Through a series of linked stories, Sara Dowse explores the hidden world of Canberra's mandarins. In West Block, the flawed human world behind the headlines, George Harland consummates his career as a public servant; Henry Beeker prepares to fight for a policy; Catherine Duffy confronts the consequences of Australia's Vietnam policy; Jonathan Roe stumbles on happiness; and Cassie Armstrong's ironic intelligence leads her to despair.
I tried, I really did. I read almost half of it because I wanted to like it, I wanted to enjoy a book that unpacks the Canberra bureaucracy and political sphere.
But oh dear, it was wearisome. Some of it is rather overwritten; there are so many ponderous allusions to the streets and landmarks of the city; and the characters are as soulless as Canberra is reputed to be. I had thought it would be interesting to read a Canberra book set in the era when women's lib was starting to change the male dominated bureaucracy too, but all the important characters seemed to be men.
And I kept thinking of the third book in Frank Moorhouse's Edith Trilogy, Cold Light, and Christopher Koch's The Memory Room, which are also set in Canberra, and well, it just didn't measure up.
I'm not sure whether it was just the wrong book for me, or whether it just hasn't weathered well. On the author's website there are very positive comments from reviewers in Australia's major newspapers about this book, see http://www.saradowse.com.au/reviews.s... so don't take my word for it.
West Block is an Australian classic, a beautifully written story about a city that continues to be criticised for all the wrong reasons, and a collection of people working away from the spotlight of publicity. Together, they embody the human past and present of Australia's national capital.
Set in 1977, West Block tells the intersecting stories of five public servants: conservative, “sober-faced” bureaucrat George Harland; passionate, progressive Henry Beeker; socially conscious, dedicated but lonely Catherine Duffy; young, up and coming economist Jonathan Roe; and the femocrat, Women’s Equality Branch head, Cassie Armstrong, whose story bookends the novel, making her its main and unifying character. While each character’s story occupies a separate chapter, giving each centre stage in turn, they do occasionally appear in each other’s stories, and they all work in West Block to Departmental head, Deasey.
Through these characters we see the workings of government, and here, as a plus, we also gain insight into the issues of the time which, besides women’s affairs, included Australia’s uranium policy and Vietnam. Dowse uses these big issues to show what happens behind the scenes – trips overseas to negotiate with other governments, the IDCs (interdepartmental committees) and argy-bargying between departments as public servants try to find compromise between their various political masters, relationships between politicians and bureaucrats. Underpinning these is the daily life of public servants as they navigate the ethics of public service and their career ambitions alongside their jobs. We see tensions between different perspectives and approaches – the sober conservatives like Harland versus the crusading progressives like Beeker – of service. Dowse gives both their due.
This sounds dry, but it’s not because Dowse infuses her story with humanity. Her characters are not just public servants, but human beings with lives, and feelings.
A timeless tour de force from a gifted writer. Few novels can remain as fresh as West Block has done, given the passage of decades between editions. Bravo, Sara Dowse!