Book Review: The Bird in the Tree

Title: The Bird in the Tree

Author: Elizabeth Goudge

Date: 1940 (U.K.), 1992 (U.S.)

Publisher: Servant Publications (1992)

ISBN: 0-89283-758-6

Length: 286 pages

Quote: “‘It’s true,’ he thought,  ‘the spirit of man has wings.’”

Although Elizabeth Goudge deliberately defied the fashion for stark, grim, ugly “realism” by writing happy, pretty stories, and chose not to be taken seriously by the sort of writers and critics who despised “women writers,” she was among the best, most endearing, most enduring popular fiction writers of the early twentieth century. She was one of those early twentieth century Christians who flirted with Positive Thinking, but then again she never (so far as I know) sank to the level of taking people’s money in exchange for telling them to visualize wealth. She wrote nice clean novels with happy endings. Some of her novels appeal to children more than others (this one is probably for adults only), but all are written in a child-safe way. If you like “cozy,” “gentle” fiction you’ll probably like Goudge. Her stories come from the Merry Pre-Industrial Bucolic England sector of the Lost Planet of Nice.

The Bird in the Tree was the first in a series of novels about the Eliots, explaining how the grandmother, Lucilla, married a rich man, wasn’t very happy with him, resolved to do the right thing by the children at least, and established Damerosehay House as a permanent Happy Place or Comfort Zone for the Eliot extended family. That’s the background. the plot is how David, the heir apparent, deals with his forbidden love for his uncle’s ex-wife, Nadine. It’s all narrated in a way that is likely to baffle children, but won’t confuse or upset them—no bedroom scenes, lots of chaste conversations about the ideals of love, virtue, and happiness.

Perhaps as a sop to any children who persist in reading the book, or as a reminder to adults that children need to be considered in any question of divorce and remarriage, Nadine’s children generate subplots. They track down village legends about the former residents of Damerosehay, who include a Possibly Wicked Woman and a Mildly Mad Artist. The artist, we learn, really was deranged enough to leave behind some nasty, scary-looking pictures, but even when he drew images of wormy skeletons moldering under trees he wanted people to notice the sunshine and songbirds at the top of the picture. The Possibly Wicked Woman, who may have been more than a nurse to an elderly gentleman but was never accused of unkindness to him, just might have become a friendly ghost who inspires psychic visions of an ideal mother-figue in the garden.

Readers also learn just a little about Lucilla’s other children, waiting to play featured roles in sequels...

It’s all pleasant and comforting. What Goudge can’t make pretty, she usually makes funny. Lucilla allows a glass of wine, or a whisky-and-soda, but no “cocktail” drinks in the house, she says, “with heat,” while Ellen the housekeeper quietly remembers how to mix each of Lucilla’s children’s favorite “cocktails.” Dav id is always late; “he knew quite well, the rascal, that he was one of those who are always waited for,” and Lucilla “could not scold him because she had done the same when she was young.” “Liberated” women who want to combine marriage and business careers “exasperated” Lucilla, because “Everyone must look after something in this world and why were they living their own lives if they looked after antique furniture, petrol pumps or parrots, and not when they looked after husbands, children or aged parents?”

If you’re up for a visit to the British sector of Planet Nice, The Bird in the Tree will take you there. Because I’ve had the experience of saying no to a physical attraction and being glad I did, I pronounce this one of Goudge’s better, more credible novels. No one could possibly believe that The Valley of Song was a true story, and A City of Bells is as implausible as The Valley of Song, but if you allow that a young man could be infatuated with his uncle’s ex-wife, you must allow that he could choose not to become a victim of his infatuation.

What you see, and what you'll get if you don't insist on a first edition, is a reprint edition that's not particularly hard to find, and although Elizabeth Goudge no longer needs a dollar, a copy of The Bird in the Tree will cost $5 per book + $5 per package + $1 per online payment. The whole "Eliot Family Trilogy" would fit comfortably into one package, with the option of adding another book as well; for the trilogy you'd send a U.S. postal money order for $20, or Paypal payment of US$21, to the appropriate address.