WE SHOULD ALL BE BIRDS

Finding purpose—thanks to a pigeon.

Buckbee’s life story is heartbreaking in so many ways: He’s lost his parents, his health, and the love of his life. Formerly an adventure traveler, Buckbee experienced years of gradually worsening health, his doctors mystified by his headaches, nausea, weakness, and weight loss. He is eventually diagnosed with myalgic encephalomyelitis/chronic fatigue syndrome, but his story is not like other disability memoirs—it doesn’t feel overly heavy. Buckbee makes friends with a pigeon he names Two-Step and soon has a flock that he cares for. Few readers are likely to directly relate to having a three-and-a-half-year-old headache or to welcoming a dozen pigeons to share their apartment, yet nearly every page manages to prompt an emotion—laughter, tears, wonder, or palm-to-chest exhalation in recognition of a profound truth. Indeed, the book is a sparkling example of the best kind of first-person storytelling in that its specificity succeeds in revealing universal truths. The story jumps around in time, including scenes from before his illness (Brian 1.0), his first meeting with Two-Step, and his real-time efforts to write his story via dictation. He offers small asides; for instance, he wonders if his dictation setup captures weeping. This breaking of the third wall brings the reader in close. We see all the ways his disability affects his life: A pigeon gone missing feels overwhelming; a stranger’s thoughtfulness is so very appreciated. His condition and his capacity to deal with life struggles separate the people he interacts with into those who empathize with him and those who doubt and gaslight him. Perhaps there’s a third group too—those who look the other way. (Don’t be in the third group.)

An extraordinary story full of humanity and life lessons from a man whose disability has largely removed him from society.