Kingfisher by Rozie Kelly review – passion at first sight | Fiction

ROzie Kelly’s famous and entertaining book, which has been nominated for this year’s Women’s Prize, begins with a story of early passion. Our unnamed narrator is a “beautiful” 35-year-old writer in a complicated but loving relationship with the charming but boring Michael. His target is a famous poet, 17 years his senior, running a prestigious course at the same university that he, in a small way, is also tied to. He doesn’t even know her, but he knows he wants to “be inside her”. It’s all confusing. “Woman! What is the world coming to?”

So what is so special about this? Well, he is smart, good looking, well dressed, not to mention rich and famous. It is this last principle that seems to work, especially in the beginning, with great power over the emotional speaker. I wanted to be him, to be like him, to be successful and to know the people he knew. Also, as he admits to himself as he sits quietly on a park bench watching the ducks, he would like to subdue him, “push him down, make his wits stupid with the weight of my body, and my small, hard shape”.

This is a book that is not afraid to surprise, and it starts to attract attention. Told in the first person, Kingfisher describes – perhaps unreliably, and with more fictional elements – the difficult relationship that develops between the poet and the poet, or “Kingfisher”, as he is called later, because of his love for birds. They begin by meeting to discuss the poet’s upcoming (and current) poetry. One thing leads to another, and the night passes with poems that are not spoken. Meanwhile, the narrator is still in awe of how things have changed (“I thought I was gay. I thought I was gay “). But after a while – accelerated by cancer – he settles into the habits and routines of a romantic relationship all the time.

This is not to say that things were not difficult. The narrator’s relationship with the sweet but mysterious Michael is, understandably, growing. Exhausted, Michael disappeared to Mexico for two weeks, and returned with a small sample. The narrator begins to wander. There is alcohol and drugs and unplanned sex with strangers. “Polyamory”, says a friend. “A lot of people like it. That’s what you’re doing.” Meanwhile, the narrator also has to deal with his racist and homophobic mother, Hetty, who lives in a care home. “And you are still living in sin, aren’t you?”, he asks, during one of his son’s doubtful visits. This is one of his words of honor.

Kelly cleverly, and boldly, explores different types of love and passion – which is created here by a strong force that bends first one way (older woman; younger man), then another (patient; caring). There is always a question, which is frequently asked by the narrator, and is presented to him directly by his wise friend: “Who is using it here, do we think?” Answer: they are both using each other. Hell, they’re writers in the making; anyone can copy it.

Unfortunately, despite a strong start and an impressive premise, Kingfisher fizzles out after the first few chapters. Fun characters are set and then forgotten; Narrative stories are not so much lost as they are not written. The book doesn’t seem to know which way to go. It seems strange, especially to this reader, that the intense language and violent passions that open this book should be quickly given up and kept quiet and at home. Indeed, there is an uncertainty of style and tone throughout, which is clearly indicated by the slow color change that sees us enter the realm of gothic fantasy. The ending comes with a very scary “it was all a dream”.

Kingfisher has a lot of verve and energy. It’s not afraid to take risks or look reckless. It vibrates and flickers, but does not catch fire.