A Kestrel For A Knave

“‘O, it’s you, Billy. Haven’t you gone to school yet?’

‘Who’s that bloke?’

His mother pressed her lips together and stood the capsule, like a bullet, on the mantelpiece. ‘That’s Reg. You know Reg, don’t you?’”

Billy’s mother is an important character to the events of the narrative but has little presence in Billy’s life. She doesn’t nurture or care for Billy and does little to provide food and heat for him. She is often a source of shame for him, with Billy’s fellow pupils mocking him for her multiple sexual partners. She’s depicted with an exaggerated level of disgust, with her behavior, appearance, and mannerisms rivaled only by Mr. Sugden the physical education teacher in terms of extreme and negative representations of gender. Rather than be strongly criticized for her neglect, she’s condemned for her sexuality. This could well be an artefact of the time the book was written, the late 1960s, when misogyny was more normalized and widespread, but the story ultimately shows how people of this time had to navigate misogyny as well as classism and toxic family dynamics.

“‘Do me a favour, love, and run up to t’shop for some fags.’

‘They’ll not be open yet.’

‘You can go to t’back door. Mr Hardy’ll not mind.’

‘I can’t, I’ll be late.’

‘Go on, love, and bring a few things back wi’ you; a loaf and some butter, and a few eggs, summat like that.’”

Billy’s mother shows little regard for his school commitments. Throughout the book, school is shown as unimportant in the lives of the boys in the mining village, seen as a perfunctory transitional stage in their lives before they are expected to go work in the mining pits. Billy receives no guidance or mentoring in his life, including from his mother, who has already taken for granted that he’ll follow in his brother Jud’s footsteps. This attitude contributes to The Difficulty of Escaping Class Oppression.

“On a shelf behind the bars stood a kestrel hawk:

Rufous brown. Flecked breast, dark bars across her back and wings. Wings pointed, crossed over her rump and barred tail. Billy clicked his tongue, and chanted softly, ‘Kes, Kes, Kes, Kes.’ The hawk looked at him and listened, her fine head held high on strong shoulders, her brown eyes round and alert.”

This is the introduction of Kes, Billy’s trained kestrel. A sudden, striking break from domestic, working-class mundanity, Kes feels almost fantastical to Billy. As with all the naturalistic imagery in the novel, Kes is described with detailed, vivid prose. Billy’s mannerisms change when he approaches her, too. A few short scenes before, he was screaming at his mother and hurling eggs at the front of his own house; now, he’s quiet, patient, and nurturing. This is the first time we see what his bond with Kes awakens within him.

“‘Ar, just think; an’ next year tha’ll be coming down wi’ me.’

‘I’ll not.’

‘Won’t tha?’

‘No, ‘cos I’m not goin’ to work down t’pit.’

‘Where are tha goin’ to work, then?’”

Jud needles Billy by reminding him that soon he will leave school and inevitably work in the mine. It is likely that the town exists largely because of the mine, and all the boys born there are expected to go down. Billy rejects the idea of going down the mines here and several other times in the book. For someone so in tune with nature, spending the rest of his life underground is a horrifying proposition. However, since he receives little guidance, he doesn’t know what else he could do.

‘‘‘Course he’s not up. Do you know what time it is?’

‘Isn’t he getting up?’

‘Not that I know of. He’s fast asleep.’”

In this flashback, Billy is meant to go nesting, which means foraging for eggs with his friends. However, they don’t share his enthusiasm for nature and fail to get up in time. It is later revealed that these friends include MacDowall, a larger boy who bullies Billy in the narrative present. Before he found Kes, Billy would spend all his time with these boys, aimlessly wandering a town that has no space or provisions for them and which likely sees them as a threat or nuisance. For this reason, they ended up slipping into delinquent behaviors. This mundane moment is shown as crucial in the development of Billy’s personality, as his friend’s decision to sleep in led to Billy finding the bird on his own, developing a fondness for it, and eventually bringing it home as a pet.

“Billy zig-zagged slowly between the trees, searching any growth round the base of their trunks, then stepping back and looking up into their branches. He high-stepped his way through a bramble patch, trampling the tentacles underfoot as though tramping through deep snow. Below him four beaks opened at the noise, and he crouched down over a thrush’s nest. The four young were almost fully fledged, and they fitted the nest as snugly as a completed jig-saw. Billy stroked their backs gently with one finger, then stood up and re-arranged the brambles over the nest before passing on.”

The language Hines uses when describing nature scenes is vivid and delicate, mirroring the transformation of Billy’s consciousness. Billy views Nature as an Escape from the oppressive circumstances of his life in town. Billy returns to the countryside several times throughout the narrative, and he is nearly always alone when he does so, unobserved and free from expectation. This is what he dreads giving up to go work down in the pit.

“‘Tha must be crackers.’

‘How’s tha mean?’

‘Nicking books.’ He looked at a picture, then slapped it shut. ‘I could understand it if it wa’ money, but chuff me, not a book.’”

After failing to gain access to the library, Billy shoplifts a book on falconry. When Jud sees him reading it, his first instinct is to mock it. Jud represents the fate Billy fears: His oppressive environment has quashed any curiosity he might once have had. He cannot comprehend investing time and energy into anything that doesn’t yield money or power. Ironically, Jud himself is far from being purely rational or utilitarian. He spends his weekends getting drunk at the pub, a hedonistic pursuit that he does not question because it is normalized in his society.

“‘Get back to sleep…you pig…hog…sow…you drunken bastard…Tha don’t like being called a bastard, does tha, you bastard? You PIG,’—clawing at Jud with his right hand ‘HOG,’—left hand, ‘sow,’—right again, ‘DRUNKEN BASTARD,’—one strike per syllable.”

Jud consistently mistreats Billy and makes a habit of arriving home late at night, blackout drunk. Jud is everything Billy is afraid of becoming, but with no other opportunities in his life, it seems inevitable. Billy is unable to express this due to the constraints he has been socialized into, so he shows his fear and anger in the only way he knows how: with aggression and humiliation. This is one of the few moments where Jud is physically vulnerable and weaker than his brother, thus presenting an opportunity for Billy to overcome him and feel a rare sense of power. Sadly, this also suggests that he is on his way to becoming like Jud, a blunt, hopeless person who can only vent their hurt through violence.

“By a process of elimination, he placed them back into the nest until he was left with only one; the one with most feathers and only a little down on its head. He lowered it back into the pocket, then held his hand up to catch the light of the moon. Both back and palm were bleeding and scratched, as though he had been nesting in a hawthorn hedge.”

The flashback reveals that right after striking the drunken Jud, Billy leaves the house and flees into the countryside. This is an example of how he instinctively seeks out Nature as an Escape when he is in distress. Having read up on what he needs to do, Billy sneaks up to the kestrel nest and steals the largest and most developed chick. Though the decision to flee his house was emotional and reactive, he becomes much more thoughtful when selecting a chick to take, carefully emptying the nest and comparing them. The calming effect nature has on him makes him act in a much more calculated and intentional way compared to his usual impulsive self, a foreshadowing of the effect raising Kes will have on his behavior and abilities.

“‘Is this your feeble idea of a joke, Casper?’

‘No, Sir.’

‘Well, what was the idea then?’

‘I don’t know, Sir. It wa’ when you said Fisher. It just came out, Fisher—German Bight. It’s the shipping forecast, Sir; German Bight comes after Fisher; Fisher, German Bight, Cromarty. I know ‘em all, I listen to it every night, I like to hear the names.’”

School is an oppressive and strict place in the mining village. Mr. Crossley, is so detached that when Billy speaks up with a piece of unexpected knowledge, he makes a mistake on the register. Billy is often written off as a disinterested, disengaged youth, but it is clear here that he does take an interest in the world around him, taking time to listen to the shipping forecast every night and take note of the terms used. However, Crossley only sees this as a disruption, not a sign of hidden depth.

“‘MACDOWALL! I might have known it! Get to my room, lad!’

Crossley escorted MacDowall from the hall. Gryce waited for the doors to stop swinging, then replaced his stick and addressed the school.”

Gryce, the principal of Billy’s school, is actively hostile toward his pupils. Here, he has flown into a rage because someone is coughing during assembly. He demands to know who did it, even intimidating other teachers with his anger. He decides that MacDowall is the culprit with no evidence and decides that he deserves corporal punishment. Gryce is the clearest embodiment of a school that exists to instill obedience rather than develop potential. He just wants the boys to do as they’re told and stay in line, ideal traits for the conditions of the mines the town exists to serve.

“‘Louder, boy. And stop mumbling into your beard.’

‘Never despise one of these little ones I tell you they have their guardian angels in heaven who look continually on the face of my heavenly Father. What do you think suppose a man has a hundred sheep if one of them strays does he not leave the other ninety-nine on the hillside and go in search of the one that strayed. And if he should find it I tell you this he is more delighted over that sheep than over the ninety-nine that never strayed. In the same way it is your heavenly Father’s will that one of these little ones should be lost here ends this morning’s reading.’”

The Bible verse being read in this passage is Matthew 18:10. It is written without punctuation and with some errors because the boy reading it is nervous and speaking quickly. Gryce’s selection of this passage is ironic in that Gryce consistently embodies the antithesis of the compassionate care the passage advocates. He treats the boys under his care with deep contempt, seeing them as burdens rather than souls he must nurture and shepherd into their future. To him, religion is a tool for instilling obedience, just like the education system.

“Billy held the hawk away from him, anticipating a bate, but she scarcely glanced up at the sound, or at the boy as he cycled towards them and hutched his tricycle up on to the pavement.

‘Oo that’s a smasher. What is it?’”

When Billy first brings Kes out into the street to habituate her to distraction, and a young boy is instantly fascinated. When paired with Kes, Billy becomes much more visible to other people. He is no longer a delinquent or burden; he is a falconer and treated with due respect. The little boy cycling up to him is the first time this type of interaction is shown.

“‘Fast asleep during the Lord’s Prayer! I’ll thrash you, you irreverent scoundrel!’

He demonstrated the act twice down the side of the lectern.

‘Were you tired, lad?’

‘I don’t know, Sir.’

‘Don’t know? You wouldn’t be tired if you’d get to bed at night instead of roaming the streets at all hours up to mischief!’”

Without evidence, Principal Gryce accuses Billy of being a miscreant. In reality, Billy is tired because Jud wakes him early and because of the responsibilities of his job. Gryce has no concern for the lives of his pupils, having already decided they’re no good. Billy receives corporal punishment for the simple mistake of nodding off.

“It’s fantastic isn’t it, that in this day and age, in this super-scientific, all-things-bright-and-splendiferous age, that the only way of running this school efficiently is by the rule of the cane. But why? There should be no need for it now. You lot have got it on a plate.

I can understand why we had to use it back in the ‘twenties and ‘thirties. Those were hard times; they bred hard people, and it needed hard measures to deal with them. But those times bred people with qualities totally lacking in you people today.”

Before he canes several boys, Gryce begins a rant that epitomizes the culture and ideology of the school. He has open contempt for the boys, seeing them as coddled and incorrigible except through “the rule of the cane.” He idealizes earlier days when boys, he imagines, were made of sterner stuff. Despite his rose-tinted glasses, Gryce has always interacted with his pupils through violence. He doesn’t really care for the qualities of his students; he only cares about obedience and the freedom to exercise his power without having to worry about objections from the state, parents, or the boys themselves.

“She came like lightnin’, head dead still, an’ her wings never made a sound, then wham! Straight up on to t’glove, claws out grabbin’ for t’meat,’ simultaneously demonstrating the last yard of her flight with his right hand, gliding it towards, then slapping it down on his raised left fist.

I wa’ that pleased I didn’t know what to do wi’ missen, so I thought just to prove it, I’ll try her again, an’ she came t’second time just as good. Well that was it. I’d done it. I’d trained her.”

Mr. Farthing prompts Billy to talk about his experience training Kes. This scene shows how impressive and articulate Billy is when he talks about his interests, radiating confidence and expertise. It also serves to express how he trained her and the triumph he felt when she finally became responsive. This is a moment of catharsis, as Billy gets a chance to stand out and show his potential to Mr. Farthing and all the boys in his class, remembering the elation of realizing that he had fully trained Kes. It is as though he is fully internalizing that moment now himself and feeling pride in himself for the first time.

“Mr. Farthing stepped up to MacDowall and bent his knees to bring their faces level.

‘You’re a brave boyo, aren’t you, MacDowall? He’s just about your size isn’t he, Casper? Well if you’re so keen on fighting, why don’t you pick on somebody your own size? Eh? Eh?’ simultaneously pushing MacDowall twice in the shoulder.

‘Because you’re scared, aren’t you? Aren’t you, MacDowall?’

Right jab, right again, stepping up each time MacDowall retreated.

‘You’re nothing but a bully boy. The classic example of a bully! If it isn’t Casper, then it’s someone else like him. Isn’t it, isn’t it, MacDowall?’”

Toxic masculinity and casual brutality are a constant in the mining town portrayed in A Kestrel for a Knave, with the men’s frustration and desire for control often manifesting in physical violence. Billy is beaten and struck several times by men and boys who have a clear physical advantage over him, evidence of The Dangers of Equating Vulnerability With Weakness. Mr. Farthing is one of the few characters in the book to object to this culture of bullying. He uses his own physical size to intimidate the bully, turning the tables on him to demonstrate the cruelty he subjected Billy to.

“‘P’raps I am, sometimes. But I’m not that bad, I’m no worse than stacks o’ kids, but they just seem to get away with it.’

‘You think you’re just unlucky, then?’

‘I don’t know, Sir. I seem to get into bother for nowt. You know, for daft things, like this morning in t’hall. I wasn’t doin’ owt, I just dozed off that’s all. I wa’ dog tired, I’d been up since six, then I’d had to run round wi’ t’papers, then run home to have a look at t’hawk, then run to school. We’, I mean, you’d be tired wouldn’t you, Sir?’”

For the first time, someone hears Billy out. Mr. Farthing lets Billy state his case and express his upset at how he always seems to be punished for things that are beyond his control. Billy also states that since he found Kes, he has been mostly out of trouble. His love for the kestrel and falconry elevate him into a better, kinder, and more stable person, something immediately visible to his teacher.

“I try to get hold of falconry books an’ read up about ‘em now. I make new jesses an’ things an’ all, an’ sometimes I go down to t’shed an’ sit wi’ a candle lit. It’s all right in there. I’ve got a little paraffin stove that I found an’ it gets right warm, an’ we just sit there. Makes you feel right cosy an’ snug sat there wi’ t’wind blowin’ outside.”

Billy describes how he actively studies falconry and builds equipment to help him train Kes, showing a level of self-direction and enthusiasm that he has never displayed before. He describes not only the practice of falconry, but the emotional impact of the peaceful, meditative hours he enjoys sitting with Kes late at night.

“‘What I like about it is its shape; it’s so beautifully proportioned. The neat head, the way the wings fold over on its back. Its tail, just the right length, and that down on the thighs, just like a pair of plus-fours.’

He modelled the hawk in the air, emphasising each point of description with corresponding sweeps and curves of his hands.

‘It’s the sort of thing you want to paint, or model in clay. Painting would be best I should think, you’d be able to get all those lovely brown markings in then.’

‘It’s when it’s flying though, Sir, that’s when it’s got it over other birds, that’s when it’s at its best.’”

Billy is able to express his love and admiration of Kes with a level of articulation and eloquence that no other character in the novel possesses. This implies that Billy’s skill with Kes is more than just a natural talent or fluke; he possesses qualities that allow him to engage with certain topics in a very deep and insightful way. On top of this, he is able to transfer these feelings and concepts into other fields and topics. He understands, through his appreciation of Kes, that the best way her beauty can be captured is in painting, but her proportions still lend well to sculpture. The closing statement that a kestrel is at its best when set free to fly presents the kestrel as a metaphor for Billy, who would be at his best if he were allowed to soar to his full potential.

“‘I don’t mean anything to do with the beauty of its flight, that’s marvellous. I mean…well, when it flies there’s something about it that makes you feel strange.’

‘I think I know what you mean, Sir, you mean everything seems to go dead quiet.’

‘That’s it!’”

Mr. Farthing cannot quite articulate the “strange” feeling that comes over him when watching the kestrel fly, but Billy puts Mr. Farthing’s experience into words. There is a mutual respect here that is not present in any other dynamic in the book. It is presented as tragic that Mr. Farthing only found out about Billy’s capabilities so close to Billy leaving school.

“‘Now then, where were we? O, yes. Well if nothing I’ve mentioned already appeals to you, and if you can stand a hard day’s graft, and you don’t mind getting dirty, then there are good opportunities in mining….’

‘I’m not goin’ down t’pit.’

‘Conditions have improved tremendously…’

‘I wouldn’t be seen dead down t’pit.’”

Billy is nearing 15 years old when A Kestrel for a Knave starts. This is the age at which compulsory schooling is no longer required, and he can freely leave to enter the workforce. The school sets him up with a career service that counsels him on what his next steps may be, and the pit hangs over the entire conversation. Boys like Billy were broadly considered “pit fodder,” born to work in the pits their communities existed to serve. There is little though given to what else they may be suited to. The career advisor makes perfunctory mention of other options, but ultimately his job is to steer young boys into mining. This is something that Billy finds wholly objectionable. The counselor doesn’t know how to deal with this and dismisses Billy’s first protestation, forcing him to restate it.

“The pamphlet was entitled LEAVING SCHOOL. The text on the cover page was built around a sketch which showed a man in square glasses shaking hands across a desk with a strapping youth in blazer and flannels. Their mouths were all teeth.”

When it is clear that the counselor can’t simply write Billy off as pit fodder, he gives up, disengages, and hands him a pamphlet. Billy looks at it. The boy on the front looks nothing like him: He has clothes far nicer than Billy’s and is treated with respect by the adult he’s sitting across from. This pamphlet was not produced with boys like Billy in mind; it was made for boys with a more advantageous class position who society at large regards as having more potential than Billy, simply because of the social strata they were born into. The central tragedy of A Kestrel for a Knave is that from the beginning, Billy is doomed by this attitude, and it pervades every aspect of his life and world, demonstrating The Difficulty of Escaping Class Oppression.