A courageous woman journeys from nineteenth-century Ireland to the American West in a powerful novel about the indomitable will to survive—and to flourish—against nearly impossible odds.
It’s 1849 on the west coast of Ireland. Resilient Honora O’Donoghue is accustomed to fending for herself and to reading the language of the natural world. It was always said she’d been marked for something different, but it’s not until she suffers devastating losses in a country gripped by the Famine that Honora begins to understand how that difference will save her. With the hope of a better life in America calling, Honora keeps moving toward her freedom.
Across the Atlantic, she’s unfamiliar with the customs, jobs are scarce, and she has no money. She finds only one new friend, and Honora’s desperation is a state to be taken advantage of. Even the prospect of marriage is not without its conditions—and far from the dream she imagines. With so much disappointment and heartbreak in her past, Honora must decide what kind of life she wants, and what she’s prepared to do to get it.
Jacqueline O’Mahony was named Young Irish Writer of the Year by the Irish Examiner when she was fourteen.
She took her BA in Ireland, her MA at the University of Bologna, and her PhD in history at Boston College and as a Fulbright Scholar at Duke University.
She worked at Condé Nast as a stylist and editor for Vogue and at Associated Newspapers as an arts editor, and in 2015 she graduated from City University’s MA in creative writing with a first-class degree.
Her debut novel, A River in the Trees, was nominated for the Authors’ Club Best First Novel Award and the Not the Booker Prize in 2020.
Originally from Cork, Ireland, she lives in London with her husband and three young children.
I'm not sure it's truthful to say I enjoyed this book, it's pretty bleak, but I kept thinking about it when I wasn't reading it and wanted to get back to it whenever I had a minute.
The book begins in Ireland during the famine, Honora sees death all around her and decides to walk to the sea to take a ship to America. So it's from Ireland, to New York, then to the American West, each location fraught with hardships.
Honora went through so much, but she had a spine of steel that I admired, and I just wanted her to catch a break! She never gave up trying to find a bit of freedom that would bring her some happiness, and her refusal to settle made me keep rooting for her.
I absolutely loved this book! It is beautifully written: full of loss, struggle, moments of hope…
This is the story of a woman trying to find herself amongst everyone’s expectations of who she is, who she SHOULD be, all while trying to simply survive the devastating events that are inherent in her life by virtue of her class, gender, culture, etc.
She uses the experiences to make herself stronger instead of crumbling or becoming what others deem her capable of becoming.
From the Irish Potato Famine to the prairies of Oregon by way of New York, Honora O'Donoghue travels great distances in Sing, Wild Bird, Sing. This resilient, resourceful young woman keeps moving forward, and I was taken to situations and locations that I really wasn't expecting - which is partly makes this such an exciting book to read. Plus, of course, O'Mahony's excellent writing. Thanks to the author for my copy.
No spoilers. 3 1/2 stars. SING, WILD BIRD, SING by Jacqueline O'Mahony...
This was book 1 of 2 of my Amazon First Reads selections for the month of July 2023. The pickins were slim indeed this month...
The story of Honora, later known as Nell, begins in 1849's Ireland during the Great Famine...
Honora O'Neill...
... was born to a mother who died giving birth to her as a dreaded robin flew into the family house...
An omen of bad luck...
An old witch in the woods told Honora there was a test coming down the road, then she gave Honora a blackthorn stick...
And a feather...
And told Honora to go away from Ireland and don't look back. Then she cast a spell on Honora to keep her safe...
In 1850, Honora changed her name to Nell and stowed away on a ship heading for America...
Whether it be Ireland or America, Honora always felt she was a traveler in someone else's land, and she wanted to be free...
I chose this book because it was advertised as a historical fiction story. It seemed more fiction than historical to me. The story is told from the POV of Honora, who prefers going through life not speaking.
It's just my little ol' opinion, but I found her character to be unlikable and judgemental. It seemed that the author gave Honora the traits of a Native American, which seemed wishful thinking to me, but again, that's just my opinion.
Overall, I found the MC's repetitive story to be tedious to wade through and not very authentic.
Having learned a lot about the Irish famine, I braced myself to read this book! The author, however, represents the period with little written horror, and it is enough. The majority of the book is set in America, as we learn what happens to the very resourceful main character after she leaves Ireland. Well written, and highly engaging.
Short, spoiler-free (?) version: For a story intended to be about the similarities between the Irish and Native Americans (as stated by the author in the note in the back), this is mostly just a frustrating romance.
Full, spoiler-inclusive version continues: It's frustrating because Honora, the narrator, (and maybe the author) can't decide if she has changed or not, if she should change or not, if she likes her husbands or not, if she's ready to move on from her past or not--but she does very quickly decide that she wants to somehow make love with (immediately and forever) the Native American who "liberated" her pony, despite her having a horrendously broken leg, open hand wound, and head trauma.
I'm not going to sit here and try to pretend that either of her husbands or any of the other people in her life aside from the idolized Nell were particularly stellar human beings. They weren't, nor were they compelety one-dimensional caricatures, thankfully, though Ignatius comes very close (he reads essentially like Hans from Frozen).
I'm also not going to tell you this story is unrealistic like some have. I can't really comment on that, though I did have a really hard time figuring the timing of the death march in Ireland. From what I can tell, the story was well-researched or at least close enough for historical fiction.
What I will do is bemoan a novel that takes what could be stark and poignant comparison between two historically persecuted peoples and draws them together in the most hilariously on-the-nose manner (direct quote: "'These people,' she said, 'they say we are savages, and wild, that we are less than people.' ...This is who he is, she thought. Now I see him.") and drenches the whole final act in a cliché, "everything I never knew I needed," romance. It should be obvious how dismissive of the aforementioned plights this reads in the final chapters.
Honora is at least half responsible, if not more, for the failure of her second marriage, to Prosper Gould, because she consistently refuses to tell her husband the truth, or really anything at all, aside from her real name and where she came from, the latter of which is obvious from her accent and inability to understand certain terms. She then has the arrogance to belittle him in her mind and heart for thinking he has her figured out. Where much of Honora's struggle can be read with empathy and, if so inclined, light feminist commentary (though I'm not particularly moved by that), all of it is tossed out the window once she realizes how "embarrassing" (her word, not mine) her "desire" is for Joseph, her Native American knight, who is simultaneously exactly like her and also a total enigma. Does this not sound exactly like a dissmissive description of a mass-market romance pulp? I don't mean it to be! I wanted this to be good!
I do agree with the comments regarding the dialogue. Not only is there not enough real dialogue (the author often prefers to describe the conversation had rather than show us, which, in my opinion, is useful only sparingly), in part because Honora's M.O. is to refuse to speak (meaningful and interesting at first), but towards the end, I found it difficult to spearate or identify the male speakers in numerous scenes. Also, Honora will often narrate in her head exactly, literally what she's thinking rather than saying it out loud, so readers get all the benefit of having a normal conversation, but none of the tact or intrigue of purposeful storytelling, and the characters get none of the trust and connection that relationships are built on. Let me emphasize, this is not because of gender stereotypes, social mores, or anything hierarchical, but simply because this incredibly strong-willed woman refuses to speak truth to power in various ways mundane but critical to anyone who values a purposeful, long-lasting relationship of any sort. Instead, she says nothing or says what she thinks the other person wants to hear (awfully hypocritical in this marriage to Prosper). You'd think Honora might have learned that lying hurts since she herself gets hurt by liars.
I think many of my thoughts cohere in this: I wanted to root for Honora for so many reasons. She's "cursed" from a young age and ostracized within her own community. She's a victim of a loveless, essentially arranged marriage. She loses her child and is declared barren. She is mistreated in her first job in the States, then is forced into the sex industry out West and eventually duped by the only person she thought she could trust. But then she marries a patron who seemingly intends to do right by her. Things should improve from here.
I can grant that I don't understand what that life must be like, that it is reasonable for a person who has lived that life to be guarded. But at every step, Honora is written to be cogent and aware, in control, if not of her fate, of herself (and shame on me for reading it this way if this wasn't the intent). And yet, by my estimation, most of her problems could have been solved if she had just been forthright with the guy she agreed to marry under no act of coercion (she got her own parcel of land out of it and everything, in her name, and has her own horse and pony, and yet is not appreciative. I do understand the moral/ethical concerns she ultimately has, but those are not present at that stage).
I'm so tired of hearing about marriages and other relationships, real or fictional, falling apart because one or both parties refuse against all sense and opportunity to be honest with themselves and the other. And this husband's consolation for her running away (literally) and then running away again and for good with her N.A. hero after agreeing to protect her from the villainous Ignatius is to take as his replacement bride her Irish betrayer, who is now ugly and has bad teeth (and a child who is old enough to speak), as she notes herself. Miserable and laughable.
Also, the bird motif is way heavy-handed.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
A magnificent novel that stretches from the crime that was the Irish famine to the invasion and theft of native American lands. The crueltly meted on the colonised is excellently done here. Haunting, beautiful and stunning.
Honora O‘Neill, von der man sagt, sie hätte sich als halbwildes Geschöpf selbst aufgezogen, ist im letzten Jahr der großen Hungersnot (1845-49) in Irland 20 Jahre alt. Der Hungermarsch nach Doolough, auf dem die schicksalsergebenen Menschen bereits so abgemagert waren, dass sie sich gegenseitig nicht mehr erkannten, zeigt ihr, dass sie als mutterlose Außenseiterin in Irland nichts mehr zu verlieren hat. Selbst ihr Lehrer, dessen beste Schülerin sie einmal war, bekräftigt sie darin, das Land zu verlassen. Ein mannshoher Schlehdornstock, den die alte Alice ihr überreicht, soll sie begleiten.
Jahre später treffen wir in der Prärie von Oregon eine Frau, die sich Nell nennt und in den Westen zog, um in New York nicht als Hausmädchen ausgebeutet zu werden. Auch wenn sie in der neuen Welt stets vermied aufzufallen, war sie nicht vor Verrat geschützt. Ihre Zweckehe mit Prosper und die Plackerei auf zugeteiltem Farmland übersteht Nell allein durch die aufmunternden Worte der alten Alice im Ohr. Ein angeblich herrenloses Indianerpony in Nells Besitz erweckt die Aufmerksamkeit eines Indigenen Cayuse und so kommt es zur – durchaus glaubwürdigen –Begegnung zwischen irischer Auswandererin und einheimischer Bevölkerung.
Fazit Honora, die als Jugendliche barfuß gehen musste und im Sommer im Wald schlief, hat ein besonderes Verhältnis zur Natur und nimmt Klänge und Wetterphänomene in Farbtönen wahr. Eine entscheidende Rolle spielen in Honoras Geschichte die Sprache, ihre innere Stimme und das Schweigen, verknüpft damit, dass sie sich als Emigrantin selbst aufgeben muss, um zu überleben. Jacqueline O’Mahony lässt ihre Leser:innen durch Honoras Augen einen weiblichen Blick auf den historischen Marsch nach Doolough werfen und gibt durch die Figur des indigenen Joseph auch seinem Volk eine Stimme. Ein berührendes Buch, das für mich gern umfangreicher sein dürfte.
Maybe "stream of consciousness" writing? This story is horrible, the truths that are exposed. I knew going in, it would be rough, but it was beyond rough. This author has told a story and exposed how that same thing has been done to numerous peoples, throughout history. I don't usually stop and read whole sections over again, but with this author, I did. I had to. Because they were so powerful, or beautiful.
Couldn’t put it down! I read this all through the night. Honora starts the story married to William who she things has become tired of being with her. She practically raised herself and she is smart, strong wild. It is this spirit that captures the hearts of those drawn towards her. Like a wild horse, she lives for freedom. This is her story as she faces one challenge after another, trying to free herself from the Ireland famine of 1849.
Here are my favorite parts: “It’s an intensely local story, rooted in a place, and a universal one too; it’s something that took place in the past, but it could be happening today, here, anywhere.”
“If you didn’t speak when people expected you to, they’d speak to fill the space themselves. The less you said, the more others spoke, and the more they spoke, the more you understood about them and the less they understood about you, and that was only for the good, as far as she was concerned.”
“But the hunger didn’t always change things, Honora knew; it only revealed them as they really were.”
“Some of them, the younger ones, were naked. The older children wore rags. They were all barefoot.”
“Most people, she had found, were interested in other people only in as much as they could relate directly to them or learn something about themselves from them.”
“Once you made the choice to tell a story, it went from being yours to the listener’s, and then there was no way of managing things after that; the story belonged to other people, then.” “
But I am not free, she had thought, I am not. I have never been less free in my life, and this cabin and the things in it and the life I have here and what it asks of me—this is all the opposite of freedom. Ownership, possession: these are not what it is to be free…. It had seemed absurd, in that moment, to think of owning the land, as if one could think of owning air…”
I had never heard of Doolough or the walk of famine that the Irish experienced during the potato famine of 1849. It’s not something I’m likely to forget now, after reading this excellent 5+ star book.
I bought this one based on the author, when it was first released, and then forgot about it. But I recently went through my Kindle and was reminded about this - and several other titles - that I really wanted to read. I loved Jacqueline O'Mahony's debut novel, A River in the Trees, so I had high hopes for this one. She did not let me down.
Inspired by the tragedy of Doolough on the west coast of Ireland in March 1849. A group of starving people set out on a quest to beg for help from English landlords, crossing mountains, barefoot, dressed in rags, through snow. Turned away, they all died on the way back on the banks of a black lake. In this fictionalised account, one woman survives, and she flees Ireland hiding on a ship bound for America.
From an Ireland ravished by famine, to servitude in New York, to a brothel in the wild west of America, to finally, the great plains of Montana, this is a story of displacement, loss, grief, and fortitude. It’s also a story about the intersection between two displaced nations, the Irish and the Cayuse people of the Pacific Northwest, through Honora and Joseph. It's a grim story, particularly in the beginning, but Honora's determination is inspiring, and once she meets Joseph, the story takes a hopeful turn.
Jacqueline O’Mahony writes with such instinct; her prose is unflinching in its honesty, devastatingly beautiful, and so atmospheric. Once again, she gave me goosebumps while reading. I look forward to her next release.
Beautiful prose but so incredibly bleak. The first part began strongly but by 70% I was hopeless of any redemption for the main character. I feel like this book missed the mark of greatness and by the end I was just fed up. My Irish Gran used to say…”just get on with it.” And Honora, the main character, never seemed to do that. A lost soul; which makes the title to me incredibly ironic.
What an incredible book. I will be thinking about this one for a long time. The author did a wonderful job of telling a story that illustrates history in Ireland and the American West with a great measure of authenticity. I especially loved the way the prairie settings were captured: the sights and smells of the land.
The lead character suffered through years of hardship, burdened by the story of her birth and childhood she bought into that limited her ability to use her strengths and grow. She was resilient and tenacious though. How she gradually broke free--and freedom is the central theme of the book--was a joy to uncover.
The author did a fine job of letting me see into the depths of each main character as I turned the pages, whether they were incredibly upstanding and true human beings or damaged people or worse.
Most of all, I loved the flow of the prose in this book. "I want someone to say to me, 'Here we go,' she thought, and then I want to go, just for the sake of motion itself, because there is freedom and beauty in it, and that's what the wind is saying to me. It's saying, "Let's go," and the suddenness and clarity of the realization made her feel like she'd had the breath knocked out of her."
Beautiful. This book was a gift. I cried at the end, not from sadness or happiness, but from the emotional release of finishing this lovely story. Reading about all the hardships was well worth it, and I read the Author's note and Acknowledgements with enjoyment too. I can't recommend this book highly enough.
The perilous journey of Honora and her never ending resiliency made this book a page-turner. Thoroughly enjoyed it and the authors note connected some historical moments I never knew about between the Irish and select Indigenous Nations in the U.S.
TW's - Check for any trigger warnings before reading this
This was definitely not a light read and was pretty depressing overall lol. It was well written and was a pretty interesting fictional take on the Irish Famine and one woman's journey to America.
Sing, wilder Vogel, sing, ist ein historischer Roman, der aus zwei Teilen besteht. Zunächst lernen wir Honora kennen, die Mitte des 19. Jahrhunderts in Irland in bitterer Armut aufwachst. Sie gilt durch einen Fluch als Außenseiterin und verbringt ihre Zeit am liebsten im Freien. In Irland herrscht große Hungersnot. Gemeinsam mit ihrem Mann und dessen Familie muss sich Honora auf den Weg zum britischen Grundbesitzer machen, um Unterstützung zu erhalten. Für die völlig entkräfteten Menschen wird dieser Marsch zur Katastrophe und Honora verliert alles. Mit einer neuen Identität macht sie sich anschließend auf den Weg nach Amerika, um dort ein neues Leben zu beginnen und endlich die lang ersehnte Freiheit zu gewinnen.
Das Buch war teilweise ganz anders, als erwartet. Ich war von vielen Entwicklungen wirklich positiv überrascht. Besonders der letzte Teil in der Prärie und der Vergleich des Schicksals der Iren und der Indigenen waren äußerst gelungen. Ich habe jedoch einen Kritikpunkt. Die Autorin scheint Schwierigkeiten beim Erzählen auszuweichen: immer wenn es in der Geschichte eine Stelle gibt, an der es einer konkreten Lösung bedarf, wird sie einfach übersprungen. Als Honora das Schiff betritt, schafft sie das wunderbarerweise ohne Fahrschein. Als Mary und sie sich auf den Weg in den Westen machen, kommt einfach eine Kutsche. Diese und weitere Stellen haben mich beim Lesen gestört, da hätte ich mir mehr Einfallsreichtum gewünscht.
Trotzdem gibt es von mir eine klare Leseempfehlung. Ein starkes Debüt von Jacqueline O‘Mahony.
A beautifullyyy written story about survival, loss, and resilience 🇮🇪🐦⬛ Henora is a young girl who we follow along with as she embarks to America from Ireland during the great famine spread of the 1800’s. She is a spunky headstrong girl who I couldn’t help but root for throughout her entire journey. All of the painful things she went through hurt my feelings too, and I felt a jab in the heart every time she suffered. Yet, she just got right back up and kept moving whenever she was at a low point. How can you nottt root for someone like that?! I definitely found myself thinking about this story whenever I wasn’t reading it and looking forward to continuing.
I will add just as I end the review - that I would’ve loved to have found out what ended up happening to one specific character whom we got to know during a short time (in the cave), but I guess the book also kind of insinuates that conclusion.
I would give this book more stars if that was an option. O'Mahony's writing is equisite! It flows like water; at times reading more like poetry than prose. And then there are the characters she's created. Beneath Honora's courage and strength and Mary's flaws lie real human obstacles and adversity that would devour less tenacious people. To have lived through their ordeals is nothing short of a miracle. I'm referring to surviving the great famine in Ireland and their travels to, and in America. This is just an amazing novel.
Interesting story and very respectful to the stories being told. Parts felt like it should maybe be first person, and the narration does create a detachment from Honora, but she is so unknowable, even to herself, it mostly works. The settings worked particularly well, with Ireland and America really brought to life without relying on the icky cliches and stereotypes that are often fallen back on.
This was an intense book. The first part is set in Ireland in 1849. Honora has basically raised herself after her mother dies in childbirth and her father distances himself from her. In 1849, she is twenty and married to William. It is the time of the Famine and Honora and the others in her town are reduced to eating grass. Honora and several hundred others walked across mountains and through snow to obtain a small ration of food. Many died on the road or beside a lake. The event, while fictionalized and focused on Honora, actually happened and is remembered as the Doolough Tragedy. Honora barely survives and leaves Ireland for America. After a year or so spent as a servant in New York City, she decides to travel west and ends up in Oregon.
It is a book that is powerful and haunting. Honora experiences such hardships and still perseveres. She has been forced to rely only on her wits to overcome hardships and trials. The book also draws some comparisons between the Irish and the Native Americans, and those are also drawn from actual connections between these two seemingly disparate groups. The book is a quick and compelling read.
Quotes I liked:
A person's true nature was quickly revealed when they had no reason to hide it.
Lucky we are when we know we're doing something or seeing someone for the last time.
...stories were only real once they were told. All the other stories that weren't told, or heard, that had no teller, or listener - it was as if the thing had never happened at all...Once you made the choice to tell a story, it went from being yours to the listener's, and then there was no way of managing things after that; the story belonged to other people, then.
Haunting, depressing, but quite beautiful. I was hopeful throughout the novel that Honora would find what she was desperately seeking. A sad story, with a beautiful ending.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
3.5 Totally kept my interest, I both admired and grew frustrated with the main character. A tale of how women were only property at that time in history and the lengths Honora finally resorted to in order to be her own person.