One of the greatest compliments I can give a book is to purchase it after I've checked it out from the library and read it. This is one of those books. May is a kindred spirit, and this book is exactly what my weary soul needed to read this summer.
July 15, 2023
I expected to like this short book much more than I did. It took me 6 weeks to finish (and luckily, the last 50 pages were the best.) My favorite chapter, "The Seed of All That Exists", the story of her own garden and yard. was in the final section
I came to the book without ever having read Katherine May in any form or fashion so I felt lost when she talked about Bert (figured out he was her son) and mentioned an H (who must be her partner). It took me a long while to get a sense of what she was writing about. Nature and place are very important in the book (and they are in my own life) but again I struggled to figure out where she was.
In many ways this book has the same ideas as a book I remember from 30 years ago, Thomas Moore's Care of the Soul: A Guide for Cultivating Depth and Sacredness in Everyday Life.
I did pull out some quotes that I like and agree with: "Sacred places are no longer given to us and they are rarely shared between whole communities." (p. 39) "We have to fight for the ability to pay attention." (p. 50) "Seeking enchantment is a kind of work . . . committing to a lifetime of engagement, noticing the world around us, actively looking for the small distillations of beauty, learning the names of the plants and places that surround us . . ." (p. 202)
May confesses that she had a hard time writing the book due to the pandemic. Maybe an earlier or later work will be better. I am not sure if I will try another one. I may go back to Robert Macfarlane or finally getting around to Braiding Sweetgrass for my next try at this type of book. My rating of 3 stars is generous since perhaps I was just not in the mindset for this book at this moment.
I came to the book without ever having read Katherine May in any form or fashion so I felt lost when she talked about Bert (figured out he was her son) and mentioned an H (who must be her partner). It took me a long while to get a sense of what she was writing about. Nature and place are very important in the book (and they are in my own life) but again I struggled to figure out where she was.
In many ways this book has the same ideas as a book I remember from 30 years ago, Thomas Moore's Care of the Soul: A Guide for Cultivating Depth and Sacredness in Everyday Life.
I did pull out some quotes that I like and agree with: "Sacred places are no longer given to us and they are rarely shared between whole communities." (p. 39) "We have to fight for the ability to pay attention." (p. 50) "Seeking enchantment is a kind of work . . . committing to a lifetime of engagement, noticing the world around us, actively looking for the small distillations of beauty, learning the names of the plants and places that surround us . . ." (p. 202)
May confesses that she had a hard time writing the book due to the pandemic. Maybe an earlier or later work will be better. I am not sure if I will try another one. I may go back to Robert Macfarlane or finally getting around to Braiding Sweetgrass for my next try at this type of book. My rating of 3 stars is generous since perhaps I was just not in the mindset for this book at this moment.
June 13, 2024
As much as I detested Katherine May’s last book ‘Wintering’, that’s how much I loved ‘Enchantment’. I loved how she divided the book into sections based on the natural elements of earth, fire, water and air. I loved the fascinating experiences and events she wrote about in each. Most of all I loved how she let us in on the challenges she experienced in attempting to leave anxiety behind and embrace the everyday moments that enchant.
March 30, 2023
Full of wonder even amidst the burdens of humanity, this book is an inspiration for anyone who seeks to go beyond the mundane and into the realm of everyday magic, where the elemental and the spiritual meet.
Less flowery review: lovely essays, charming writer, every day experiences turned into treasures.
Less flowery review: lovely essays, charming writer, every day experiences turned into treasures.
October 31, 2023
Lovely, contemplative writing. I found it a poignant and helpful way to process the pandemic and things I once perceived as settled being decidedly unsettled in a post-2020 world.
Many sections were copied into my commonplace book and I can think of several reading friends (online and "real life") who might enjoy this book, though I will say that I think a few spots ring hollow. (IOW, IMO: being spiritul but not religious only gets you so far when you are contemplating vast concepts and your place within the cosmos.)
Many sections were copied into my commonplace book and I can think of several reading friends (online and "real life") who might enjoy this book, though I will say that I think a few spots ring hollow. (IOW, IMO: being spiritul but not religious only gets you so far when you are contemplating vast concepts and your place within the cosmos.)
April 17, 2023
This book tackles the question: Can we move through life with curiosity and tenderness, sensitized to the subtle magic all around but oblivious to the darkness and chaoticness of life? The author tackles this by charging her own stories with humor, honesty, and warmth. She outlines all her struggles with her work, family, and the pandemic, particularly feeling overwhelmed. The author looks to nature and its restorative properties, wondering how we would feel calmer if we reconnected to the beauty and peace around us.
The writing is so fantastic and poetic. Each sentence and analogy is carefully thought out, and the way the author wrote about everything in such a sensory way. She also talks in the book about her late-in-life autism diagnosis and overstimulation of her senses. In one passage, she wrote, "Writing kept coming back to me, punching its way out of whatever grave I dug it. It loomed insistent at my window. It rattled my door. I just couldn't kill it. There was no silver bullet, no stake, no incantation that would slay it. Writing had plans for me, and my resistance was futile."
Another passage I loved was when she wrote, "'A poet, eh?' the adults would say and raise their eyebrows. I knew they were laughing at me, but it was friendly enough. Everyone enjoys a little pomposity in prepubescent. It's adorably naïve, and they figured that life will knock it out of you soon enough." Then people start laughing at you. Then you said, "I'd like to pretend that this is the point I decided to nurture my ambitions in secret, biding my time until I could burst forth into a kinder world where people understood me. Instead, I stopped writing. I took all my beautiful notebooks filled with turquoise-inked poems -- okay, I regret the turquoise now -- and bound them up with sticky tape, wrapping it around and around like a spider interring a fly. They were humiliating things, and I wanted to make sure nobody else could read them. I kept them on my shelf like that for a while, wondering if I'd be tempted to cut them open and take back my poems. I never did. After a while, when my connection to them felt sufficiently severed, I threw them away, burying them deep in the kitchen bin underneath the greasy butter wrappers and vegetable peelings. I can still remember the relief I felt when the trash collectors came the following Monday and took them. They were irretrievably gone. I had pulled off the perfect murder, but they haunted me like revenants." That was so good.
To listen to my interview with the author, go to my podcast at:
https://www.momsdonthavetimetoreadboo...
The writing is so fantastic and poetic. Each sentence and analogy is carefully thought out, and the way the author wrote about everything in such a sensory way. She also talks in the book about her late-in-life autism diagnosis and overstimulation of her senses. In one passage, she wrote, "Writing kept coming back to me, punching its way out of whatever grave I dug it. It loomed insistent at my window. It rattled my door. I just couldn't kill it. There was no silver bullet, no stake, no incantation that would slay it. Writing had plans for me, and my resistance was futile."
Another passage I loved was when she wrote, "'A poet, eh?' the adults would say and raise their eyebrows. I knew they were laughing at me, but it was friendly enough. Everyone enjoys a little pomposity in prepubescent. It's adorably naïve, and they figured that life will knock it out of you soon enough." Then people start laughing at you. Then you said, "I'd like to pretend that this is the point I decided to nurture my ambitions in secret, biding my time until I could burst forth into a kinder world where people understood me. Instead, I stopped writing. I took all my beautiful notebooks filled with turquoise-inked poems -- okay, I regret the turquoise now -- and bound them up with sticky tape, wrapping it around and around like a spider interring a fly. They were humiliating things, and I wanted to make sure nobody else could read them. I kept them on my shelf like that for a while, wondering if I'd be tempted to cut them open and take back my poems. I never did. After a while, when my connection to them felt sufficiently severed, I threw them away, burying them deep in the kitchen bin underneath the greasy butter wrappers and vegetable peelings. I can still remember the relief I felt when the trash collectors came the following Monday and took them. They were irretrievably gone. I had pulled off the perfect murder, but they haunted me like revenants." That was so good.
To listen to my interview with the author, go to my podcast at:
https://www.momsdonthavetimetoreadboo...
March 23, 2023
I loved Wintering so much that maybe my expectations were too high for this book. The epilogue was excellent actually, but the rest of the book just seemed too ethereal, too hard to pin down and actually grasp at any narrative thread there may have been that really tied the anecdotes together. I don’t feel inspired to do or to even feel anything after reading this. That and I found some complete untruths within the pages. Such a disappointment.
July 17, 2023
Format Read: Hardcover
Review: I enjoyed the book Wintering By Ms. May a lot more. There still were a lot of enjoyable sections to this book, but some was dull.
Recommended For: Those who wants a short book about life.
March 19, 2023
How do I begin reviewing my most anticipated book of the year? Perhaps by saying that I wasn’t disappointed. Since reading Wintering in 2020, I’ve fully joined the cult of Katherine May. I’ve read all of her other works, have listened to her podcast. I’ve picked up books she’s recommended; I follow her on Instagram, I subscribe to her newsletter. Needless to say, I went into this with high expectations but with a sense of reverence already in place. If you’re new to her work, I would start with Wintering (which, admittedly, is still my favorite). Enchantment felt, for me, like continuing a conversation that we’d already started. I don’t know if that’s particular to my situation or if others would feel a bit unmoored; I do know that a patron at the library told me she felt Enchanted was “dense.” I wouldn’t use that word…but I can see where it might help to have some context before diving in.
The subtitle of Enchanted is important: “Awakening Wonder in an Anxious Age.” The key to doing this vital and necessary thing, according to May, is to reconnect with your childhood capacity for play and to pay close attention — not in the least to the natural world. She separates her book into four sections according to the elements: Earth, Water, Fire, and Air. And then she goes out into the world (in small ways, in the midst of a pandemic) and *pays attention.*
May notes that she’s scientific, that she’s not a believer in organized religion, that she grew up without ritual — but I think it’s honest to note that she’s not just asking “How do we find wonder?” but also, “How do we worship?” and “How do we pray?” Her answer is secular but it IS sacred. It’s spiritual. Fortunately for her and for me, this dovetails perfectly with my interests.
I’m a lapsed Catholic. In undergrad, I majored in English Literature and Religious Studies (not out of any sense of devotion but out of curiosity and, yes (!), enchantment). I’ve thought about (and discarded the notion of) being a high school Religion teacher, striving to make my students’ experience of the topic more inclusive and more diverse than my own. I’ve officiated several weddings. I’ve thought about starting a business as an officiant. I’m thinking about joining a Unitarian Church (and then becoming a Unitarian minister). What I did become is a Children’s Librarian. My closest childhood friends became leaders within the SCA (Student Conservationist Association); hikers of the Appalachian Trail and the Long Trail; and nature photographers. Mary Oliver is my favorite poet. I live as near to the ocean as a poor Librarian can manage. I am HERE for a conversation about recovering childlike play and wonder, and seeking an experience of the divine through nature. Holy shit am I here — with rocks in my pocket and salt licking my skin!
I found myself jotting all of my favorite and most treasured sentences and ideas from my undergraduate studies in the margins of this book, next to relevant passages: things like, “the truth is in the tension”, “always already”, and “the world is god’s body.” I know that books can be windows, mirrors, and sliding glass doors; Enchanted is definitely the last two for me. I see myself reflected back at me AND I am transported. If May’s point was that we are all interconnected, I certainly need no convincing. My thoughts and feelings and desires are intimately intertwined with the author’s.
At one point, May encounters another person while visiting a new stone circle near her house. She writes, “I have lost track of how long I’ve been sitting on that central altar when I notice a movement at the far corner of the field, and I see a woman at the edge of the woods. She is trying not to watch me, but I can see that she is waiting her turn. Perhaps she is embarrassed as I am to be in need of a little time amid these new stones, their meaning not yet sanctified by the ages. I buckle on my sandals and nod to her as I pass, pretending that we are both walkers rather than pilgrims, pretending that we both don’t crave.” Katherine May, I’m not pretending. Call me. …Or, don’t. Phone calls make me anxious. 😅
I’ll end with a final quote. She notes, “I was open to magic, and I found some, although not the magic I was looking for. That’s what you find over and over again when you go looking: something else. An insight that surprises you. A connection you never would have made. A new perspective.” While I whole-heartedly agree, and while this works as a guiding principal to use as we walk through life, much of May’s work is *not* a new perspective for me. But it *IS* a connection. And I am grateful.
The subtitle of Enchanted is important: “Awakening Wonder in an Anxious Age.” The key to doing this vital and necessary thing, according to May, is to reconnect with your childhood capacity for play and to pay close attention — not in the least to the natural world. She separates her book into four sections according to the elements: Earth, Water, Fire, and Air. And then she goes out into the world (in small ways, in the midst of a pandemic) and *pays attention.*
May notes that she’s scientific, that she’s not a believer in organized religion, that she grew up without ritual — but I think it’s honest to note that she’s not just asking “How do we find wonder?” but also, “How do we worship?” and “How do we pray?” Her answer is secular but it IS sacred. It’s spiritual. Fortunately for her and for me, this dovetails perfectly with my interests.
I’m a lapsed Catholic. In undergrad, I majored in English Literature and Religious Studies (not out of any sense of devotion but out of curiosity and, yes (!), enchantment). I’ve thought about (and discarded the notion of) being a high school Religion teacher, striving to make my students’ experience of the topic more inclusive and more diverse than my own. I’ve officiated several weddings. I’ve thought about starting a business as an officiant. I’m thinking about joining a Unitarian Church (and then becoming a Unitarian minister). What I did become is a Children’s Librarian. My closest childhood friends became leaders within the SCA (Student Conservationist Association); hikers of the Appalachian Trail and the Long Trail; and nature photographers. Mary Oliver is my favorite poet. I live as near to the ocean as a poor Librarian can manage. I am HERE for a conversation about recovering childlike play and wonder, and seeking an experience of the divine through nature. Holy shit am I here — with rocks in my pocket and salt licking my skin!
I found myself jotting all of my favorite and most treasured sentences and ideas from my undergraduate studies in the margins of this book, next to relevant passages: things like, “the truth is in the tension”, “always already”, and “the world is god’s body.” I know that books can be windows, mirrors, and sliding glass doors; Enchanted is definitely the last two for me. I see myself reflected back at me AND I am transported. If May’s point was that we are all interconnected, I certainly need no convincing. My thoughts and feelings and desires are intimately intertwined with the author’s.
At one point, May encounters another person while visiting a new stone circle near her house. She writes, “I have lost track of how long I’ve been sitting on that central altar when I notice a movement at the far corner of the field, and I see a woman at the edge of the woods. She is trying not to watch me, but I can see that she is waiting her turn. Perhaps she is embarrassed as I am to be in need of a little time amid these new stones, their meaning not yet sanctified by the ages. I buckle on my sandals and nod to her as I pass, pretending that we are both walkers rather than pilgrims, pretending that we both don’t crave.” Katherine May, I’m not pretending. Call me. …Or, don’t. Phone calls make me anxious. 😅
I’ll end with a final quote. She notes, “I was open to magic, and I found some, although not the magic I was looking for. That’s what you find over and over again when you go looking: something else. An insight that surprises you. A connection you never would have made. A new perspective.” While I whole-heartedly agree, and while this works as a guiding principal to use as we walk through life, much of May’s work is *not* a new perspective for me. But it *IS* a connection. And I am grateful.
March 16, 2023
this book was BEAUTIFUL in every way. i think i took pictures of the words on almost every other page.
April 7, 2024
"Gamtos kerai" padėjo man nurimt ir įsižemint.
Kurį laiką mano galvoje vyrauja nepaaiškinamas chaosas. Veiklų, norų, pareigų, svajonių, darbų ir darbelių. Vis bandau sugaut save, susiimt, bet kartais taip nutinka, kad žvilgsnio į priekį fokusas "užsiblūrina", o tada viskas manyje po truputį krinka. Išoriškai, gal atrodytų, kad viskas kaip įprastai, bet aš labai gerai save žinau ir pagaunu tas "blūro" ir neaiškumo akimirkas. Jų vis pasitaiko! Kartais prieš ką nors naujo, kartais prieš ar po pokyčius, kartais per jas ateina naujų minčių, persitvarkymų. Esu kiek chaotiška asmenybė, bet chaosas ne visad man atrodo blogai. 😅 O į rankas papuolus knygai, kurioje autorė, rodos, supranta ir ieško atsakymų, imu rimti. Tarsi šioje knygoje būtų ir man sukurta erdvė ieškoti savųjų. Nepriklausomai nuo to, ar klausimai sutampa, ar skiriasi. 💛
Knygoje autorė dekonstruoja savo gyvenimą ir kylančius klausimus, išnarsto juos po mažą detalę, o tuomet vėl bando surinkti atgal. Kai ką palikdama, kai ką išmesdama. Savo pasakojimams ir ieškojimams pasirinkus žemės, ugnies, vandens ir oro skyrius, leidžia skaitytojui juos išgyventi kartu su ja, bet savaip. Skaitydama galvojau ne tik apie jos, bet ir apie savo patirtis. Praeitą vasarą sugrįžusią meilę nerti visa galva į upę, bandymą prisjaukinti žemę visomis prasmėmis (basomis kojomis ir sodinančiomis rankomis), didžiulį sprogusio dujų vamzdžio gaisrą, sukrėtusį kraštą, kuriame gyvenu, skrydžius lėktuvu ir mylimus rudens rūkus.
Knyga man buvo artima dėl gamtos, savęs ir kito pajautimo. Dėl bandymo atrast savų kelių, savų ritualų. Dėl kvietimo ieškoti atviromis širdimis, stiprėti ir nebijoti būti sužeistiems. Dėl santykio su skaitymu. Ją skaitydama aš mėgavausi, nors, jei reikėtų pasakyti, apie ką ji buvo konkrečiai, sakyčiau, kad jai konkretumo kriterijus negalioja. Ji man buvo - meditatyvi knyga, kelionė į save. Pilna atvirumo viskam, kas ištinka ir ištiks.
Žinoma, ir pasaulinės pandemijos tema yra ta, kuri vienija visų, prie jos prisilietusių, patirtis, todėl sąlyčio taškų atradau stebėtinai daug. 💛
"Stulbinantys kraštovaizdžiai yra ribinės erdvės, atskiriančios mus nuo patogios kasdienybės ir nunešančios prie suvokimo krašto."
"Mes bėgome kiek įmanydami toliau nuo ankstesnių amžių sunkumų, o dabar turime rasti pusiausvyrą, tarp to, ką žinome ir žinojome."
"Užtikrintumas mus užkietina, ir galiausiai imame jį pateisinti, tarsi pasaulyje negalėtų tilpti požiūrių įvairovė."
Kurį laiką mano galvoje vyrauja nepaaiškinamas chaosas. Veiklų, norų, pareigų, svajonių, darbų ir darbelių. Vis bandau sugaut save, susiimt, bet kartais taip nutinka, kad žvilgsnio į priekį fokusas "užsiblūrina", o tada viskas manyje po truputį krinka. Išoriškai, gal atrodytų, kad viskas kaip įprastai, bet aš labai gerai save žinau ir pagaunu tas "blūro" ir neaiškumo akimirkas. Jų vis pasitaiko! Kartais prieš ką nors naujo, kartais prieš ar po pokyčius, kartais per jas ateina naujų minčių, persitvarkymų. Esu kiek chaotiška asmenybė, bet chaosas ne visad man atrodo blogai. 😅 O į rankas papuolus knygai, kurioje autorė, rodos, supranta ir ieško atsakymų, imu rimti. Tarsi šioje knygoje būtų ir man sukurta erdvė ieškoti savųjų. Nepriklausomai nuo to, ar klausimai sutampa, ar skiriasi. 💛
Knygoje autorė dekonstruoja savo gyvenimą ir kylančius klausimus, išnarsto juos po mažą detalę, o tuomet vėl bando surinkti atgal. Kai ką palikdama, kai ką išmesdama. Savo pasakojimams ir ieškojimams pasirinkus žemės, ugnies, vandens ir oro skyrius, leidžia skaitytojui juos išgyventi kartu su ja, bet savaip. Skaitydama galvojau ne tik apie jos, bet ir apie savo patirtis. Praeitą vasarą sugrįžusią meilę nerti visa galva į upę, bandymą prisjaukinti žemę visomis prasmėmis (basomis kojomis ir sodinančiomis rankomis), didžiulį sprogusio dujų vamzdžio gaisrą, sukrėtusį kraštą, kuriame gyvenu, skrydžius lėktuvu ir mylimus rudens rūkus.
Knyga man buvo artima dėl gamtos, savęs ir kito pajautimo. Dėl bandymo atrast savų kelių, savų ritualų. Dėl kvietimo ieškoti atviromis širdimis, stiprėti ir nebijoti būti sužeistiems. Dėl santykio su skaitymu. Ją skaitydama aš mėgavausi, nors, jei reikėtų pasakyti, apie ką ji buvo konkrečiai, sakyčiau, kad jai konkretumo kriterijus negalioja. Ji man buvo - meditatyvi knyga, kelionė į save. Pilna atvirumo viskam, kas ištinka ir ištiks.
Žinoma, ir pasaulinės pandemijos tema yra ta, kuri vienija visų, prie jos prisilietusių, patirtis, todėl sąlyčio taškų atradau stebėtinai daug. 💛
"Stulbinantys kraštovaizdžiai yra ribinės erdvės, atskiriančios mus nuo patogios kasdienybės ir nunešančios prie suvokimo krašto."
"Mes bėgome kiek įmanydami toliau nuo ankstesnių amžių sunkumų, o dabar turime rasti pusiausvyrą, tarp to, ką žinome ir žinojome."
"Užtikrintumas mus užkietina, ir galiausiai imame jį pateisinti, tarsi pasaulyje negalėtų tilpti požiūrių įvairovė."
May 6, 2023
Vraja lumii e una dintre cărțile care vin ca o mângâiere.
Care îți arată și îți amintește că nu e nimic în neregulă cu tine.
O carte care îți oferă un strop de magie și îți amintește de vraja lucrurilor mici, esențiale, pe care tindem să le neglijăm, deși nu ar trebui.
Chapeau!
Care îți arată și îți amintește că nu e nimic în neregulă cu tine.
O carte care îți oferă un strop de magie și îți amintește de vraja lucrurilor mici, esențiale, pe care tindem să le neglijăm, deși nu ar trebui.
Chapeau!
August 4, 2023
There were some parts that I liked and that felt like I connected with but overall I just think I connect with the writing, I dont usually tend to like books that are too poetic and has a lot of metaphors in the writing, I just want to vibe I dont want to think when I’m reading 🫣
December 28, 2022
I was gifted an advanced copy of this book. I adored Wintering and couldn’t wait for this book to come out. This book, written during the numbing pandemic, is about awakening, revitalizing the frozen parts of our minds that went to sleep like limbs that have remained motionless for too long. It’s about rediscovering—or discovering for the first time—the enchantment, or magic vision in the world—not for the remarkable, but seeing the extraordinary spark in the mundane. It’s about grounding and connecting, and capturing joy and beauty and specialness in our everyday. It’s about renewing relationships with others and with yourself and the world after being dormant and afraid. It’s an inspiring collection of essays, and I want to explore my corner of the world in search of connection and vitality.
August 25, 2023
A collection of essays on finding something to believe in, to wonder at, during times of hardship. The concept is interesting but the execution fell flat. The narrative between essays wasn’t cohesive and her thesis — seek out enchantment instead of letting it find you — took forever to get to and could’ve been shared in a singular essay.
On a personal level, it was hard for me to relate to the author. Her hardships (I.e., difficulties teaching her 5-year-old son the names of plants when all he wants to do is break sticks, a college professor telling her not to take notes during a lecture) felt insignificant and tone deaf.
In the anxious age we’re living in, this isn’t the voice that is capable of bringing solace to the hopeless. There are brilliant BIPOC authors with stories to tell on hope and resiliency that deserve our attention.
(Wintering, on the other hand, was a soothing cozy read.)
On a personal level, it was hard for me to relate to the author. Her hardships (I.e., difficulties teaching her 5-year-old son the names of plants when all he wants to do is break sticks, a college professor telling her not to take notes during a lecture) felt insignificant and tone deaf.
In the anxious age we’re living in, this isn’t the voice that is capable of bringing solace to the hopeless. There are brilliant BIPOC authors with stories to tell on hope and resiliency that deserve our attention.
(Wintering, on the other hand, was a soothing cozy read.)
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