A tale of leaving, of staying with something, of the world changing and noticing how life makes you connect and how there are connections whether you will have them or not -- there is a lot going on in Migrations.
The Charlotte McConaghy novel tells the stories of Franny Stone. The animals on Earth are dying out, and she is tracking the last of the Arctic terns. She talks her way onto a fishing boat to follow tagged birds on what will probably be their last migration from pole to pole.
As the ship heads south, Franny's past is revealed to the reader. She insists she is untethered. Yet she still seeks her mother, who disappeared after Franny set off on an exploration from home when she was only 10. She writes letters to her professor husband, who she has left so many times that she says he finally left her.
More than the terns, what Franny seeks is the sea. She straps herself into her ship's bunk so she won't head toward the ocean in her sleep. She has rescued boys who were in danger of drowning, and she has spent time in prison.
Through the revelations, through Franny's inner journey and through the journey tracking terns, McConaghy weaves into the narrative poetry and Margaret Atwood writing about birds. Franny is called a selkie. There may even be an echo to some of a certain voyage by a captain as determined as that of the one skippering Franny's boat to find his quarry.
The unveilings and unravelings are fascinating. That they are tethered to the longing of being in a world where wild animals flourish, and where their absence will leave holes in the heart as well as the world, makes them resonate all the stronger. McConaghy takes full advantage of the lyricism in Franny's background to make Migrations a powerful tale.