An Aussie Feminist Rejects the Empire

One of the reasons I don't like setting official reading goals is because at some point in the year, I either start panicking or I give up completely.  So instead I set myself unofficial goals or guidelines that I would generally like to meet.

But I realize my unofficial goals for this year - to read more authors of color, to read more from my own shelves, and to continue learning more about women's history - have started to stress me out.  I am behind in both goals and I am having trouble balancing them.  When I pick out a new book to read, I constantly wonder if I should pick a different one that may align better with my unofficial goals.  And then I sometimes do pick a different one but am left feeling upset that I picked a book solely to meet a goal instead of just reading what I wanted.

And that's really all the build-up to my picking up this book.  It's been on my shelf for a long time and it's a feminist's memoirs of growing up in the Outback.  That meets two unofficial goals!  So recently, I picked up Jill Ker Conway's memoir The Road from Coorain.

Musings: The Garden Party and Other Stories

Soon after receiving my now-beloved Kindle as a birthday gift, I went to the Project Gutenberg site and searched for works and authors that I really wanted to read but had difficulty finding in used bookstores and libraries.  I went through much of the Persephone catalog, for example, and did a search for many of the authors that publisher features.  Of those authors, I found a true treasure in Katherine Mansfield.  It has been a long time since I read a short story collection, but The Garden Party and Other Stories is a beautifully evocative collection of fifteen stories that aches of loneliness in large crowds and isolation from people who have become strangers.

 I admit when I started this book, I did not expect much.  The first story, "At the Bay," was told through the point of view of so many characters, and in such a stream of conscious style, that I had no idea what the plot was (I am unconvinced that there was one) or how all the characters were related to each other.  I think there were perhaps twice as many characters as there were pages in the story, and I didn't much care for the style.  But I got over that when I read the second story, and the one for which the collection is named, "The Garden Party."  It was so sweetly told, and captured such a perfect moment in time through the eyes of a young girl.  The story touched on such themes as the end of childhood, death, innocence, the class system and family relationships.  It was beautiful, and I relaxed, knowing that I was in the hands of a skilled storyteller.

Musings: Lost and Found

I fell in love with Shaun Tan after reading The Arrival last year.  Tan's artistic style- grounded in reality but with a strong dose of "otherworldliness"- was a perfect way to relate the highs and lows of immigrating to a new country.  Tan recently won an Oscar for the movie The Lost Thing, based on the story he authored and illustrated.  Lost & Found includes The Lost Thing in the collection, as well as The Red Tree and Rabbits.

The title fits perfectly.  All three stories center on the idea of loss- loss of hope, loss of wonder, and loss of culture.  What Tan does so well in all his stories is to point out how blind society has become.  How we are too busy to care about others or see the wonders that exist in the world around us.  How good things are around if we just take the time to see them and allow them to brighten our days.  I loved all three stories, though my favorite was The Lost Thing.  What follows are short reviewitas of all three stories.

Review: The Bone People

Title:  The Bone People

Author:  Keri Hulme


First published by Spiral Publishing in 1984.

Plot Summary:

Kerewin lives alone in a large Medieval tower she constructed on the coast of New Zealand's south island.  One day, she finds an intruder in her library, a young mute boy named Simon Gillayley.  He spends the night at her tower, steals from her, and then comes back to give her a valuable gift.  This starts off a deep and meaningful friendship between Kerewin, Simon and Simon's adoptive father, Joe.  The three become fast friends, spending a great deal of time together and understanding each other in ways no one else can.  Then Kerewin finds out that Joe beats Simon- almost without mercy.  This involves her in the lives of the Gillayleys more than she'd like and soon she finds herself as almost a third member of their strange family.  And then something happens that affects them all and drives them apart, each to confront their own personal demons.  They can only be together again when they come to terms with their actions and the impact the triple relationship has on each of them.

My summary above does absolutely no justice to this complex and deeply moving story.  It is difficult and painful and emotional and amazing.  I highly recommend reading it but I also highly recommend reading it with someone else.  It is much easier to deal with the horrors of the story when you can discuss them with another person.  I was lucky enough to discuss them with one of my closest book blogging friends, Zibilee from Raging Bibliomania.  I'm so glad I did because discussing the book in so much detail with her added a lot to my enjoyment and understanding.  In fact, even now we're still discussing it over email.  Reading is such a solitary activity, so it's nice to once in a while get that discussion and reflection aspect back.  Especially with someone so great!

Below is half of our joint review.  I asked the below three questions, and the two of us gave our answers.  Check out Zibilee's blog for her three questions and the remainder of our joint review.

New Zealand Challenge Wrap-Up

I'm pretty impressed with myself because I've finished my first ever challenge! And I finished it EARLY, too. Maree at Just add books... is hosting this very laid-back and thus thoroughly appealing challenge in honor of New Zealand Book Month. I read and reviewed Potiki, by Patricia Grace here, and I also watched the film Once Were Warriors.

Gosh, what a depressing movie! It was one of those movies that is very powerful in a disturbing way. The movie is based on a book, and revolves around a Maori woman, Beth, who is in an abusive marriage and is trying very hard to keep her family together. However, her husband drinks too much, her eldest son is joining a street gang, her middle son gets in trouble with the law, and she hardly has time for her youngest two. The only child who is really a spark of light in this dreary life is her daughter, Grace, who is quiet and shy and writes stories in her notebook. The movie really highlights the love-hate relationship between Beth and her husband, and her fierce determination to protect her children from his violent outbursts. It doesn't make anything easy; there are some horrific scenes, and it can be very, very painful to watch. But it was a deeply moving portrayal of a family struggling to get by, and of a culture that is trying so hard to stay proud, but is drowning.

Really, every time I see a movie or read a book or visit a country in which native people were displaced by others- in the US, New Zealand, Australia, Africa, and countless other regions around the world- I just feel an aching sadness for those cultures. They never recover. Often, the people descend into alcoholism or gambling addiction or some other vice because there is nowhere to go. They have no home, as it was taken away from them. They can't pursue their traditional vocations. The culture that lasted so many generations was almost erased, if not by people dying out, then by the "white man's burden" of instilling European cultural ideals. And now, most of these people live in out-of-the-way places on reservations or somewhere where they can't really be seen or heard. And so people forget about them, or ignore them, or wonder why they don't assimilate properly into the dominant culture. This movie really highlights this situation. Beth knows that her husband is bad news, and that her children are in trouble. She knows that they will always struggle between two worlds and how to be proud of their heritage while also surviving in a world in which they are second-rate citizens. It's a deeply sensitive film that doesn't give you any answers or resolutions- it just presents the situation as it is, and asks you to notice.

Here's a scene in the movie where one of the characters is trying to impart the pride of Maori culture into young boys in juvenile detention through teaching them how to do the famed Haka dance.

Review: Potiki

Title: Potiki

Author: Patricia Grace

Publisher: Penguin Books

# of Pages: 185

Favorite Line: It was funny how people saw each other. Funny how you came to see yourself in the mould that others put you in, and how you began not to believe in yourself. You began to believe that you should hide away in the old seaweed like a sand flea, and that all you could do when disturbed was hop about and hope you wouldn't get stood on. But of course you did get stood on.

This book qualifies for both the New Zealand Challenge and the Clear Off Your Shelves Challenge.

Plot Summary:
A Maori community on the coast of New Zealand is threatened by a land developer who wants to purchase the community property, move the community meeting hall, and construct many new buildings, including an "underwater zoo." The story is told in several chapters that switch narrators. Sometimes, it is Hemi, a man who was laid off from his job and realizes that this situation affords him the opportunity to reconnect with the land, his culture and his family. Other times, Toko is the narrator. Toko is Hemi's adopted son and is physically handicapped. However, he also has a sixth sense and can see events before they occur. Mostly, though, the story is told by Roimata, Hemi's wife and Toko's adoptive mother. She relates the growing concern the Maori have about developers coming into their land, and their quiet, concerted efforts to rebel. She details their successes and many painful failures in a sparse, simple prose. The book does not really have a true resolution; instead, Patricia Grace outlines the cultural differences that exist in New Zealand, and the uses and abuses of power, and how it can affect a people.

That was a surprisingly difficult summary to write above because I'm not really sure I "got" Potiki. There were several sections written in Maori, with additional words littered throughout the book as well. There's no glossary and there are very few context cues to determine what some of the words are. So I ended the book dissatisfied, feeling that I had missed key plot elements. I think because of my inability to understand some of the words, I also never fully developed a rhythm in my reading and thus didn't engage as well as I should have.

It's unfortunate, really, because the writing is quite lyrical in its simplicity. I think Grace really uses language as a vehicle to reinforce Maori belief systems in the "less is more" mentality. (Though she also reinforces her themes by repeating the same phrases. Over and over.) Hemi often says, "All we need is here," meaning that the people should live off the land and what the land can provide for them. Grace emphasizes a return to the pleasures of farming and building and self-reliance. It's never easy, but it's rewarding. She also tells really magical stories; from the ancestors carving to the family out eel-fishing, to the coming together of a community for the funeral of a loved one. I much preferred these folk tales and stories to the main plotline involving the land developers.

The main plotline just fell flat for me. It only came up about 60 pages into the story; as the story is only 180 pages long, this really made it seem rushed to me. Also, the story was fairly one-sided; the bad guys were really bad and the good guys were really good. There wasn't much middle ground. Additionally, I thought there were a lot of fascinating characters in the story (particularly the grandmother) that we just never got to know well. I think Potiki would benefit from being longer.

I also think, though, that Patricia Grace clearly wrote this book for a specific audience. She seems to have meant for non-Maori people (pakehas) to feel lost and out of place in the reading. That's why she inserted so many phrases that no one else can understand. She also makes it clear that she believes most New Zealanders just can't relate to the Maori thought process, about living simply and as part of the land. She had an agenda writing this book, and it comes across clear.

While I feel very strongly that I was out of my depth in many ways with this book, I did really enjoy the writing. It sets a nice tone and it's really lovely in an almost poetic way; Grace doesn't use any unnecessary words to convey her sentiment, and it was refreshing to see so much shared with the readers, so richly, in so short a book.

Review: The Lieutenant

Title: The Lieutenant

Author: Kate Grenville

Publisher: Atlantic Monthly Books

# of Pages: 307

Favorite Line: "But she had shown him the existence of the man he could be."

Rating: 8/10

This review is based on an advance reader's edition.

Product Description

A stunning follow-up to her Commonwealth Writers’ Prize-winning book, The Secret River, Grenville’s The Lieutenant is a gripping story about friendship, self-discovery, and the power of language set along the unspoiled shores of 1788 New South Wales. As a boy, Daniel Rooke was an outsider. Ridiculed in school and misunderstood by his parents, Daniel could only hope that he would one day find his place in life. When he joins the marines and travels to Australia as a lieutenant on the First Fleet, Daniel finally sees his chance for a new beginning. As his countrymen struggle to control their cargo of convicts and communicate with nearby Aboriginal tribes, Daniel constructs an observatory to chart the stars and begin the work he prays will make him famous. But the place where they have landed will prove far more revelatory than the night sky. Out on his isolated point, Daniel comes to intimately know the local Aborigines and forges a remarkable connection with one girl that will change the course of his life. The Lieutenant is a remarkable story about the poignancy of a friendship that defies linguistic and cultural barriers, and shows one man that he is capable of exceptional courage.

I think I have gone on and on about my love of Kate Grenville's The Secret River several times before. It is one of my all-time favorite books, not only for the plot and the characters, but for Grenville's complete mastery over the English language. She knows how to wield it and wind it and make it magical. Part of the excitement of opening a new book, for me, is in the hopes of discovering an author like Grenville, who can take my breath away with her writing.

The Lieutenant centers around the same theme as The Secret River- the colonization of Australia by the British, and the subsequent race relations between the British and the natives, the struggles of conscience many people faced. She approaches this topic, always, in a manner that manages to be sympathetic to both sides. I think this is probably a very hard line to walk, so she is deserving of praise for it. Her language in this book is just as remarkable as it is in The Secret River- she uses such simple words, really, but she uses them so well. I don't know how she does it, but I wish that I could.

Somehow, though, this story did not have the same magic for me that The Secret River did. I did not feel as emotionally invested in the characters. That's not to say that Daniel Rooke is not a commendable and admirable person, or that he wasn't fleshed out enough. He was- there was just something slightly flat about him to me. And I don't think I ever got to know any of the other characters well enough to warm to them, though I certainly had strong feelings about several of them. The spark, though, did not ignite into a flame.

This book is actually shorter than it seems- I read it pretty quickly, and I don't think I was rushing at all to finish it. I think Grenville spends more time on Rooke's life before he reaches Australia, and so the time he is in Australia seems truncated in comparison. And the way she ends the book is bewildering to me- I don't think we know enough of the man throughout the rest of the story to be able to make the leap she does at the end of it. Rooke disappointed me as a character after the complexity of William Thornhill in The Secret River. I think she could have developed him more and made the story a bit longer to give readers a better read on him.

I did enjoy reading this book, and I would recommend it to anyone interested in Australian history and race relations. But I would much, much more highly recommend The Secret River. It is fantastic.

Review: Unpolished Gem

Title: Unpolished Gem

Author: Alice Pung

Publisher: Plume

# of Pages: 282

Rating: 5/10

I received this book free from Penguin Books to review.

From Publishers Weekly I was doomed, early on, to be a word-spreader, Pung writes, and her special burden was to tell these stories that the women of my family made me promise never to tell a soul. The stories are not of scandalous secrets or shocking revelations, but of the struggles faced by three generations of Asian women as they settle in a culturally Western country. Pung, a lawyer, recounts the journey her family made over the decades—from China, her grandparents' birthplace, to Cambodia, where her parents are born, through Vietnam and Thailand to Australia where, one month after their arrival, Pung is born. In retelling her grandmother's stories, the imagined is rendered credible; Pung captures her form of magic, the magic of words that became movies in mind. In recollecting her own story, Pung loses that magic in the ordinariness of adolescence, and as the family moves toward achieving the Great Australian Dream, it passes through familiar stages—the hard work of both parents, the distance created between generations and the anxieties suffered by the younger generation (I had done everything right, and I had turned out so wrong). The non-European-immigrant-girl-grows-up story is a familiar one to American readers. What's new about Pung's book is the Australian setting. That twist of focus reveals how more alike than different the experience is.

I am not sure if I think a girl my sister's age should be writing her memoirs. (My sister is turning 28 this year.) Egotistically, I compare people's life experiences to mine, and I don't think I have done anything memoir-worthy yet. I don't think the author of Unpolished Gem has done anything memoir-worthy, either. Basically, she grew up Asian in Australia. That is it.

I have read many books with the "child-of-immigrants-trying-to-assimilate-into-western-culture" storyline (see one I reviewed here). Actually, I live that story. I don't think it can be that different than other people's. But I will get into that later.

I think the story starts strong- perhaps because it is more about her parents and her grandparents than about her. She describes the plight of her mother with empathy- her mother is a strong, intelligent and hard-working woman living in a country where she is completely isolated due to language barriers. She also talks about her grandmother, and her wonderful ability to weave stories with words and gestures and voice inflection.

However, after that, the story goes to Alice herself, and I started to lose interest. It seems like Alice didn't really talk to anyone for much of her life- we rarely hear about her friends, and those that are mentioned only feature peripherally. We don't know much about any of her life that takes place outside her parents' home. Though it seems like she doesn't have much of a life that takes place outside her parents' house. She attends her high school graduation and realizes the only people in school she talks to are other Cambodian/Chinese students. She blames this on her "culture," and the inability for other people to understand it. Also, on her parents' strict curfew. She gets a white boyfriend, whom she breaks up with for reasons that I didn't quite understand. Though she was 18 at the time, so I suppose it is natural to break up with a guy at that age for obscure reasons.

I didn't really love the book. But that said, it looks like Australia doesn't have many books about the immigrant experience in that country, at least based on the newspaper reviews I've seen. In that case, maybe it is an important book.

Back to my earlier statement, though- can the second-generation immigrant experience really be that different than that of the "locals"? And would I even be allowed to ask that question if I weren't an ethnic minority myself? I know that I grew up eating different food than other kids in school, and wearing different clothes... but everyone has quirky relatives, and everyone's parents have odd rules (or an odd lack of rules), right? I enjoy having a very "strong cultural identity." That doesn't mean that every aspect of my life is directly related to being Indian. I feel like some people use the culture thing as an excuse for any issues they may have in their lives. Alice Pung seems to be one of those people. That's not to say that she doesn't have very real problems, or that her life isn't difficult. It is- but they are not all the fault of her parents and her immigrant culture.

Review: I am the Messenger

Title: I am the Messenger

Author: Markus Zusak

Publisher: Knopf Books for Young Readers

# of Pages: 357

Favorite Line: I'd wanted to stay on that porch with him until the sun shone bright on both of us, but I didn't. I stood up and walked down the steps. I'd rather chase the sun than wait for it.

Rating: 9/10

From Booklist
*Starred Review* Gr. 9-12. Ed is a 19-year-old loser only marginally connected to the world; he's the son that not even his mother loves. But his life begins to change after he acts heroically during a robbery. Perhaps it's the notoriety he receives that leads to his receiving playing cards in the mail. Ed instinctively understands that the scrawled words on the aces are clues to be followed, which lead him to people he will help (including some he'll have to hurt first). But as much as he changes those who come into his life, he changes himself more. Two particular elements will keep readers enthralled: the panoply of characters who stream in and out of the story, and the mystery of the person sending Ed on the life-altering missions. Concerning the former, Zusak succeeds brilliantly. Ed's voice is assured and unmistakeable, and other characters, although seen through Ed's eyes, are realistically and memorably evoked (readers will almost smell Ed's odoriferous dog when it ambles across the pages). As for the ending, however, Zusak is too clever by half. He offers too few nuts-and-bolts details before wrapping things up with an unexpected, somewhat unsatisfying recasting of the narrative. Happily, that doesn't diminish the life-affirming intricacies that come before.

Like many people, I read Zusak's The Book Thief some time ago, and then bought this book because of how much I loved that one. Sadly, I read The Book Thief before starting my blog and so cannot direct you to what would have been a rave review on my part, but if you have not read this book yet, I strongly recommend purchasing a copy- in hardcover, if you can! It's amazing. I do not use that word lightly. I read it more than two years ago, and just thinking about it makes me tear up still.

So, I purchased I am the Messenger after reading Zusak's later novel and started reading it right before my trip to New Zealand last year. I never finished it. I picked it up yesterday and basically started off from where my bookmark had been left over a year and a half ago. It wasn't very hard to get back into the story, though, and I think I was able to get back into it pretty well. But just so you know- this review is based on a very extended lapse of time between starting the book and finishing it.

I really enjoyed this book, too. I love Zusak's writing style. It is very similar in both his books- when he has something important to say, he switches to short, succinct sentences to get his point across. He also makes beautiful pictures with his words. Really, I could have used any number of quotes in my "Favorite Line" section. Zusak knows how to turn a phrase.

Ed, the main character, is an excellent narrator. He has a dry sense of humor and is a closet romantic- thus, we get moments of hilarity and others of sincerity. His friends, and the other characters that move in and out of the story, are also brought completely and brilliantly to life.

As stated in the Booklist review above, the ending is very abrupt and leaves a lot to be desired. It didn't make much sense to me at all.

However, that's probably not important, overall. The book itself is a messenger from Markus Zusak to you, challenging you to make your world better. Ed starts as a completely average person, barely participating in his own life, let alone anyone else's. Then, he's catalyzed into action. And suddenly, he's participating in everyone's life, not just his own. He spends the entirety of the book making other people's lives better. Sometimes in huge, life-altering ways, and sometimes in small but unforgettable ones, but in every instance, the recipient's life is improved and that person is truly, immeasurably grateful. How often have you received a random act of kindness? Possibly not often at all, but no matter how small the service, it always leaves you feeling as though the world is filled with wonderful people. This whole book is like that. It really makes you think about your own approach to life and how the things you do can genuinely affect the people around you. It's a great, thought-provoking read, and I think anyone reading it will be affected- at least for a little while- to practice random acts of kindness.

Review: The Secret River

Title: The Secret River

Author: Kate Grenville

Publisher: Canongate US

# of Pages: 334

Rating: 10/10

Favorite Line: For every one of the years of his life, this bay had been here, filling its shape in the land. He had labored like a mole, head down, in the darkness and dirt of London, and all the time this tree shifting its leathery leaves above him had been quietly breathing, quietly growing. Seasons of sun and heat, seasons of wind and rain, had come and gone, all unknown to him. It would go on sighing and breathing and being itself after he had gone, the land lapping on and on, watching, waiting, getting on with its own life.

Book Description

The Orange Prize–winning author Kate Grenville recalls her family’s history in an astounding novel about the pioneers of New South Wales. Already a best seller in Australia, The Secret River is the story of Grenville’s ancestors, who wrested a new life from the alien terrain of Australia and its native people. William Thornhill, a Thames bargeman, is deported to the New South Wales colony in what would become Australia in 1806. In this new world of convicts and charlatans, Thornhill tries to pull his family into a position of power and comfort. When he rounds a bend in the Hawkesbury River and sees a gentle slope of land, he becomes determined to make the place his own. But, as uninhabited as the island appears, Australia is full of native people, and they do not take kindly to Thornhill’s theft of their home. The Secret River is the tale of Thornhill’s deep love for his small corner of the new world, and his slow realization that if he wants to settle there, he must ally himself with the most despicable of the white settlers, and to keep his family safe, he must permit terrifying cruelty to come to innocent people.

I loved this book. In a novel full of rich and gorgeous prose, it was hard to pick a favorite quote. Just the act of reading this book itself gave me so much pleasure- I would sometimes just go back over the same words and marvel at how well they fit together, how genius Grenville must be to make descriptive passages just so, in a way that created such vivid images.

It is not surprising at all that this book was shortlisted for The Booker Prize. It's beautiful. The story caught me from the beginning, and didn't let me go. It is absolutely heart-rending. I don't know how much research Grenville did- if she pored over books and historical documents, or if she just wrote and did her best to get the right "feel" for the period of early Australian colonialism. Whatever method she employed worked wonderfully for me.

The Secret River is above all about the ache, the passion people feel for a place they call home. The desire a man feels to make something of himself, become bigger than he is, to make his mark on the world. And the inevitable conflict that comes with the culture clash.

Colonialism in all its forms has a lot to answer for- from the time of the Romans spreading north across Europe to England currently still holding fast to Gibralter, it has shaped and changed the world in sometimes terrifying ways. This was certainly the case in Australia, where the colonists (many of them from the lower dregs of society themselves) came up against a completely alien culture that was natural, nomadic and, for the most part, naked.

It's hard when approaching a book about historical racial conflict, to hit the right tone. Sometimes (such as in the novel One Thousand White Women), the "historically accurate" tone of racism is so blatant and painful that it physically makes me ill. Sometimes, authors tiptoe around the issue so much that there isn't much impact made.

I think that Grenville hits the tone perfectly- because, in my opinion, most people aren't just born racist, with a hatred for all things different than themselves. Instead, it comes by degrees. It is often justified as not being racism, but as the only means to a desired end. And, sometimes, people aren't racist, but blame race for problems as it's an easy outlet for rage.

And sometimes, just sometimes, even racist people feel guilty about their acts of violence and hate.

William Thornhill is one of those people- who turns, slowly but steadily, from one person into another, and doesn't realize it until it's too late and the damage is done. Kate Grenville presents him in an imperfect light, but a sympathetic one. He is a complex and fascinating character, and while there were many times in the book that I did not like him, I could not help but respect his tenacity, and I always, always looked for a reason to cheer for him.

This book is beautifully written, tackles a huge subject with an artist's touch, and leaves its mark. Highly, highly recommended.

PS- And, if that isn't enough to make you want to jump up and grab the book... Sal, the main female character in the book has made it to my list of Heroines That Don't Annoy Me!

Review: The Fatal Shore

Title: The Fatal Shore: The Epic of Australia's Founding

Author: Robert Hughes

Publisher: Vintage

# of Pages: 752

Rating: 7.5/10

Amazon.com
An extraordinary volume--even a masterpiece--about the early history of Australia that reads like the finest of novels. Hughes captures everything in this complex tableau with narrative finesse that drives the reader ever-deeper into specific facts and greater understanding. He presents compassionate understanding of the plights of colonists--both freemen and convicts--and the Aboriginal peoples they displaced. One of the very best works of history I have ever read.

Well, after my recent trip to New Zealand and Australia, I thought that I should do some reading on the antipodes, so of course I decided to pick one of the biggest non-fiction books available. It's strange, isn't it, the books that can get you out of reading slumps? I always assume that it will be a light-hearted, funny book that will get me back into reading. But inevitably, it's some huge tome with a great many depressing scenes and themes.

This book certainly delivers depressing scenes and themes. Australia was settled as an English penal colony- obviously, there are many scars there, and a whole lot of brutality. Enough, in fact, to write a whole 600-page book. Plus appendices.

I was thoroughly engrossed in this book until about page 500. And then it just started to bog me down. Hughes spends a large portion of the book recounting how many times people were whipped. He even sets up a chart to show you the average number of whippings per person in Australia over a certain number of years. He describes the whip (called a cat o' nine tails) in minute detail. He describes the "art" of properly whipping someone. He talks about the lash marks people would get on their backs. I feel like I know more about whippings than I ever thought I would.

Granted, he has a reason to go on in such detail- whipping was (apparently) quite a normal part of life in colonial Australia. He also touches on the subjects of the Australian class system, its obsession with wiping out the "Stain" of being descended from a convict colony, sexism, sodomy, politics, bushrangers and racism.

It's all very interesting- but perhaps not read all at once, in so much detail. After a time, I just couldn't bring myself to read about the many ways that prisoners on Norfolk Island were tortured. Or about the horrible conditions that female convicts lived in. I think the most interesting part of the book was the section on the Australian bushrangers. I guess that's kind of obvious- really, who would not want to read about Ned Kelly's forebears? It was really interesting to read about how Hughes believes the Australian contempt for authority arose out of the bushranging, Robin Hood-like myth. Of course, it doesn't really eliminate the fact that bushrangers generally were criminals, but everyone likes a daredevil hero to remember and write songs about!

Most of the bushrangers, in case you were wondering, received several whippings. Which caused me to wonder- if you are sending a low-income criminal on a very long sea voyage to the other end of the world, without family or friends and a very low chance of ever returning... isn't that punishment enough? Do you really need to continue to whip and beat him for years afterward? It is so bizarre, really, to imagine the entire =thought= process of a colony being set up for punishment reasons. Seems a great deal of trouble to go through to get rid of criminals. But Hughes does explain that as well!

I think the most important- and certainly, the most disturbing- part of Hughes' book, however, was when he touched on the Australian relations with the Aborigines. To put it mildly, Australia does not have a very good track record in its treatment of the native population. Granted, most colonizing forces entering new lands do not treat native populations well. But sometimes, the treatment of the native Australians seems absolutely inhumane. The population was absolutely decimated- especially in Tasmania. For example, see this passage from the book (a long one- I apologize):

The last [Tasmanian native] man died in 1869. His name was William Lanne... Realizing that his remains might have some value as a scientific specimen, rival agents of the Royal College of Surgeons in London and the Royal Society in Tasmania fought over his bones. A Dr. William Crowther, representing the Royal College of Surgeons, sneaked into the morgue, beheaded Lanne's corpse, skinned the head, removed the skull and slipped another skull from a white cadaver into the black skin. This gruesome ruse was soon unmasked, for when a medical officer picked the head up, "the face turned round and at the back of the head the bones were sticking out." In pique, the officials decided not to let the Royal College of Surgeons get the whole skeleton; so they chopped off the feet and hands from Lanne's corpse and threw them away. The lopped, dishonored cadaver of the last tribesman was then officially buried, unofficially exhumed the next night and dissected for its skeleton by representatives of the Royal Society.... Lanne's skeleton then disappeared; and the head, which Crowther consigned by sea to the Royal College of Surgeons, vanished, too. It seems that the ineffable doctor had packaged it in a sealskin, and before long the bundle stank so badly that it was tossed overboard.

Another example in The Fatal Shore: Hughes states that Australians working on their farms would see Aborigines walking about and shoot them. Just like that- dead. As though they were some sort of pest. The way that you might shoot a fox coming after your sheep. Or the way I might squash a centipede with a broom. They didn't even stop to consider that they were committing murder, because they didn't even think of the Aborigines as human. So in their minds... they had done nothing wrong.

The Aborigines were not an "advanced" civilization. They wore no clothes, had no permanent shelters, and led a nomadic, hunter-gatherer existence. They did not bathe. So the English thought they were expendable. And when you're a penal colony, and you are already the lowest of the low on the social ladder, you REALLY need to believe that there is someone further down that ladder than you.

I have a great many thoughts on the Australian/Aborigine relationship, but if I learned anything in Australia, it is that discussing Aboriginal affairs is a hotbed of debate- and I certainly don't know enough to start spouting off my opinions. But it was enough to whet my interest, and I hope to learn more about the situation- at which time, I promise to make my views known.

Until then, though, I think I might need some lighter fare for reading, so I'm off to the Appalachian Trail with Bill Bryson!

Would I recommend the Hughes book? Yes- it's interesting. It presents so many facts, and really has so many improbable stories and entertaining characters in it. I got bogged down towards the end- which really, can easily happen with a book of that length. Not EVERY page was fascinating, but I do think I know much more about Australia's beginning history than I did before. Which was my aim in reading the book- so, goal met!

Review: In a Sunburned Country

Title: In a Sunburned Country
Author: Bill Bryson
Publisher: Broadway
# of Pages: 352

Favorite Line: [After defining the terms in the poem Waltzing Matilda] Why the swagman is a-waltzing with his bedroll and why above all he desires someone or something (in the second verse it's a sheep, for goodness' sake) to join him in this bizarre and possibly depraved activity are, of course, questions that cannot be answered.

Rating: 9/10

From Publishers Weekly
With the Olympics approaching, books on Australia abound. Still, Bryson's lively take is a welcome recess from packaged, staid guides. The author of A Walk in the Woods draws readers in campfire-style, relating wacky anecdotes and random facts gathered on multiple trips down under, all the while lightening the statistics with infusions of whimsical humor. Arranged loosely by region, the book bounces between Canberra and Melbourne, the Outback and the Gold Coast, showing Bryson alone and with partners in tow. His unrelenting insistence that Australia is the most dangerous place on earth ("If you are not stung or pronged to death in some unexpected manner, you may be fatally chomped by sharks or crocodiles, or carried helplessly out to sea by irresistible currents, or left to stagger to an unhappy death in the baking outback") spins off dozens of tales involving jellyfish, spiders and the world's 10 most poisonous snakes. Pitfalls aside, Bryson revels in the beauty of this country, home to ravishing beaches and countless unique species ("80% of all that lives in Australia, plant and animal, lives nowhere else"). He glorifies the country, alternating between awe, reverence and fear, and he expresses these sentiments with frankness and candor, via truly funny prose and a conversational pace that is at once unhurried and captivating. Peppered with seemingly irrelevant (albeit amusing) yarns, this work is a delight to read, whether or not a trip to the continent is planned.

Let me just start by saying that I adore Bill Bryson. Or, more likely, I want to live his life. People who know me well know that I believe Rachel Ray leads the ideal existence, traveling around the world and eating. But Bill Bryson has a pretty storied existence as well, traveling around the world and then writing hilarious anecdotes about where he has been. I can only read his books when I am quite sure that I will be visiting the places he describes, however- he has the tendency to make one jealous.

Travel writing has been popular for a very long time, and I don't think it will lose the public interest any time soon. At least, not with Bryson at the helm. I read this book on morning and evening commutes and my snickers and snorts of laughter brought me weird looks- until the bibliophiles among me smiled and nodded (I actually made that smile and nod for a fellow CTA passenger who was reading Terry Pratchett- also a dangerous author to read in public). The man is funny. And he litters his books with moments of great insight as well.

In a Sunburned Country is a book about Australia (Pratchett coincidentally also tackles this country in The Last Continent). Bryson makes great efforts to travel all over this country and fails (well, fails in that it's a very LARGE country to see and cover in the course of a few visits totaling probably a month's worth of time). For instance, Bryson spent very little time in the cities- which is where most people visiting Australia would probably focus their time, and spent a great deal of time in the emptiness of the Outback. But the Outback, even if it cannot be visited, does intrigue and entrance and it's great fun to read about the explorers who trekked across it, and the Aborigines who somehow settled it, and the animals that still populate it.

The book also touches, albeit with a very light touch, the Aboriginal story in Australia. It's one that is just as heartbreaking as that of America's native population. Bryson refers to the Aborigines as "lost," which is a very bleak and depressing picture when you consider that they were a ridiculously advanced civilization, more than 60,000 years ago- 30,000 years before anyone else thought to traverse on a boat to an island.

However, Bryson's books can't be depressing for long and after musing on his inability to solve the Aboriginal problem (which, I think, countries around the world are facing, though perhaps not with the gusto they should be), he turns to happier things. Like his story about the building of the Sydney Opera House, about Canberra's failed plan as a city, about meeting an echidna, about almost drowning in the Great Barrier Reef and about the majesty of Ulluru.

If you're one of those people who thinks that Australia is just like the United States, then this book proves you wrong- the natural wonders of Australia alone are enough to draw your attention. And the friendliness of its locals, the bizarre nature of its history (and it's bizarre, I tell you) and, not to forget, the deadliness of its creatures draw Bryson's attention, and will draw yours as well. Even if you don't plan a visit, this book's a keeper.