The Bird in the Tree (1940) is the third Elizabeth Goudge novel I’ve read, after The Middle Window and The Scent of Water, but it was the first one I ever owned. Embarrassingly, I was given it back in 2008 – by Jenny, who used to blog with Teresa at Shelf Love. There was something called ‘buy a friend a book’ and lots of bloggers sent books around the world. I don’t remember who I bought for or where I sent it, but I’m delighted I took part because – 15 years later – I really loved this novel.
The Bird in the Tree is apparently the first of a trilogy of novels about the Eliot family – some of whom are living in Damerosehay, a beautiful home that is not an ancestral pile, but has been acquired relatively recently in a somewhat romantic and characteristically determined move by Lucilla. She is the matriarch of the family, loved and underestimated by all. They respect her steely core, but focus more on the sweet wrappings of it.
She did not know why they found her so deliciously funny, but she was glad that they did, for she knew that the people who can be loved and laughed at together are the most adored.
With her is her unmarried daughter, Margaret, a clergyman son and several visiting grandchildren. Two of her sons have died in the war, including her favourite child, Maurice. This favour has continued to the second generation – his son, David, is also beloved by all. As the novel opens, he is returning and his nephews are delighted to greet him.
From this varied cast of characters, alive and dead, Goudge manages to give us distinct understandings of them all – and the relationships between them, whether close, precarious, or faded. Here, for instance, is David’s relationship with his unmarried aunt – and the final word of the paragraphs takes it in a direction I hadn’t anticipated, but which has such truth to it.
But David, standing where all the Eliot men always stood, in front of the fire so that none of the warmth could reach their female relatives (though to do them justice they did not think of this, Lucilla not having the heart to point it out) threw the evening paper quickly aside and went instantly to meet Margaret. He never forgot for how many years she had done for him all the things that it would have bored Lucilla to do; darned his socks, packed his box for school, ministered to him when as a small boy he was sick in the night; he did not forget, and he never failed to show her a punctilious affection that hurt her intolerably.
David has inherited much of his grandmother’s determination and charm, and he finds it easy to make people love him – but he has far greater stores of selfishness than she does. Luckily things that please him tend to please others too, but there is secret he is holding that threatens to hurt many people and damage many relationships. When Lucilla comes to hear of it, her purpose is to try and dissuade him.
Most of what I loved about The Bird of the Tree was the feeling of being swept away to this family estate. I’m not good with visual descriptions and wouldn’t be able to tell what Damerosehay looked like, but I truly felt like I was there. Goudge conveys its gentleness, its familiarity, its cosiness and security and history – and its resistance to change. I felt at home.
I also loved Goudge’s unashamed story of sacrifice for others. Few modern novelists would expect a character to sacrifice something seemingly vital to him for the sake of other people. The narrative of ‘you have to be true to yourself’ is overwhelmingly dominant now, and Lucilla’s advice may seem old-fashioned to many. But I appreciated the morality of The Bird in the Tree, and the uncloaked way it was shown. While I’m not sure I agreed with all of Lucilla’s beliefs, I really liked the sincerity and faith behind them – the unselfish way she lives them out, and hopes others will also live them out.
What prevents The Bird in the Tree feeling saccharine or simplistically moralistic is Goudge’s excellent observational writing. Here, for instance, David is remembering a time of deep upset in his youth, scared of his father’s increasing illness:
Terrified by it he had fled one evening to the dark attic, slammed the door and flung himself down sobbing upon the floor. He had sobbed for an hour, sobbed himself sick and exhausted until at least, childlike, he had forgotten what it was he was crying about and had become instead absorbed in the moonlight on the floor. It had been like a pool of silver, enclosed and divided up into neat squares by the bars of the window. He had counted the squares and the lines, dark and light, and had been delighted with them. He had touched each with his finger, this way and that, and had been utterly comforted.
It’s a tricky balance, but Goudge treads it expertly. I loved the time I spent at Damerosehay and the spread of characters I met – mostly Lucilla, who charmed me as much as she does everyone else. I hope I manage to read the sequels rather more quickly than I read the first.
This has made me want to go and find my copy and revisit immediately despite the massive backlog of to be read piles that surround me
I loved this too. It had sat on a shelf for years and saw that you were reading and enjoying it, so decided it had languished long enough. I especially loved the descriptive passages of the house and garden. Elizabeth Goudge was clearly a gardener and, even now, I feel I could stroll around that magical garden.
I loved this trilogy about the Eliot family in my early teens, although probably a lot of it was too mature for me then (I came via The Little White Horse, as you might imagine). I was a little in love with David, I believe, and a bit overwhelmed by Lucilla.
I really enjoyed this review and the excerpts quoted. I have tried Elizabeth Goudge in the past and yet not found one I liked yet (my mother-in-law loves her books). I think this story might well be one to change my mind.
Yay! So glad to see Goudge celebrated in this thoughtful, insightful post. I love the paperback editions of her books published by Hodder and Stoughton and have ordered almost every last one, though still have this trilogy to read. The Dean’s Watch is a must-read at Christmastime (and A City of Bells sets you up for it, introducing some of the characters).
I’m so glad you loved this! It was one of those books given at a pivotal moment that profoundly affects you. I was given it as a teen for a Sunday school prize by a rather alternative vicar, who obviously read my situation completely aright. As an isolated, adopted child and a complete cuckoo in the wrong nest, it gave me so much comfort and the idea that will power and emotional robustness can override unhappy circumstances. I have loved the series ever since and I believe it was fundamental to my lifelong love of reading and eventual career as a bookseller.
What a wonderful story! I love the way you phrased that too – “the idea that will power and emotional robustness can override unhappy circumstances.” What a gift!
I’m so glad you enjoyed this! The next book (Pilgrim’s Inn / The Herb of Grace) is one of my very favorite EG books, so I hope you do get to it before too long.
I’ve just read and enjoyed this one too, as you know. I loved Damerosehay and the three child characters and I was surprised by the sacrifice – as you say, most modern books would have gone in a very different direction.
I love Elizabeth Gouge. I know she’s old fashioned and we wouldn’t countenance some of the stuff in the books today but I can never forget how much I adored “The Little White Horse” as a child.
Sounds marvellous, Simon – the only Goudge I’ve read is her children’s book, “Linnets and Valerians”, which I loved, so I really should give her adult work a try!
Elizabeth Goudge was one of those writers that my library always had books by when I was taking myself off there on a Saturday morning. I never read her though. This definitely sounds right up my street, I love novels about families and their dynamics, secrets and so on.
This is a great review. My book group read this book in December and we all loved it. I’m so glad you did too! I love the way reading something with such a different emotional and moral perspective from the air we breathe today really makes you think and can sometimes actually be really refreshing.
My favorite moment in the book was the scene when David won’t take the dogs with him when he goes out (because he’s being a bit secretive) and the children are just outraged. “Not today. No.” And he knows he’s behaving shabbily … I think Elizabeth Goudge must have been an animal lover!
A friend just leant this to me. I’m looking forward to reading it now even more after your review.
A blogging friend of mine told me that the Damerosehay books were recommended to couple’s receiving counselling for marriage difficulties – can’t remember the details but Goudge’s focus on ‘doing your duty’ or love in action, regardless of your feelings isn’t something we hear about much. I liked Pilgrim’s Inn out of the three in the trilogy but they all link up.
The Dean’s Watch is one of my favourite Goudge books.
I am a big Goudge fan and went to Wells in June because she grew up there. The Little White Horse which is my favorite of her books would probably be considered too sentimental by most but I think in The Bird in the Tree she hits just the right note. I don’t remember the rest of the series well. Glad you enjoyed this one! I thought I might get to it this week but I got slowed down by a surprising nonfiction book (in which the heroine just went to Wells, surprisingly).
I loved Linnets and The LIttle White Horse but I don’t think I read her others. This sounds such a lovely treat, especially with a house like that.
My mother collected many Goudge books because The Little White Horse was her favourite as a child, and I would have said it was mine, too, for many years. I’ve inherited them now, but had no time to read anything for this club, so it seems like I have a treat in store.
I am so grateful to have had this book brought to my attention. I was unaware that Elizabeth Goudge had written for adults. I am of a certain age. A widow with a marriage of 43 years and 2 children behind me. I absolutely adored this book and read many passages with tears of recognition. I early on suspected that the whole book was based on Keats famous lines. Lines that were inexplicable to me as part of my O Level syllabus at age 16. Our English teacher either didn’t try to interpret them or found it impossible to convey the meaning to a class full of young girls. I cannot remember the last time I was so moved. Thank you.
Lesley, that is such a lovely comment – it’s the sort of thing that reminds me why I keep blogging. I’m so glad you got so much out of The Bird in the Tree – and I hope the sequels are equally powerful.