I Can Hear the Cuckoo: Life in the Wilds of Wales

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I have always believed ‘memoir’ as a genre is a tough nut to crack; it is because you have to tell your real-life (boring) story in an immersive tone and pace to keep your readers engaged - not an easy task by any means. I Can Hear the Cuckoo is a tender, philosophical memoir about the beauty of a microscopic life, the value of solitariness, and respecting the rhythm and timing of the earth. It's a book about moving through grief and the people we find in the midst of our sadness - and what this small community in the Welsh countryside can teach us about life.

I was expecting this book would be more about the author learning to deal with her grief over the death of her mother, and whilst she of course does touch on that, the book is really about a fish out of water learning basic countryside facts, which I didn’t find particularly interesting. This was like medicine - to be taken in small quantities, to help illuminate thoughts and feelings within me that I never would give myself a chance to experience.It is divided into the seasons; spring, when she and her husband moved to West Wales, summer, autumn and winter. I wondered what I missed in life by thinking that the wisdom of others whose lives were different to mine could not have any bearing on my life. I am so happy to know Kiran received such a wonderful welcome and found a sense of peace in the Welsh Valleys, the home of my own forebears. Here, in I Can Hear the Cuckoo: Life in the Wilds of Wales, Kiran is doubly challenged to tell her painful tale of her mother’s loss during Christmas Eve and her subsequent burial on New Year’s Eve, which she can never enjoy as others; indeed, she has never enjoyed this festive season due to her father’s alcoholism during her childhood days and her mother’s demise in adulthood. Meeting the locals also proved to be a big help in her 'healing' especially Wilf, who lived the simplest of lives and was more than content with his lot.

When I started reading it, I found it quite hard - not because the writing was bad, but because the words were trying to tap into something in me that I had suppressed - a connection to a palate of emotions that, largely because of my focus on work, that I had learned to ignore.I thought Joan Didion's The Year of Magical Thinking was an excellent portrayal of grief in the aftermath of death. They speak in cliche philosophical soundbites, and feel to me as though they are lifted from various Enid Blyton farm stories rather than real life.

After hearing an interview on Radio 4 I had high hopes but ultimately this is a self-absorbed, mawkish and pretty patronising read. I picked up this book as living away from the city is an aspiration but this book is about so much more. It made her stop to take time to look around and notice the small things, and just the simple pleasure of a walk in nature would take her out of herself and focus on what she saw. This amount includes seller specified domestic postage charges as well as applicable international postage, dispatch, and other fees.It's about grief, finding beauty in nature, creating a meaningful life through appreciation and joy in the simple things in life and the company of good people.