Winter Birds

Readers and reviewers have panned this novel as grim. But it is a celebration of the courage of Danny, a character who reappears (starring) in the novel "Comfort & Joy." We all know abuse happens - especially in situations of poverty. Compound that with the inherent abuse of an ignorant father against his small hemophiliac child and you have a definite "tear-jerker." Defying cliche, again, as he does in all of his novels, Grimsley shows the silent strength of the children who help their mother to dodge the father's brutality. You quickly envision the souls of 40 year olds trapped in the body of toddlers. It is something profoundly emotive. Something to be savored. Grimsley's talent lies in painting a psychological portrait of the characters. This can be a daunting task, but he does so with ease and fluidity. I recommend this book not because of its "tearjerker" plotline, but because of the inherent hope that rises from the strength of its characters. Much like his novel "Comfort and Joy," the writer seeks to ensconce desolation with strength and hope. It's a novel that is not grim; it is a novel that seeks to show the points of light in the pitch black of sadness.

This book has a voice like no other. I have read all of Grimsley's books and loved them all, but this is my favorite. Grimsley combines present tense and second person to create an utterly unique narrative character, Danny Crell. Neither Danny nor Jim Grimsley flinch away from any event in Danny's life, no matter how horrible or violent. The result is a realistic and terrible story told with unparalleled clarity, simplicity, and detail. Grimsley has such a good grasp of proportion, one almost regards him as a photographer rather than a writer. This is one of those books you fall into as if down a well, and don't emerge from until it's over. . .if then.

A friend recommended highly "Winter Birds" to me. It is one of the most remarkable gifts I've ever been given. Cold and winter outside my window, and in this book too. Electric and frightening and so bare bones nostalgia it left me shaken. Danny might be everyboy. I've known people who were in this brooding sad violent despair. I've known Danny in a way. A brave frighened gentle child with hemophilia which, my friend believes, might be symbolic of homosexuality. Having to be aware of the smallest cuts. Having to be aware of the blood pouring out of you and people staring who are afraid and so superior. They having never to think of such things, therefore, why should anyone? It is a book of such sadness and courage and bleak beauty, the smells of the outhouse, the fears of snakes under beds and in closets (and there being there in actuality too), the father who is a broken man, even more broken than his mangled arm from a farm machine accident. Violent and alcoholic and filled with such terrible anger at the world and not being able to do a thing about it. Only able to lash out at the family who care, or once cared, about him, and feeling justified in alienating them as well. Proof that the entire world is out to get him. Good, at any cost, at such a cost, to know he is right. The violence is epic in proportion. What, perhaps, all children suffer psychically. Here though in this rude clapboard house where mother and children hide from him, hoping he will leave them just alone this time, knowing he will not, the violence and danger are most palpable. The giddy feverish pitch of those chapters of terrible suffering. The lovely stark poetry of the writing and the feel for wishing even this childhood could return for a time. Especially this one. And the ending that is the true rape, beyond physical, the rape of a woman who holds her family together, and of her son who has been, I feel, denied the ability to dream of river gods and golden lions and Technicolor movies where he can hide. Keep everything on the outside. Out of mind. Out of heart. But Danny, as my friend said, becomes a diamond from this. Extends his hard won understanding and compassion to the dark corners of people and lives. Because in the end, as Danny knows, it's the only way to survive. Understand them and their sadnesses. Envelop them. Forgive them. There is only insanity in the other direction.

Having just read "Comfort & Joy" and finding it a highly successful novel, I took fellow reviewers' suggestion and traced this author's literary progress by reading his initial novel, "Winter Birds". An incredible journey! Not only is his first novel enormously engrossing (like the fascination of watching an autopsy), learning the narrator's (Danny Crell) history supplements his further life voyage in "Comfort...". After being absorbed in Winter Birds for one evening, my immediate response was to re-read "Comfort & Joy" with a better knowledge of the polarity of that last book's main characters. Grimsley is a gifted writer, and knowing that his first successes were in playwriting is no surprise. "Winter Birds" is an intense, credible study of the type of dysfuntional family that we'd all rather not believe exists. But by writing this book I think Grimsley sensitizes us to look beyond the adult RE-actions of troubled people to find how incredible it is that many of these injured and abused people made it into adult life. Powerful, thought provoking writing.

A friend loaned me this book without comment but knowing that I am a juvenile court judge. I know this family in dozens of permutations, but I will empathize more when I see them next thanks to Jim Grimsley. I started and finished the book in one sitting last night. It is a powerfully executed visit inside the life of a boy who is surviving a violent family minute-by-minute. The characters cry out for peace, for relief from the cruelty of a father and husband who views them as property, and from a society that agrees. Excellent book that makes me crave more of the same, but only after I manage to exhale.