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Ornithology
How many crows make a murder? When might you see a plunging of gannets? Why should you fear a charm of goldfinches?
In Paris in the 1980s, a young man is lured by an unexpected predator into a perilous game.
As a writer working on a locked-room mystery starts to go blind, his vision becomes populated by birds.
Two sisters perform an act of revenge that leads to a deadly transformation.
In his new collection of disquieting, surreal short stories, Nicholas Royle examines the haunting beauty and many uncanny qualities of birds, and explores – amid moments of black comedy – the dark mystery of human desire.
In Paris in the 1980s, a young man is lured by an unexpected predator into a perilous game.
As a writer working on a locked-room mystery starts to go blind, his vision becomes populated by birds.
Two sisters perform an act of revenge that leads to a deadly transformation.
In his new collection of disquieting, surreal short stories, Nicholas Royle examines the haunting beauty and many uncanny qualities of birds, and explores – amid moments of black comedy – the dark mystery of human desire.
193 pages, Paperback
First published June 2, 2017
3 people are currently reading
65 people want to read
About the author
Nicholas Royle
179 books57 followersNicholas Royle is an English writer. He is the author of seven novels, two novellas and a short story collection. He has edited sixteen anthologies of short stories. A senior lecturer in creative writing at the Manchester Writing School at Manchester Metropolitan University, he also runs Nightjar Press, publishing original short stories as signed, limited-edition chapbooks. He works as a fiction reviewer for The Independent and the Warwick Review and as an editor for Salt Publishing.
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Displaying 1 - 8 of 8 reviews
October 7, 2018
Ornithology has a beautiful but stark cover, and when I was reading it, I kept find myself thinking that strangers who saw it would assume I was actually reading a book about birds, some sort of field guide. But of course, in many ways I was. I was surprised to discover that many of these stories were previously published elsewhere – the first half, in particular, feels so cohesive I was sure it must have been conceived and written as a complete product. Short story collections often have a title taken from the flagship story, largely unrelated to the rest of the contents, but in Ornithology, birds are ever-present. By the time you're halfway through, their presence – outside characters' windows, inside their houses, inside the body – is beginning to seem oppressive.
The brief and macabre 'Unfollow' makes for a strong opening. The protagonist becomes obsessed with a taxidermist he finds on Twitter. He starts encouraging his cat to go out and kill birds, hoping the taxidermist will be interested in some of them. Too small, too young, she says, so he hopes for bigger kills – and his wish comes true in the most disturbing of ways. 'The Obscure Bird', in which a woman is concerned about the strange changes in her husband's character, feels like a companion to it.
My favourite story in the book was 'The Lure'. A young man spends a year teaching in Paris, where he develops something of a crush on his older, married colleague. The situation progresses in uncertain steps until it seems certain to become an affair. Throughout the story, the narrator repeatedly encounters a blind man on the métro, sightlessly staring at him; eventually he realises the man is wearing a mask with painted-on eyes, and then he becomes convinced the man is not, in fact, blind at all. 'The Lure' is one of the longer stories in Ornithology, and the extra exposition that allows for serves it well. The narrator's experience of Paris – his personal version of the city – is alive and palpable.
After 'The Lure', there's a shift in tone: the stories diverge; they don't feel as much of a piece as they did earlier. There's something sinister about this shift in itself. I liked, and was surprised by, 'The Nightingales': it initially seems quite ordinary – a man starts a new relationship while still thinking a lot about his previous girlfriend – but then, almost incidentally, we discover the characters have hard drives embedded in the backs of their necks. The technological references are an intriguing mixture of obsolete and futuristic, making me wonder when this was written (1993, it turns out, the earliest story in the collection by more than a decade). But I also found it difficult to read – maybe because Royle nails the horrible little details of a disintegrating relationship with such vicious accuracy, maybe because the narrative voice reminded me strongly of an ex, maybe a bit of both.
'Lovebites' is subtly humorous, yet visceral. At first, when Joe and Jan attempt to have 'the conversation' with their 12-year-old son, you naturally assume they're referring to smoking or drugs. Yet it's something more intimate, more sinister, more disturbing. The story builds to an erotic and bloody climax and which is perhaps the most intense moment in the book.
The collection ends with 'Children', which I found by far the most unnerving. On holiday with his family, the narrator is intrigued when he gets talking to a fellow traveller. The man makes reference to his young children, but looks to be in his sixties – surely too old to have little kids. A glimpse of the whole family confirms the man's wife isn't much younger, yet the children seem oddly immobile and lumpen. Throughout, I was reaching for something just beyond what Royle was willing to give away – a bit like when you're watching a film and realise you're craning your neck to see something outside the frame.
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The brief and macabre 'Unfollow' makes for a strong opening. The protagonist becomes obsessed with a taxidermist he finds on Twitter. He starts encouraging his cat to go out and kill birds, hoping the taxidermist will be interested in some of them. Too small, too young, she says, so he hopes for bigger kills – and his wish comes true in the most disturbing of ways. 'The Obscure Bird', in which a woman is concerned about the strange changes in her husband's character, feels like a companion to it.
My favourite story in the book was 'The Lure'. A young man spends a year teaching in Paris, where he develops something of a crush on his older, married colleague. The situation progresses in uncertain steps until it seems certain to become an affair. Throughout the story, the narrator repeatedly encounters a blind man on the métro, sightlessly staring at him; eventually he realises the man is wearing a mask with painted-on eyes, and then he becomes convinced the man is not, in fact, blind at all. 'The Lure' is one of the longer stories in Ornithology, and the extra exposition that allows for serves it well. The narrator's experience of Paris – his personal version of the city – is alive and palpable.
After 'The Lure', there's a shift in tone: the stories diverge; they don't feel as much of a piece as they did earlier. There's something sinister about this shift in itself. I liked, and was surprised by, 'The Nightingales': it initially seems quite ordinary – a man starts a new relationship while still thinking a lot about his previous girlfriend – but then, almost incidentally, we discover the characters have hard drives embedded in the backs of their necks. The technological references are an intriguing mixture of obsolete and futuristic, making me wonder when this was written (1993, it turns out, the earliest story in the collection by more than a decade). But I also found it difficult to read – maybe because Royle nails the horrible little details of a disintegrating relationship with such vicious accuracy, maybe because the narrative voice reminded me strongly of an ex, maybe a bit of both.
'Lovebites' is subtly humorous, yet visceral. At first, when Joe and Jan attempt to have 'the conversation' with their 12-year-old son, you naturally assume they're referring to smoking or drugs. Yet it's something more intimate, more sinister, more disturbing. The story builds to an erotic and bloody climax and which is perhaps the most intense moment in the book.
The collection ends with 'Children', which I found by far the most unnerving. On holiday with his family, the narrator is intrigued when he gets talking to a fellow traveller. The man makes reference to his young children, but looks to be in his sixties – surely too old to have little kids. A glimpse of the whole family confirms the man's wife isn't much younger, yet the children seem oddly immobile and lumpen. Throughout, I was reaching for something just beyond what Royle was willing to give away – a bit like when you're watching a film and realise you're craning your neck to see something outside the frame.
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July 21, 2017
Ornithology, by Nicholas Royle, is a collection of sixteen short stories interwoven with recurring references to birds. Within each plot these avian creatures provide interest, distraction, disturbance. They, along with the human protagonists, are transformed into both predator and prey.
The stories explore ordinary situations and events, places and people. The characters go on holiday, form and break relationships, observe their surroundings from inside homes, rural locations, cities and at work. The locations are as much characters in the tales as the people. The prose radiates quiet menace.
The collection opens with Unfollow. Written in the first person it chronicles an obsession with a woman known only through Twitter and with whom there is little interaction. The narrator and their cat form a deadly pact to gain her attention.
In Murder a group of academics take a holiday together. Their relationship is tenuous having developed mainly through correspondence. The shadow of a couple who do not attend casts an eerie darkness over what should be straightforward diversions.
It is the recurring darkness that makes these stories so delicious to read. It is subtle, creeping through the cracks like an icy breeze.
Several of the stories veer into the surreal. There is violence, transformation, a stretching of possibilities and belief.
In The Nightingale the boundary between people and computers becomes blurred and a hacker takes advantage.
In The Lure, which is set in Paris, a young teacher struggles to translate more than simply spoken language. His minimal contact with others in the city leads him to pursue ill advised interactions, but is he stalker or victim?
Several stories use books to provide a theme that then spills out into action. A knowledge of the many bird species referenced may add further depth. I know little of such things which did not detract from my enjoyment. Throughout I remained engaged.
The writing is fluid and precise with a haunting undercurrent that at times manifests as horror but is more often suggestion. An uncanny, mesmerising read.
My copy of this book was provided gratis by the publisher, Cōnfingō.
The stories explore ordinary situations and events, places and people. The characters go on holiday, form and break relationships, observe their surroundings from inside homes, rural locations, cities and at work. The locations are as much characters in the tales as the people. The prose radiates quiet menace.
The collection opens with Unfollow. Written in the first person it chronicles an obsession with a woman known only through Twitter and with whom there is little interaction. The narrator and their cat form a deadly pact to gain her attention.
In Murder a group of academics take a holiday together. Their relationship is tenuous having developed mainly through correspondence. The shadow of a couple who do not attend casts an eerie darkness over what should be straightforward diversions.
It is the recurring darkness that makes these stories so delicious to read. It is subtle, creeping through the cracks like an icy breeze.
Several of the stories veer into the surreal. There is violence, transformation, a stretching of possibilities and belief.
In The Nightingale the boundary between people and computers becomes blurred and a hacker takes advantage.
In The Lure, which is set in Paris, a young teacher struggles to translate more than simply spoken language. His minimal contact with others in the city leads him to pursue ill advised interactions, but is he stalker or victim?
Several stories use books to provide a theme that then spills out into action. A knowledge of the many bird species referenced may add further depth. I know little of such things which did not detract from my enjoyment. Throughout I remained engaged.
The writing is fluid and precise with a haunting undercurrent that at times manifests as horror but is more often suggestion. An uncanny, mesmerising read.
My copy of this book was provided gratis by the publisher, Cōnfingō.
October 24, 2017
This is a series of 16 hypnotic and eerie short stories all featuring 'birds'. Each completely different but interwoven, and with just the right recipe of intrigue, darkness and discomfort. Original and beguiling.
August 4, 2017
Ornithology is an excellent collection of short, bird-populated, fiction where liminal experiences jostle against the border of reality and the Other, informing on the human condition and occasionally spilling into a shimmering darkness. My favourite is probably, "The Lure", where an emotionally isolated English teacher living in Paris engages on an exploration with an older colleague - the dissonances of both language and body language adding frisson to what might on the surface be a simple relationship story but which then naturally shifts to reveal something much more intriguing behind the scenes. Understatement is a key to Royle's fiction, often he barely scratches a fingernail against the patina of existence, but that scratch is enough to afford a glimpse into the void.
Mention must be made of Confingo Publishing's production of this book. It is beautifully tactile, literally difficult to put down. As their first title - aside from their excellent magazine - it makes me hunger for what they might produce next.
Mention must be made of Confingo Publishing's production of this book. It is beautifully tactile, literally difficult to put down. As their first title - aside from their excellent magazine - it makes me hunger for what they might produce next.
November 14, 2021
Another interesting collection of short and even shorter stories by Nicholas Royle, published in 2017, his second of four short-story collections (to date). All of the stories with some (sometimes very loose) connection to birds and, as the title says, ornithology.
The highlights: The wonderfully strange and eerie “The Obscure Bird”, the dreamlike and romantic “The Lure” (set in Paris) and the striking ménage à trois “The Nightingale”. The latter the only relic from the nineties, nearly all of the other stories were published from 2006-2015, and two exclusively written for this collection. Sidenote: The book-design is absolutely gorgeous.
The highlights: The wonderfully strange and eerie “The Obscure Bird”, the dreamlike and romantic “The Lure” (set in Paris) and the striking ménage à trois “The Nightingale”. The latter the only relic from the nineties, nearly all of the other stories were published from 2006-2015, and two exclusively written for this collection. Sidenote: The book-design is absolutely gorgeous.
January 5, 2021
This book is a cōnfingō of avianisms. It is utterly utterly unmissable, whether you like it or not.
The detailed review of this book posted elsewhere under my name is too long to post here.
Above is its conclusion.
The detailed review of this book posted elsewhere under my name is too long to post here.
Above is its conclusion.
December 30, 2023
Read the first three stories but not for me.
March 27, 2021
Read:
“murder” 3
“the obscure bird” 3.5
“murder” 3
“the obscure bird” 3.5
Displaying 1 - 8 of 8 reviews