Magical realism
(moving objects taped down, as well as Alison's many introspections and dreaming)
alternates with the impact on people, animals, and a farming family of a Spring, Summer, and Autumn with no rain at all.

"...our house was turning into an aviary of household utensils..."

Observations and descriptions like this pervade the book, yet the overall sadness and depression, while beautifully rendered at times,
dominates and makes it challenging to want to read on in the face of even more: "Today might be different. It never was."

There is also puzzling predictability, as with the near drowning caused by the well-known cold cramping and the hay and matches.

As well, the ending felt forced and unreliable. Alison should have been allowed to prove (or not?) the depth of her character,
after all her accusations of Johnathan's weakness, by claiming him as a friend when school reopened.

The Rector was my favorite, though it's hard to comprehend how he could not have seen that a balance between his lingering theology
and the comfort needed by his dwindling parishioners would have been welcome. What fun finally for him and Maria!

So glad The Quarry Bird flew away before someone thought to kill it. ( )

Felt myself falling into this story almost right away, certainly by the start of the second chapter. The writing is lyrical, creating images and imparting information in an intricate weave. It’s a book without a plot, though, more a memoir in tone than a story, an exposition of events over a long, hot summer in Devon, sometimes grave, others times sad and humorous. Not one to speed through. Beautifully nostalgic. ( )

A very different book, with the english country dialect. I didnt think i was going to enjoy, but i did till the end. It was very abrupt ( )

Told from the point of view of teenage Alison, this book is set in the end of the hot summer of 1984 (in the UK). I found the book unimpressive, despite realistic people and fairly well-flowing conversation. There were some odd changes of perspective which shouldn't be possible in a first-person novel, and flashbacks which didn't quite work, confusingly interspersed with the present. It was also quite hard to read at times with strongly accented Devonshire speech. ( )

Just beautiful, I can't think of any way to sum up how rich this book is. Pears is the prince of legant simile. ( )