George: A Magpie Memoir
Frieda Hughes
Rave
Positive
Mixed
Pan
George: A Magpie Memoir
Frieda Hughes
Rave
Positive
Mixed
Pan
Rave
Positive
Mixed
Pan
In her new memoir, Frieda Hughes rarely mentions her famous parents, Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes. But their absence — in life and art — underscores this poignant and often funny story about, of all things, her relationship with a magpie.
Ms. Hughes is a canny stylist: There’s another memoir lurking behind this one, caught in asides. The book is both a love letter to the magpie who changed her trajectory and a nod to the voyeurism of her readers, 'the peanut-crunching crowd,' to quote a Plath poem. Ms. Hughes doles out her biography in tidbits, feeding us in much the same manner as she feeds George. She’s in command, and the familiar setting and characters—Court Green, Richard Murphy, Aunt Olwyn Hughes, the villainous 'my father'—shock when they unexpectedly slip into the narrative.
George is the weird but entertaining story of a woman and a bird. It is also a deeper story about that woman's reluctance to face the end of her marriage and her desire to hang onto some things (bird, husband) that need to be set free.
...[an] irresistible memoir.
There is a lovely, lively memoir here, but it has been left trapped inside a confused – and apparently unedited – draft of a book. Hughes is capable of some wonderful reminiscences...But to get to such moments the reader must slog through pages of aimless asides.
On one level, it is an expert bit of nature writing, akin to a David Attenborough documentary. But on another level, it is a psychologically profound investigation of how George, her other animals, and the extensive gardens she cultivates on an acre of land in the Welsh countryside give her the 'stability and sense of permanence' that she lacked as a child.
In lyrical prose full of introspection and humor, Hughes describes George being washed by her dogs, his learning to fly, and his curiosity about everything. Caring for George eventually sent the author in new directions, culminating with her adoption of two owls. This is a perfect match for Featherhood (2021), by Charlie Gilmour, the son of a poet who also rescued a magpie. Enlivened with Hughes’ drawings, this portrait of a bird mirrors how each of us maneuvers through our own existence..
Illustrated throughout with pen-and-ink drawings, this charming memoir about the author’s accidental adventures in avian rescue offers tantalizing insights into her struggle to fly free of the difficult emotional legacy bequeathed by her literary-icon parents, Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes. A poignantly heartwarming delight..