Bird is the pensive, defiant 14-year-old protagonist of Courtney Collins’ new novel. In the opening chapter, she’s living with her family in a Himalayan village at an indeterminate point in the past. Although just a teen, she already feels the constraints of being born female. She longs to break free from the weight of familial expectations and flee to the forbidden distant mountains.
The novel’s second chapter switches to present-day Darwin. Bird, still a teen, is lying on a hospital bed with a gunshot wound to her shoulder. She’s not clear on what happened, but as memories return, we learn a little about the dramatic lead-up to her admission. Just as suddenly, we return to Bird’s tribulations in the Himalayan village, before shifting back again to Darwin – and this sets the rhythm of the novel as two engaging stories unfold. Despite the divergent settings, haunting parallels begin to emerge between Bird’s dual lives, lending to the realisation that her present life is a reincarnation of the earlier life – a discovery revealed to Bird at the same time as the reader . As the recollections come, present-day Bird asks: What if you do let yourself believe that you have lived another life … and what if you discover that this life you are in just repeats and repeats? In her first life, we learn that Bird’s escape from the subjugation of a marriage arranged by her father catapults her into a perilous pilgrimage; and in today’s mirror life, her escape from the abuse inflicted by her mother’s threatening boyfriend exposes her to a raft of new dangers. In both lives, the resilient teen refuses to be caged. A central question then arises as present-day Bird struggles to navigate ever more harrowing circumstances: can her past life experiences help? It is a highly creative set up that allows Collins to explore existential themes, including the enduring nature of the patriarchal shackles placed on girls, stifling the truth of who they are; and the effect of intergenerational trauma ricocheting throughout lifetimes. As she weaves together Bird’s past and present, Collins delves into the deep connectedness between humans, connections of solidarity, resilience and rebellion – and whether these ingredients are enough to break cycles of trauma. Collins’ beautifully cadenced narrative is written in second person present tense, an unusual choice that creates an intimate connection between you, the reader, and Bird, as you discover the past together and feel a growing urgency to understand how this knowledge will affect your future. Collins is not averse to making brave stylistic choices. Her first novel, The Burial (2012) – which imagined the story of Australia’s last female bushranger Jessie Hickman – is narrated by a buried baby. It may sound an implausible – perhaps even repellent – concept, but it added an air of longing to the novel’s narration, emphasising the pain of the protagonist’s plight. The Burial has been published in 10 countries, shortlisted for numerous awards and is currently being adapted as a feature film. In Bird, Collin’s second-person perspective adds to the urgent, rhythmic beat of her prose. Here is Bird as she escapes her Himalayan village: You walk, and the harvest moon casts the clearest of shadows. You are nervous. With a moon like that, it is not a night for escaping. It is a night made better for hunting runaway girls. And here is Bird of the present: Alone in the room, you close your eyes and wait for the girls to come to life, to step out of the fog or the infinite place where memories live, and reveal who they are and where they are from. But your drawings keep floating behind your eyes and remain just that. Pencil and ink on a page. Silent. Art is a dominant theme throughout the novel, and it is a source of solace for Bird, while also threading her dual stories together. She is attracted, in particular, to the unsafe and often illegal creation of street art, making huge outdoor works that are heavily influenced by the internationally renowned Italian muralist Alicé Pasquini. Bird’s artworks, like Pasquini’s, commonly feature girls. Yet, Bird is mystified by the girls in her artworks – the same five girls each time. She initially doesn’t understand why she paints them or who they are, but she has an innate sense of their significance. Sure enough, as her story is revealed, the five girls play a bigger role. Collins’ love of art and rebellion shine in Bird. She has created an emotionally charged tale brimming with unexpected turns, which captures the vulnerabilities of adolescence, the slipperiness of time and the strength of female solidarity. Comments are closed.
|
Categories
All
Archives
October 2024
|