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Seven Blackbirds
Seven blackbirds in a tree, count them and see what they be....
HOW DO YOU RECLAIM YOUR LIFE after an abusive marriage? By turns humorous, scandalous, and lyrical, Seven Blackbirds follows Kimberly Baltakis as she stumbles along the road toward wholeness, briefcase in one hand, diaper bag in the other.
Helen Black is a graduate of Mount Holyoke College, University of Chicago, and the University of Tulsa College of Law. She lives in Portland, Oregon with her husband and five children.
"At one a.m. in Tulsa the silence is unexpectedly deep. Am I in the city or the country? Is Tulsa urban or suburban, home or alien territory? I'm afraid to go to sleep, so I sit up in bed and ponder the disintegration of my marriage. In his crib, baby Nathan turns in langourous, pink-cheeked slumber and pokes a tiny hand through the bars. In a big city ight now, there'd be sirens, airplanes, car alarms; here, nothing. In the middle of the night, in the middle of the country, I am marooned in absolute, dustless, heat-soaked silence. The bottom drops out of the present. The past rushes up from behind and blocks my future, and I'm stranded--stranded in Tulsa, the city of my discontent."
Check out the book's website at for video and audioclips, or pay a visit to Helen on Scribd, where she is currently top-subscribed female author.
HOW DO YOU RECLAIM YOUR LIFE after an abusive marriage? By turns humorous, scandalous, and lyrical, Seven Blackbirds follows Kimberly Baltakis as she stumbles along the road toward wholeness, briefcase in one hand, diaper bag in the other.
Helen Black is a graduate of Mount Holyoke College, University of Chicago, and the University of Tulsa College of Law. She lives in Portland, Oregon with her husband and five children.
"At one a.m. in Tulsa the silence is unexpectedly deep. Am I in the city or the country? Is Tulsa urban or suburban, home or alien territory? I'm afraid to go to sleep, so I sit up in bed and ponder the disintegration of my marriage. In his crib, baby Nathan turns in langourous, pink-cheeked slumber and pokes a tiny hand through the bars. In a big city ight now, there'd be sirens, airplanes, car alarms; here, nothing. In the middle of the night, in the middle of the country, I am marooned in absolute, dustless, heat-soaked silence. The bottom drops out of the present. The past rushes up from behind and blocks my future, and I'm stranded--stranded in Tulsa, the city of my discontent."
Check out the book's website at for video and audioclips, or pay a visit to Helen on Scribd, where she is currently top-subscribed female author.
- GenresFiction
268 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 2007
2 people are currently reading
14 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews
September 11, 2025
Seven Blackbirds tells the story of Kim, a woman trapped in an abusive marriage, struggling to protect herself and her infant son while trying to reconcile her past hopes with the starkness of her reality. The book moves through moments of violence, fear, and shame, but also into fragile glimpses of self-discovery and resilience. It shifts between memory and present action, weaving together family histories, friendships, and the slow, painful recognition of what love is not. At its heart, it is a book about survival and the small but vital sparks of strength that carry someone through darkness.
The writing is plainspoken, and that’s what makes it sting. There are no flourishes to soften the blows. The scenes of abuse hit hard because they’re described without sensationalism, just matter-of-fact, as if the narrator is bracing herself in silence. At times, I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t. I found myself angry, then sad, then oddly relieved when Kim found small moments of clarity. What struck me most was how the book captured the inner confusion, the push and pull of wanting to believe things will get better, even when the evidence piles up that they won’t. It’s uncomfortable, but it feels real.
Sometimes the pacing slowed in places. I’d get pulled deep into a scene, then taken through passages that felt more like personal notes. But life under control and abuse isn’t tidy. It’s messy, repetitive, and often without resolution. What I admired most was how the book carried its emotional weight without preaching. It didn’t tell me how to feel; it just put me in the room and let me sit there until I had to come up with my own reaction.
By the time I finished, I felt both heavy and grateful. This isn’t an easy book, but it’s an important one. I’d recommend it to readers who want a story that isn’t afraid of discomfort, people who are drawn to voices that speak plainly about pain yet carry a thread of stubborn hope. It would resonate with those interested in women’s stories, in survival, and in the quiet bravery of telling the truth when silence might feel safer.
The writing is plainspoken, and that’s what makes it sting. There are no flourishes to soften the blows. The scenes of abuse hit hard because they’re described without sensationalism, just matter-of-fact, as if the narrator is bracing herself in silence. At times, I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t. I found myself angry, then sad, then oddly relieved when Kim found small moments of clarity. What struck me most was how the book captured the inner confusion, the push and pull of wanting to believe things will get better, even when the evidence piles up that they won’t. It’s uncomfortable, but it feels real.
Sometimes the pacing slowed in places. I’d get pulled deep into a scene, then taken through passages that felt more like personal notes. But life under control and abuse isn’t tidy. It’s messy, repetitive, and often without resolution. What I admired most was how the book carried its emotional weight without preaching. It didn’t tell me how to feel; it just put me in the room and let me sit there until I had to come up with my own reaction.
By the time I finished, I felt both heavy and grateful. This isn’t an easy book, but it’s an important one. I’d recommend it to readers who want a story that isn’t afraid of discomfort, people who are drawn to voices that speak plainly about pain yet carry a thread of stubborn hope. It would resonate with those interested in women’s stories, in survival, and in the quiet bravery of telling the truth when silence might feel safer.
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January 11, 2012Did not finish.
August 25, 2012
Well written...true to life... Really enjoyed it!
August 19, 2014
I stopped halfway, mostly because the scenes hit home so hard. At times I found it difficult to go through lengthy and detailed descriptions of scenes that I could not make out any sense of ... yet.
Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews