The Bird Of Night
by Susan Hill
Nomination: Booker Finalist 1972
Date Read: October 7, 2021
The Bird Of Night recounts the friendship of two fictional souls, Harvey and Francis. Harvey is a mild-mannered Egyptologist who works in quiet museums and goes about his business with duty and conviction. Francis is a manic-depressive who swings from very high highs to very low lows where he is literally out of his mind. The poetry Francis is able to write is inextricable from the psychosis that swirls around and through his work.
Francis, wanting to blame his madness on the war because it’s such an easy, logical cause is so understandable. Everyone wants an explanation for madness – the cause and effect trap. It’s so much simpler and tidy. I can relate to this so deeply. As someone who struggles with depression, I have always said that I wish my husband beat me or my life was super fucked up in some way because then I could point to that “thing” and say that’s the reason. Ah, the beauty of a pretext wrapped up in a bow.
Early in their friendship, Harvey takes on so much more than any other friend would. They don’t even know one another very well and yet he stands by Francis, realizing so quickly how ill-equipped he is to offer help. Francis is a mad genius and revered for his poetry, long after he has died. His madness and genius remind me somehow of Sexton (my absolute favorite poet) and Plath (second favorite), both of whom struggled with existence and ultimately took their own lives.
While Harvey is absolutely devoted to Francis, I didn’t feel as if Francis always reciprocated, possibly due to his mental illness. The emotional return for Harvey was pretty minimal. I know he viewed himself as a sort of “guardian angel” in the words of Francis’ father but I was always surprised when he didn’t just walk away. Nevertheless, Harvey’s dedication is so beautiful and how incredible to have someone in your life who can see through the madness and focus on the beauty that lies within.
Hailing from the 70’s, The Bird of Night never addresses whether Harvey and Francis were lovers but I assumed they were. The fact that their relationship made others uncomfortable also somewhat confirms this. Then again, Harvey’s dedication to Francis goes beyond anything sexual that perhaps the love portrayed here is purer. Instead of being drawn by sexual tension or longing their love just is. And that is just rare.
I loved this novel even though I expected not to like it very much. Creepy cover.
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