The Dressmaker

I saw the film first, and loved it, so I opted to read the book. I quite enjoyed the book overall, loving the combination of satire/humour, tragedy and drama, as well as the textile details, which can be confusing to anyone not familiar with the process, but add a particular style and layer to the story that makes it fun for those who love working with textiles (When the Sergeant can't read the knitting pattern as presented, I hadn't even realized that it wasn't clear instructions!). I loved how the story showed the outcasts being sympathetic to each other, and connecting as friends. For me, this book is iconic for some of the vocabulary choices it employed, and I would highly recommend it to anyone looking for a dramedy read. The only show more reason this book is not five stars is because of the ending - which I actually prefer in the movie, because I felt that the sergeant did not deserve to have all his outfits burnt up like that. In the movie he is arrested for being a cross-dresser, and Tilly is distraught, in the book, despite them being good friends, she burns all his things along with the rest of the town on her way out, which I found off-putting enough to make me overall prefer the film show less

There are two kinds of story in which a woman goes home to the small town:

1) The small town is a bucolic idyll, and its inhabitants' manifold kindnesses will heal Our Heroine's emotional wounds even as she brings their superstitious ways up to date with modern realities.

2) The small town is a cesspit of domestic abuse and sex pests, she was absolutely right to leave the first time, what is she doing back here? Get out, take your mentally ill mother with you, whatever, just Get. Out.

This is the second kind, and at a certain point I just couldn't bear to listen to all the nastiness anymore, not even to relieve the boredom of giving my kitchen the deepest clean of its life.

This is good escape reading about a young Parisian dressmaker who returns to her isolated Australian town to care for her mother and has to confront her past. Her mother never married and she was an outcast the entire time she lived there. But her dressmaking skills force people to come to her. Add a kind-hearted town policeman who is a cross-dresser and loves to sew, and unexpected romance, and a variety of townspeople and you’ve got the elements for a good story that ends in delightful revenge.

Ugh. I have no idea what to say about this book. It's not my thing at all. Hearing the narrator talk about Dungatar and its inhabitants, I kept imagining a lemon meringue pie with maggots under the fluffy golden meringue top. With the exception of Tilly, her mother, Teddy and the sergeant there were no redeeming characters in a book and town brimming with them. They were all sick, twisted, inhumane caricatures, and ultimately that's what kept me listening to the book after the pivotal moment; I had no sympathy to give to any of the characters (barring Tilly), allowing me to detach and distance myself from the narrative.

But the writing is beautiful, and the narration excellent. The narration was melodic, poetic, and always show more matter-of-fact, which added to the horror of the events as they unfolded.

I can't say this is a bad book at all - I totally understand why people would love it and why they made a movie of it (which I will not be watching). But these types of dark, twisted stories aren't why I read fiction; I want to feel better, or at least thoughtful, after I've finished a book, not as though my soul has been tainted by the experience.

I'm not rating this one - at least not yet - because while I think as a book it merits a high rating, I don't want to imply that I liked the story. I didn't. Neither do I want to low ball the rating and imply the book was sub-standard. Perhaps after I've sat with it a while I can come back and rate it objectively. show less

Tillie Dunnage returns to her small, rural Australian town to care for her mentally ill mother. Something mysterious happened many years ago that make the residents of Dungatar loathe Tillie. She is called a bastard and a murderer, a whore's daughter. The reader doesn't know what happened, where Tillie's been or for how long she's been gone. Tillie keeps to herself, cares for her mother, and begins to be wooed by the sun of the garbage dump keeper. Tillie's mail, opened by the postal official, shows that she must have lived in Spain and France. Her boxes are filled with herbal mixtures, fancy material, patterns, and fashion magazines. When Tillie makes a wedding dress for a local girl, the women of the town realize that she has a talent show more they can make use of. Strangely, Tillie is obliging.
Dungatar is filled with vile and quirky characters: an old-maid peeping-Tom gossip, a male policeman who makes and dresses in women's clothing, a lesbian postal officer who goes through everyone's mail, and a pharmacist who does not believe in treating sinners with functional medicine, to name a few.
Ham's descriptions of the materials, colors and fashions of the 1950s is detailed and fun. Tillie's secrets are revealed slowly and skillfully, and the final scene is brilliant. The revenge component was a little dark for me, but I can understand why so many people like this book. show less

I read this because it was a gift. It is well outside my comfort reading zone in many ways, although I do like recent-history stories, and Australiana.

However, I struggled with reading the story, typically only getting through 2-3 pages at a sitting. I found the majority of the characters unlikeable at best, and many of the reflections on small town life to be particularly unpleasant. Essentially a dystopia set in 1950s rural Australia.

Ugh. I have no idea what to say about this book. It's not my thing at all. Hearing the narrator talk about Dungatar and its inhabitants, I kept imagining a lemon meringue pie with maggots under the fluffy golden meringue top. With the exception of Tilly, her mother, Teddy and the sergeant there were no redeeming characters in a book and town brimming with them. They were all sick, twisted, inhumane caricatures, and ultimately that's what kept me listening to the book after the pivotal moment; I had no sympathy to give to any of the characters (barring Tilly), allowing me to detach and distance myself from the narrative.

But the writing is beautiful, and the narration excellent. The narration was melodic, poetic, and always show more matter-of-fact, which added to the horror of the events as they unfolded.

I can't say this is a bad book at all - I totally understand why people would love it and why they made a movie of it (which I will not be watching). But these types of dark, twisted stories aren't why I read fiction; I want to feel better, or at least thoughtful, after I've finished a book, not as though my soul has been tainted by the experience.

I'm not rating this one - at least not yet - because while I think as a book it merits a high rating, I don't want to imply that I liked the story. I didn't. Neither do I want to low ball the rating and imply the book was sub-standard. Perhaps after I've sat with it a while I can come back and rate it objectively. show less