Blackbird House: A Novel

By Alice Hoffman

With “incantatory prose” that “sweeps over the reader like a dream,” (Philadelphia Inquirer), Hoffman follows her celebrated bestseller The Probable Future, with an evocative work that traces the lives of the various occupants of an old Massachusetts house over a span of two hundred years.

In a rare and gorgeous departure, beloved novelist Alice Hoffman weaves a web of tales, all set in Blackbird House. This small farm on the outer reaches of Cape Cod is a place that is as bewitching and alive as the characters we meet: Violet, a brilliant girl who is in love with books and with a man destined to betray her; Lysander Wynn, attacked by a halibut as big as a horse, certain that his life is ruined until a boarder wearing red boots arrives to change everything; Maya Cooper, who does not understand the true meaning of the love between her mother and father until it is nearly too late. From the time of the British occupation of Massachusetts to our own modern world, family after family’s lives are inexorably changed, not only by the people they love but by the lives they lead inside Blackbird House.

These interconnected narratives are as intelligent as they are haunting, as luminous as they are unusual. Inside Blackbird House more than a dozen men and women learn how love transforms us and how it is the one lasting element in our lives. The past both dissipates and remains contained inside the rooms of Blackbird House, where there are terrible secrets, inspired beauty, and, above all else, a spirit of coming home.

From the writer Time has said tells "truths powerful enough to break a reader’s heart” comes a glorious travelogue through time and fate, through loss and love and survival. Welcome to Blackbird House.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
• Release date: Jul 20, 2004
• ISBN: 9780385514019

Alice Hoffman

Alice Hoffman is the author of thirty works of fiction, including Practical Magic, The Dovekeepers, Magic Lessons, and The Book of Magic. Visit her website: AliceHoffman.com.

Book preview

THE EDGE OF THE WORLD

I.

IT WAS SAID THAT BOYS SHOULD GO ON their first sea voyage at the age of ten, but surely this notion was never put forth by anyone’s mother. If the bay were to be raised one degree in temperature for every woman who had lost the man or child she loved at sea, the water would have boiled, throwing off steam even in the dead of winter, poaching the bluefish and herrings as they swam.

Every May, the women in town gathered at the wharf. No matter how beautiful the day, scented with new grass or spring onions, they found themselves wishing for snow and ice, for gray November, for December’s gales and land-locked harbors, for fleets that returned, safe and sound, all hands accounted for, all boys grown into men. Women who had never left Massachusetts dreamed of the Middle Banks and the Great Banks the way some men dreamed of hell: The place that could give you everything you might need and desire. The place that could take it all away.

This year the fear of what might be was worse than ever, never mind gales and storms and starvation and accidents, never mind rum and arguments and empty nets. This year the British had placed an embargo on the ships of the Cape. No one could go in or out of the harbor, except unlawfully, which is what the fishermen in town planned to do come May, setting off on moonless nights, a few sloops at a time, with the full knowledge that every man caught would be put to death for treason and every boy would be sent to Dartmoor Prison in England—as good as death, people in town agreed, but colder and some said more miserable.

Most people made their intentions known right away, those who would go and those who would stay behind to man the fort beside Long Pond if need be, a battle station that was more of a cabin than anything, but at least it was something solid to lean against should a man have to take aim and fire. John Hadley was among those who wanted to stay. He made that clear, and everyone knew he had his reasons. He had just finished the little house in the hollow that he’d been working on with his older son, Vincent, for nearly three years. During this time, John Hadley and Vincent had gone out fishing each summer, searching out bluefish and halibut, fish large enough so that you could fill up your catch in a very short time. John’s sloop was small, his desires were few: he wanted to give his wife this house, nothing fancy, but carefully made all the same, along with the acreage around it, a meadow filled with wild grapes and winterberry. Wood for building was hard to come by, so John had used old wrecked boats for the joists, deadwood he’d found in the shipyard, and when there was none of that to be had, he used fruitwood he’d culled from his property, though people insisted applewood and pear wouldn’t last. There was no glass in the windows, only oiled paper, but the light that came through was dazzling and yellow; little flies buzzed in and out of the light, and everything seemed slow, molasses slow, lovesick slow.

John Hadley felt a deep love for his wife, Coral, more so than anyone might guess. He was still tongue-tied in her presence, and he had the foolish notion that he could give her something no other man could. Something precious and lasting and hers alone. It was the house he had in mind whenever he looked at Coral. This was what love was to him: when he was at sea he could hardly sleep without the feel of her beside him. She was his anchor, she was his home; she was the road that led to everything that mattered to John Hadley.

Otis West and his cousin Harris Maguire had helped with the plans for the house—a keeping room, an attic for the boys, a separate chamber for John and Coral. These men were good neighbors, and they’d helped again when the joists were ready, even though they both thought John was a fool for giving up the sea. A man didn’t give up who he was, just to settle down. He didn’t trade his freedom for turnips. Still, these neighbors spent day after day working alongside John and Vincent, bringing their oxen to help lift the crossbeams, hollering for joy when the heart of the work was done, ready to get out the good rum. The town was like that: for or against you, people helped each other out. Even old Margaret Swift, who was foolish enough to have raised the British flag on the pole outside her house, was politely served when she came into the livery store, though there were folks in town who believed that by rights she should be drinking tar and spitting feathers.

John’s son Vincent was a big help in the building of the house, just as he was out at sea, and because of this they would soon be able to move out of the rooms they let at Hannah Crosby’s house. But Isaac, the younger boy, who had just turned ten, was not quite so helpful. He meant to be, but he was still a child, and he’d recently found a baby blackbird that kept him busy. Too busy for other chores, it seemed. First, he’d had to feed the motherless creature every hour with crushed worms and johnnycake crumbs, then he’d had to drip water into the bird’s beak from the tip of his finger. He’d started to hum to the blackbird, as if it were a real baby. He’d started to talk to it when he thought no one could overhear.

Wild creatures belong in the wild, Coral Hadley told her son. All the same, she had difficulty denying Isaac anything. Why, she let the boy smuggle his pet into the rooms they let at the Crosbys’ boarding house, where he kept the blackbird in a wooden box beside his bed.

The real joy of the house they were building, as much for John as for anyone, was that it was, indeed, a farm. They would have cows and horses to consider, rather than halibut and bluefish; predictable beasts at long last, and a large and glorious and predictable meadow as well. Rather than the cruel ocean, there would be fences, and a barn, and a deep cistern of cold well water, the only water John’s boys would need or know, save for the pond at the rear of the property, where damselflies glided above the mallows in spring. John Hadley had begun to talk about milk cows and crops. He’d become fascinated with turnips, how hardy they were, how easy to grow, even in sandy soil. In town, people laughed at him. John Hadley knew this, and he didn’t care. He’d traveled far enough in his lifetime. Once, he’d been gone to the island of Nevis all summer long with the Crosbys on their sloop; he’d brought Coral back an emerald, he’d thought then that was what she wanted most in the world. But she’d told him to sell it and buy land. She knew that was what he wanted.

Coral was a good woman, and John was a handsome man, tall, with dark hair and darker eyes, a Cornishman, as tough as men from Cornwall always were. All the same, he didn’t have too much pride to herd sheep, or clean out a stable, or plant corn and turnips, though it meant a long-term battle with brambles and nettle. Still, his was a town of fishermen; much as soldiers who can never leave their country once they’ve buried their own in the earth, so here it was the North Atlantic that called to them, a graveyard for sure, but home just as certainly. And John was still one of them, at least for the present time. If a man in these parts needed to earn enough to buy fences and cows and turnips, he knew where he had to go. It would only be from May to July, John figured, and that would be the end of it, especially if he was helped by his two strong sons.

They moved into the house in April, a pale calm day when the buds on the lilacs their neighbors had planted as a welcome were just about to unfold. The house was finished enough to sleep in; there was a fireplace where Coral could cook, and the rest would come eventually. Quite suddenly, John and Coral felt as though time was unlimited, that it was among the things that would never be in short supply.

That’s where the horses will be, John Hadley told Coral. They were looking out over the field that belonged to them, thanks to those years John had spent at sea and the emerald they’d sold. I’ll name one Charger. I had a horse called that when I was young.

Coral laughed to think of him young. She saw her boys headed for the pond. The blackbird chick rode on Isaac’s shoulder and flapped his wings. It was their first day, the beginning of everything. Their belongings were still in crates.

I’ll just take him with me and Vincent this one time, John said. I promise. Then we’ll concentrate on turnips.

No, Coral said. She wanted three milk cows and four sheep and her children safe in their own beds. She thought about her youngest, mashing worms into paste for his fledgling. Isaac can’t go.

By then the brothers had reached the shores of the little pond. The frogs jumped away as they approached. The blackbird, frightened by the splashing, hopped into the safety of Isaac’s shirt, and sent out a small muffled cry.

He’s like a hen, the older brother jeered. At fifteen, Vincent had grown to his full height, six foot, taller than his father; he was full of himself and how much he knew. He’d been to sea twice, after all, and he figured he was as good as any man; he already had calluses on his hands. He didn’t need to go to school anymore, which was just as well, since he’d never been fond of his lessons. He doesn’t even know he can fly, he said of his brother’s foundling.

I’ll teach him. Isaac felt in his shirt for the blackbird. The feathers reminded him of water, soft and cool. Sometimes Isaac let the chick sleep right beside him, on the quilt his mother had sewn out of indigo homespun.

Nah, you won’t. He’s a big baby. Just like you are. He’ll be walking around on your shoulder for the rest of his life.

After that, Isaac brought the blackbird into the woods every day, just to prove Vincent wrong. He climbed into one of the tall oaks and let his legs dangle over a high limb. He urged the blackbird to fly away, but the bird was now his pet, too attached to ever leave; the poor thing merely paced on his shoulder and squawked. Isaac decided to name his pet Ink. Ink was an indoor bird, afraid of the wind, and of others of his own kind. He hopped around the parlor, and nested beneath the woodstove, where it was so hot he singed his feathers. He sat on the table and sipped water from a saucer while Isaac did his studies. It was a navigation book Isaac was studying. The Practical Navigator. If he was not as strong as Vincent, or as experienced, then at least he could memorize the chart of the stars; he could know the latitude of where they were going and where they’d been.

Do you think I could teach him to talk? Isaac said dreamily to his mother one day. Ink was perched on the tabletop, making a nuisance of himself.

What would a blackbird have to say? Coral laughed.

"He’d say: I’ll never leave you. I’ll be with you for all time."

Hearing those words, Coral felt faint; she said she needed some air. She went into the yard and faced the meadow and gazed at the way the tall grass moved in the wind. That night she said to her husband again, Don’t take him with you, John.

April was ending, with sheets of rain and the sound of the peepers calling from the shore of the pond. Classes would end in a few days, too—they called it a fisherman’s school, so that boys were free to be sent out to work with their fathers or uncles or neighbors from May till October. The Hadleys left in the first week of that mild month, a night when there was no moon. The fog had come in; so much the better when it came to sneaking away. The British had lookouts to the east and the west, and it was best to take a northerly route. They brought along molasses, the fishing nets, johnnycake, and salted pork, and, unknown to John and Vincent, Isaac took along his blackbird as well, tucked into his jacket. As they rounded the turn out of their own harbor, Isaac took his pet from his hiding place.

You could do it now if you wanted to, he said to the bird. You could fly away.

But the blackbird shivered in the wind, startled, it seemed, by the sound of water. He scrambled back to the safety of Isaac’s jacket, feathers puffed up, the way they always were when he was frightened.

I told you he’d never fly. Vincent had spied the blackbird. He nudged his brother so that Isaac would help check the nets. He’s pathetic, really.

No, he’s not!

By now they were past the fog that always clung to shore at this time of year, and the night was clear. There were so many stars in the sky, and the vast expanse of dark and light was frightening. The water was rougher than Isaac had ever seen it in their bay, and they were still not even halfway to the Middle Banks. The sloop seemed small out here, far too breakable.

Is this the way it always is? Isaac asked his brother. He felt sick to his stomach; there was a lurching in his bones and blood. He thought about the oak tree and the meadow and the frogs and the way his mother looked at him when he came in through the door.

It’s the way it is tonight, Vincent said.

Used to the sea, Vincent fell asleep easily, but Isaac couldn’t close his eyes. John Hadley understood; he came to sit beside the boy. It was so dark that every star in the sky hung suspended above the mast, as though only inches above them. Isaac recognized the big square of Pegasus that he’d seen in his book. The night looked like spilled milk, and John Hadley pointed out Leo, the harbinger of spring, then the North Star, constant as always. John could hear the chattering of the blackbird in his son’s waistcoat. He could taste his wife’s farewell kiss.

What happens if a storm comes up? Isaac said, free to be frightened now that his brother was asleep, free to be the boy he still was. What happens if I’m thrown overboard? Or if a whale comes along? What happens then?

Then I’ll save you. When the wind changed John Hadley smelled turnips, he really did, and he laughed at the scent of it, how it had followed him all this way to the Middle Banks, to remind him of everything he had to lose.

II.

SO MANY MEN WERE TAKEN IN THE MAY GALE THAT the Methodist church on Main Street could not hold the relatives of the lost all on one day. There was a full week of services, and not a single one had a body to behold. The law suggested three months pass by before any action was taken; time after time, it was true, sailors who had been thrown off course by the cruel circumstances of the seas, then assumed drowned, had appeared at their own funerals. Once a drowned man arrived on the steps of the church, those who mourned him demanded to know where on earth he’d been all this time. Was there another woman in the West Indies or up in Nova Scotia? Had every cent he’d earned at sea been spent on rum? The truth was usually far simpler: it took a long time to get back home, out here

Reviews for Blackbird House

[bookconcierge · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

This is a collection of vignettes, spanning two-plus centuries, all set in the same house / farm on the tip of Cape Cod, Massachusetts. beginning when the area was still a British colony and ending in the early 21st century.

There is something magical about the property, starting with the snow-white blackbird whose appearance frequently portends disaster. Still, couples make it a home, start their families, till the soil, pick the fruit, make pies, and jam. And each family is changed by their time at Blackbird House.

I found these stories enchanting and mesmerizing, though I’m hard pressed to say what exactly it was about them that so charmed me. Maybe that is the magic of Hoffman’s storytelling.

[whitewavedarling · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Alice Hoffman has long been one of my favorite authors, but I'm afraid this collection fell short for me. As gorgeous as Hoffman's language is--and it is worth falling into in this collection, just as it always is--the stories here didn't, for the most part, pull me in or make me glad to have picked up the book. My favorite stories were the first and the last, and although I suppose the (tenuous) thread connecting all of these stories was meant to provide some additional elevation to the work, the overwhelming feeling I got from the collection was one of despair and struggle. The drama was tough to wade through, to be honest, because without the depth Hoffman normally brings to her characters, the stories relied on plot and theme to pull a reader a long, and there just wasn't enough nuance or tension to anything but the language for that.

As ever, Hoffman's characters and language are brilliant, but I think what I so love about her work is lost when it comes to short-form writing. I'm still a devoted fan, but I may skip any other short story collections she produces.

[charon07 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

This collection of interconnected stories all take place in a house on Blackbird Hill. In Alice Hoffman's mystical style, a blackbird turns white, a widow wears red in mourning until you can't tell "her insides from her outsides," and real boys seem like ghosts while ghosts are mistaken for real boys. The multigenerational time span allows Hoffman to showcase her usual themes of love and loss on the great wheel of life.

[drapple_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

A series stories revolve around a particular house in this novel. The stories all focus on the owners of the house at a particular time in history from the sailor who built the house for his wife and family, then promptly took his son to sea and drowned, to a modern day woman dealing with losses who inherits the house from her parents. A couple of stories were exceptional. I particularly liked the story of the warbride who develops a relationship with her mother in law who tries her best not to like her.

[alejandraivanez · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

What a beautiful way to connect so many time periods to one place.

[ddelmoni_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

After many Hoffman books, still my favorite!

[stephanie_m-868484 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Blackbird House is simply wonderful. This book was absolutely beatifully drawn with such attention to detail of the human condition, it's interconnectedness to others and most importantly, to a certain place.

Blackbird House is the most unique collection of short stories I've ever read. It's not just a story here and there comprised of different characters and settings with the only common demoninator being that of the author, instead there's a common thread woven throughout: the House, it's history and the type of inhabitants it attracts. And the writing...! Alice Hoffman is such an eloquent writer. Her prose is simple but evocative, mystical but magical, detailed by not flowery.

The stories are phenomonal, too. And some I will have to go back to re-read because I think I may have missed some of the tradmark Alice Hoffman-isms of magical realism. I can hardly believe it is 200 pages. I devoured it so quickly and was so sad it was over. The concept of connected stories of the folks that moved through the Blackbird House just works so well, and there are very few writers who can tell a story like Alice Hoffman. Being immersed in her books is like sitting by a campfire with a great storyteller and just being carried away. Needless to say, I have a lot of catching up to do on her books - and catch up I will. Alice Hoffman always reminds me of why I enjoy reading so much.

My only complaint of Blackbird House is that some stories tend to end a little abruptly, like without much resolution, making us wonder what really happened. In the end, I wanted things to come more full-circle, explictly tying every story and every generation together, but it didn't, not really. Not for me.

4 happy stars. Read this novel soon!

[cassie.peters1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Beautiful

This book is so beautiful. It follows several characters over several years but they all have links back to the same farm house. I enjoyed reading it.

[ellenh_28 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Another magical, delightful book by Alice Hoffman!

[hardlyhardy · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Is it a novel or a book of short stories? Surprisingly, it isn't always easy to tell.

Take Elizabeth Strout's “Olive Kitteridge,” for example, or “Mister Monkey” by Francine Prose. Both consist of stories that could stand alone, yet they have characters and a few other points of reference in common. It helps when the author makes it clear what it is, as Edward Rutherfurd does when he tells the history of places like London, Paris and New York in a series of stories, some of which may take place decades or even centuries apart. He calls his books novels, so that is what they are. Other writers aren't as helpful.

I started reading Alice Hoffman's “Blackbird House” (2004) under the impression it was a novel. Soon I was not so sure. Some editions of the book identify it as a novel. Mine does not. Neither the paperback cover nor the copyright page makes it clear. Then I skipped ahead to a conversation with the author at the end of the book, where Hoffman refers to her "stories." So let's call it that, yet her book actually has much in common with Rutherfurd's. While Rutherfurd tells the history of a certain place with related, sometimes reoccurring characters, Hoffman does the same thing, but her place is a fictional New England house. Her "history" tells of the occupants of that house over a couple of centuries.

These stories are beautifully written in that lyrical style Hoffman does so well in her best work. Some end tragically, as with sailors lost at sea, a murder or a suicide, while others paint more positive pictures. As for painting pictures, the most important color on Hoffman's palette is red. In these stories we find red hair, red skin, red pears, red oaks, red-winged blackbirds and so on. There is the more common blackbird in the first story, "The Edge of the World," but after that it is a white blackbird that flies through the stories, as if it were the ghost of that original bird. Some characters view it as an omen, but whether it brings good luck or bad varies from story to story.

Hoffman says in the conversation at the end that “Blackbird House” began with a short story she was asked to write for the Boston Globe. That story, "The Summer Kitchen," inspired the rest.

I love this book, whatever it is.

[scot2-1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This is the second Alice Hoffman book I have read. She writes so beautifully. I think this collection of stories is very well worth reading. They are unusual and thought provoking.

[joannemonck · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

A quick read. There are many individual stories in this rather short novel. Each story is based on the Blackbird house that had something to do with their life. The book spans many years and generations but all the stories were interesting. Some sad. Some glad. But all the stories are worth a read.

[theeccentriclady · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

Fans of Alice Hoffman may really enjoy this collection of short stories about a house in Cape Cod and it's many different residents over many years. I was hoping for a much more dramatic story, one that drew me in and kept me wanting to know more. What I found was a lot of short cameos that never really went anywhere. Just the same red, blood, tragic situations and the bird but no depth. Many of the short stories just end abruptly and you are left feeling like "Did I miss something? Is a page missing?" Over all it was a disappointing experience for me.

[moonshineandrosefire · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Welcome to Blackbird House - a small farm on the outer reaches of Cape Cod, imbued with as much vitality as the people who live there. For the past two centuries, Blackbird House has stood as a testament to time and the passage of history; a place as bewitching and alive as the characters we meet. There is Violet Cross, a brilliant young woman who is in love with books and with a man who is destined to betray her; Lysander Wynn, attacked by a halibut the size of horse, is convinced that his life is ruined until a boarder wearing red boots arrives to change everything; and Maya Cooper, someone who does not understand the true meaning of the love shared between her mother and father until it is almost too late.

From the time of the British occupation of Massachusetts to present day in our own modern world, for each family that lives within the walls of Blackbird House, their lives are inexorably changed for however long they may stay. Not only by the people they love, but also by themselves and the lives that they lead within Blackbird House. For more than a dozen men and women who have lived inside Blackbird House, they will learn just how much love transforms us and how it is the one lasting element in our lives.

These interconnected narratives are as intelligent as they are haunting, as luminous as they are unusual. In a rare and gorgeous departure, Alice Hoffman weaves a web of evocative tales that becomes a glorious travelogue through time and fate, through loss and love and survival. The past both dissipates and remains contained inside the rooms of Blackbird House, where there are terrible secrets, inspired beauty, and, above all else, a spirit of coming home.

I must admit that I was slightly disappointed in my reading of Blackbird House; but that is only because I wanted more from each story. It felt slightly incomplete to me. I suppose that was because I wanted to know more of a back story with each of the characters, and I had a nagging feeling of being left hanging, wondering what would happen next. In my opinion though, reading this book was certainly still very enjoyable.

In my opinion, each story was beautifully and lyrically written, if somewhat unusual and fantastic in places. I would give Blackbird House by Alice Hoffman a definite A! I have maybe two or three other books by Ms. Hoffman on my bookshelf that I might be interested in reading sometime in the future, but I'll need to search them out. I'm sure they'll turn up at some point.

[bookfest_1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

If you love Cape Cod, old houses, or historical fiction you will love Blackbird House by Alice Hoffman. Each chapter is a short story that could stand on its own, but they are all linked to a single farm house on Cape Cod. Beginning in the Colonial period, the stories continue into contemporary times. In addition to the house itself, there are motifs that constantly reappear, some of them edging on magical realism, such as the white blackbird that was the pet of a young boy who died at sea in the first chapter. Each story is expertly crafted, with characters you instantly care for, each facing a life crisis that makes for engrossing reading. These stories are like a string of pearls!

[micalhut · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Alice Hoffman in all her magical glory. How she weaves intuitive impulses and moods into her stories without saying it, I have yet to figure out. I plan on reading every single book researching this phenomenon.

[bookofsecrets · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

BLACKBIRD HOUSE is another memorable book from Alice Hoffman, one that would appeal to a lover of American historical fiction and magical realism, like me. The book is a collection of 12 interconnected short stories set on the same remote farm on Cape Cod. The imaginative stories span 200 years, beginning at the British blockade of the cape during the War of 1812 through present day, and their common denominator is Blackbird House.

The first story, "The Edge of the World," sets the mysterious atmosphere of the book, when an eerie bird takes up residence at the farm. The bird makes an appearance throughout the next two centuries, as the house's occupants experience love, loneliness, and loss, heartbreak and hope.

I enjoyed all of the stories, but there were a few that really stood out: “The Conjurer’s Handbook,” about a WWII soldier who falls in love with a Jewish guide at a prison camp; “Black is the Color of My True Love’s Hair,” about love at first sight and sibling rivalry; and “Insulting the Angels,” about a man willing to change the world for a complete stranger.

I love Alice Hoffman's lyrical writing style, and her tragic and triumphant characters. I just need to read a few lines of the first page, and I'm hooked. I would also recommend Ms. Hoffman's THE RED GARDEN, which is another collection of short stories, only they're connected by a town instead of one house. Fantastic reading!

[bellamia_1 · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

I am very sad that I could not get into this book. I love the other books by Alice Hoffman, this is the first I didn't like. I beginning to realize it's hit or miss with her books. I will try others.

[allyflower15 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This is the first book I've read by Alice Hoffman. I've never really been into short stories - I prefer a longer, more complete narrative - but this was absolute brilliance. Her writing style is distilled yet profound, and her characters leap out of the page. I loved how all the stories were placed in chronological order, and how the older families of Blackbird house were usually mentioned in the later stories. My favourite one though was "Lionheart", and I loved Violet. I highly recommend this book! I'm now an Alice Hoffman fan because of it.

[rhinoa_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

A series of short stories by the wonderful Alice Hoffman all set in or around the same isolated house. It is originally build by a husband for his wife and two sones. They plan on starting a farm and a garden when he is lost at sea along with their two young children. The youngest son's pet blackbird who refused to fly escapes and makes it back home, but has turned white during the ordeal.

The house is not the only consistent aspect in the tales as the house passes through families and generations. A ghostly white blackbird is often seen and there are themes of love and loss. Sadly many of the characters become orphans or lose their children.

They are all beautiful and moving tales. One that really stayed with me was of a woman who loses her parents and home in a fire. She takes to living on the beach until some of the local women interfere and place her with the crippled blacksmith to keep his house. As time goes by she learns to trust and opens her heart again. She is gifted with a peach tree which is another constant in the tales that follow. Very highly recommended to anyone who likes great prose with a fairy tale lilt to it.

[klarsenmd · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Beautifully written. Whimsically enchanting. Touching and tragic. This book meld many stories of the various inhabitants of Blackbird house over the course of several centuries. A wonderful piece of literature.

[gerri007 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Although I am not a fan of short stories, the 12 stories, connected by all taking place in the same Cape Cod farmhouse over the course of many generations caught & kept my attention from the first. The characters are richly colored & very diverse in character and circumstances but love is a central theme in all their lives. The hints of magic, ghosts and witchcraft at times add a sinister quality to some of the stories.
I would recommend this book as a good read

[chmessing · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

Just picked this one up at the library, so no expectations. A quick, easy read over the holidays that follows snippets of the lives of numerous people in a small coastal Maine town who have an association with one particular house/farm.

[countrylife_1 · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

Blackbirds, turnips, sweet peas and red pears. Ten year old boys, and the number 24. Twelve chapters, each telling the story of the family who lived in the Blackbird House during that chapter’s time frame. The concept sounded like it would yield an interesting book.

And at first I was enjoying the stories, historical fiction set on Cape Cod, of fishermen, cranberries, ponds and gardens. But each story was so filled with tragedy of one kind or another, that, although they (all but one) ended with a tiny little thread of hope, it was just too sorrowful a trip through time. Especially the chapters set in more modern times. If tragedy is your thing, you may like this book. I won’t be bothering with this author again.

To be fair, there was one plus for me: having just returned from a vacation in that area, it was pleasant to ‘see’ it again through the richly drawn setting.

No, two. This phrase: “I read books as though I were eating apples, core and all, starved for those pages, hungry for every word that told me about things I didn’t yet have, but still wanted terribly, wanted until it hurt.”

[jlrobinson99 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I really like Alice Hoffman, but I don't (often) really like short story collections. Unless they hang together, united by a common element. This short story collection by Alice Hoffman hangs together (united by a house/property) so I really liked it. ;)

[rainpebble_1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

An absolute favorite of mine. I thought 'how strange' when I first started it but it might be one of my very favorites of hers and I am SUCH an Alice Hoffman fan. Anything I read of hers becomes my 'bible' while I am reading it.

[knittingfreak · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I can't begin to tell you how much I loved this book. Alice Hoffman is quickly becoming a favorite of mine. I was so immersed in the reading that I didn't want to take the time to stop and take notes or even mark favorite passages. So, I know I won't even be able to come close to doing the book justice. Hopefully, my profuse gushing will be enough to entice you to read it. Then again, it may simply want to make you scream. Blackbird house is a book of connected short stories. But instead of being connected by a particular character or characters, these stories are connected over a couple hundred years by a house.

The house is located in the remote reaches of Cape Cod, Massachusetts. The house truly seems to be another character in the stories, sometimes the main character. For some, it is a dream come true. For others, it is a refuge. For still others, it is a place to hide. Of course, I liked some stories more than others, but I can honestly say that there is not one story that I didn't like, which is rare for me. As with most all of Hoffman's books, there is an element of magical realism. Sometimes this element doesn't always work for me, but Hoffman makes it work every single time. I never question it. Again, as with a lot of her writing, there is often a darkness to the stories in this collection.

The Witch of Truro is probably my favorite story. It's about Ruth, a young woman, who lives alone after her mother and father die of smallpox. Tragedy finds her again when her house burns down and she's left with literally nothing but her milk cows. She takes to living right on the beach until the women of the small town can stand it no longer. They put a plan into action. They begin by bringing her food and befriending her. After a while, they convince her to be the cook for Lysander Wynn who survived a storm at sea years earlier. Both Ruth and Lysander have been beaten up by life and are pretty much loners who end up finding some comfort from each other.

Everything that happens to these families in Blackbird House over the years makes me wish that I lived in an older home. I would love to think about the people who lived there before me. However, we built our house, so I can only hope that hundreds of years from now, someone may think about the original inhabitants of their home and wonder what our life was like.

[callista83 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

This is the first of Alice Hoffman's books that I've read that I didn't rate 4 stars or higher.

The premise is good, seeing the different people who live in one house over a period of two hundred years. However there were so many characters that I found it hard to follow who was who. I enjoyed it when the next set of people were somehow related to the previous set. When it seemed the next set of people were completely unrelated and had just moved in somehow, I didn't like it as much. For example, we go from Ruby and Garnet and their mom to Lysander and there is no indication of where Lysander came from. It would have been better if a descendant of Ruby or Garnet had moved into the house. Also there were a few story lines I felt should have been explained better such as those of Vincent Hadley and Rosalyn Brooks and Husband.

Maybe it's just me and how I read things because a lot of people have given more positive reviews of this book. Don't get me wrong, I did like it and I had trouble putting it down but it was just a little too confusing for me.

[bnbookgirl · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

the way the stories all connect together to become one whole is wonderful.

[storyjunkie · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This is a series of short stories centered on a house, and the lives that touch that house. Connected to witches and otherworldly happenings, the house is witness to the very human joys and struggles of generations of people. Quietly powerful, poignant, the impact of the stories caught me by surprise, some days after I'd finished the book.