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Starlings
by Erinna Mettler
Revenge Ink
2011
First
Collection
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"Upstairs
in her flat, May watches the starlings flit around the Pier. She
loves these birds in particular, probably because they’re not here
for long. They stay for a few weeks brightening the skies and then
they’re off to wherever they go to live their exciting foreign
lives. Nightly she watches their dance from her window, she thinks
it’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen and her heart is
warmed by their beauty…She is amazed that there are still
things in the world to make her smile.
"
Reviewed by A J Kirby
Well
written and engaging, Erinna Mettler’s Starlings is a
daisy-chain novel comprising twenty-one interlinked short fictions
which together tell the story of Brighton, and a cross-section of its
inhabitants. The narrative is non-linear and fragmented. It circles,
dips, soars like a flock of starlings in flight. This is a novel in
episodes, in scenes, which are not always causally connected, but in
which meaning is multi-layered, so that the whole can become more
than the sum of its parts.
It’s
writing à la mode, and bears comparison with Jennifer Egan’s
Pulitzer Prize winning A Visit from the Goon Squad which was
reviewed in last month’s The Short Review.
So I suppose I’d better tackle
the obvious question head-on. Mettler’s insistence that this is a
daisy-chain novel (allied with the fact there is no table of contents
at the front as in most short fiction collections) does beg the
question as to whether this should be reviewed as short fiction at
all, but because of the non-chronological structure of the text, and
the diverse cast of characters, the book certainly passes the dip
test. Most, but not all of the stories do stand alone, and the reader
has the opportunity to dip in and out of the text where they may
please and appreciate the quality of the writing. On the other hand,
a real drawback of this writing style, and the large cast list which
Mettler introduces us to, is the fact that if the reader is
reading the text cover to cover, they are often obliged to flick back
between the stories and pages to remember who’s who and how
everyone’s linked. What I would say is that this is clearly the
kind of book which requires to be read twice, to enjoy the ingenuity
of how the characters and stories interlace and knot and twist around
each other.
Indeed, Mettler presents us with
two opposite metaphors for the book’s overarching structure within
the stories themselves. This from the titular Starlings:
As her gaze follows the dip
and bail of the tiny birds from the land to the sea and back again,
she notices the children’s playground on the front below her
window… It’s the two sandpits that catch her eye, each has a
pattern of swirls and lines traced over it, deep furrows circle
around from one end to the next, creating dark lines out of shadows
and bright hills out of orange light… Someone took the time to
make these beautiful patterns and now the only ones who can see them
are May and the birds, the passers-by on street level wouldn’t know
they were there, but the starlings would.
And this rather less confident
image from The Victorian Way with Death:
Were cobwebs the only
things on earth more substantial in shadow than as themselves? It
swung in the draught from the eaves, an ethereal circus trapeze high
in the roof, joining another web, then parting again in the corner.
Their dance made David sad; the shadows of discarded webs. Once
intricate and purposeful – a unique and complex trap for prey –
now they were a fragmented and useless cluster of threads, defined
only by the way they blocked out the light.
Further to completing my second
reading of Starlings, I’m certain Mettler’s weavings are
substantial. Within the pages, there are stories of love and lost
love, obsession and betrayal. There are ghost stories, gang war
stories, family stories. Some of the stories tug on the
heart-strings, others make the reader decidedly uncomfortable. At
times, Mettler has a wickedly dry sense of humour. Often, laughs
sneak up on the reader, though at others, it is more end of the
pier than that, as evidenced in Dentistry, in which the
complicated procedure to extract a tooth from Giuseppe’s
mouth becomes a very close stand in for the sex act itself; there is
much writhing, much closeness of bodies, and an ending which involves
Giuseppe being passed a cup of blue mouth rinse which he is unsure
whether to "spit or swallow," and in the some of the story
titles. Interlewd is one example. But my award for the best
short story title I’ve read this year must go to Vaginas of
Hurstpierpoint. And because of Mettler’s structural trapeze
act, the text itself takes on epic proportions.
Throughout it all, the main
character, the axis upon which all of the other characters turn, is
the city of Brighton. We read this and feel as though we know
Brighton intimately, just as we get to know Baltimore inside
and out in The Wire. Mettler’s Brighton is written
with love, but with no little social insight. Here, she offers a
bird’s eye view of Brighton, of its landmarks and people. It is at
once, incredibly localised writing, but at the same time, very
universal writing. And she references real events; the fire on the
pier and, in particular, the events of one infamous Whitsun bank
holiday, 1964. In Targets, the conflict is as much between
father and son, an inter- generational, semi-Oedipal tension, as it is
between the mods and the rockers. Here, the seafront clashes of the
two gangs bear obvious parallels with Quadrophenia, but it
also felt very apt, reading this in the wake of the rioting in
London, Birmingham and Manchester in August.
Mettler presents the reader with
a real menagerie of Brighton folk. We meet an aging transsexual, a
typically forthright taxi driver, a corrupt policeman filled with all
the bitterness and spite of a David Peace character. Loners play a
big part in the story. Outcasts, the dispossessed, the divorced, the
abandoned, the abused. Alcoholics, divorcees, arsonists, drug
dealers, paedophiles; those who’ve fallen
through the cracks. Those born into the wrong body or the wrong time.
Starlings is an issue-driven text informed by disparate
communal voices turning on the conflicts between generations, sexes
and families.
There are common themes which
bind the stories together. "Looking", ways of seeing, how we
encounter the world, are clearly important to this author. Starlings
is a very visual text. Cinematic. Mettler has a background in film
and this comes through very strongly in the text. Here, the
characters tread the fine line between desire and temptation, lust
and love. In The View to the West Pier, Andy Watson, a
conflicted paedophile released from prison "broken and disconnected", "stands at his window on the twelfth
floor of Ocean Heights, looking down with birdlike stasis at the
beach and the Pier beyond." People either ignore him, or look at
him with "unmistakeable certitude – I know what you are."
In Pebble-Dashed, Alastair sees the world through the lens of
a camera. Trying to line it up on the beach, "he looks long and
beaky…craning his neck and bending his shoulders like a wading
bird." In Burning Feathers, Barney "viewed the world about
him in hyper-real detail, point by point." In Taxi!, Graham
sees the world through the windscreen of his cab, and in The
Editor, Jerry’s obsession with looking turns him into a virtual
stalker. And in the standout piece, Starlings, we’re
reminded, "Your eyes never change, May used to say – from birth
to death – they remain the windows to your soul."
Epic, unchanging, the human
condition is laid bare throughout these stories. Artfully, Mettler
picks it apart, examines it, and then builds it back together again
from a ruin, into something stronger, more coherent.
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A J Kirby is
the author of four novels, Perfect
World (TWB Press,
2011), Bully
(Wild
Wolf Publishing, 2009),
The Magpie Trap
(Youwriteon.com,
2008), and When
Elephants walk through the Gorbals, and
a new volume of short stories, Mix
Tape (New Generation
Publishing, 2010).
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