I just finished Other Birds by Sarah Addison Allen, one of the best books I've read in a long time. Disclaimer: the author is one of my keepers, and I frequently hand out copies of her other novels to people who need great books (and maybe a little magic) in their lives. Yet this book got me on a very personal and mysterious level. This is one of Ms. Allen's gifts to her readers -- she knows us inside and out -- and why I never tire of rereading her books. This time her story enchantment got a little spooky for me, but in the good way.
Some backstory before we get to the author's story: I've always loved birds for no particular reason, and often associate them with people. One of my old nicknames that I actually loved was Wren. I never tire of photographing the native birds here, and probably have thousands of pics of different species. I put out bird feed every day for the wild ones. Birds to me are one of the loveliest things about life.
I have a few pieces of art in my office that remind me of people; this is the one that made me think of my dad Tony the moment I saw it. Same eyes, same resting grump face, same mischief. Dad was very dark, so if he came back as a bird he would definitely be a raven. Whenever I walk the dogs in the morning the neighborhood ravens always greet us with their raspy calls, as if they're happy to see us. My dad was always happy to see me, no matter when or why I showed up. He believed in me and he always stood up for me. Name one person in your life who has that kind unconditional love for you.
In the novel Other Birds the survivors of painful pasts who gather at a little condominium on a small South Carolina island also have mischievous friends like my ravens: little resident dellawisps and an invisible pigeon. From the beginning these odd, haunted people want nothing to do with each other, except the most recent arrival, a teenage girl getting ready to start university. What the newcomer gradually reveals is that they all have sad secrets, but have managed to begin the healing process. What they really need is each other.
This is a pic of an egret I took while having Japanese food for lunch in a park with Kat some years ago. It marched right up to me and eyed me the way my mother used to when I was doing something of which she did not approve, and gave such a good impression of her that I had the photo printed and hung it in my office. Although I stopped living my life for my mom a long time ago, and I never enjoyed getting the eye, I liked the memory of her this bird invoked.
There is plenty of drama in Other Birds, which plays out how you think it will, until at the very end when you're in for some surprises. I loved every page of it, the lovely magic laced throughout the story, and the lingering sense of it's okay to mourn, as long as you remember to live, too. That and the family we make of our friends and lovers is just as important (maybe more so) than the one that we were born to and didn't get to choose. I highly recommend it as a wonderful read.
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