Outside of Yourself
Saving nature from destruction—that is the mission of seventeen-year-old Dara McAnulty from Northern Ireland, who made his debut at the start of the COVID-19 pandemic with Diary of a Young Naturalist (2020). This bold manifesto about nature has won numerous literary awards and has been published in seventeen languages. The Dutch edition, translated by Annemie de Vries, was recently released by publishing house Balans.
Through diary entries, McAnulty sketches his daily life, resulting in an autobiography where nature takes center stage. Just like his younger brother, sister, and mother, McAnulty is autistic. Things that come easily to other children—like small talk, focusing on schoolwork, or making friends—prove challenging for him. With remarkable candor, McAnulty describes the daily struggles, bullying, and frustration he faces. These reflections are interspersed with detailed descriptions of the natural wonders he encounters, ranging from woodlice to Galápagos tortoises, but most notably, birds.
Guided by the seasons McAnulty structures his life story, ensuring that nature never fades into the background. From a cluster of wood anemones emerging from beneath a suffocating rhododendron in spring to the summer bloom of ivy that feeds the bees into autumn and the arrival of redwings in Ireland during a harsh winter, he observes it all alongside his family. With care and youthful enthusiasm, he describes the natural world around them, bringing it to life with his poetic writing style: “Larks are our Sunday choir as we walk westward, the landscape is our church, as always.”
The schematic division into seasons and the accompanying descriptions of nature create a repetitive rhythm. Combined with the absence of a clear storyline, the narrative seems to meander like a babbling brook. Yet, it’s precisely against this backdrop that McAnulty’s personal development stands out. The seasonal changes underscore the shifts in McAnulty’s life and symbolize, for example, loss.
McAnulty recounts the song of a male blackbird that had woken him every spring morning since childhood. He describes the temporary absence of this song—a ritual that gave him a sense of stability—as “traumatic”: “I thought my world would collapse.” Yet this change deepens his fascination with nature, and he quickly learns that with the arrival of the next spring, the bird will reliably return.
McAnulty sees nature as “something pure, uncontrived,” his “refuge” and his outlet. The first section, spring, is filled with the overwhelming natural beauty of McAnulty's favorite places. In lyrical language, he brings his surroundings to life. Among others, his home in County Fermanagh and his beloved Rathlin Island, where he celebrates his fourteenth birthday, flourish on the page.
Due to his autism, McAnulty lacks what he calls a “joy filter.” His emotions are intensified, and his happiness is sparked by seemingly everyday things, such as the greenery that surrounds him. This results in a sometimes intoxicating abundance of detail in his depictions of the outdoors. Yet the comfort that nature provides him is portrayed so clearly and tangibly that it inspires the reader to adopt an ecocentric perspective as well.
As the leaves change color, McAnulty’s life also undergoes various transformations. His descriptions of the outdoors not only illustrate his deep connection to nature but also reflect his own fluctuating emotional state throughout the book. The calming moments in the open air are interspersed with the stressful obligation shared by all teenagers: going to school. At school, the spark of McAnulty's curiosity—so vividly ignited by nature—is repeatedly extinguished. The outdated teaching methods, combined with constant bullying, cause him to withdraw and grow unhappy. To process his feelings about these challenges, McAnulty returns to the wild:
Paardenbloemen doen me denken aan de manier waarop ik mezelf voor een heel groot deel van de wereld afsluit, omdat die te pijnlijk is om te zien of te voelen of omdat wanneer ik open ben tegenover mensen, het uitlachen begint. Het pesten. De grove beledigingen gericht tegen de intense blijdschap die ik voel, tegen mijn enthousiasme, mijn passie.
Through these kinds of natural comparisons, McAnulty manages to express and share his experiences with autism. Writing allows him to let go of unhappy moments while forever preserving the happy ones.
Spring, rich in stabilizing nature and unavoidable worries, comes to an abrupt end with the summer, which signals the family's move. Their migration to the other side of the country, although patiently explained by McAnulty's mother, causes much unrest. The overwhelming sensation of change feels to McAnulty like an “invisible straitjacket,” applying both to leaving their home in County Fermanagh, where he begs his parents to dig up all the plants, and to their new home in County Down, where the unpacked moving boxes slowly suffocate him.
It shows his struggles with autism and the dark places he finds himself in during moments of discomfort: “I begin to wonder why life throws me such difficult balls, like this crooked moving ball now. Is it to help me become a ‘normal’ person?” But even then, nature presents itself as a point of connection, a way to better understand the world. When McAnulty observes the migration of young swallows, his acceptance of the current situation finally sinks in: “When I begin to worry about school and all the novelty—people, classrooms—I think about the resilience and determination of swallows.”
This sense of relief continues into the following seasons, autumn and winter. For the first time, change proves to be positive. The new county brings new friends and a school that supports McAnulty’s character and mission. His role as a nature activist is appreciated by his peers, and the group of bullies is replaced by an eco-group of students who collectively advocate for the environment. The sentiment behind his words also evolves. For McAnulty, nature seems to shift from being a means to channel his frustration or enthusiasm to becoming an end in itself:
Om me heen staan vijf of zes vliegenzwammen. Net als zij ben ik opengebarsten. Ik voel me veerkrachtiger, sterker. De jaren van wrede bespotting, klappen, uitsluiting, isolement, hulpeloosheid: alles wat pijn kan doen, is verdrongen door betekenis en doelbewustzijn. Daar draait mijn leven nu om.
McAnulty frequently discusses his mission as a nature activist and the work it entails—from bird ringing in Scotland to his prominent presence on social media. His role in the environmental revolution is comparable to that of other youth activists, such as Greta Thunberg; like her, McAnulty is often elevated to the status of a powerless role model, a title he despises. This is not what he aims to achieve with Diary of a Young Naturalist.
There are no rallying cries or heroic acts here, only a profound love for nature that shines through in his writing. His boundless enthusiasm, curiosity, and reverence for the natural world are shared with his readers, drawing them ever closer to the green. In his diary, Dara McAnulty searches for his place in the human world, but in the realm of nature, he has long felt at home—just as his readers will.
