“My name
is Avocet Abigail Jackson. But because Mama couldn't find anyone who
thought Avocet was a fine name for a child, she called me Bird. Which
is okay by me. She named both her children after birds, her logic being
that if we were named for something with wings then maybe we'd be able
to fly above the shit in our lives.”
So says Bird Jackson, the mesmerizing narrator of Connie May Fowler's vivid and brilliantly written, BEFORE WOMEN HAD WINGS.
Starstruck by a dime-store picture of Jesus, Bird fancies herself "His
girlfriend" and embarks upon a spiritual quest for salvation, even as
the chaos of her home life plunges her into a stony silence. In stark
and honest language, she tells the tragic life of her father, a
sweet-talking wanna-be country music star, tracks her older sister's
perilous journey into womanhood, and witnesses her mother make a
courageous and ultimately devastating decision.
Yet most profound is Bird's own story--her struggle to sift through the
ashes of her parents' lives, her meeting with Miss Zora, a healer whose
prayers over the bones of winged creatures are meant to guide their
souls to heaven, and her will to make sense of a world where fear is
more plentiful than hope, retribution more valued than love.
