This was an interesting read but one that I had a hard time getting through. Ultimately, while I identify with the author in many ways and am intrigued by his story, it wasn't one that I was that captivated by.

Excellent book documenting the experiment to return back to nature. This included living without modern comforts such as running water, electricity, car, computer, or light bulb. Author lived in a wooden cabin by a stand of Spruce. A gifted writer, leaves a lasting impression of his experience as he tunes his life back to the rhythms of nature- of the sun and season.

Thanks to Netgalley and Publisher for providing ARC.

An interesting look at how you can live without technology on a small homestead in Ireland. He also details the tech detox process that he used.

A fascinating memoir of trying to get back to a meaningful life without technology and the lies, mistruths and hardships this technology brings with it. Well done to the author for managing it although this book will leave the reader under no illusions how hard it is to live this kind of life.

NB this review was posted on Goodreads about a year ago (spring/early summer 2019), but I didn't get round to putting it on Netgalley because I hoped to edit it first. May as well add it here anyway.
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This is a book about trying to live, as far as is possible and practicable, without modern technology - including no internet. Yet every time I've tried to write about it, the review is partly about … things people say on the internet. But the internet is the main venue for environmental and political commentary now, so maybe that's not as ridiculous as it seems.

Mark Boyle's Guardian columns about living off-grid in Ireland have always attracted a lot of ire from below-the-line commenters - typically in the form of whataboutery, and the implication that if it's impossible to do something fully, and/or for everyone to do it, no-one should. (The phrase "as far as is possible and practicable" in my first sentence comes from the official definition of veganism - a lifestyle and philosophy that attracts similarly structured counterarguments; albeit veganism would scale environmentally to an extent that off-grid smallholdings wouldn’t, but the average western lifestyles of commenters don't either, and are almost certainly worse. It would be nice to think that the increased prominence of veganism has, at least among Guardian readers, increased the awareness that these are poor forms of argumentation.) However, the reception for The Way Home has, so far, been quietly positive, on Twitter and in the small number of newspaper reviews it's attracted.

I loved reading The Way Home, but at the same time, I could see problems with it as a new environmental book in 2019, aside from those already repeated ad nauseam by Guardian CIFfers.

Being close in age to Boyle, I get the impression he was, in writing this book, working towards principles that were held as admirable not very long ago and which our generation (late Gen X to Xennials) absorbed in our teens and twenties. But there have been shifts in the last two or three years, which Boyle will inevitably be unaware of, because part of his project is eschewing social media - and some of those have been accelerated since March, just after the book was published.

There's a radical honesty in the way Boyle presents what he's doing: he doesn't pretend to have a fully coherent, publicity-friendly philosophy that works as a manifesto for everyone; he's doing what feels right to him according to his own personal definitions and experience. I liked this very much and found it enormously refreshing, as it's like talking to a real person, who hasn't tried to perfect everything to present to the world, someone not academic in mindset, whom you wouldn't usually meet as the narrator of a creative non-fiction book. (I had thought that, in the book he might use clear definitions of types of technology, perhaps based around the 1970s appropriate tech movement, but instead he rejects the define-your-terms scholarliness for the same man-in-the-street, or man-in-the-field haphazard usage from his columns.) It feels like hearing someone from the offline, non-media world. (As it should, after he spent so much time offline to write the thing!) From one perspective, the book could have done with more editing to polish the style and reduce repetition; on the other hand, its unvarnished, home-made feel is part of the appeal.

Boyle includes lovely quotes from other, sometimes relatively obscure, nature writers - but at least one, Edward Abbey, in work not mentioned in The Way Home, had questionable opinions. This decontextualising and disregard of the bad bits, the art not the artist approach was the ideal until a few years ago in many circles, and it seemed admirable to give credit to people from "the other side" for the bits on which you did agree with them, without always having to point out what was bad. But this is exactly what one is *not* supposed to do now, especially on the left. Awareness of the implications of cultural detail is the order of the day, and it can be exhausting to try and get used to if you're not already wired that way. Two recent articles, in New Statesman and the Verso Books blog have specifically mentioned Abbey as having racist and anti-immigrant opinions amenable to a far right ecofascism - a tendency which may not have electoral traction at the moment, but which is observable in corners of the internet, and came to journalistic attention after the Christchurch terrorist shooting in March.

The Way Home does, though, introduce readers to the old Irish writers of Blasket Island, an isolated West Coast community where old customs and a DIY spirit persisted into the 20th century whilst mainland Ireland gradually became more incorporated into industrial society, and where - this sounds rather like Iceland - an unusually high number of the small population were gifted storytellers. I especially hope to read something by Peig Sayers, and I never would have heard of her were it not for this book.

Boyle mentions that his smallholding is not in the area of Ireland where he was born, and fellow back-to-the-land hippies come from all over the world to stay there; he was part of the left eco-protest scene for a long time and I think it's clear he isn't a nativist himself. But there is, moving from far left media into the mainstream centre-left, an increasing suspicion of talk of rootedness and connection with land or country held by people with heritage all from that same country. It was a shift that was happening anyway, and could be seen in discussion of research showing that a vegan can have a lower carbon footprint than an omni locavore - but the media conversation after the Christchurch massacre has accelerated it. That might put Boyle (or maybe any white person who wants to write for a mass audience about emotional and spiritual aspects of their self-sufficiency project) in a potentially tricky position. But, more constructively, this should really be seen as a push towards a variety of voices (e.g. getting more BAME people writing and presenting gardening media) and is something for publishers and broadcasters to address, not that it's wrong for individuals to enjoy history and growing veg.

Boyle is a little vague on some matters such as health - whether that's because he's taken note of earlier criticism of this aspect of his writing and/or is soft-pedalling (in contrast with, for example, chapter 13 in his earlier book The Moneyless Man) or just being a hippie. Frankly, I can't say I'm in the least bothered because I and other adult readers of a book like this know where to find detailed information, and it's clear from the first that The Way Home is a memoir written with awareness of subjectivity and doesn't pretend to be a definitive guide to off-grid life. He seems like someone who's probably good with individual interactions, but isn't suited to formulating large-scale policies (an exhausting enterprise, anyway).


In an interesting year for environmental news (you can read that "interesting" as the "may you live in interesting times" sort) I was very grateful to have something to read that's near my own wavelength. For people who've been aware of ecological decline for a long time, and especially if you've incorporated it into your worldview since you were a kid or teenager, the current public mood of bewilderment and bargaining (and hackneyed analogies to the Kübler-Ross grief cycle) can get wearing. If one is feeling cynical it looks like plans to rearrange deckchairs on the Titanic; if more benevolent, it's a giant extrapolation of "saving one animal won't change the world, but it will change the world for that animal." What people are saying is, of course, considerably better than if they had remained blinkered. But it's good to read a book-length work by someone who also realised these things a long time ago and is well into the acceptance stage.

Besides, I would love to do a similar project if I were able. (If my health had allowed I would have gone on some kind of historical reconstruction project years ago: similar tech but less time and more costumes.) And I've given up various aspects of modern tech for a while at different times, so I've got an idea what it's like: (several of these are only really possible if spending most of your time at home, and probably living alone)

- A total of about 4 and a half years, on and off, living in flats or houses that had no [working] TV aerial, some of this before the existence of BBC iPlayer.
-Roughly two and a half years of taking in hardly any news. (The awkward bit was when acquaintances such as neighbours would say something like "Isn't it terrible about that plane crash?", and I would have to come out with, "I've not read too much about that yet, what's the latest?" to get them to talk instead.
- A similar amount of time not putting on any music, and only hearing music in films, or if other people put it on when I was away from home - and getting comfortable with silence as default. Pascal was exaggerating when he said "All of humanity’s problems stem from man’s inability to sit quietly in a room alone”, though it is a useful canard for articles about social media.
- A couple of phases of a year to 18 months of not reading fiction
- Staying in rural areas without a car
- Not having a smartphone until 2017
- My favourite, but the most difficult to maintain: sleeping according to hours of darkness and using negligible artificial background light. It made for the best sleep I can remember having in my life. Seems I'm maybe not an owl, just very light-sensitive and best with a gradual diminishing of light over hours preceding sleep. A torch or a small screen in the dark is fine; it's whole-room background light that makes the difference.
- In the last six years I've probably worn makeup on average about twice a year, and have made about two changes to skincare in a decade. (As with the TV, news and music it's a subject about which I was once a huge geek, but unlike with those, I'm rarely bothered about having lost the knack for keeping up with it.)
-When I was a kid eschewing a few "normal" things at home was also part of life: we were among the last families at school to get a microwave and a video (apart from the one household who didn't have a TV), we never had a working shower, never got takeaways, ever, and didn't go on holiday to the popular places other kids went. We were even quite tardy getting a toaster and I still think of toasters as a bit newfangled and fancy; they use considerably less energy than grills, yet it feels decadent that, outside the catering industry, there's a machine for one such specific job. And my gran never had a TV; at hers, there was mostly silence apart from the Radio 4 six o'clock news, stovetop kettle-whistle and church bells, and her kitchen would have been a retro-lifestyler's dream, or a small, slightly worn version thereof.

So, hearing that Boyle is now using a bit more modern technology and going into cities to do talks and book signings, I can imagine the frustration with standard sleep hours, the obtrusiveness of bizarrely emotive pop music in public places; the strange lacunae one has with news after a long time away from it. (I'm glad my years off from news were doldrum ones; now is a bad time not to be informed. I caught up on politics long ago, but occasionally I still become aware of other gaps from those years: a few weeks ago I saw a report about a crime from 2014 that read like it was a huge story at the time, but I'd never heard of it before; and until I read this a few days ago, I'd assumed "U ok hun?" was just a meme-based way to be bitchy.)

Perhaps this is a strangely lukewarm review for one of my favourite books of the year. Honestly, I can't quite see it winning any new converts from people who don't already dream of off-grid, low-tech, ecocentric living but it may win him a wider audience among those who do, especially as it's soon to be published in the US. It's an "if you like this sort of thing"… book.

Mark Boyle determined to return to a way of life before technology in his homeland of Ireland. Following the ways of his ancestors on the west coast, he built his home by hand, produces his own food, and carries water from the creek. This manifesto dispels any romantic notion of living off the land, appreciating the beauty of nature. It’s extremely hard work and Boyle is up to it, getting by with a little help from his friends, a network of neighbors. The memoir is compelling, intriguing, and radical in its scope, and Boyle remains matter of fact in his outlook as things go really wrong and as well as could be expected. I was fortunate to receive, ironically, a digital copy of this book from Oneworld Publications through NetGalley.

*book was archived or unable to be read due to formatting errors. Because of this, I unfortunately can not read or review the story*

This book makes me think of "the old days" before things became the way they are now. I liked the idyllic feel of this book and how it makes me want to live in a more rural and quiet place just to experience partially what the author is writing about. I also love the cover art and the vintage feel it has.

Many of us would like to escape the daily grind, the excessive accumulation of stuff or our reliance and dependence on technology. But few of us have the courage and wherewithal to make it permanent and make a living from it.

However, pioneering-spirited author Mark Boyle has done just that and recorded it all (by paper and pencil, no less) for us to witness second-hand. In this no holds barred, gritty reality read, the true cost of living off the grid is compellingly told.

It takes physical strength and fitness, flexibility, initiative, mental toughness and perseverance to be self-sufficient and succeed at it. Having a partner to help share the work and woes is an added bonus. As is living in a place of natural beauty and abundance.

The author had already tried living for a year without spending any money, which is an admirable feat in itself. He applies the same dogged determination here as he learns to live off the land and adapt his life to the seasons. His diary is engrossing, entertaining, illuminating, informative, and laugh-out-loud humorous in places.

Tested to the utmost, he seems to love the soul simplicity this lifestyle offers him. Lest we think of it as a reclusive idyll, it's clear that a strong community spirit exists. Sharing skills, food, laughter, help and support are a vital part of the success of this project. And it's also a labour from dawn to dusk to consider how to eat and survive.

There are advantages too, of course, including having a healthier lifestyle, being a valued part of a thriving community and giving back to others, as well as being your own boss. I was fascinated by it all and grateful that the author was commissioned to write a book about his experiences.

Well, I don’t aim to insult/offend people within the first sentence of my review but I think I would not be overexaggerating if I said that about 80% of the modern, first world population – at the very least counting 70-80% of Europe- would NOT at all be able to follow in Mark Boyle’s footsteps. I am not fully cut out for that either, no matter how much I would like to be. Kudos, Mark- you’re my new hero!
The Way Home is more than an experiment agreed on a night out to live without technology. Mark’s bloody serious about it. It’s going back to the roots, the hard and back-breaking and dirty way but damn if it ain’t rewarding for the soul! I am talking about no phone, no computer- want to reach Mark? Write him a letter, on paper with pen, and pop it in the post. No fuel/electricity powered tools, no cars, no tractors – get a wheelbarrow to deliver stuff from A to B and cycle or walk where you need to go. It’s not just the small, immediate stuff… Mark has to think ahead. Waaaay ahead to survive the winter coming, or prepare for the spring ahead to survive the winter coming. Store food… make sure there’s plenty of firewood. Store food… how simple it sounds. But it’s not! You need to tend the ground, make compost, maintain the crops, harvest the crops and then do various things with various produce to make it last.
But the most fascinating aspect of this book for me was the time-keeping… I have always wondered about what it would be like if we simply no longer had clocks on the walls and on our mobile phones and smart watches and all that shebang telling us to constantly be somewhere, to constantly rush to the next destination, when to wake up, go to sleep, eat, everything! Mark said no to the concept or time keeping as we all know it and I am just fucking jealous that he gets to experience it! I am! It must be absolutely marvellous! Just let the body adjust to not feeling like there’s a someplace to be because the clock says so; fall back into the natural rhythm and do things because your very survival and wellbeing depends on it. Go to sleep when it gets dark or when the body is drained after a day’s work and wake up when you wake up and keep going about life. Sounds self centric? Hell yes. The way it should be- we should live and BE HERE for ourselves, not for a greedy corporate agenda. No matter how high and mighty we humans think ourselves, we’re still simply a part of nature just like wolves, pigs, trees and fish. We’re just lucky to be at the top of the food chain so to speak.
Ah, this was a book I thoroughly enjoyed. If it’s about making the light shine on living the natural way, I am all ears. Mark also has this wonderful, lovely way of telling about his daily life. Maybe it also helped that he lives in rural Ireland where people are friendly and stick together. It’s a very personal account as Mark takes us through the seasons and days and wins and losses. I’m not there, I’m not living it but I could feel the joy of it all. Hardships included.

Boyle lives without electricity in a wooden cabin on a smallholding in County Galway, Ireland. He speaks of technology as an addiction and letting go of it as a detoxification process. For him it was a gradual shift that took place at the same time as he was moving away from modern conveniences. The Way Home is split into seasonal sections in which the author’s past and present intermingle. The writing consciously echoes Henry David Thoreau’s. Without even considering the privilege that got Boyle to the point where he could undertake this experiment, though, there are a couple of problems with this particular back-to-nature model. One is that it is a very male enterprise. Another is that Boyle doesn’t really have the literary chops to add much to the canon. Few of us could do what he has done, whether because of medical challenges, a lack of hands-on skills or family commitments. Still, the book is worth engaging with. It forces you to question your reliance on technology and ask whether making life easier is really a valuable goal.

Such an interesting look at our relationship with modern technology and convenience compared to the neglect that brings of our basic instincts, survival skills and bond with nature and a slower pace of life. The harsh reality of living with so little is clear but the journey he takes and the perspective gained was very interesting to read and gives some food for thought

I really enjoyed this book. But mainly because I was reading it and not living it! The author really does go 'off grid' in Ireland and how he manages and the ways he develops his life and his land are fascinating. I won't spoil anything in this review but it's fair to say his life isn't easy. Mr Boyle is an excellent writer and his prose is quite poetic, "Even seasoned it weighed as heavy as an unkind remark, and all we had for the job were hands, shoulders, knees, and pigheadedness." Luckily for us there is plenty of pigheadedness but also brilliant neighbours, funny encounters and genuine reflection on life in this book and I'd recommend it if you're becoming remotely concerned about your reliance on technology. I felt a bit guilty reading it on a kindle...

I was given a copy of this book by Netgalley in return for an honest review.

This was an interesting book and the detail of how he made decisions fascinating, however, unlike most reviewers here, seemingly, I didn't really take to the author.

My review linked below https://librofulltime.wordpress.com/2019/05/10/book-review-mark-boyle-the-way-home-amreading-netgalley/

I enjoyed this book very much! I always thought I would want to
live like this growing up, but now at my age, I had to enjoy it through
Mark Boyle's experiences! Great book!

There is a single line in the blurb that hooked me: 'No running water, no car, no electricity or any of the things it powers'. Why would someone want to live like that? How could you give up the material things in life that make our lives comfortable?

These and more questions are answered in the book. It's an interesting read. The author has previously lived without money. In this episode of his life, he lives simply - he hunts and fishes for food and grows his own vegetables. He does have money, so can pop to the local pub for a beer. People come and go on the smallholding and sometimes stay and help for a while. If this wasn't the case, I would imagine it could be a very lonely existence!

It reminded me alot of 'The Runner' by Markus Torgeby, although the lives of the authors are very different yet each has chosen a fairly solitary and simple way of life.

Even the process of writing the book, on paper and getting to publication without the use of a computer is an interesting concept these days. I hope Mark Boyle continues to write. This was almost a 4 star read for me, but I felt that it was just a bit too brief, I would have liked a bit more soul searching! I have just found a promo video for the book and it shows Mark walking into the log cabin where he lives and on the way, you see the woodpile he talks about. I think that is what I was missing - I would prefer a hardback version of this book with pictures to bring it to life.

Thank you to Netgalley for an advance copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

I think we all know that we spend too much time these days glued to our devices and consuming a constant stream of (bad) news, social media and mindless videos, but a book like this really makes you think about it. It’s the account of the writer’s decision to cut ties with the modern world. He moves to a small holding in a remote part of Ireland and lives without any modern technology - not only no phone, computer or internet, but no electricity, nothing more advanced than what he can make himself with simple tools. He wrote this book in pencil by candlelight. I loved it because it didn’t come across as at all preachy - it’s a Walden for the 21st century, a gentle reminder that other things matter, and that we do have other choices. The book is a series of stories and realistations rather than following a particular narrative, but it feels like an honest glimpse into a very different way of life.

The irony of the fact that I read it on my e-reader is not lost on me. Still. I highly recommend it.

Thanks to Net Galley and the publisher for this ARC.

This was an interesting book. The author towed the line of being preachy but seemed to reality politics and instead just concentrate on his feelings. It was a unique point of view to live simply in the digital age and I appreciated how he did it by his own constructs

Really enjoyed this. A perfect mix of anger, wisdom, stillness & kindness about our relationship with the world and spending time with it felt like stepping away from the noise for a while.

The author’s mission statement in his own words: “Interpreted another way, there is a timeless simplicity about my life. I have found that when you peel off the plastic that industrial society vacuum-packs around you, what remains - your real needs - could not be simpler. Fresh air. Clean water. Real food. Companionship. Warmth…..There’s no extravagance, no clutter, no unnecessary complications. Nothing to buy, nothing to be. No frills, no bills. Only the raw ingredients of life, to be dealt with immediately and directly, with no middlemen to complicate and confuse the matter.”

His life is NOT simple. It’s full of hard work, all day long, all seasons, one whole year where he left everything behind, on which the book is based. That is after one whole year of living at the properly-built farmhouse in the three acre small-holding he bought during Recession. He moved out of that farmhouse, built a cabin instead and lived in it and on the property without ANY amenity - and all sorts of self-sufficient work, to get by. This is his story, for that one year’s excursions (and putting his philosophy on life into practice).

Even if you make it through the haze of self-referential promotional detail of the author’s written work and many anecdotes / quotes he shares of other authors, instead of getting straight to the point, I lost interest in the author’s journey when on page 29, in the middle of winter season, he describes his bathing ritual (light a fire in coal, put a pot to boil, bring the tub from outside into the cabin, put a washbasin in it and ‘depending on which body part I’m washing I’m either kneeling in the bathtub or hunkered over the washbowl, splashing around or using a flannel. It takes over an hour.’ No mention is made of any washing lotion / soap but the author gave up on detergents of all sorts 10 years ago when he was 27, which he declares as the reason he hasn’t been sick in a decade. He uses wood ash and horsetail plant to clean up dishes and ‘soapwort liquid’ for clothes. He doesn’t mention what he uses for his hands and butt but I’m guessing it’s soapwort because he says it is good for skin and hair too; He empties bucket of his shit, so let your imagination run with that image because there are none here). I understand what the author is trying to experience through an off-the-grid, totally au-natural, medieval existence (he says he is saving bowhead whale, Arctic fox and beluga by not having water pumped electronically into his cabin or having radiators to get hot water and showers), but it was a bit too much for me. I mean, what is the meaning of life if you cannot even have or enjoy basic plumbing or a hot bath or proper butt hygiene? The author’s idea of Eden seems like an addiction to extreme survival sports. He finds it all pleasant.

Apart from what transpires at page 29 - what I consider to be a major hiccup to an otherwise inspiring true story of an admirable, confused man’s dream of how to spend his days - the book is study of a man practicing his convictions through discipline, hard work and perseverance. I am fully aware that the author will never see this or any other review unless it’s handwritten and sent via post-mail to him, however I do wish he had included his annual calendar of tasks done in specific months to ensure continuity and provision of goods, food and basic care to property. That would have been useful. There are also no pictures (or Kristy’s illustrations!) in the ARC I have. Real bummer. Maybe the publisher could have sent someone to his place to take images.

Also, I don’t know what the use is of cutting down trees (beech and birch) just to warm up your place (no word on how he controls wood from disease, termite) and reading paper-books, instead of ebooks because the tree loss is huge in both cases and makes his work against nature as opposed to pro-nature. Or whether he plants new trees each spring (he planted new trees in 2013 before moving in the farmhouse).

All his neighbors are really old people - like one leg in the grave kind of old (fifty to eighty year olds). No one has children living in.

How do you read by the fire without electricity? They used CANDLES (2-3 a day but stopped altogether six months in). And of course, he made the candles: in June, a cuts rush from the potato field, turning it into a candle wick for winter (when light is dark or dim for 16 hours daily!).

They piss ‘outside’ the cabin. I can only imagine the smell around the cabin! They poop in a bucket and then throw it out in a ‘humanure system’ - let that sink in first: what it means is that the compost pile used to grow veggies and all contains human piss and shit (“of everyone who lives here and a few visitors….in it I see stories and memories and history and a great link between a place and its people” says the author as a way of explaining bond between land and people). He has 6 compost heaps and he turns them over on another when they shrink in size. I found all this to be ‘ewwww,’ but it did clear up the great big mystery that had engulfed me for 139 pages - where he produces manure from (since he doesn’t raise cows or buffalo, only chicken, and hunts / kills deer) or does he buy it?

The author is heavily influenced by Henry David Thoreau, whom he mentions constantly.

The author believes that ecological impact of industrial-scale technology and agriculture is that it depends on oil rigs, quarries, mines, the factory system, state armies, deforestation, urbanisation, suburbanisation and damage to rivers and fish and environment, but he goes a step further. He also feels strongly about the dependency that society has for technology, amenities and stuff and his actions are all about getting rid of the psychological and practical dependency over things and comforts. This means that though the author still enjoys cartoned peanut butter, ninety-nine percent of his time on the remote place is spent doing hard labor simply to exist. Of course all neighbors help each other out, that’s what poverty-stricken people do - stick together. It’s unpaid labor. This means there would be no migration or exchange of ideas from foreigners because everything is generational and exclusive. The world left that concept behind a long time ago when rising population coincided with lack of resources. He in effect is surrounded by people he does not necessarily like, but needs for various freebies. His conversations with neighbors and those in pub are superficial at best - with them either agreeing with him or he merely putting up with their life stories - with no real connection or divergent wisdom, when all of the people he likes and is close to, far far away. But I get what the author is doing, he wanted to go back to a time when people had more control over their lives and accepted what they didn’t have and enjoyed the daily pleasures of a simple co-existence, with a deeper connectedness and humility and kindness for each other - but I have to say, he has chosen a very lonely way to accomplish it.

The author hates big business and Silicon Valley billionaires (Exhibit A: “Now I suspect that supporting a corporate football team is a sort of toxic substitute for our basic need to belong to a tribe who are all bound by the same common purpose. But when one player you roared on one season signs for a rival club the next, for 90 million Euros, the joke starts to wear thin.”)

The book shows the author to be in incredible shape to be able to do hard labor to achieve a non-dependent lifestyle. He works in the field to grow veggies, carries wooden carts, cuts wood, skins deer, walks 14 kilometers, endures harsh weather, and does all sorts of odd jobs around the land all by himself. This is a lot of work just to survive. I don’t know how his partner was killing time but it grows clear soon that she is not happy there.

He mentions eating (deer) meat after being a lifelong vegetarian. My guess is he’d have to, with all the unforgiving work he has to do in a day.

He doesn’t mention whether he and his girlfriend/ partner are using natural methods to control getting pregnant or she’s on the pill or whether he got the snip right after unplugging his phone and computer and before he ventured on this remote place, or she got the tubes done. It probably doesn’t matter because she isn’t living with him by the end of the book - she writes a ‘Dear John’ letter (that’s 5 years, 2 girlfriends and 1 small-holding; he doesn’t want kids).

The author is either not a fan of music or prefers birdsongs (by thrush, goldfinch, bullfinch and magpie). He didn’t learn the tin whistle like his girlfriend Kristy told him to and he has to take her to a pub for her to tap dance to ‘electronic’ music.

There’s a real sense of isolation and frog-in-the-well mentality. I would have gone nuts like Nicholson in ‘Shining’ (and I suspect the author is on his way there too - or he’s extremely brave).

Honorable mention: ‘a friend…..met a small village-worth of women on the banks of remotest part of Pakistan, washing clothes together, laughing, talking, being playful.’ (I have to put a disclaimer here: clothes are washed like this IN EVERY PART OF PAKISTAN, whether a community is together at it or just a help maid or single individual!)

Second Honorable mention: The Great Blasket Island.

And the line: “I’m in the hot tub with Edward Abbey. All 336 pages of him.”

There’s a lot of alcohol drinking by the author in this book (yes, it’s culture and tradition, but all the hard labor got me wondering whether it was not also an escape or coping mechanism?) He grows raspberries and blackberries for this purpose and got 22 kg of blackcurrants for free from a friend who grows them but doesn’t have buyers because people don’t make jams and preserves anymore. The author figures it will take him a day and a half’s work to make 75 liters of wine and 20 jars of jam. Even the conversations he has with others in pubs, or which he shares in this book during his mundane travels, are about miserable people trying to justify what society has lost in its pursuit of progress, probably because the author doesn’t care if the whole world goes up in flames, as long as his cabin doesn’t. And this is a man who has worked as an activist, businessman and digital journalist but thought it best to go back to the olden days when people rode station wagons and did not hurt native species, except for an occasional deer.

The author ‘runs’ a free hostel and event space at his small-holding called The Happy Pig, whose kind-of address that he provides gives a general idea of the place only: “Knockmoyle, Kylebrack, Loughrea, County Galway, Ireland.” He doesn’t give out directions. He wants you to just show up at the door. Once there, you are literally on your own, self-reliant for food and entertainment. And you can guess where and what the loo is - unless the hostel is in the farmhouse with running electricity and working plumbing - but that would not sit well with the author: he wants you to take a risk, experience not knowing, learning and enjoying an uncoded nature, wild, and unbroken.

At the end, having typed the manuscript himself so that it does get published (though swearing that he will one day write with his own pen, ink and paper aka quill, ink-cap-mushrooms, birch polypores and dryad’s saddle fungus), the author reminisces whether he’ll continue to live like this and mentions that he isn’t done exploring human beings, their depths and layers and how he feels we are all cloaked in from the moment we are born and he would like to see people without the masks and ‘ambition, plastic and comfort.’ My only question is how will he ever do that if he continues to isolate himself from the the rest of the world? Imagine, a bearded man in a moorish Irish land whom you may meet if you go there and he may meet you if he has the time! Besides, he’s still in love with Kristy.