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A review by jola_g
Birds, Beasts and Relatives by Gerald Durrell
3.0
A person who enacted the ‘disappointing sequels’ curse on me, is kindly requested to undo it. It has been working effectively for a while and I feel exasperated.
Speaking seriously, I am solely the one to blame as far as Birds, Beasts and Relatives (1969) is concerned. I should not have ignored the first warning signal — at the very beginning, it turned out that the book covers exactly the same period as [b:My Family and Other Animals|48132|My Family and Other Animals (Corfu Trilogy, #1)|Gerald Durrell|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1327885239l/48132._SY75_.jpg|76682], the first volume of Corfu Trilogy, which I got enamoured of six years ago. Well, what you see is what you get.
It does not take Sherlock Holmes's deductive skills to suspect that the anecdotes and observations here are the ones which did not make it to the first volume. For a reason. Let’s face it, it does not sound like a guarantee of high quality. And indeed, Gerald Durrell tries to be entertaining and hilarious in Birds, Beasts and Relatives but his efforts to elicit laughter and thrills are annoyingly visible and heavy-handed while the humour in My family and Other Animals was completely effortless. An example: the cringe chapter about Mother and Gerry's visit to London. My eyes ached from rolling, especially during the spiritual séance.
Unfortunately, some aspects of Birds, Beasts and Relatives put me off even more. There are a few beliefs behind this book which felt awkward. They were not expressed straightforwardly, just subtly hinted, but perceptible anyway. ‘All ‘Gypsies’ are thieves’. ‘Fat girls are a laughingstock’. ‘A gay man is a wannabe paedophile’ (That man could have been a bad influence on the boy if he had had much to do with him). These ‘truths’ are served here soaking in a humouristic sauce which does not change much, quite the contrary. I know one should not expect our sensitivity from a memoir published in 1969 but, on the other hand, there are books written then which are devoid of such repelling revelations.
In spite of the infantile covers of some editions, I would not recommend this book for children. If at the age of 8 or 9, I had read a detailed description of a tarantula feasting on a baby lark, not to mention a dissection of a turtle or the death of Gerry’s hedgehogs, I would have been devastated while the rest of the book would have put me to sleep for sure.
The things I enjoyed immensely in Birds, Beasts and Relatives were Durrell’s bewitching and vivid descriptions of paradisiac nature and the explosion of warm nostalgia at the end of the book. And that would be it. I wonder if it is enough to embark on the third volume.
![](https://i.imgur.com/6mCTgpw.png%E2%80%9D407")
Agios Gordios, Corfu, Greece, Anne Durham.
Speaking seriously, I am solely the one to blame as far as Birds, Beasts and Relatives (1969) is concerned. I should not have ignored the first warning signal — at the very beginning, it turned out that the book covers exactly the same period as [b:My Family and Other Animals|48132|My Family and Other Animals (Corfu Trilogy, #1)|Gerald Durrell|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1327885239l/48132._SY75_.jpg|76682], the first volume of Corfu Trilogy, which I got enamoured of six years ago. Well, what you see is what you get.
It does not take Sherlock Holmes's deductive skills to suspect that the anecdotes and observations here are the ones which did not make it to the first volume. For a reason. Let’s face it, it does not sound like a guarantee of high quality. And indeed, Gerald Durrell tries to be entertaining and hilarious in Birds, Beasts and Relatives but his efforts to elicit laughter and thrills are annoyingly visible and heavy-handed while the humour in My family and Other Animals was completely effortless. An example: the cringe chapter about Mother and Gerry's visit to London. My eyes ached from rolling, especially during the spiritual séance.
Unfortunately, some aspects of Birds, Beasts and Relatives put me off even more. There are a few beliefs behind this book which felt awkward. They were not expressed straightforwardly, just subtly hinted, but perceptible anyway. ‘All ‘Gypsies’ are thieves’. ‘Fat girls are a laughingstock’. ‘A gay man is a wannabe paedophile’ (That man could have been a bad influence on the boy if he had had much to do with him). These ‘truths’ are served here soaking in a humouristic sauce which does not change much, quite the contrary. I know one should not expect our sensitivity from a memoir published in 1969 but, on the other hand, there are books written then which are devoid of such repelling revelations.
In spite of the infantile covers of some editions, I would not recommend this book for children. If at the age of 8 or 9, I had read a detailed description of a tarantula feasting on a baby lark, not to mention a dissection of a turtle or the death of Gerry’s hedgehogs, I would have been devastated while the rest of the book would have put me to sleep for sure.
The things I enjoyed immensely in Birds, Beasts and Relatives were Durrell’s bewitching and vivid descriptions of paradisiac nature and the explosion of warm nostalgia at the end of the book. And that would be it. I wonder if it is enough to embark on the third volume.
Agios Gordios, Corfu, Greece, Anne Durham.