Charlotte McConaghy

Franny Stone has always been the kind of woman who is able to love but unable to stay. Leaving behind everything but her research gear, she arrives in Greenland with a singular purpose: to follow the last Arctic terns in the world on what might be their final migration to Antarctica. Franny talks her way onto a fishing boat, and she and the crew set sail, traveling ever further from shore and safety. But as Franny’s history begins to unspool—a passionate love affair, an absent family, a devastating crime—it becomes clear that she is chasing more than just the birds. When Franny's dark secrets catch up with her, how much is she willing to risk for one more chance at redemption?

Epic and intimate, heartbreaking and galvanizing, Charlotte McConaghy's Migrations is an ode to a disappearing world and a breathtaking page-turner about the possibility of hope against all odds.

A Novel

Migrations

'An extraordinary novel... as beautiful and as wrenching as anything I've ever read' Emily St. John Mandel A dark past. An impossible journey. The will to survive. Franny Stone is determined to go to the end of the earth, following the last of the Arctic terns on what may be their final migration to Antarctica. As animal populations plummet, Franny talks her way onto one of the few remaining boats heading south. But as she and the eccentric crew travel further from shore and safety, the dark secrets of Franny's life begin to unspool. Haunted by love and violence, Franny must confront what she is really running towards - and from. From the west coast of Ireland to Australia and remote Greenland, this is an ode to the wild places and creatures now threatened, and an epic, moving story of the possibility of hope against all odds. ______________ READERS LOVE MIGRATIONS: 'Wrenchingly beautiful' 'Visceral, heart-breaking' 'Simply phenomenal' 'Raw and gripping' 'Riveting' 'Here's your next favourite' 'A story...about love, passion, wandering' *Previously published as The Last Migration*

Rachel Wingler

If I had the power, I'd carry the birds all the way. Protect them from the journey's difficulty. Then again, it's a fool who tries to protect a creature from its own instincts.

I write it all down for him, so that when he reads the words he will be filled with the courage of the birds just as the wind fills their feathers.

I've a calmer heart, too, living alongside the savage one. Its voice often sounds a lot like my husband's and it counsels caution, it warns me that there is a long way yet to travel and that cunning will serve me better than fury.

This is truer to my nature, surely, and maybe this is why it feels right to share. That I am of the leavers, the searchers, the wanderers. The ilk of those taken by the tides, instead of the steadfast, the true. But that a part of me has always wanted to belong here.

There's a compass in my heart that leads me not to true north but to true sea. No matter which direction I turn, I will find myself being persistently corrected.

I have always been frightened of dead things, birds more so than anything else. There is nothing so disturbing as a creature born to flight being bound to dull lifelessness.

"These extraordinary creatures were undoubtedly the most successful on earth, because they courageously learned to exist anywhere."

"We ate the birds," he says. "We ate them. We wanted their songs to flow up through our throats and burst out of our mouths, and so we ate them. We wanted their feathers to bud from our flesh. We wanted their wings, we wanted to fly as they did, soar freely among the treetops and the clouds, and so we ate them. We speared them, we clubbed them, we tangled their feet in glue, we netted them, we spitted them, we threw them onto hot coals, and all for love, because we loved them. We wanted to be one with them." (credit Margaret Atwood)

"Yours is a terrible will," he told me once. And that is true, but I have been a casualty of it far longer than he has.

It's not life I'm tired of, with its astonishing ocean currents and layers of ice and all the delicate feathers that make up a wing. It's myself.

"What makes a young thing like you so tired of life?"

When I don't answer, he hugs me. I am so surprised that I don't remember to return the embrace. There are very few people, in my understanding of the world, who offer tenderness so freely.

The effort of compartmentalizing is a steady scraping away at my mind. The long snaking curl of an orange being peeled in one skillful piece: that is my brain.

Mam used to tell me to look for the clues. 

"The clues to what?" I asked the first time. 

I've been looking for them ever since, and they have led me here, to the boat I will spend the rest of my life aboard. Because one way or another, when I reach Antarctica and my migration is finished, I have decided to die.

There is hardly anything wild left, and this is a fate that we are, all of us, intimately aware of.

We share a silence filled with the beauty of delicate white wings that carry a creature so far. I think of the courage of this and I could cry with it, and maybe there's something in his eyes that suggests he understands a little of that. 

I've seen a fair helping of the world and what strikes me most is that there are no two qualities of light the same, no matter where you go.

But a will is a powerful thing, and mine has been called terrible.

I'm not sure I'll get another chance and I don't know how to force the world into a shape I can manage. Nobody ever seems to do what I want them to. This is a place that makes you very aware of your powerlessness. I never had any power over you, I sure as hell don't have any over the birds, and I have even less over my own feet. 

I wish you were here. You can convince anyone of anything. 

The cold is familiar and savage. For a moment it grips me and forces me into a cell, the painted stone cell I know like a lover, for I spent four years inside it, and because the cold sends me back I spend too many precious seconds wanting to be dead, just for it all to be over, right now, I can't wait any longer, there is no part of me that isn't finished--

A sky is a sky is a sky, and yet here, somehow, it's more. It's bigger. I sit and watch the icebergs floating through the fjord awhile, and I can't stop thinking about the tern and her heart beating inside my palm. I can still feel the thrumming 

 and when I press my hand to my chest I imagine our pulses in time. 

"Migrations is as beautiful and as wrenching as anything I've ever read. This is an extraordinary novel by a wildly talented writer." —Emily St. John Mandel, author of Station Eleven For readers of Flight Behavior and Station Eleven, a novel set on the brink of catastrophe, as a young woman chases the world’s last birds—and her own final chance for redemption. Franny Stone has always been a wanderer. By following the ocean’s tides and the birds that soar above, she can forget the losses that have haunted her life. But when the wild she loves begins to disappear, Franny can no longer wander without a destination. She arrives in remote Greenland with one purpose: to find the world’s last flock of Arctic terns and follow them on their final migration. She convinces Ennis Malone, captain of the Saghani, to take her onboard, winning over his eccentric crew with promises that the birds she is tracking will lead them to fish. As the Saghani fights its way south, Franny’s new shipmates begin to realize that she is full of dark secrets: night terrors, an unsent pile of letters, and an obsession with pursuing the terns at any cost. When the story of her past begins to unspool, Ennis and his crew must ask themselves what Franny is really running toward—and running from. Propelled by a narrator as fierce and fragile as the terns she is following, Migrations is both an ode to our threatened world and a breathtaking page-turner about the lengths we will go for the people we love.

Professor Niall, sir. You must stop this. I cannot take it. 

Catherine

As he walks away I think, Don't ask don't ask don't ask, and then I ask. "Why'd you do this?"

Niall pauses and looks over his shoulder. His hair and eyes are very black, his skin silver.

 He says, "Because you and I are going to spend the rest of our lives together." Then he adds, “Seeya.” 

Lindsay

abi a

“Saving specific animals purely on the basis of what they offer humanity may be practical, but wasn’t this attitude the problem to begin with? Our overwhelming, annihilating selfishness?”

The only true negative I've found in either of Charlotte's works is that they are both huge blows to my emotional well-being. 

Charlotte is an expert at compelling, flawed character creation and at making me call my therapist back. I spent the entirety of this novel blown away by her expressive prose and unique plot. This novel is a deep-dive into the trauma of grief and the guilt that comes from being that one left standing.

No one does eco-literature like Charlotte does eco-literature. If you wanna cry about our disappearing Mother Nature and the plight of all her children, please read this. 

“Saving specific animals purely on the basis of what they offer humanity may be practical, but wasn’t this attitude the problem to begin with? Our overwhelming, annihilating selfishness?”

The only true negative I've found in either of Charlotte's works is that they are both huge blows to my emotional well-being. 

Charlotte is an expert at compelling, flawed character creation and at making me call my therapist back. I spent the entirety of this novel blown away by her expressive prose and unique plot. This novel is a deep-dive into the trauma of grief and the guilt that comes from being that one left standing.

No one does eco-literature like Charlotte does eco-literature. If you wanna cry about our disappearing Mother Nature and the plight of all her children, please read this. 

The profound exploration of what we owe nature and ourselves more than make up for moments of melodrama and a protagonist that tested my patience. It's meditative and atmospheric, yet maintains a quick pace, wasting no pages.

elizabeth

Dhanya 

a beautiful and tender exploration of a woman's grief set against the backdrop of a planet going through the perils of climate change. the biggest takeaway for me was the magnitude of human error, our inability to deal with our traumas and care for one another set against the desire to care for wildlife and the environment, the eagerness to admit to the flaws of human nature and how we are fundamentally a destructive species. it seems almost ironic that Franny feels this responsibility to care for the state of the world when she is unable to deal with her own weaknesses, but its what makes her complex and someone you would want to understand.

I had to really pace myself or I would have finished this in one sitting and I knew it would be too good to rush. I still devoured it. Everything McConaghy writes is so hauntingly beautiful and poignant in an era of climate demise and the slow loss of the natural world as we know it. I’ll be thinking about this book for a long, long time.

erin alise 

Syahla Aurel

My life has been a migration without a destination, and that in itself is senseless.

Meh. This book has a lot of potentials. Still, the main character is very irritating (Franny can u go to therapy pls), the flashbacks are very confusing (12 years ago?, 6 years ago?, 4 years ago?), and the lack of worldbuilding is disappointing (THIS!!, like how can u pick environmental destruction as the main theme if you didn't give us a relevant piece of background information or anything?). Overall, meh.

Amy Place

Was on the edge of my seat the whole time. I loved the structure of this novel. And it broke my heart.

Spencer Tan

This book started out as a random choice (chose it because of its cover, and I find myself doing that often) but I am so glad and surprised at the resonance I have with its characters and it’s themes. Such a perfectly melded story between preserving nature and adventure but also finding the words for how love works and the difficulty of navigating relationships. It’s really an eye opening insight into a world without animals and also into humanity. Just the rawness of the scenery and the emotions that Franny felt, combined with the mystery and tension that built up towards the end— it all culminates into a peacefully exhilarating masterpiece. I am so happy for Franny, not because of all the good things that happened to her, but also the bad things; and of course, the Arctic terns.

mise

Faith Ho 

“the current creature I am just wants quiet. Only quiet is a different beast when it finds you. A perfect kind of thing until you have it and it turns on you.”

devastating. 

the quality of the writing is breathtaking; frm describing the sea to the protagonist’s intensity emotions, every word feels deliberate and flows seamlessly. there’s a tension that stretches through the book, a dark undertone which creates a suspense that pulls me through the novel. it’s incredible how the author connects nature to humans; both mirroring one another & vastly different. 

one of the rare books which manages to successfully weave in present day/past narrative. a sort of frankensteinian quality at some point (re: expedition to antartica & the vague monstrosity in humans) but ends with a rather poignant, almost hopeful note. 

it’s a novel that speaks to the soul, i think. to me it plays notes of a longing, a wildness, for some kind of expanse, within and beyond. 

“I feel that deep and terrible binding for what it is, I know its face and its name, and it’s not a binding at all, but love, and maybe that’s the same kind of thing after all.” 

(this book has raised all my standards for fiction now & i must thank/curse genevieve)

This one will stick with me for a while, the writing was beautiful. 

Billie Fogarty

Absolutely loved this book. It is a relatively quick read as it is only about 250 pages. I thought the prose in this was incredible and our main character was very thought out and real. This really hit me as it delves into discussions around climate change and mass level extinctions. It felt real and raw and brought tears to my eyes. 

Shona Tiger

Siya S

Reminds me of Station Eleven by Emily st.John Mendel. It touches my heart deeper than I thought it would. I need some time to dissect and digest my thoughts and feelings about this one. Beautifully written. Full review soon.

haunting how this book could be a non fiction matter in a matter of years, but for now — a joy to read; perfect combination of beautiful writing + easy reading. guilt, grief, love, hatred, you feel it all alongside the characters. favourite book of 2022 :)


ennis my beloved <3

‘An extraordinary novel... as beautiful and as wrenching as anything I’ve ever read.’ Emily St John Mandel ‘This novel is enchanting, but not in some safe, fairytale sense. Charlotte McConaghy has harnessed the rough magic that sears our souls. I recommend The Last Migration with my whole heart.’ Geraldine Brooks For readers of Station Eleven and Everything I Never Told You, a debut novel set on the brink of catastrophe, as a young woman chases the world’s last birds – and her own final chance for redemption. A dark past. An impossible journey. The will to survive. How far you would you go for love? Franny Stone is determined to go to the end of the earth, following the last of the Arctic terns on what may be their final migration to Antarctica. As animal populations plummet and commercial fishing faces prohibition, Franny talks her way onto one of the few remaining boats heading south. But as she and the eccentric crew travel further from shore and safety, the dark secrets of Franny’s life begin to unspool. A daughter’s yearning search for her mother. An impulsive, passionate marriage. A shocking crime. Haunted by love and violence, Franny must confront what she is really running towards – and from. Previously published as The Last Migration, this is a wild, gripping and deeply moving novel from a brilliant young writer. From the west coast of Ireland to Australia and remote Greenland, through crashing Atlantic swells to the bottom of the world, this is an ode to the wild places and creatures now threatened, and an epic story of the possibility of hope against all odds. ‘Transporting’ (New York Times) · ‘Hopeful’ (Washington Post) · ‘Powerful’ (Los Angeles Times) · ‘Thrilling’ (TIME) · ‘Tantalizingly beautiful’ (Elle) · ‘Suspenseful’ (Vogue) · ‘Aching and poignant’ (Guardian)

Mackenzie Young

New favorite book of 2022, oh my GOD! I had high hopes for this read and it did not disappoint. The characters in this book were so real and relatable. I love that it jumped to different points in Franny’s life. The mystery aspect was good, but the overarching message to readers that we need to fix climate change? Amazing. I’ve never read a book like this but I loved it, and I can’t wait to read “Once There We’re Wolves,” because obviously I bought that one, too.

Bambi Ard

Started off loving this book and thinking it’d be a five-star read if it kept up, but the conversations around humanity’s impact on climate change and animal extinction were a bit one-dimensional for me. Nonetheless it had some truly beautiful themes and writing.

Celeste Richardson

I received a digital copy of this book from the publisher (Flatiron Books) and NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

Migrations is a beautiful, heartbreaking, defiant literary fiction debut. While McConaghy has written SFF in the past, this work is something entirely new for her, and you could feel the passion and anger pouring off of every page. I’ve never read any of her SFF novels, but I might have to give them a go. Because the woman can really write.
“A life's impact can be measured by what it gives and what it leaves behind, but it can also be measured by what it steals from the world.”
This is the story of a dying world, a near future where almost every wild animal has become extinct due to climate change and human interference at a catastrophic level. Franny Stone is bound and determined to follow what she believes will be the last mass migration of Arctic terns, even if it kills her. As the story progresses, and we learn more and more about what is driving her, Franny becomes more and more fascinating and sympathetic. The character development here was very well done, both in Franny and in the supporting cast. There were mystery elements I found intriguing. The prose was lovely. While the story often came across as preachy, the timeliness of it justifies McConaghy’s stance and vehemence. 

I picked up this book right before Hurricane Laura hit my home in Louisiana. The storm was the worst in this area since 1856. A tree fell on my grandparents’ house as we looked on helplessly, unable to get to them because of the winds and unable to call them because all cell towers were down. My parents’ house, the home they’ve been building since before I was born, the home I spent my entire childhood in from birth to marriage, had a giant tree fall through it while we were inside and is looking like it’s beyond saving. I’m incredibly thankful that every member of my family made it through not only alive but unharmed. However, our lives here are forever changed. 

Reading a story in which environmental issues were so tightly wound proved to be too much for me at the time. I did eventually pick it back up and finish it, but it was the opposite of a comfort. However, that was the author’s point, I think. McConaghy wasn’t trying to comfort, but to slap awake and call to arms before it’s too late. If that was her intent, she succeeded.

You can find  this review and more at Novel Notions.

Fraser Simons

This is staggeringly good. It is pretty genius climate fiction, drawing a clear narrative and thematic parallel between nature and Franny herself. She believes herself a damaged creature as she feels the edges of cage in every place she’s ever been. While we struggle to understand her via the consequences of her actions before cause, the structure of the novel jumps around in time and place, coming together masterfully. 

It’s actually difficult to talk about why I liked this because I liked everything about it! The prose are something akin to A River Runs Through It, the structure is utilized to great effect. The theme and character are so intertwined yet so effective and simple it made think that this is the cli-fi we need to wake up people to environmental problems we face. This idea that people are somehow divorced and above nature while we continue to be impacted in positive and negative ways by it daily is brought into such sharp focus with Franny. 

It’s nuanced yet it effectively communicates complex ideas so well. There’s a balance too, which is hard to find in cli-fi sometimes. Either too hopefully or too dire. Plus, it tries to disabuse people of the notion that nature could somehow be entirely eradicated, when we don’t actually understand vast amounts of ecologies, or even ourselves. We hardly know how to nurture anything, let alone the outliers. But that doesn’t mean their fate is defined. As happens not infrequently with nature, edge cases and the non-typical may find a way to thrive in ways we can’t even imagine for ourselves.

Elizabeth Moore

Wow, what a beautiful and sad book. I had some strange inkling in the first 10 pages or so that this was going to be hard to keep my attention on this book, and I am glad I didn’t give in to that because I ended up being completely captivated.

This book is very raw and very real, even though it’s technically science fiction set in the near future, in a time when we’ve killed off almost all the wildlife on our planet - fish and birds not escaping the mass extinctions. 

The narrator is an Irish wanderer with feathers and sea salt in her blood; as much as she loves, she can never stay, and the only two things she needs in life are “to walk and to swim.” And, of course, she needs birds. In fact, birds are what brought her to her husband who is her true love, and present on almost every page in writing and in memories and in the narrator’s heart strings, but mysteriously never in body. 

She is on a quest to follow the last of the Arctic terns on their final migration path from the Arctic to Antarctica, and you soon learn that she’s planning on the quest being a final migration herself. What keeps you going is the slow unwinding of the author’s haunted past, and the simultaneous slow knitting together of deep ties to crew on whose boat she has managed to catch a ride. 

For such a simple, short book, the revelations and turns of intention are both frequent and masterfully handled - never forced, and they hit you right in the heart even when you’ve seen them coming, slowly, for miles. This book is as hopeful as it is heartrending, and it somehow leaves you feeling lighter and heavier at the same time.

I was hesitant to read this because I was worried it would not be as good as Once There Were Wolves. My god. Somehow it is better. It hurt more. It was more uncomfortable to read. But it was better. My chest hurts. The two books compliment and contradict each other at every turn, two sides of the same coin that couldn't be more different. They're harmonious opposites. 

Cindy Lieberman

A damaged woman traverses our damaged planet in pursuit of the last migrating arctic terns to make amends for her own continual migrations: leaving those she loves in search of those who were supposed to love her. A complex and moving novel of people being vulnerable and true, with breathtaking scenes on storm-tossed boats, desolate shores, and icy waters. Lays bare the hypocrisy of loving birds and caging them, of wanting our seas to teem with life and allowing commercial over-fishing, by imagining a not-too-distant future when there are few fish and few birds left for us humans to drive into extinction.

This is tough because I heavily fw the themes of this book, and the main character is personal and relatable, and the writing is great, but the vehicle didn't really do it for me. But its also on me for maybe not choosing the best time to read this.

Deborah Kerr

I listened to this on audio and I think that was a huge detriment. I was just super bored the whole time and I think if I had read it physically the beauty of the writing would’ve come across more strongly.


Migrations A Novel

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