There's something about how Sebastian Faulks scribes his novels that no other author has ever been able to match for me- his sheer mastery of the English language, his intense plot creations that quickly seam from simple premises to gripping epics within a few chapters and his unnerving ability to leave a profound impact on any reader at the climax of his piece no matter what the genre or topic distinguishes him from any other who has come before him or perhaps will come after. Birdsong is the finest example of Faulks' honest, brutal outlook on humanity, sending the reader on a journey from 1910 to 1916 to...well, I shan't spoil the surprise. Sufficed to say just a quarter of the way through you can expect a shift that, while at first jarring, soon feels a totally natural transition, and one that proves more influential on your view of the Great War as the novel progresses. We see through the eyes of Stephen Wrayford at the outset, but once again Faulks does not limit himself to giving one perspective on history, switching between wildly different protagonists whenever he sees fit, and while this would prove the downfall of so many other pieces, here you will find yourself engrossed to the end, compelled to read on and constantly building a spiritual relationship with each of the narrators. Be warned, however, that Birdsong could easily prove too violent, too harrowing for some casual readers to continue, and in no way is it a light undertaking. What it is is a novel that amazes, engages and horrifies in equal measure. The opening, dilemma and climax segue beautifully into each other such that the final words will seem to bring Birdsong full circle, and it is for these reasons and so many more that Faulks' 1993 piece is the most moving book I have read yet, and one of the best.
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