The Comfort of Crows by Margaret Renkl

The author presents this as a literary devotional of sorts: there are fifty-two chapters, one for each week of the year, that follow the creatures and plants in her backyard each and every week,, with each chapter coupled with an illustration that the author's brother provided. As we move through the seasons—from a crow spied on New Year’s Day, its resourcefulness and sense of community setting a theme for the year, to the lingering bluebirds of December, revisiting the nest box they used in spring—what develops is a portrait of highs and lows: joy in the ongoing pleasures of the natural world, and grief over winters that end too soon and songbirds that grow fewer and fewer. Along the way, we also glimpse the changing rhythms of a human life. Grown children, unexpectedly home during the pandemic, prepare to depart once more. Birdsong and night-blooming flowers evoke generations past. The city and the country where the author raised her family transform a little more with each passing day. And the natural world, now in visible flux, requires both hope and commitment. I wanted to love this, and I did love the illustrations quite a lot, but found this to be a little too superficial emotionally for me to think deeply about what the author presented.