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