Tuesday 6 April 2021

The Nightingale | Sam Lee | Book review



I first came across Sam Lee's work in April 2020. We were a month into our first lockdown, when most of our evenings were spent on Zoom quizzes (remember when those were still fun?) and drinking lots of wine to forget the bleakness outside. (Okay, we still do the latter.) It had only been a month, but I was already itching for the outdoors, desperately watching the start of camping season - my favourite time of year, really - slip away.

And then I came across 'Singing with Nightingales', organised by the Nest Collective. A live stream, free to access through YouTube: an evening with live nightingale song, side by side with contributions from artists, musicians, poets, writers and singers. All combining to create something truly magical. Hosted by Sam Lee.

That night is honestly one of my fondest memories of 2020: starting to listen to the session out on the balcony, watching the lights go off one by one - the live stream stretches well into the night - then migrating to bed, drifting off to the sound of birds singing and the occasional piece of song or recital. It was magic.

So when I found out that Sam was collating a book on nightingales, I was delighted. This before even knowing what the book would entail exactly, or just how beautiful the item itself would be.


Notes on a songbird

The subtitle of this book doesn't do it justice. It's a very modest approach to all the knowledge, years of research, detail, love and passion that is clearly contained within these pages. Instead of a simple piece of non-fiction (if you're after that, I'd suggest the RSPB), Sam's book combines stories, songs, poems and tradition to paint a picture of this strange and unique bird both as a living thing, and as a symbol that we created by projecting our own emotions onto it.

The focus is very much on the history of the nightingale in our collective consciousness. From the captivating story of how Beatrice Harrison, 'the woman who played with nightingales', brought the bird's song into livingrooms through the BBC, to the traditional tale of how the nightingale got its voice, the book creates a colourful, vivid and fascinating image. There is also occasional 'supporting material', including a list of the different names of the bird in different languages, as well as more practical sections - such as where to go, and when, to hear their song yourself.

The writing is often tongue-in-cheek, gently mocking. There's lots to smile at. I particularly enjoyed a disagreement about the bird between Milton and Coleridge, the latter of whom "thankfully, took up this mantle to protect the nightingale from drowning in doom. His 'The Nightingale: A Conversation Poem (1798) corrects Milton's 'Most musical, most melancholy' tag (from his Il Penseroso) and roots the bird in its nature."


Global fame

It is difficult to summarise just how global the reach of this little bird is - the more I read about all the different traditions and imagery surrounding it, the more astounded I was. From Persian music and poetry, through Turkish folk songs and lamentations, to Russia, Greece and France, the nightingale makes an appearance in almost any tradition. 

It sings to emperors and it is 'spring's messenger'; it is a witness to love and a singer of sorrow. In the UK, the nightingale tends to arrive sometime around these very days in the first few weeks of April, and so it has been linked with the bringing of good weather and the May Day traditions across the country. It has even laid its roots in places where it was never known to nest. 

Is it the strange, almost mysterious trait that it is the only nocturnal songbird? Is it the special song they practice through winter and perform in spring? What makes this bird so attractive for our stories and songs?



Good night, nightingale

It cannot be ignored that this beautiful species is under dire threat. The combination of climate change and human activity means their habitats are disappearing (and actually, they're fairly picky birds when it comes to habitats). It means that within the next 30 years, they could completely disappear from the UK. 

Towards the end of the book, Sam recommends a range of things we can all do to try and reverse (or at least slow) this, and his work with Extinction Rebellion is very inspiring to read. I did feel that the chapter on conservation and taking action was a little rushed - understandably, he wanted to get a lot of information and inspiration into a few pages. His worry for this beloved bird comes across crystal clear though. 

Oh hark, how the nightingale is singing

If you've never heard a nightingale sing, you are in for a treat. Not only are there wonderful soundscapes both on YouTube and Spotify, it also happens to be April - the very month that nightingales arrive in the UK. To get the comprehensive list of where you might find them, I'd urge you to buy this book - but I'm sure the RSPB also has some tips.

But most excitingly, the Nest Collective is actually streaming three live sessions this year on the 14th and 22nd of April, and one on the 1st of May (a dawn chorus no less!), so I'd definitely recommend tuning into at least one and giving yourself over to pure magic. You can find all the details on the Nest Collective website.

And as for this marvellous book - if you're like me and hope to keep a sense of wonder and curiosity that doesn't disappear with age, buy this, read this, read it again. And it's only the beginning of the journey. With so many songs and stories to discover, you can go on your own nightingale 'pilgrimage': seek out the songs, seek out the birds, organise your own nightingale journey. 

I certainly plan to.