Crows portend dark tale
Victoria writer Robert J. Wiersema may well be Canada’s most prolific author. Black Feathers is the fifth book he’s published since 2006.
One of those previous books is a prose collection in the style of a mix tape, a memoir/homage, titled Walk Like a Man: Growing up with Bruce Springsteen. The other three are fiction, each involving families in difficult situations, featuring events that border on what many might term the occult, mingling the realms of darkness, reality and imagination.
This book’s even creepier, darker and eerier.
The main narrative focuses on Cassie, a 16-yearold runaway who’s given up on public shelters and is living on the streets of Victoria. It’s December and the weather’s turning nasty — as is something else.
Cassie is drawn into a group of homeless people who gather around a cultish leader. His platitudes offer charity and a brotherly sort of love, yet that’s not the atmosphere that prevails. While a certain camaraderie exists within the group, there’s tension as well, as precious belongings are stolen from backpacks.
This congregation of the homeless attracts the wrong kind of attention, especially from merchants pushing pre-Christmas sales. Before long the public gets riled and the squatters get turfed from the square where they’ve been camping.
Things get even worse when one of the women in the group is found with her throat cut. Although her death is cast as a suicide, it seems all too possible it’s another in the list of unsolved killings of prostitutes that have been occurring in the city. When the police arrive on the scene, nearly everyone scatters — everyone except the crows, who seem to gather and exchange meaningful glances each time anything bad happens.
When it comes to depictions of life on the street, Wiersema looks to have been thorough in his homework. He doesn’t shy away from the miseries of living rough: the grime, the cold, the gnawing hunger pains.
The reader feels it all, whether it’s the loss of pride that goes with begging or the logistics of finding a toilet or shower to use. And along with all of that, he takes us into the depths of paranoia and the mental illnesses so often accompanying this kind of life.
The book takes some getting used to, since much of the story is told via dream states, mostly not defined with textual or other notation. Cassie is not always sure whether she is dreaming or remembering actual events. Readers may sometimes be confused as well.
Despite some lapses including repetitions and careless word choices, it’s a surprisingly smooth read. The prose glides by, pulling readers along, willing them to keep turning pages to see what happens next, what is real or not.