Chloe Dalton is a British foreign policy specialist who spent years as a political adviser in London. During the pandemic she retreated to her country home, a restored barn in the English countryside, and found a young leveret lying alone on a track. She took it in, and set herself a hard rule: help it survive without turning it into a pet, so no name, as little handling as possible, and no shutting it in beyond the briefest spells. The hare grew up free to come and go through a flap made for it. Between those scenes Dalton draws on natural history, folklore, poetry and the history of hunting to show how badly people have understood hares, and how a slower, more watchful life changed her.
The pull of the book is the tension between two kinds of love. One wants to hold on: to name, to touch, to keep safe. The other wants the animal to be fully itself, even when that means danger and long absences. Dalton keeps choosing the second, and the book is the record of what that costs and what it gives back.
Along the way a busy, travelling life slows to the pace of an animal that wakes at dusk. The fields around the barn stop being a view and become a neighbourhood. That is the part most readers carry away: attention is a kind of care, and you can practise it wherever you live.