One of the book’s key themes is the difficulties of women but, luckily, it is done well
The best thing about reviewing books, I’ve discovered, is the experience of reading something I would never otherwise have picked up, only to find I can’t bear to put it down. The Red Bird Sings is one of those books. The cover is gold and floral, suggesting a thrust towards the popular, easy-reading female market. Strike one. It’s set in Virginia in the 1890s, and circles around a real-life murder trial, involving ghosts. Strike two.
Well, more fool me, because this book is a genuinely brilliant little read. No, sure, it isn’t going to open pathways of perception, or make you reconsider your way of moving through the world. But begod, it’s enjoyable, and intelligent, and does well what so many books in similar guise fail to do – offers a tangible slice of life from another time and place, one that feels both fantastical and utterly believable.
Of course, as with much else being published at the moment, that is one of the book’s key themes: the difficulties of women. Luckily, in The Red Bird Sings, it’s done well. The depiction of coercion within marriage is unnerving in its accuracy, Fitzpatrick capturing the isolation and desperation achieved within the closed walls of a relationship.