Feathers (review)

As Frannie puzzles over the line from the Emily Dickinson poem, "Hope is the thing with feathers," that her teacher shared with her class, her peace is interrupted by the arrival of a new boy. The problem is that he's white, and white people don't belong on this side of town. When Trevor, the class bully, tells him he looks like Jesus, he accepts the nickname, adding another dimension to his enigmatic presence. His appearance makes people uneasy in different ways; Frannie's deeply religious friend Samantha, for instance, toys with the idea that maybe he really is Jesus, until the day he stands up to Trevor in a mean way. He unseats Trevor from his place of power, but in doing so proves that he, too, is merely human. This strongly character-driven novel is as ephemeral in tone as its title connotes, with much of the narrative taken up with Frannie's speculations on the various situations in her life that require hope and thoughtful pondering. She worries, for instance, about her deaf brother's outsider status, and about her mother's pregnancy (several previous pregnancies ended in tragedy). She contemplates Samantha's need to believe, and wonders about the Jesus boy and how he might fit in. Beyond these wise child deliberations, there is very little action; what tension is created revolves around the status of Frannie's mother's pregnancy, an issue the book leaves unresolved (though there is a strong sense that things are going to be all right). Those who read for plot will be left wanting more, but readers of a more philosophical turn of mind may appreciate the way the novel probes ordinary circumstances for their potential for luminous insight.