I am not a shooter, or fisherman, or rider to hounds (or otherwise, to be fair). Yet I enjoyed reading Max Hastings Outside Days, despite at times being aware how little of the language I understood. How many is a brace of partridges? What intracies am I missing by not knowing how to tie a fly? And there are a hundred other matters that I shall never learn in any detail. As a casual reader, I enjoyed the book - it is travel literature for men, I suppose. I assume a knowledgable reader would gain even more - or perhaps would be outraged and cry "piffle"!
While Hastings is better known as a military historian, there is none of that here. As the blurb states, these are quiet, contemplative pieces, each of only a few pages, talking about a hunting or fishing trip. If I were uncharitable, I would simply call it a collection of 25 year old newspaper or magazine articles - which it pretty clearly is, for the most part - but that completely misses the point: this is the perfect book to sit and read in a quiet moment, preferably in front of a roaring fire in a deep armchair.
This is an unashamedly masculine book, about killing things and (mostly off-screen) eating them, for sport rather than sustenance. Oddly, this is gentle and entrancing to read. It's a strange dichotomy, but it works, and this is due to Hastings' skill as a writer.
There is a final endnote to the book, a look (from 1989) about the future of field sports. With hindsight, this takes on a somewhat different reading. It is a shame that the author could not contribute a new introduction to this 2010 reprint, but that, I suppose, is publishing.