Cris Freddi

Bookmunch review of Pelican Blood

Ever since I saw Hitchcock’s representation of birdlife in my impressionable youth, I have not been able to understand the concept of ornithology and the compulsion of twitchers to put themselves in such “danger” out of free will. Needless to say, bird watching is not one of my favourite pastimes but, having just read Pelican Blood, I have to confess a new found respect for said anorak clique. It would appear that twitching entails a lot more than just protecting oneself from crows with personality disorders. There are, in Pelican Blood anyway, exotic threads of subterfuge, serial killers, star crossed lovers, suicide pacts and underground crime rings, to name a few.

See? Sounds a lot more glamorous than binoculars and thermos flasks, doesn’t it? From the first page, our narrator proves he is anything but a stereotypical nerd. He curses extensively, uses his self deprecating wit at ever opportunity and gives us a running commentary of his hit-man-style-execution of a thief of rare bird’s eggs. Our anonymous narrator is a gem of a character and Freddi, in spite of the numerous revelations from the outset, manages to intrigue and suspend the story through his narrator effortlessly.

Our nameless protagonist is so adorably flawed, it is inevitable you will be rooting for his redemption. He is a melancholic, potty-mouthed, apathetic and unremorseful drifting fatalist. His friendships and relationship are all complicated and yet, paradoxically, the character himself seems conveys little depth, understanding or motivation whatsoever, which is a refreshing, true-to-life, honest and realistic portrayal.

We learn about the narrator from his friendships and relationships with his fellow twitchers and yet his ambiguities remain. It is, for example, difficult to determine whether he actually loves his girlfriend or is simply using her, whether bird watching is merely a hobby for something to do or the very crux of his existence. Freddi peels layers off the character through conversations and thoughts and slowly, as his inevitable swansong (note pun) approaches, the certainties of justice and karma are ripped apart, leaving the reader either jumping for joy or dumbfounded!

I was dubious about such a theme in a novel but it works. There are minutiae about birds and birding but not enough to bore or confuse. I want to stress how this book is not a murder mystery. Rather it is the reverse, a drama unfolding in chunks with its huge cherry on the top being a smooth, stylish and surprising twist. This book is suspenseful, readable, engrossing and, thereby, highly addictive.

Any Cop?: This book will have you twitching. In your seat. Without any need for binoculars!

Nicola Harris