My Crowdependency Problem

Here we see a very, very normal morning scene in rural Devon, UK: a writer gets up, makes himself a coffee and finds a crow in his living room, striking theatrical poses and showing off to the less privileged birds who have to make do with living outside.

You might say there is a bit of a backstory here…

This crow (I opened the door for him out immediately after taking this pic, although he didn't seem too panicked about his predicament) is called Frank. Just before we moved into our bungalow, the previous tenant, Caroline, invited us over to pass on her knowledge about living here. “Oh I probably should tell you about the crow as well,” she said. Caroline warned us that if we didn't put out scraps for Frank, and probably if we did, he would hurl himself against the kitchen window in protest.

“See,” she said, pointing at a selection of large, overlapping bird-shaped smears on the glass. “Frankprints. There’s not much point in washing the window. It will be just as dirty by tomorrow.”

Frank didn’t really make his presence felt for the first six months we were here, and we wondered whether Caroline had been exaggerating, but in March last year his campaign of extortion began in earnest. Since then we have come to love him, as you might love a charming thug lodger, and feel greatly relieved that we have, against initial odds, managed to secure another year’s tenancy in his company. There is no bigger character in the neighbourhood, with the possible exception of the obnoxious grey squirrel who regularly pops over to drive our cat Charles half-insane by yelling squirrel f***words at him…

Frank must have initially been a little disappointed that, unlike our predecessors, we are vegetarians, but he clearly enjoyed the food we, and our non-vegetarian cats, left him. At the same time, I sensed he wanted more, craved validation and acknowledgement in some more profound way. "Okay," I thought. "Have it your way. You can be in my new novel."

I almost did the same thing with a thrush who flew into my living room in the summer of 2017 and perched on a 1960s abstract painting, but unfortunately I realised I wasn’t quite ready to write a novel at that point, especially one featuring an imperious, art-loving songbird.

So that's why my book, Everything Will Swallow You, which comes out in September, features a crow called Frank.

An excerpt from Everything Will Swallow You, featuring Frank’s fictional alter ego

At first I thought Frank would have only a brief walk-on role in EWSY’s narrative, but as I got deeper in, his presence grew in importance and in the end Frank gifted me my favourite closing chapter to any book I've written.

The photo of Frank striking his pose at the window was taken on Thursday, after another warm night when we’d left most of the windows open. Thursday was also the day Everything Will Swallow You went to press, and I find it hard to see that as a coincidence. "Okay," he seemed to be saying. "Payment time."

Frank used to be quick to polish off the leftover gribbly bits of mechanically recovered meat our cats are too diva-ish to eat, but lately a husband-wife team of magpies have been beating him to it. All I could find immediately to hand on Thursday were some rubbery three-day old Tyrrells crisps. Frank seemed accepting of that but I fear we haven't heard the end of the matter. Especially if EWSY does okay when it comes out and I receive my first royalty cheque for it next spring.

So I suppose what I'm saying here isn't "DON'T ever strike a deal with a corvid to enhance your art." I'm just saying think about it extremely carefully first, as there will undoubtedly be consequences, further down the line. Ask yourself, "How much do I want this?" And then - only then - make your decision.

P.S. Massive apologies to my better half for shouting "Oh my god, what on earth are you DOING out there?" at her before realising that it was a crow, not her, in our living room.

If you’d like to meet Frank’s fictional alter ego in September, via the pages of Everything Will Swallow You, I feel duty bound to inform you that Blackwell’s Bookshop UK are doing an AMAZING pre-order offer on signed first edition hardbacks, including free international shipping. Pre-orders massively help the book get into the shops which, as a knock-on effect, will eventually also ensure I can purchase lots of cat food for my cats to ignore and donate to Frank. Alternatively you can pre-order from Bookshop.org UK and Waterstones. And you can read an extract here. Also, in case you happen to be anywhere near Devon, UK, on September 9th, I’ll be chatting to fellow West Country author Jon Woolcott about the book at the Exeter branch of Waterstones (you can grab a ticket here).

If you’d like to support my writing for less than the sub fee here on Substack - and save me giving ten percent of my earnings to Substack - you can do so here via my website, either with a monthly payment or a one-off donation.

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