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A review by demilouiseblackburn
The Bird's Nest by Shirley Jackson
5.0
Whenever I get a unmotivated to read and create myself, I pick up something from Shirley, and without fail I'm always reminded how much I love writing.
Admittedly, The Bird's Nest feels a smidge rough in some ways. It meanders and I don't feel the transitions helped smooth the pacing by any stretch. It feels a little too indulgent in it's more mundane, introductory moments, and I think reviews reflect this--it's slow through the middle and at times frustrating. But Jackson's writing makes me so forgiving.
There's all these lovely veils of subtle, unnerving undercurrents that keep on piling up and that you continually rush to peel away, and even when she appears to mull over an innocuous point, for the most part the writing remains incredibly sharp and meaning grows around it. As the story unfolds and Elizabeth's many-selves begin to drag each other back into the dark more urgently, and her Aunt and Doctor witness more of her identities, I was so impressed at how easy it was to digest despite how erratic and panic-inducing and agitating these moments were.
The story is unnerving in just how helpless and conflicted it makes you feel, on top of that usual sense of the uncanny. I felt as much at a loss as her caregivers at times, begging for aspects of herself to come forth for a moment of reason, willing for her to either come together or be obliterated if only for peace, and then impossibly sad when faced with the idea that it may come down to the 'death' of four to reach that place.
I sympathized as much as loathed her selves at times, grew to love the less agreeable parts, and worried, right until the end, of which I found somber and precious. What would become of her, when those around her, our 'dear' Doctor especially, appeared to relish in having felt they had a lump of clay to shape and mold as they saw fit?
“I reveal myself, then, at last: I am a villain, for I created wantonly, and a blackguard, for I destroyed without compassion; I have no excuse.”
Admittedly, The Bird's Nest feels a smidge rough in some ways. It meanders and I don't feel the transitions helped smooth the pacing by any stretch. It feels a little too indulgent in it's more mundane, introductory moments, and I think reviews reflect this--it's slow through the middle and at times frustrating. But Jackson's writing makes me so forgiving.
There's all these lovely veils of subtle, unnerving undercurrents that keep on piling up and that you continually rush to peel away, and even when she appears to mull over an innocuous point, for the most part the writing remains incredibly sharp and meaning grows around it. As the story unfolds and Elizabeth's many-selves begin to drag each other back into the dark more urgently, and her Aunt and Doctor witness more of her identities, I was so impressed at how easy it was to digest despite how erratic and panic-inducing and agitating these moments were.
The story is unnerving in just how helpless and conflicted it makes you feel, on top of that usual sense of the uncanny. I felt as much at a loss as her caregivers at times, begging for aspects of herself to come forth for a moment of reason, willing for her to either come together or be obliterated if only for peace, and then impossibly sad when faced with the idea that it may come down to the 'death' of four to reach that place.
I sympathized as much as loathed her selves at times, grew to love the less agreeable parts, and worried, right until the end, of which I found somber and precious. What would become of her, when those around her, our 'dear' Doctor especially, appeared to relish in having felt they had a lump of clay to shape and mold as they saw fit?
“I reveal myself, then, at last: I am a villain, for I created wantonly, and a blackguard, for I destroyed without compassion; I have no excuse.”