I’m writing to recommend an extraordinary new novel, A Thousand
Paper Birds, by the first-time British novelist Tor (short for Victoria) Udall.
Origami lies at the heart of this impassioned and deeply empathetic novel, not
only because it is the artistic medium explored by one of its principal
characters, but also because of the author’s preoccupation with the complex
folding and unfolding of lives over time. With great subtlety, Udall
demonstrates how human relationships can grow ever more interconnected,
sometimes to the point of entrapment, where escape seems nigh impossible. And
yet, in the potential unfolding of any origami model to the flat paper from
whence it came, she finds a deeply moving metaphor for release and redemption.
The novel, set in and around Kew Gardens in London, concerns the
deeply interwined lives of five characters: Jonah, a once-aspiring musician and
composer, now teacher at a secondary school, who mourns the sudden loss of his
wife, Audrey, and of the inspiration that music once provided him; Chloe, the
shaven-headed, highly strung origami artist who finds fulfillment in the
creation of intricate paper designs and, eventually, in Jonah’s arms; Milly, a
light-hearted but soulful girl who roams Kew Gardens, and whose family remains
a mystery; Harry, a veteran gardener at Kew who takes Milly under his wing as a
kind of surrogate father; and Audrey, whose profound presence is felt
throughout the novel in the memories of the other four characters and in the
feverish voice that emanates from her diaries. It’s not surprising to read
that the author once ran a dance company, as there is an intricate choreography
to her characters who pair and unpair in subtle and surprising ways.
There is a sixth character as well: Kew Gardens itself, abundant
with ancient plants and teeming with the interconnected lives of its thousands
of human visitors. Kew serves both a repository of history (the innumerable
benches placed in memory of friends and family lost) and, in the seasonal
regeneration of its plant life, the rupturing of historical inevitability, the
opening up of hope and renewal. Harry, who we learn lost his family in World
War II, has found the courage to move on in the churning of the soil and in his
nurturing of Millie. Jonah seeks respite and peace in the serenity of the
gardens, Chloe in the waterfowl that inspire her origami designs, including the
paper birds that she secretly distributes among the gardens.
A Thousand Paper Birds is an intense, ensemble piece that draws us
so closely into the lives of its five protagonists to be, at times,
uncomfortable; it was with nervousness and guilt that I found myself reading
Audrey’s private diaries, eavesdropping on Chloe’s intimate thoughts and
conversations, and listening in on Jonah’s sessions with his shrink. But just
when the intensity of the protagonists’ relationships and inner lives begins to
feel claustrobic, the novel makes a startling shift into a spiritual (if not
supernatural) realm that brings with it the breath of redemption—the loosening
of the folds that will allow the characters to make peace with the lives
they’ve lived.
Throughout the book, the author invokes the spirit of Akira
Yoshizawa, quoting often from the interview I conducted with him over thirty
years ago. (Full disclosure: Udall provided me a free book, but it was my idea
to write this review.) Udall’s profound understanding of the spiritual and
philosophical urge to fold a piece of paper, create a pattern, make a
connection, and transform blank matter into life informs this magnificent novel
from beginning to end.
A Thousand Paper Birds is available at both the UK and USA versions of
amazon.com <http://amazon.com/>.
--Peter Engel
