Deborah Hewitt’s debut novel The Nightjar tells the story of Alice, a woman in a dead-end job who discovers that she’s an aviarist: a person with a magical talent for seeing the nightjars that act as psychopomps for human souls. Drawn into an alternate London populated by mages of various stripes, she finds herself drawn into the schemes of a mysterious benefactor, a cult leader, and a cabal of anti-magic bigots. The setting is a fascinating one, and I especially love the conceit of the nightjars. Hewitt does a great job of describing the mystical birds and showing how they reflect their charges’ personalities.
Despite that, the plot and characterization were somewhat lacking. Alice in particular felt like she lacked agency. She spent most of the book stumbling from one crisis to the next. While it makes sense that she would be in over her head at first, the novel would have been a lot more satisfying if Hewitt had shown her gradually gaining a measure of control over her surroundings.
A similar problem occurs with one of the side characters, Sasha. Sasha has a strong fear of water, which we see displayed several times in the story. The usual narrative for something like this would be for the character to make progress toward overcoming her fear, but this character arc goes completely unresolved.
I also didn’t buy into the relationship between Alice and Crowley. Crowley’s secretiveness is obviously an intended character trait, and he has good reasons for it, but Hewitt overdid it. After a while, I simply couldn’t understand why Alice continued to trust him.
There is one other major issue I had with the plot, but it involves significant spoilers, so I’ll leave it for the end. Overall, I found The Nightjar disappointing precisely because it had the potential to be so much better. The world it’s set in is interesting, and there were a lot of possibilities for intrigue, action, and great character interactions. There is some of all those things here, but the problems are substantial enough to bog it down.
Alice’s primary motivation throughout the whole book is to save Jen. Every time she does something unwise, or doesn’t walk away from Crowley when she really should, her rationale is that she has to take these risks for Jen’s sake. While the Crowley thing pushed the boundaries of plausibility for me, I can understand someone doing dumb things out of desperation. But Jen dies in the end anyway! It made the whole thing feel like a “shaggy dog story.” It also didn’t seem to fit with the story tonally. The main character moving heaven and earth to save someone, only to have them die anyway, can work, particularly in a horror story. But while there are some dark moments in The Nightjar, and it’s clear that not all magic is benign, this didn’t feel like the kind of tale that should have such a nihilistic ending.