I was lucky enough to read a proof of THE RED BIRD SINGS, Aoife Fitzpatrick’s gorgeously written, thriller of a novel. Based on real events that took place in Greenbriar, West Virginia in the late nineteenth century, the story opens in the setting of the trial of Trout Shue, accused of killing his young bride, Zona Heaster. A series of newspaper articles penned by Zona’s good friend, Lucy Frye, recount the court proceedings and are interwoven at critical junctures, along with letters the deceased wrote to her daughter, Elizabeth, whom Zona gave up for adoption at birth. Zona intended the letters for her daughter when she was old enough to understand the difficult circumstances that led her mother to give her away. More than that, the letters are windows into Zona’s soul. “There’s a hole in my mind. A place called Missing You. And like a lens bending the light, it changes how I see things.” And as the story unfolds, the letters become testimony from beyond the grave, critical to establishing the facts of what happened when the eponymous red bird sings.
Fitzpatrick weaves an intriguing story, filled with complicated, conflicted characters, none without flaws, but none as flawed as the guileful Trout Shue. The writing is rich with sensuous imagery, evoking the West Virginia setting and sketching the complicated web of Lucy and Zona’s friendship, as well as the fraught relationship between Zona and her mother, Mary Jane, in a richly textured syntax told from different points of view.
The story builds slowly. Fitzpatrick takes her time to establish that things in Greenbriar are not what they first appear to be. Lucy’s jealousy of Trout derives from her worry that he’ll rupture her friendship with Zona. When that happens, she blames Zona for not standing up to him, her jealousy blinding her to clues that sinister forces lie behind her friend’s unwillingness to defend the friendship. Mary Jane believes she can communicate with the dead, a fact that might jeopardize the killer’s conviction. Zona’s father, Jacob, seems to care most for his daughter. But his own blind ambition might have put her at risk.
As the story builds to its crescendo, layers of deception and self-deception begin to fall away, revealing the tragedy at the heart of the story—the violence against women that can be hidden behind closed doors and beneath a clever veneer of respectability.