Review: The Songbirds of Florence, by Olivia Spooner

One could be forgiven for noticing a resurgence of books containing tales, triumphs, tragedies and tribulations from 1939-1945, when the world underwent an irreversible evolution from a society ruled by classes, empires and gender stereotypes to the baby steps towards the Western society most of us know today. Many of these missives offer worthy insights into this unprecedented time in history, with the majority of them focusing on the international repercussions – with good reason, as World War II upended the world as we’d known it. Olivia Spooner’s The Songbirds of Florence is a confronting version of some of the events in which New Zealanders abroad were involved, told from the viewpoint of The Tuis – the female New Zealanders who became an integral part of the story of how both male and female Kiwis found themselves armed with only their wit, wisdom, beliefs and friendships in this inexplicable upheaval. Our main female protagonists are Margot – a quiet widow, trying to come to terms with the loss of her loved young husband at war – and Addy, a vivacious, warm beauty with a fabulous voice and enough beauty to put a smile on any weary soldier’s face. The women are taken first to Cairo in Egypt, where their role is to keep the men entertained however they can – within reason. Their world is an incomprehensible melee of drinks, dances and fun, while facing the harsh realities of war, including the devastation wreaked on bright young men who have had their bodies – and often their minds – irreparably damaged. Love is always a running thread – between families, loved ones and even strangers, and as the Tuis continue their mission through Italy, ending in Florence where reality becomes an almost incomprehensible plight. This book juxtaposes the stark dichotomy between the glamour and gruesomeness that the women were living. Silks, luxury clubs and stunning architecture rustle incongruously alongside the devastation of entire towns, the ruin of many soldiers’ physical and mental health, and the bewilderment of a generation for whom nothing will ever be the same. A good example is when the women attend a dance ‘…through a foyer and into an expansive ballroom with glittering chandeliers and an orchestra at the far end playing ‘Summertime…', before being transferred to Italy just a few days later where ‘…The sight left no doubt the world was still at war… This port, teeming with life, was feeding a hungry war machine. A machine that churned through innocent, seemingly expendable men’.

While there are many moments throughout the book – which was inspired by true events – in which it can feel almost unbelievable that so many nations, and individuals, were irreparably scarred by the atrocities of the time, what sets The Songbirds of Florence apart for me is the insightful ways in which Spooner creates relatable moments. We see Margot evolve from a wounded, shy girl into a trailblazer for the next generation using the same skills and learnings we use today, making what could have felt a world away from us become much more close. 21st century living generally protects us from the terrors of having to check a board every day to see if our loved ones will ever come home again, or to see fit, healthy soldiers become a trembling shadow of their original selves, having had to kill humans with abandon. However, this book’s secret weapon lies in the constant leitmotif of the indomitable human spirit, whether in 1944 or 2024, which will always see us fight for what we know we need, look after our own, and find enjoyment in even the most terrible of circumstances. Alongside the perils of war, there’s a reminder that the little things are important. 'A simple glass of fresh milk; the scent of newly-cut lush green grass; a local grocery store where the owner knew your name and you knew theirs and everyone understood each other: Marmite; Tip Top vanilla ice cream.' This is a book of beauty and cruelty; of love, friendship, trauma and grief. It’s definitely a love story – but a love story that evolves into many matters of the heart outside that of lovers. At its centre, however, this is a book of the depth of care and courage we all have within us, no matter how deep or devastating the situation. Olivia Spooner should be proud to have this book of hers on her bookstore's shelf. Reviewed by Catherine Milford