Pigeon English

Pigeon English
Stephen Kelman

I should start this out by saying previously I've fallen firmly in the "pigeons are rats with wings camp." When I travelled to Morocco I purposely ordered Pastilla, a sort of pigeon pie, as a sort of revenge for all the pigeons I'd had to wade through and then dodge their poops when I used to roller-blade to work way back when. Don't ask me why the various assortment of characters of San Francisco's 6th Street didn't bother me while the pigeons did. Perhaps because they had knives.

So when Harri initially makes friends with a pigeon I admit I identified more with his mom who told him it was dirty and don't be feeding that thing. Actually identify might be too strong a word, as the characters in this book are kept a bit at arm's length. So while the book was definitely competently written and engaging, I didn't feel completely drawn into their world. That is, until the last two pages.

What happens manages to stun, sadden and makes you question whether there wasn't a certain amount of comfort in the distance from the characters, i.e. we're used to being uninvolved voyeurs in other's lives, more so for those life circumstances are drastically different from our own.

Oh and by the way -- Pastilla? Let's just say, the Pigeons won that round too. Which is ok with me now. As Harri's pigeon points out - "We ask only for the same rights as you: we just want to live our lives, make a place for ourselves, room to shit and room to sleep, room to raise our children. Don't poison us just because we make a mess. You make a mess, too. There's enough of everything to go round if we all stick to our fair share."