I loved Grenville's writing style; at times it was almost abrupt. There were some beautiful descriptions, fantastic characters - some you really like and some you really dislike, and a great plot. It was confronting but also created a real sense of the Australian bush. I would definately read more of her work. ( )

Wonderful book, which is why I gave it away to be read by a friend. ( )

Ok, I’ll confess straight away: I loved this novel. If I could give it ten out of five stars, I would. The title made me wary (especially after having recently read ‘The Savage Garden’, similarly titled but exceedingly dull) and the mountains of critical praise that dominated the back and inside covers made me dubious – could any book really be this good? Fortunately, the answer was hell yes.

Background
Kate Grenville is an Australian writer whose last novel was published five years before this one and won her the Orange Prize. I can only say that the time spent on this one was worthwhile, as I’ve not read her previous work. This story is loosely linked to the historical life of one of Grenville’s ancestors, but she stresses her research and the fictional nature of the overall construct in her acknowledgements.

Basic story
William Thornhill is a mostly honest man struggling to earn enough to support his wife and child in Victorian London. He has always been involved in some petty crime to keep his head above water and Sal off the streets, but when he is caught and sentenced to be hung his world crashes around him. As Thornhill mopes, his determined wife sets in chain a series of events which result in the whole family being transported to Australia to live in a penal colony. Gradually, Thornhill becomes a free man and starts to make his impression on the harsh but beautiful Australian landscape. What no one had considered, were the natives. Initially Thornhill and other ex-convicts live uncomfortably beside the ‘savages’, but as events become increasingly violent, this hard working man must find a way to secure his new life for good.

Opening/style
There is a prologue of sorts which cuts to the heart of the story while creating a vivid sense of the danger to be found in Australia. This made me feel immediately involved in the story and demonstrated Thornhill’s distinct discomfort with the Aboriginal inhabitants of Australia. I immediately began to wonder: could he ever overcome his whole context sufficiently to recognise the basic humanity of the native peoples?

After the prologue we dive into a familiar, stinking, class divided Victorian London. I loved reading this very Dickensian section of the novel. Some reviewers have suggested that this kind of writing has been overdone and become rather dull. I appreciate that I am a great lover of Dickens’ style, but I disagree with the notion that just because something has been well done before that it becomes boring to do it again. I found these chapters very high paced and compelling to read, especially as Thornhill begins to make his way in the world, only to have convincing incidents start to ruin him all over again.

I could easily imagine and follow Thornhill’s difficult childhood and appreciate how this shaped the man he later became. Without seeing these formative years, I suspect I would have found Thornhill a far less sympathetic character later on, and this could have spoiled the perfect balance Grenville creates in our response to him. Despite acting at times in a way that should appal modern readers, Thornhill never quite loses our broad sympathy because we are so aware of his individual, social and historical context. Grenville achieves all of this without ever having to say “look, this is what it would really have been like, ok?” The characters and places are so convincingly evoked that you are able to imagine their lives outside the confines of the story, to some extent. This is partly because she describes everything in just the right amount of detail, including telling incidents easily in the broad sweep of the narrative.

Characters/atmosphere
Finally, the Thornhills travel to Australia and the mood actually darkens. Perhaps it is the realisation that class is equally important here, in the places that matter. Perhaps it is the way that our breadwinner continues to indulge in petty crime, despite being otherwise hard-working. Perhaps it is simply a sense of foreboding based on our knowledge of history. Whatever it is, there is a quiet sense of menace from the opening scenes in New South Wales that deepens inexorably as the novel continues. This means that, despite switching locations, the novel remains quietly compelling as we read to see how the Thornhills can adapt, and how the natives will react to their presence.

Grenville has separated the story into sections which reflect both geographical movements and progression in the relationships between the settlers and the natives of the country. These help to create a sense of development and allow tracts of time to pass by. (This is a novel which spans many years.) I found this useful because it allowed breaks which the lack of chapters often prevented me from taking!

Perhaps the biggest strength of this novel – after the excellent description – is Grenville’s skilful rendering of character and ability to leave the moral judgements ambiguous. The way the settlers treat the natives is appalling and sometimes disturbing. There are two incidents in particular, committed by one of the grosser settlers, who is revealingly called ‘Smasher’, which still fill my mind now and cause me to shudder. These incidents are confined to the places in the narrative where they occur, no one really discusses them later, yet they continue to haunt me due to the shocking understatement with which they are described. The very lack of further consideration always renders this shocking: Thornhill will not tell Sal, who is increasingly uncomfortable in this isolated land, and there is no one else to tell. Those of the settlers who know will never tell so these incidents become parts of the great unspoken knowledge of the novel and of history. In a sense then, Thornhill’s silence could make him seem to be an accomplice in hideous acts, yet I never felt this way. The sense of context was too strong. Who could Thornhill have told? What could he have done? Most chillingly, who (apart from Sal) would care?

There are too many characters to discuss them all, but a few are worthy of special mention. Thornhill’s second son begins to take a very different route from his father which causes friction but created, for me, one of the few places in the novel where I felt some brief hope for the future. It is interesting to follow his reactions, especially towards the close of the novel. Sal is also very interesting, in her own right and as a foil for Thornhill. She is determined but kind, yet even she suffers from the same pride which allows Thornhill to insist to an old friend, with whom he once pissed on his own feet to keep them warm, that ‘Mr Thornhill would be more appropriate, Ned.’ The social stratification, so visible and predictable in London, is given a newly disturbing edge by its presence in the colony and effect on the otherwise admirable Sal. This is a subtle but powerful lesson on how such stratification breeds envy, greed and violence.

Final thoughts
I found this a compelling read throughout, although I particularly enjoyed the Dickensian opening chapters. There is some gruesome violence interspersed throughout the later section of the book, which is haunting due to the understatement Grenville employs and never seems excessive. I enjoyed reading about the characters and seeing how they tried to adapt to their new lifestyles. The way Sal and Thornhill manage their rise through society is especially revealing.

There is a lot of sadness in the book. Obviously the way the natives are treated is disturbing, and the Thornhills lose their right to live in London, but there are more subtle sadnesses too. Husband and wife grow increasingly distant as Thornhill’s choices centre on his needs rather than Sal’s and the children’s. Grenville conveys this distance in such a way that we understand more than Thornhill what he has lost and how he has lost it.

The historical setting is convincingly drawn and I feel that I have really learned about the culture of these people in an engaging and memorable way. This should really be required reading for those who see any other culture or group of people as being so different or distant as to label the other ‘less than me’.

In my opinion, there are two real tests of a novel’s quality and this passes both with flying colours. I kept thinking about the characters, situation and values in the novel long after I closed the final page, and I definitely plan to reread this one day. I think it is suitable for anyone who is interested in Australian history or clashes between cultures – or even just anyone who is interested in reading a powerful tale about ordinary people in extraordinary times. ( )

The harrowing, brutally honest novel that white Australia had to have. A mark of national maturity and self-awareness, articulated by our brightest, most talented and compassionate novelist, ever. ( )