A doomsday cult story set in the Australian Outback, told in the most unusual fashion.
Through a series of flashbacks, one liners, dreams, and metaphor we get the story of the coming of a messianic character called Oyster to the outback town of Outer Maroo – west of Brisbane, north of Adelaide, and east of Alice Springs, a place off the map, populated only by sheep graziers, Murri (aboriginals), opal miners, and those wanting to escape from an unhappy past. Oyster brings the message of untold riches to be found in the black opal, the most valuable in that precious stone family, lying under the ranches of elders Andrew Godwin (100,000 acres) and Dukke Van Kerk, aka the Prophet, (250,000 acres).
Opal hunters and runaways flock into Outer Maroo, and from there travel to Oyster’s Reef, a commune built by its eponymous leader on the site of the new opal mine. Like all outback towns, the locals are wary of outsiders, except for Oyster who has everyone in his spell. However, this utopia soon becomes dystopian, for travel outside is prohibited (petrol is rationed), mail is withheld, women start getting pregnant (Oyster is sowing his seed liberally) while others are dying under the intense heat, the Australian government and its agencies are labelled Satan and his disciples, the rancher’s begin arming, while Old Fuckatoo (the wind that howls in that part of the continent) gathers force to hit the town and the Reef like it did once before in the previous century.
Those who challenge the new order are silenced: like Susanna Rover, the schoolteacher, whose fate we discover only in a throw-away piece of narration, and Rev. Given who is deposed from the local church in favour of Oyster, so that the latter can preach his fire and brimstone message of the coming Armageddon.
Oyster’s behaviour becomes increasingly paranoid, leading to the opal mine burning down three years after he arrives, and Outer Maroo burning down a year later. The causes are unknown, although human intervention is implied, helped by Old Fuckatoo who keeps the town constantly polluted with the smell of Sulphur, dead animals, and other unpleasant odours.
Of course this rather simplistic story line is not delivered in chronological order, and that was my problem. We start a week before the end and then go forward and back in time, jumping POVs of the main characters: Mercy Given, 16-year-old daughter of the Reverend, who works in the post office-general store, and who is traumatized by her visit to Oyster’s Reef in search of her brother; Jess, barmaid, survivor, and sexually hungry railway brat; Major Miner, Jess’s older lover, WWII vet, and explosives expert who is still fighting nightmares of the Fall of Singapore; Dorothy Godwin, kleptomaniac wife of the sexually promiscuous rancher Andrew; Nick and Sarah, parents of rebellious children who were lured to the Reef only to disappear.
Stories that jump around like this and offer snippets of information along the way, from which the reader has to piece together the whole, are somewhat gimmicky; they beg the question of whether there is sufficient meat on the bone that it has to be rationed out sparingly and confusingly? Most of the action takes place in people’s recollections, imaginings, and dreams, and through oblique references – i.e., off-stage. A line of dialogue will suddenly plug a hole in our storyboard, and that too, an often incomplete line: “Did everyone….?” (meaning, did everyone die?).
We occasionally get philosophical insights: “Extremism is everywhere,” “Revenge never solves anything.” However, because their internal musings carry most of the story, the characters do not come alive on the page in real-time action until the final chapters of the novel.
To the author’s credit, this book was published in 1996 and the Doomsday Clock was set by Oyster for the year 2000. That was a time when long-form, digressive, and indirect literature was acceptable, even fashionable within the right circles. In today’s attention span-deprived time, where getting to the heart of the matter by Page 5 is paramount, I wonder whether this book would get the appreciation it deserves? Read it for a look back at a vanished form of writing, rich in complexity, as vanished as that small Outback town and its huge mineral wealth.