I loved Birdeye and its deep dive into a tiny American hippy colony living life well beyond its best by date. It’s a rich, absorbing journey that I’m glad I made.
Turning it over in my mind I thought of a saying, I think by Hemingway, that seemed to fit well. Along the lines of “forget trying to change the world, just make it interesting”.
Birdeye certainly does that in spades with a cast of principal and passing characters so finely drawn you feel you’ve known them for years. It’s a good measure of the readability of a book when you feel a bit bereft when you finish it, not yet ready to say goodbye to the characters, invested as you are in the tumble of big and small events that have shaped them.
Birdeye has the air of quiet mystery and intrigue from the get go, when Conor, a very un-hippylike young man from upstate, arrives one day at the Birdeye colony in clean shirt and slacks. He mucks in well with the daily tasks and spirit of the place. The mystery is less whodunnit, more what deep and dark secret does Conor hold.
For some in the colony he’s not to be trusted. For Liv, the co-founder and leader of Birdeye, he’s an unexpected blow-in to be welcomed and treated like anyone else seeking a place of refuge. The author plays this tension to great effect, teasing us with small reveals and slowly peeling back the layers of this enthusiastic but faintly worrying misfit.
The setting in the Catskill mountains north west of New York, is well chosen and beautifully described. In 1969 the area hosted half a million peace, love and rock fans at the Woodstock festival. Now, half a century later, there’s just Birdeye keeping the hippy vibe alive - along with a handful of tourist shops in Woodstock village spinning a buck on nostalgia.
The Catskills feel remote and a bit desolate, forever at the mercy of changing seasons; harsh and unforgiving in the winter, seductive in the spring and summer with wooded hills, trails and streams. A perfect setting for a colony cocooning itself from the outside world.
It gives Judith Heneghan a perfect stage for intimate observation of the goings on and interactions at Birdeye, which, along with pitch perfect dialogue, she excels at.
Dead on for a book that for me is ultimately about how small moments and gestures are telling and important, how impossible it to escape the past, and how life just tumbles forward, unstoppable, like an overflowing stream in spring turning into a gushing destructive torrent. There’s inevitably a mess to clear after, but you feel in the right hands it can be done.