Fancy Birds is a great book in itself. And so on and so forth. The author has taken, or at least provided, a heap of very serious close-ups of quite ordinary birds. It is nice that he is so interested in these quite banal birds and portraits, but couldn’t he just have shown the heap to one of his friends instead of publishing it as a book? Maybe it would have been inappropriate because it had been like showing a handful of grass or an ordinary plate from the kitchen drawer.
