MIGRATORY BIRDS

Essays haunted by echoes and shadows.

In the third entry of the publisher’s Undelivered Lectures series (following books by Mary Cappello and Namwali Serpell), Mexican-born essayist Oliver debuts with a collection of 10 graceful pieces that include meditations on place, language, exile, and memory. Whooping cranes, the subject of the title essay, follow “a route anchored in memory” in their annual migration. Not all migrations, though, end in home: In the early 1960s, thousands of children were sent from Cuba to Florida by parents who feared that they would be wrenched from their families to serve Castro. Too many to house in camps, the children were relegated to orphanages or temporary homes; many never saw their parents again. Other migrations are willful tests of one’s identity: Writer and performer Emine Özdamar left her native Turkey for Germany, where she chose to write in German. “Authors who write in languages that are not their own are frequently interrogated about their motivations, as though words were also private property,” Oliver observes. The author, who won a scholarship to study in Erfurt, Germany, when she was 22, considers the complexities of inhabiting language, place, and time. In Berlin, Oliver discovered that the violence of the past “is a dense fog that refuses to lift. The city stands out because it trades in reversal: the echo is sharper than the sound, memory is stronger than the present, and in public you are only allowed to conjugate in the past tense.” At least 3,000 unexploded bombs lie beneath Berlin; the city of Koblenz has been evacuated four times so that bombs could be defused. Oliver also found secrets beneath the surface in Cappadocia, where she visited cities of ancient caves carved out of Anatolia’s volcanic earth; 37 cities have been found so far, connected by high-ceilinged tunnels. Early Christians sought refuge in the caves, which now have become a tourist destination.

Thoughtful, sensitively observed essays.