Rebecca O'Connor has recorded the story of a developing relationship between a woman and her bird as they become hunting partners. It's a rocky journey, marked by failures, frustrations, and fly-offs early on, but it gets easier. O'Connor understands that their success as a team depends on the two of them learning from one another.

This relatively short (just over 200 pages) memoir has a natural narrative arc, centered on Rebecca's acquisition of Anakin and their progress toward - and sometimes away from - the goals she's set for them as hunters, but the telling of the story is less straightforward than that. Periodic flashbacks to O'Connor's past - which includes abandonment by both parents at one time or another and victimization by sexual predators - offer insight into her motivations, and there is additional context in the challenges she faces in her relationships with other falconers, her boyfriend, and her mother during the time she begins working with Anakin.

O'Connor's writing style is quite direct for the most part, but there are passages where it's very expressive and nearly poetic. I was completely drawn into this story - agonizing over Rebecca and Anakin's setbacks, cheering their successes, and rooting for them both all the way. At the same time, I felt frustrated at times by a sense that I was getting glimpses into Rebecca, but not really being given the chance to know her; I think this came from wanting her to expand more on some of the flashbacks. Once I was further into the book and had a better sense of how the flashbacks fit into the larger narrative, I was able to let go of that frustration and enjoy the story much more. ( )

What do you think of when you think of falconry? In my head I seen medieval knights atop warhorses with a raptor perched majestically on their chain mail clad arm. Obviously I have wild imagination issues. (Did people ever hunt with falcons from horseback? Probably not.) But even with my overactive imagination, I never really considered that people still practice falconry today. They do though, and author Rebecca O'Connor has written a beautiful memoir weaving falconry with her life.

The prologue opens with O'Connor and her peregrine out on a hunt. The falcon has injured a duck and O'Connor knows that she should put the duck out of its misery, as other professionals do, but she finds herself incapable of the quick, merciful pulling out of the duck's heart, wondering instead just who exactly she in relation to to this quick and impressive falcon, master, partner, or servant. From this somewhat grisly but introspective beginning, O'Connor peers into the very heart of her life, her love of birds, and the seductive appeal of the centuries old art of falconry.

Intertwined with the story of buying and training a peregrine, an act equal parts skill, luck, and trust, is the story of O'Connor's life with her falconer boyfriend, her somehwat estranged mother, and the grandfather who introduced her to and fostered her love of birds. While the chapters on the raising and training of Anakin were fascinating, the portions where O'Connor reflects on how her life is wrapped up in the majesty and religious experience of hunting with her bird are equally appealing. She has woven the threads of her life and relationships skillfully around and through the story of the frustrating and magnificent bird. Her descriptions of the natural world, the nature of prey and predator, and the delicate balance that exists between us all, human and animal, are lush and vivid, evocative and elusive, thoughtful and startlingly insightful.

It was lovely to be let into the world of this slight memoir and to examine the arc of relationships through the world of falconry. O'Connor's choice of working in concert with Anakin seems to mirror her own conscious choice to build a relationship with her mother. And although this metaphor could seem forced, it doesn't. It simply works and works beautifully. The writing is lyrical and yet somehow spare at the same time. The revealing nature of O'Connor's struggles with training Anakin let the reader into her life and head and also cause much self-reflection as well. This hypnotic glimpse into an ancient pastime will entrance more than just the falconry community. It should please anyone interested in memoirs.

Thanks to author Rebecca O'Connor for sending me a copy of the book for review. ( )

From Publisher's Weekly

Lift: A Memoir
Rebecca K. O’Connor. Red Hen, $18.95 (208p) ISBN 1597094603
Novelist and nature reference author O’Connor (Falcon’s Return) crafts a lyrical tribute to the spiritual connection between humans and birds in this memoir of the excruciating, transformative process of training a peregrine falcon: “Falconry is a religion, a way of thinking, a means of experiencing life.” Indeed, readers will find almost as much spiritual content as natural. Despite O’Connor’s icy-clear voice, her descriptions of training a young male falcon are fascinating for bird lovers and civilians alike: “when the falcon connects a high-speed dive… the duck remains a piece of the sky and only its body careens to earth.” Surprisingly, periodic flashbacks to a troubled childhood—an abusive stepfather, an absentee mother—bolster her story rather than distract, turning a falcon’s “serious and unmerciful” eye back on her own life, and discovering inexplicable wells of generosity and forgiveness for the family who wronged her. O’Connor packs a lot of intelligence, poise and feeling into a few pages, making this a consistently rewarding read. (Nov.) ( )