New "Birds" of America

Birds of a Lesser Paradise, a collection of short stories by Megan Mayhew Bergman, explores the relationship of people to animals, of humanity to nature. Those timely themes are the ribbon tying together a gift of well-crafter stories that deliver like Alice Munro without most of Munro’s creepiness.

In a meeting last week I witnessed the silent tension between two women who were silently agreeing to disagree. One told us how she decided with her husband that they would set a limit, $500, on the amount of money they would spend to save their dog, before they even got one. She said that as long as there are people starving in the world, they can’t throw unlimited funds at a pet. Another woman, who loves her dogs like children and has gone through training for her dog to be used in therapy, smiled and stayed quiet.

I understand both of these perspectives. I’m someone who lived happily without a dog for quite a few years and now has one who requires steroids to keep from getting skin infections that require antibiotics, steroids that lead to tooth decay and makes teeth cleanings a necessity. She sighs and turns to another new position as she lies against me, keeping my thigh warm, even as I type.

The complicated relationship between people and animals in Bergman's book moves between that of owner and pet, prey and predator, caregiver and the needy. The “civilized” world and nature also have a complex relationship—we abuse and protect the environment, sometimes at the very same time. Even the threat of environmental disaster is held up against the personal tragedies and triumphs of individuals.

One of Bergman’s stories involves a woman whose boyfriend (named Malachi, no less) runs an environmentalist group. This group requires a pledge of “no breeding” from its members, with the goal that nature take over and humanity die out. The woman finds out that she has somehow become pregnant, and she must re-evaluate what she believes.

Characters with deep respect for their environments seem to be losing out to those environments. Others must make a choice between the animals and the people that they love. Characters revisit their ethics and creeds when circumstances change and their basic beliefs come into question.

Another story that really stuck with me is that of a woman who rescues needy animals. Her partner cannot tolerate it, and he leaves until she can come to a decision. She calls herself “the shepherd of a strange flock," which left me with a lovely vision of the damaged and vulnerable flock that I am part of on this earth, waiting on my shepherd. While this book seems for the most part consciously unreligious, in fact featuring a character or two who are decidedly against Christianity, the spiritual nature and the complexity of earthkeeping comes through loud and clear.

Great writing and interesting characters led me to pick this up again and again, even though short stories usually leave me feeling sort of short-changed. I often feel like I have just commited to a character, only to find out that particular story is finished. In this book, I was eager to find out who else I would be introduced to, where they lived, and what animals “peopled” their lives. This time around I wasn’t discouraged by the abrupt nature of the short story.

Don’t read this if you are looking for heartwarming dog or cat stories. The animals in the book are full and well-rounded, not anthropomorphized, as are the ties that bind them to the humans. The author exhibits both a love for the natural world and a hope in the nature of humanity.