A medium-length essay, in diary form, concerning February 2022 and the Western acknowledgement of Putin's invasion of Ukraine, which of course had started many years before that – but we'll let that pass. In fact a lot of people seem to be letting a lot pass, which is the point – the woman here is reading the news, collating the news and responding to the news so much, declaring this to be the beginning of WWIII, that her husband is forever telling her to switch the reports off. But the late winter sky they live under is the same late winter sky over Ukraine, her family has had reason to flee such a place in the past, and the war is already around the couple and all their friends – witness the fake news campaigns and bot-life on social media.

All this is added to in extended metaphor by birds – a catbird is "meewing" in the grounds of their house, and while there's hope that baby catbirds will come their way, there are birds that are the enemies of the species also present. The world's people, we are shown, are like Ukrainians – wanting to feel the flight of liberty yet not wanting to be "[s]itting Catbirds in a tree full of Robins and Blue Jays".

This is definitely a left-wing piece, scorning everything Trump says about the matter, dismissing claims of Biden's ineptitude, and reviving the worries of the Red Peril and the KGB finger being on the button. It's also fictionalised, according to the footnote at the end. It's also quite ridiculous in avoiding accepted punctuation, giving us lists without commas and oddball sentence structure quite unnecessarily. But its claim that it is written in a world "pushing at the outer edge of democracy" is a strong one, allowed to breathe and live on the page with a gentler touch than you might expect. The news from Mariupol etc is as galling as we all know it was, the birdlife is as calming as needed and is not over-wrought or laboured over, and the sense of frustration, even if exaggerated, is perfectly excusable. You can almost believe New York state to be Putin's next target, and for nuclear arms at that. And throughout, you wish those catbirds the best.

Hard to get into the writing style in my opinion but I loved the content! Just took me a minute to get into the flow.

A beautiful reflection on the anxieties one faces when witnessing war from an 'outside' perspective. This book was a short and impactful read. I recommend it if you are looking for something that will make you reflect upon current times and how you are interacting with the world.

Catbird is not exactly what I expected when I picked it up. Reading this, in short, was impactful. This is not a book that I think is for everyone especially people are easily focused on the anxiety that comes with, as the author writes, the survivors guilt of democracy. For that reason I bounced between 4 and 5 stars, however, the weight of the words pushed me to 5 stars. Reading about Ukraine and reliving feelings I once had made this book devestating in the way I think that it was intended to.

I would reccomend that everyone read this book. While it is specific to Ukraine, the feelings and the details of war are not exclusive to it. It was short but intensley impactful read.

Catbird's an odd little book, more a vehicle for Ukraine-related anxiety. It starts slowly, and the writing either means to be slightly experimental (odd in a journal format) or simply needs tighter editing (this part remains true throughout the book, though it could be in part the effect of reading it as an ARC). The end devolves into simply reporting on events in Russia and Ukraine over the past few years, information we should have, and it's a service from Davis to bring this topic up in a unique format.

The middle of the book has its heart, which revolves around anxiety, news obsession, and the seeming endless tumult of large and small tragedies (eventually becoming a litany of the horrors of war). There's the seed of a really interesting story here, in which the protagonist's anxiety but also her wisdom and insight, play off her husband's calm steadiness (which could be read as a lack of concern).

The catbird at the center of the story only sort of matters; it's a heavy metaphor, but the line could be developed more. Catbird as a whole could be either a much shorter story or expanded from novella form into a whole work. I'd like to know more about these people (who, even though they serve mainly to drive messaging, have the potential for interesting development), but there isn't space here for that, nor is it the point.

Between the odd writing - which does settling into a better groove as the book progresses - and the repetitive style, the book never became something I could latch on to, even with valuable elements in place.

This is a short book that I read in one sitting. It reads a bit like a fever dream with descriptions at times lovely but often disturbing. It's hard to believe the war in Ukraine has gone on for more than two years now - frequently in the news here yet a world apart. As someone who already tips toward anxiety perhaps the angst was a bit much for me, but I hope that others who have tuned out world news might read it with some deeper urgency and understanding.

Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for this ARC.