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Mateship With Birds
On the outskirts of an Australian country town in the 1950s, a lonely farmer trains his binoculars on a family of kookaburras that roost in a tree near his house. Harry observes the kookaburras through a year of feast, famine, birth, death, war, romance and song. As Harry watches the birds, his next door neighbour has her own set of binoculars trained on him. Ardent, hard-working Betty has escaped to the country with her two fatherless children. Betty is pleased that her son, Michael, wants to spend time with the gentle farmer next door. But when Harry decides to teach Michael about the opposite sex, perilous boundaries are crossed.
Mateship with Birds is a novel about young lust and mature love. It is a hymn to the rhythm of country life — to vicious birds, virginal cows, adored dogs and ill-used sheep. On one small farm in a vast, ancient landscape, a collection of misfits question the nature of what a family can be.
Mateship with Birds is a novel about young lust and mature love. It is a hymn to the rhythm of country life — to vicious birds, virginal cows, adored dogs and ill-used sheep. On one small farm in a vast, ancient landscape, a collection of misfits question the nature of what a family can be.
208 pages, Paperback
First published June 21, 2012
35 people are currently reading
943 people want to read
About the author
Carrie Tiffany
13 books32 followersCarrie Tiffany was born in 1965 in Halifax, West Yorkshire and migrated to Australia with her family in the early 1970s. She grew up in Perth, Western Australia. In her early twenties she worked as a park ranger in Central Australia.
She moved to Melbourne in 1988 where she began work as a writer, focusing mainly on agriculture. Tiffany took up writing fiction and completed a creative writing course. She completed a master's degree in Creative Writing at RMIT University and is working towards her doctorate at La Trobe University.
Tiffany's debut novel, "Everyman's Rules for Scientific Living", was a remarkable success on its release in 2005, winning several awards and shortlisted for some major awards, including the Miles Franklin Award and the Orange Prize.
Her second novel, "Mateship with Birds (which takes its title from the 1922 book of the same name by ornithologist Alec Chisholm), was published in 2012.
She moved to Melbourne in 1988 where she began work as a writer, focusing mainly on agriculture. Tiffany took up writing fiction and completed a creative writing course. She completed a master's degree in Creative Writing at RMIT University and is working towards her doctorate at La Trobe University.
Tiffany's debut novel, "Everyman's Rules for Scientific Living", was a remarkable success on its release in 2005, winning several awards and shortlisted for some major awards, including the Miles Franklin Award and the Orange Prize.
Her second novel, "Mateship with Birds (which takes its title from the 1922 book of the same name by ornithologist Alec Chisholm), was published in 2012.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 237 reviews
December 19, 2014
I was really excited to have won this book after hearing from a friend how much she enjoyed the Carrie Tiffany previous book ‘Everyman's Rules for Scientific Living’. Unfortunately this didn’t work for me.
This story is about the relationship between neighbours, Harry and Betty, and life in a small country town of Victoria in the 1950’s. Harry is a middle aged bachelor - if he’s not attending to his dairy farm, he spends most of his free time journal writing, poetry, and bird observation. Harry lives next door to a single mother of 2, Betty. Betty and Harry are both infatuated by each other; they would observe, lust and fantasise over each other from a distance, yet neither of them is willing to make the first move. Harry also notices that Michael, Betty’s son, is at the age where he is becoming interested in women and takes it upon himself to inform him of the opposite sex.
What could have been an interesting story turned out to be rather confusing and bizarre. There was nothing I liked or can relate to here. There was a huge amount of detailed sexual content that was both crude, vile and in my opinion unnecessary. The animal and child abuse made me sick to my stomach. The other half was made up of Harry’s bird observation and poetry that I found extremely boring (I’m not a huge fan of poetry so had to skip over these parts). I couldn’t fully understand the point of this story or what the author was trying to make me see.
I wouldn’t recommend this book anyone, but thankyou first reads for the giveaway.
This story is about the relationship between neighbours, Harry and Betty, and life in a small country town of Victoria in the 1950’s. Harry is a middle aged bachelor - if he’s not attending to his dairy farm, he spends most of his free time journal writing, poetry, and bird observation. Harry lives next door to a single mother of 2, Betty. Betty and Harry are both infatuated by each other; they would observe, lust and fantasise over each other from a distance, yet neither of them is willing to make the first move. Harry also notices that Michael, Betty’s son, is at the age where he is becoming interested in women and takes it upon himself to inform him of the opposite sex.
What could have been an interesting story turned out to be rather confusing and bizarre. There was nothing I liked or can relate to here. There was a huge amount of detailed sexual content that was both crude, vile and in my opinion unnecessary. The animal and child abuse made me sick to my stomach. The other half was made up of Harry’s bird observation and poetry that I found extremely boring (I’m not a huge fan of poetry so had to skip over these parts). I couldn’t fully understand the point of this story or what the author was trying to make me see.
I wouldn’t recommend this book anyone, but thankyou first reads for the giveaway.
December 18, 2016
Mateship with Birds is, primarily, about Harry, a divorced dairy farmer outside the small regional town of Cohuna, Victoria in the 1950s. He's a quiet, observant man who takes holistic care of his cows - which have names like Big Joyce, Pineapple, Enid and Linga Longa Wattle Flower - while imagining himself as their manager and they, star performers on the road. He keeps a notebook in the shed in which he records, in verse form, the goings-ons of the resident kookaburra family: Mum, Dad, Tiny and Club-Toe. His nearest neighbours are Trevor Mues and single mother of two, Betty. Trevor is useful to call upon for help when needed, though his personal habits and sexual interests are disgusting. Betty, though, he is both close yet distant with. Harry helps fill the role of missing husband when something needs fixing or taking care of around the house she rents, but his attraction to her goes unspoken and, seemingly, unrequited, while Betty, in turn, daydreams about Harry while working at the aged care home in town.
Harry also tries to fill the role of father to Betty's oldest, Michael, in providing sex education for the boy after he walks in on Michael masturbating over a copy of Woman and Home. He does this through letters in which he details his own experiences and provides his own insights - which are quite endearing, really. But his comfortable yet stationary relationship with Betty is ruined when she finds the letters.
The character of Harry is a superb one. Having grown up in the country surrounded by farmers - including my father and grandfather - I am familiar with their distinctive, slow-moving, laconic style of being present. In fact, I would say it feels like home to me. The image of two men standing side-by-side, dressed in soft, well-worn and often stained but clean cotton trousers (navy blue or dark green), the obligatory shirt, sometimes with worn, holey jumper on top, hefty boots and terry-towelling bucket hat. They'd stand beside each other rather than facing, arms crossed or hands in pockets or leaning over a gate, chatting - philosophising. There's something gentle and tender in the lack of urgency, the low rumbling tones, that I miss - and it's this something (for which I'm so nostalgic) that Tiffany captures in her portrayal of Harry. On top of that quality, Harry really is a lovely sort, quietly helping out, secretly decorating Little Hazel's bedroom to make it look like winter, using the stuffing from his pillow for snow.
The lines are blurred between human and animal; Harry anthropomorphises the birds that he watches, the cows that he tends, constructing a language of sex and sensation that binds humans and animals together in a warmly organic world of agriculture. I don't know how else to describe it except to connect those words together. Tiffany's own experiences working in the agricultural field show: the book is speckled with interesting glimpses into the details of caring for animals and running a farm, as well as observations about birds - all of which, again, can be seen as a metaphor for humans.
The descriptions of sexual activity in all its forms are couched in this language of farming, which we tend to forget is all about reproduction and nurture. Tiffany, here, has also created an atmosphere of 'relaxed arousal'. The ease with which the lines can become blurred is captured in the shocking moment of discovering that Mues has crossed the line and doesn't even see a problem with it. This, too, taps into that essential loneliness and isolation which can be the farmer's lot, even with close neighbours and daily contact. Harry is a deeply sympathetic character, a man of integrity, patience and humility with that hint of childlike innocence that so many farmers have, here in Tasmania (I'm not so familiar with Victorian farmers, but if Mateship with Birds is anything to go by, it seems to be much the same). This quality is amplified by the inclusion of glimpses into Harry as a little boy - the time he stayed at his aunt's house and took down the cuckoo clock, only to feel complete disappointment at the 'trick' of it - and to be punished for breaking it. Betty, too, has a past tinged with sadness and instances of love missing their mark.
There's an edge to Tiffany's writing that add tension - hard to grasp but present nonetheless - and the unabashed descriptions of sex and sexual activity actually had the power to discomfit me - a reflection more of my cultural context, I think, than any real kind of prudery. (I'm quite curious about this.) Her descriptions of the landscape are simple yet beautiful - one of my favourites: "The eucalypts' thin leaves are painterly on the background of mauve sky - like black lace on pale skin." (p.125) Such descriptions are used sparsely but create vivid images in the mind's eye. There's an element of social realism to Mateship with Birds that made the characters feel incredibly real to me: it's in the skilful simplicity of Tiffany's sentences, her artful way of capturing a mood, a person, a moment of nerves or a hesitation in the doorway. The birds, too, are characters in their own right, as captured by Harry's writings and Little Hazel's nature diary. And it is a bird - the "winking owl on the washing line" - that helps bridge the sudden gap between Harry and Betty and repairs what has been damaged. Subtly colouring everything is this touch of nostalgia, a faint layer of Australiana that isn't really celebrated or indulged, it just is: part of the setting.
Tiffany's second novel is fairly short, at just over two hundred pages, but packs a lot. The lives of Harry and Betty and everyone else are interconnected by birds, birds being watched, birds being accidentally killed, birds being befriended and tended. Mateship with Birds is about life, the ugly, sometimes bloody parts of it, the sex and sweat and tears of it, and the love and laughter and dying. The blurb ends with a wonderfully tidy sentence: "On one small farm in a vast, ancient landscape, a collection of misfits question the nature of what a family can be." This, too, is an essential part of the novel, though not the one that stuck with me the most. But in Harry's attempts at being a father for someone else's children, the tender innocence at the core of life is presented as something both humbling, and fraught.
Highly recommended, an excellent read.
Harry also tries to fill the role of father to Betty's oldest, Michael, in providing sex education for the boy after he walks in on Michael masturbating over a copy of Woman and Home. He does this through letters in which he details his own experiences and provides his own insights - which are quite endearing, really. But his comfortable yet stationary relationship with Betty is ruined when she finds the letters.
The character of Harry is a superb one. Having grown up in the country surrounded by farmers - including my father and grandfather - I am familiar with their distinctive, slow-moving, laconic style of being present. In fact, I would say it feels like home to me. The image of two men standing side-by-side, dressed in soft, well-worn and often stained but clean cotton trousers (navy blue or dark green), the obligatory shirt, sometimes with worn, holey jumper on top, hefty boots and terry-towelling bucket hat. They'd stand beside each other rather than facing, arms crossed or hands in pockets or leaning over a gate, chatting - philosophising. There's something gentle and tender in the lack of urgency, the low rumbling tones, that I miss - and it's this something (for which I'm so nostalgic) that Tiffany captures in her portrayal of Harry. On top of that quality, Harry really is a lovely sort, quietly helping out, secretly decorating Little Hazel's bedroom to make it look like winter, using the stuffing from his pillow for snow.
They walk for a while along the edge of the bank, Harry stopping now and then to measure the channel depth and test the flow of water around his outstretched fingers. The hot edge has gone off the afternoon. There doesn't seem much need for talk. The bank is narrow so they walk slowly, in single file. Betty is in the lead; Harry hangs far enough back so he can watch the way she moves. He likes her plump forearms, the cardigan pushed up around them; the gilt band of her watch digging into her wrist. He likes the sound of her clothes moving around her middle. When she turns to speak to him he notices her softening jaw and her mouth - the lipstick on her front teeth. He's been watching all of this, over the years, watching her body age and temper. [p.22]
The lines are blurred between human and animal; Harry anthropomorphises the birds that he watches, the cows that he tends, constructing a language of sex and sensation that binds humans and animals together in a warmly organic world of agriculture. I don't know how else to describe it except to connect those words together. Tiffany's own experiences working in the agricultural field show: the book is speckled with interesting glimpses into the details of caring for animals and running a farm, as well as observations about birds - all of which, again, can be seen as a metaphor for humans.
A quality milker demonstrates a calm authority. He milks the herd fast and dry. The atmosphere is of relaxed arousal. [p.129]
The descriptions of sexual activity in all its forms are couched in this language of farming, which we tend to forget is all about reproduction and nurture. Tiffany, here, has also created an atmosphere of 'relaxed arousal'. The ease with which the lines can become blurred is captured in the shocking moment of discovering that Mues has crossed the line and doesn't even see a problem with it. This, too, taps into that essential loneliness and isolation which can be the farmer's lot, even with close neighbours and daily contact. Harry is a deeply sympathetic character, a man of integrity, patience and humility with that hint of childlike innocence that so many farmers have, here in Tasmania (I'm not so familiar with Victorian farmers, but if Mateship with Birds is anything to go by, it seems to be much the same). This quality is amplified by the inclusion of glimpses into Harry as a little boy - the time he stayed at his aunt's house and took down the cuckoo clock, only to feel complete disappointment at the 'trick' of it - and to be punished for breaking it. Betty, too, has a past tinged with sadness and instances of love missing their mark.
There's an edge to Tiffany's writing that add tension - hard to grasp but present nonetheless - and the unabashed descriptions of sex and sexual activity actually had the power to discomfit me - a reflection more of my cultural context, I think, than any real kind of prudery. (I'm quite curious about this.) Her descriptions of the landscape are simple yet beautiful - one of my favourites: "The eucalypts' thin leaves are painterly on the background of mauve sky - like black lace on pale skin." (p.125) Such descriptions are used sparsely but create vivid images in the mind's eye. There's an element of social realism to Mateship with Birds that made the characters feel incredibly real to me: it's in the skilful simplicity of Tiffany's sentences, her artful way of capturing a mood, a person, a moment of nerves or a hesitation in the doorway. The birds, too, are characters in their own right, as captured by Harry's writings and Little Hazel's nature diary. And it is a bird - the "winking owl on the washing line" - that helps bridge the sudden gap between Harry and Betty and repairs what has been damaged. Subtly colouring everything is this touch of nostalgia, a faint layer of Australiana that isn't really celebrated or indulged, it just is: part of the setting.
Tiffany's second novel is fairly short, at just over two hundred pages, but packs a lot. The lives of Harry and Betty and everyone else are interconnected by birds, birds being watched, birds being accidentally killed, birds being befriended and tended. Mateship with Birds is about life, the ugly, sometimes bloody parts of it, the sex and sweat and tears of it, and the love and laughter and dying. The blurb ends with a wonderfully tidy sentence: "On one small farm in a vast, ancient landscape, a collection of misfits question the nature of what a family can be." This, too, is an essential part of the novel, though not the one that stuck with me the most. But in Harry's attempts at being a father for someone else's children, the tender innocence at the core of life is presented as something both humbling, and fraught.
Highly recommended, an excellent read.
June 18, 2013
Ho hum. For a book about birds, this one never got off the ground. Tiffany has an interesting writing style, combining dry technical passages about dairy farming (there are a lot of words you won't even know what they mean - not that it really matters), close (and quite interesting) observations of Australian bird life and the often brutal ends that birds meet, with snatches of narrative by various members of two neighboring Australian rural households in the 50s.
Be warned, for those of you with delicate sensibilities, Tiffany writes very graphically about sex, bringing the same dry observational tone to descriptions of human sexuality as she does to observing bird species or dairy cow behavior. As befits a book centered on dairy farming, there's an awful lot of detailed talk about breasts. But about everything else too. Which is not to say that it's an erotic book - whether it's the clinical tone or the highly episodic nature of Tiffany's narrative, you never feel more for the protagonists than a slight sadness and an (ungratified) curiousity to get more pieces of the puzzle, to understand who they really are and why we're reading a book about them.
Ultimately, despite some early promise, the book is entirely fragmentary and episodic. We never get more than glances of what's going on with the various characters, and while the allusions and analogies to "family life" in the natural world are interesting, they can't substitute for plot or character development. The book ends abruptly - with a "finally!" denouement that, while a long time coming, still comes out of nowhere as far as the plot goes.
Doesn't seem fully thought through or finished.
Be warned, for those of you with delicate sensibilities, Tiffany writes very graphically about sex, bringing the same dry observational tone to descriptions of human sexuality as she does to observing bird species or dairy cow behavior. As befits a book centered on dairy farming, there's an awful lot of detailed talk about breasts. But about everything else too. Which is not to say that it's an erotic book - whether it's the clinical tone or the highly episodic nature of Tiffany's narrative, you never feel more for the protagonists than a slight sadness and an (ungratified) curiousity to get more pieces of the puzzle, to understand who they really are and why we're reading a book about them.
Ultimately, despite some early promise, the book is entirely fragmentary and episodic. We never get more than glances of what's going on with the various characters, and while the allusions and analogies to "family life" in the natural world are interesting, they can't substitute for plot or character development. The book ends abruptly - with a "finally!" denouement that, while a long time coming, still comes out of nowhere as far as the plot goes.
Doesn't seem fully thought through or finished.
December 10, 2012
Tiffany managed to create an interesting mix of characters and raised some interesting ideas, however this book to me felt like a jumbled together collection of short stories that reached no real engrossing conclusion. The tension in the novel was commendable, however the overall plot seemed lacking and not once did I feel engrossed or connected to any one of the characters.
The themes of sexual maturity and immaturity weave throughout the book constantly, mostly in a disturbing fashion. Personally, I found Harry's sexual 'maturity' thoroughly childlike and without any passion. His final quote "looks like rain tomorrow" really cements the idea that his character is a farmer lacking any basic emotional or passionate feelings. Perhaps this is commenting on a generalization among rural men in their inability to show their true feelings. However, this is an easy stereotype but Harry's character allows for other assumptions..
Wouldn't read it again, nor recommend it.
The themes of sexual maturity and immaturity weave throughout the book constantly, mostly in a disturbing fashion. Personally, I found Harry's sexual 'maturity' thoroughly childlike and without any passion. His final quote "looks like rain tomorrow" really cements the idea that his character is a farmer lacking any basic emotional or passionate feelings. Perhaps this is commenting on a generalization among rural men in their inability to show their true feelings. However, this is an easy stereotype but Harry's character allows for other assumptions..
Wouldn't read it again, nor recommend it.
June 12, 2013
This is a book about sex. Sex between humans, sex between other animals, and in at least one instance, sex between a human and another animal. Although extremely explicit, even when describing the various casual perversions of rural life, the book is never crude for the sake of being crude or for cheap shock value.
Set in rural Victoria of the 1950s, the central characters are Harry, a dairy farmer, and Betty, a nurse and single mother of two children who has moved in next door to him. The plot is very simple and linear, more like a novella, and Tiffany doesn't develop any subplots or extra threads to her story. It details Harry's and Betty's slow courtship and juxtaposes it with Harry's observations of local birdlife. I was unsatisfied by this; I expected that the juxtaposition would reveal something, in parallel or anti-parallel to the main story. In the end, I thought that while the bird observations certainly helped develop Harry's character, they served no other purpose, and therefore that the length of text devoted to them was disproportionate.
I found that I could easily visualise Harry, Betty, and the world they inhabited. Harry appears at first to be a stereotypical stoic, taciturn Australian country man. However, in his own reflections and ruminations on his own discovery of sex as a teenager—and in particular, —he displays eloquence and a rich interior life. I vacillated on how convincing I found this contrast between his external and internal persona, but I think I was more convinced than not.
There is some really gorgeous prose in here. In particular, there's a whole-page description of Harry's whippet that absolutely wowed me, and I'm not even a dog person. It begins:
By the end of the page, I felt I had known this dog for years.
There's a smattering of dry humour through the book, mostly related to the banality of country life. If you love the country, I speculate that some of this might be borderline offensive, but in particular, I loved the excitement that the new linoleum causes when it's installed at the nursing home.
Of course, the scene that will stay with me the longest, perhaps forever, is the bestiality episode:
If you want the rest, you'll have to read it for yourself. But again, I didn't find it crude; simply forthright and unvarnished, and even with light touches of humour as the fallout from the incident is described.
As gorgeous as the writing is, and how real the central characters seemed, I didn't think there was quite enough to sustain a book of even this modest length. The ingredients were here for comparison and contrast between sex at its most animalistic, and intimacy between people; between sex that is socially sanctioned, and transgressive sex; but I didn't think Tiffany took up these themes effectively. I found Mateship With Birds too long in some regards and too short in others, and overall, not a book I really enjoyed.
Set in rural Victoria of the 1950s, the central characters are Harry, a dairy farmer, and Betty, a nurse and single mother of two children who has moved in next door to him. The plot is very simple and linear, more like a novella, and Tiffany doesn't develop any subplots or extra threads to her story. It details Harry's and Betty's slow courtship and juxtaposes it with Harry's observations of local birdlife. I was unsatisfied by this; I expected that the juxtaposition would reveal something, in parallel or anti-parallel to the main story. In the end, I thought that while the bird observations certainly helped develop Harry's character, they served no other purpose, and therefore that the length of text devoted to them was disproportionate.
I found that I could easily visualise Harry, Betty, and the world they inhabited. Harry appears at first to be a stereotypical stoic, taciturn Australian country man. However, in his own reflections and ruminations on his own discovery of sex as a teenager—and in particular, —he displays eloquence and a rich interior life. I vacillated on how convincing I found this contrast between his external and internal persona, but I think I was more convinced than not.
There is some really gorgeous prose in here. In particular, there's a whole-page description of Harry's whippet that absolutely wowed me, and I'm not even a dog person. It begins:
She's an antler covered in warm velvet. Her legs are sticks; her yolky heart hangs in its brittle cage of ribs. She can't walk in a straight line. When Harry holds the gate open for her she slinks through it. She doesn't stand next to him like you might see a dog in a photograph, but with her back snaked around so it touches his leg.
By the end of the page, I felt I had known this dog for years.
There's a smattering of dry humour through the book, mostly related to the banality of country life. If you love the country, I speculate that some of this might be borderline offensive, but in particular, I loved the excitement that the new linoleum causes when it's installed at the nursing home.
Of course, the scene that will stay with me the longest, perhaps forever, is the bestiality episode:
The constable searched the outhouses and found an elderly sheep in the hayshed. A blue ladies' nightie was hanging from a nail on the shed wall. A drenching tube and a half empty bottle of Chinese brandy were found nearby.
If you want the rest, you'll have to read it for yourself. But again, I didn't find it crude; simply forthright and unvarnished, and even with light touches of humour as the fallout from the incident is described.
As gorgeous as the writing is, and how real the central characters seemed, I didn't think there was quite enough to sustain a book of even this modest length. The ingredients were here for comparison and contrast between sex at its most animalistic, and intimacy between people; between sex that is socially sanctioned, and transgressive sex; but I didn't think Tiffany took up these themes effectively. I found Mateship With Birds too long in some regards and too short in others, and overall, not a book I really enjoyed.
December 22, 2014
When a book comes along about cows, dairy farming, frustrated desire and falling in love, I have to say I'm reading up a storm. The cows ( Enid, Fatty, Babs, Big Joyce, Wee Joyce, Stumbles and the rest) and the pasture, figure as intensely as the birds that Harry writes about , and I find myself longing to subscribe to the Victorian Dairy Farmer's Weekly...life on a farm in the '50's was about applied science, but no amount of science can help Harry in the seduction of his hard-working and single neighbour Betty .
He knows exactly what he must do, but in what order? And when? And how will he know if she understands his intent?? Tiffany manages to capture the details of missed opportunities, both for birds and for people, and the frailties exposed when they are both driven by the urge to mate. It will not be denied in the end, but the journey is heartbreaking, sometimes funny, tentative, and finally - well, you'll just have to read it to find out!
He knows exactly what he must do, but in what order? And when? And how will he know if she understands his intent?? Tiffany manages to capture the details of missed opportunities, both for birds and for people, and the frailties exposed when they are both driven by the urge to mate. It will not be denied in the end, but the journey is heartbreaking, sometimes funny, tentative, and finally - well, you'll just have to read it to find out!
April 14, 2023
‘And adults are part of this pretence – they hold one thing in their hand and call it another.’
It’s 1953, and just outside the small country town of Cohuna in adjacent farmhouses live Harry and Betty. Harry is a dairy farmer and keen birdwatcher, tending his cows in accordance with the rhythms of milking and breeding. Harry was once married, but his wife left him for another birdwatcher. He wonders what went wrong. Betty, the woman next door, is bringing up two children on her own. Betty works at the aged-care centre in town, worries about her children (Michael and Hazel) and imagines a physical relationship with Harry. Harry is something of a father figure for Michael and Hazel, and when he realises how confused Michael is about ‘things with girls’ he writes to Michael about the things he wished he’d known at the same age. Perhaps, if Harry had known more about sex, been both less ignorant and less eager, his wife wouldn’t have left him. Perhaps. Unfortunately, Harry hasn’t spoken with Betty before writing these letters for Michael.
‘Time, in Harry’s understanding is measured in the body. It has something to do with the lungs and the taking in and expelling of air.’
Much of this novel is about records: Harry’s bird watching diary; Betty’s record of her children’s illnesses; Hazel’s nature diary and Harry’s letters to Michael. Harry, the pragmatic farmer, is poetic. Hazel is observant and matter of fact, while Michael is walking the difficult path of adolescence. Betty would like more from life, but isn’t quite sure how to proceed.
In this novel, the natural world is both character and backdrop. Beauty and routine, the mundane and the tragic are all part of life experienced by Betty and Harry. Michael is trying to make sense of his own place in a world which always looks different when adolescence kicks in and Hazel is both observant and resilient. The natural world applies to humans as well as to animals and birds. Well of course it does, but it isn’t always as clearly integrated as it is here.
‘What is the fixative that causes one memory to congeal and set, while others dissolve?’
I enjoyed this novel. It is quietly different and beautifully written. It was recently announced (on 17 April 2013) as the inaugural winner of the Stella Prize 2013.
Jennifer Cameron-Smith
It’s 1953, and just outside the small country town of Cohuna in adjacent farmhouses live Harry and Betty. Harry is a dairy farmer and keen birdwatcher, tending his cows in accordance with the rhythms of milking and breeding. Harry was once married, but his wife left him for another birdwatcher. He wonders what went wrong. Betty, the woman next door, is bringing up two children on her own. Betty works at the aged-care centre in town, worries about her children (Michael and Hazel) and imagines a physical relationship with Harry. Harry is something of a father figure for Michael and Hazel, and when he realises how confused Michael is about ‘things with girls’ he writes to Michael about the things he wished he’d known at the same age. Perhaps, if Harry had known more about sex, been both less ignorant and less eager, his wife wouldn’t have left him. Perhaps. Unfortunately, Harry hasn’t spoken with Betty before writing these letters for Michael.
‘Time, in Harry’s understanding is measured in the body. It has something to do with the lungs and the taking in and expelling of air.’
Much of this novel is about records: Harry’s bird watching diary; Betty’s record of her children’s illnesses; Hazel’s nature diary and Harry’s letters to Michael. Harry, the pragmatic farmer, is poetic. Hazel is observant and matter of fact, while Michael is walking the difficult path of adolescence. Betty would like more from life, but isn’t quite sure how to proceed.
In this novel, the natural world is both character and backdrop. Beauty and routine, the mundane and the tragic are all part of life experienced by Betty and Harry. Michael is trying to make sense of his own place in a world which always looks different when adolescence kicks in and Hazel is both observant and resilient. The natural world applies to humans as well as to animals and birds. Well of course it does, but it isn’t always as clearly integrated as it is here.
‘What is the fixative that causes one memory to congeal and set, while others dissolve?’
I enjoyed this novel. It is quietly different and beautifully written. It was recently announced (on 17 April 2013) as the inaugural winner of the Stella Prize 2013.
Jennifer Cameron-Smith
April 16, 2013
Although I possess a tome giving name to the copious array of birds that populate my island, I am no amateur ornithologist. Naturally the more common species that abound around my riverside abode – black swan, kookaburra, pelican, blue wren as well as the uninspiring starling and sparrow – are known, as is the majestic sea eagle that occasionally soars down the valley. The rich variety of water fowl present on the Derwent elude recognition though, as are a mystery to me the brightly plumed standouts that flit and trill in the nearby shrubbery. The shenanigans of the turbo chooks on the front lawn are a constant delight, but I am no twitcher, as is Harry, the character central to Tiffany’s rich new novel, ‘Mateship With Birds’. He knows the nomenclature of all his feathered friends, can identify calls and keeps a journal of the rituals of a kookaburra family living on his dairy farm. He is also very friendly with his cows.
I seem immersed in the 1950s these days. My previous read was set in that period in the UK, and I am currently addicted to Mad Men. This work, in contrast, has an Aussie setting, and one can practically smell the Brylcream emanating from the pages such is the authority with which the author captures the times.
Harry, widower, lives in close proximity to Betty, single mum. A lustful, unconsummated intimacy exists between the two friends, and Harry is father figure to Betty’s daughter Little Hazel, and more particularly her son, teenage Michael. At first the book is a series of vignettes outlining bucolic daily happenings and personal histories, taking its time to settle into a more linear narrative. We have Harry’s journal, Hazel’s school nature diary and an account of a neighbour’s unnatural practices providing some hilarity to otherwise somber events. It is when Harry takes it into his head to provide a written road map to the enchantments of the female sexual organs with instruction how to titillate them for Michael’s elucidation that the novel takes off. This idiosyncratic guide is surprisingly original in its approach to sexual functionality, but serves to fray the settled relationship between the two adult protagonists. Then comes the unexpected, to this reader, climax – puns intended – that is the final joy of the work.
Tiffany received hearty praise and some gongs for her first effort, ‘Rules for Scientific Living’, and this sophomore work does no harm to her career prospects. And, for someone like me who remembers the fifties, if not like yesterday, but fairly well, then 'Mateship with Birds’ brings back a time when life was more bland, perhaps less fraught, but when reticence and propriety loomed larger – with those natural urges still difficult to ignore.
I seem immersed in the 1950s these days. My previous read was set in that period in the UK, and I am currently addicted to Mad Men. This work, in contrast, has an Aussie setting, and one can practically smell the Brylcream emanating from the pages such is the authority with which the author captures the times.
Harry, widower, lives in close proximity to Betty, single mum. A lustful, unconsummated intimacy exists between the two friends, and Harry is father figure to Betty’s daughter Little Hazel, and more particularly her son, teenage Michael. At first the book is a series of vignettes outlining bucolic daily happenings and personal histories, taking its time to settle into a more linear narrative. We have Harry’s journal, Hazel’s school nature diary and an account of a neighbour’s unnatural practices providing some hilarity to otherwise somber events. It is when Harry takes it into his head to provide a written road map to the enchantments of the female sexual organs with instruction how to titillate them for Michael’s elucidation that the novel takes off. This idiosyncratic guide is surprisingly original in its approach to sexual functionality, but serves to fray the settled relationship between the two adult protagonists. Then comes the unexpected, to this reader, climax – puns intended – that is the final joy of the work.
Tiffany received hearty praise and some gongs for her first effort, ‘Rules for Scientific Living’, and this sophomore work does no harm to her career prospects. And, for someone like me who remembers the fifties, if not like yesterday, but fairly well, then 'Mateship with Birds’ brings back a time when life was more bland, perhaps less fraught, but when reticence and propriety loomed larger – with those natural urges still difficult to ignore.
September 1, 2013
I didn't actually set out to read this book - I merely tried to use it as we road tested our new eBook service. It took some time to cooperate, but finally I had the text in front of me, and off I went. I had heard a lot about this novel, as a very visceral depiction of Australian country life. And it is. I didn' t really want to know about the personal habits of lonely old cockies, and yet it had its place in the narrative. Country life is not easy, nor yet idyllic but it has its joys. There is a naivete about human relations that life in the city tends to eradicate simply through density of population - there is so much more to see and experience in suburban situations, that you can't remain oblivious to human interactions. Rural life has its carefully maintained facades of decorum, but it rubs along with all sorts of creatures, flighted and furred, feline, ovine, bovine and canine with a resignation to and observance of the beauty and destruction in the circle of life. And that's what struck me about "Mateship with birds". There is a lyricism to the desciptions of Harry's rituals in milking his herd, his observations of the local kookaburra family and their annual breeding cycle. It is at once pragmatic in death and the mechanics of procreation, and yet with a tinge of romanticism in the description of thrushes visiting the classroom. There is a ruddy, joyful revelling in the knowledge that if you can feel all these things, then you still must be alive. Even Betty, with her carefully, yet vaguely constructed appearance, tending her old men at the local nursing home, pretending to be a visiting wife in her lunch hour. Pathos and pragmatism, humour and celebration. Vital. Ended up quite enjoying it! Not a self conscious book and doesn't try too hard all of which made it a joy to read.
February 16, 2012
The title of this book has double meanings for an Australian reader - both "mateship" and "birds" have dual meanings, so I had an idea of what the content would be before I started it. I wasn't wrong! Harry's attempts to educate Michael in the birds and the bees were very clumsy and amusing (although Michael's mother wasn't amused!).
I loved how this book really captured country life in Australia and that it mentioned towns that I'm familiar with. The journal that Harry keeps about the kookaburra family was gorgeous! I loved reading about them.
I thought this was quite a cleverly written book and I enjoyed the different anecdotes throughout it about both the humans and the animals. The only criticism I have about it was that I thought in a couple of places it was just overly crass for no apparent reason. I also found one scene involving a shooting very unpleasant.
Although I would have ideally given this book a 3.5 rating, I've given it 4 rather than 3 simply because I loved the way the author captured that country town feel and I liked Harry's kookaburra journal, which was almost written as poetry.
Lastly, as I won this book on First Reads, I would like to thank Hayley for the chance to read and review this book.
I loved how this book really captured country life in Australia and that it mentioned towns that I'm familiar with. The journal that Harry keeps about the kookaburra family was gorgeous! I loved reading about them.
I thought this was quite a cleverly written book and I enjoyed the different anecdotes throughout it about both the humans and the animals. The only criticism I have about it was that I thought in a couple of places it was just overly crass for no apparent reason. I also found one scene involving a shooting very unpleasant.
Although I would have ideally given this book a 3.5 rating, I've given it 4 rather than 3 simply because I loved the way the author captured that country town feel and I liked Harry's kookaburra journal, which was almost written as poetry.
Lastly, as I won this book on First Reads, I would like to thank Hayley for the chance to read and review this book.
January 1, 2020
A strong, singular novel about two middle-aged people navigating country life and relationships. Harry is a bird-watcher & ‘logs’ the life of a nearby family of kookaburras in poetic form. Betty is a dedicated single mother, lonely but almost a wife to her aged care patients. I love the economy & truth of Carrie Tiffany’s writing, which makes these ordinary lives poignant & beautiful. Her wry humour is sparing but effective. Great Oz fiction.
January 5, 2017
This is such a gorgeous book. I have read the author's previous debut novel 'Everyman's Scientific Rules for Living' which is an all time favourite and I am wondering as to why I have not picked this up before now. It is a very sensual and primal read detailing the beauty and harsh nature of farm life. I especially liked the sections on bird behaviour. A fine start to my new reading year.
June 8, 2020
As the birdwatcher watches the birds, who's watching the birdwatcher? Vaguely erotic, tenderly written poetic tale looking at small community in a country town in the early 1950s. 4 out of 12.
March 7, 2024
I read this Stella Prize winning novel 10 years ago and gave it four stars. I've just had to re-read it for a gig and need to upgrade my rating.
Tiffany's prose has the limpid flowing quality associated with prize-winning writers like Elizabeth Strout and Sarah Winman, but her subject matter can be quite contradictorily earthy and even grubby. There were times when I found myself thinking of her fellow Australian writer Paddy O'Reilly's The Colour of Rust. The world of this novel is a 1950s Victorian dairy farm and the lives of the people in it are seen through an agricultural lens. Seasons of change, breeding and interactions, growth to maturity, territorialism. The story also parallels the lives of the four main characters with the four members of a local troop of kookaburras, providing some charming, and some not-so-charming, insights.
One reviewer notes this is a 'funny-serious' novel, and that is one way of looking at it. Some of the subject matter, mostly related to one rather perverted neighbour (I'd better not spoil things), almost has to be delivered tongue in cheek/dead pan as it is pretty dire, but it serves to spotlight the distortions caused by the isolation and loneliness of rural life.
Tiffany's sense of landscape and the rhythms within it are, like her prose, pitch perfect and the representation of her characters' striving for meaning and love is often touching and even sad. A book to be read (and re-read!) with an objective scientific eye, but also by those who simply love words beautifully put together.
Tiffany's prose has the limpid flowing quality associated with prize-winning writers like Elizabeth Strout and Sarah Winman, but her subject matter can be quite contradictorily earthy and even grubby. There were times when I found myself thinking of her fellow Australian writer Paddy O'Reilly's The Colour of Rust. The world of this novel is a 1950s Victorian dairy farm and the lives of the people in it are seen through an agricultural lens. Seasons of change, breeding and interactions, growth to maturity, territorialism. The story also parallels the lives of the four main characters with the four members of a local troop of kookaburras, providing some charming, and some not-so-charming, insights.
One reviewer notes this is a 'funny-serious' novel, and that is one way of looking at it. Some of the subject matter, mostly related to one rather perverted neighbour (I'd better not spoil things), almost has to be delivered tongue in cheek/dead pan as it is pretty dire, but it serves to spotlight the distortions caused by the isolation and loneliness of rural life.
Tiffany's sense of landscape and the rhythms within it are, like her prose, pitch perfect and the representation of her characters' striving for meaning and love is often touching and even sad. A book to be read (and re-read!) with an objective scientific eye, but also by those who simply love words beautifully put together.
February 15, 2016
As this book falls completely outside of my usual read I think it is worth pointing out that my view is probably worth less than those who are regulars in the genre. As I have very few reads in this genre to compare it to I cannot say where exactly it falls in greatness for the genre. That being said, of the few books that I have read in this area this one does not compare in the slightest.
In my mind it seems as though it’s just a collection of random moments across the lives of the characters with very little in the way of a real story. There are a few okay moments which offer us insight into what is going on but as a whole I didn’t feel like I was reading an actual story. It was more like looking at someone’s diary where they had just put the odd note here and there. Moreover, I felt as though I was being bounced around far too much. I guess I was just expecting something more, perhaps something more in the way of wooing – only to be given what I sometimes thought was rather crude pieces (not that I can really say much as I read The Dice Man and thoroughly enjoyed it, but at least there I was following along and understanding what was going on and why).
As I said, I guess I was just expecting more than just accounts of random days from here and there hence why I was so disappointed.
In my mind it seems as though it’s just a collection of random moments across the lives of the characters with very little in the way of a real story. There are a few okay moments which offer us insight into what is going on but as a whole I didn’t feel like I was reading an actual story. It was more like looking at someone’s diary where they had just put the odd note here and there. Moreover, I felt as though I was being bounced around far too much. I guess I was just expecting something more, perhaps something more in the way of wooing – only to be given what I sometimes thought was rather crude pieces (not that I can really say much as I read The Dice Man and thoroughly enjoyed it, but at least there I was following along and understanding what was going on and why).
As I said, I guess I was just expecting more than just accounts of random days from here and there hence why I was so disappointed.
November 11, 2013
I loved this book although it is not by any means an "easy" read in terms of content. It was at times bleak, incredibly sad, disturbing and uncomfortable, but it has continued to occupy my mind in the two weeks since I finished it. It is a book about relationships (both human and bird), a book about birds, a book about sex and intamacy, and ulimately, I think, an allegorical story about writing - the power of writing, the value we put on it, and our relationship with it. Bits of The book "Mateship With Birds" are interspersed with Harry's diary of birds, Harry's letters to Michael explaining sex, Little Hazel's bird diary (sadly robbed of the class prize by a pata picture despite its eloquence and the huge amount of work put in - no pictures!), and the actual story. The way that these elements are woven together is very skillful and gives the book great beauty and depth. This is also a novel about memory, aging and love - and although it has a (kind of) happy ending there is a sad poignance to the fact that the sex is not as attentive, skillful or caring as that which he describes in his letters, but is in fact rough and clumsy. I found this novel moving and beautiful, it is not a big read - but the contents have stayed with me.
September 9, 2013
This short novel is set in 1953, in rural Cohuna. Harry and his dog Sip spend their days at the dairy farm, where he cares for his herd and watches the birds, including a family of kookaburras. His wife Edna left him for the President of the Bird Observers Club and now he is alone and attracted to neighbour Betty. Betty, in turn, imagines a relationship with Harry; who acts as a father figure to her two children, Michael and Hazel. Another neighbour, Mr Mues, is, frankly, best avoided...
The local inhabitants look down on unmarried Betty, who works hard and makes lists of children's illnesses. Hazel writes nature reports and Harry writes about his beloved birds and advice about women to Michael, who has recently become interested in girls. Everybody in this book has their own secrets and desires and are attempting to do their best in the world they live in, where the work is hard and poverty close. This book is undeniably about mateship - sex is never far from the thoughts of most of the characters, with flashbacks and letters interspersing the text. Slow moving and atmospheric, but I found it hard to engage with the characters.
The local inhabitants look down on unmarried Betty, who works hard and makes lists of children's illnesses. Hazel writes nature reports and Harry writes about his beloved birds and advice about women to Michael, who has recently become interested in girls. Everybody in this book has their own secrets and desires and are attempting to do their best in the world they live in, where the work is hard and poverty close. This book is undeniably about mateship - sex is never far from the thoughts of most of the characters, with flashbacks and letters interspersing the text. Slow moving and atmospheric, but I found it hard to engage with the characters.
May 5, 2013
I'm afraid I must be a cultural cretin because I didn't enjoy this book at all. I was really hoping to do so. I just ended up feeling that the characters had lived too long in the country and too closely with animals for their own mental health. Very dark. Too dark...even for me. But I'm happy to discuss and be enlightened. Let me know what you thought. I liked the cover design. And I know that sounds facile but I do like it. At least it's one good thing I can say about the book. That and that's it 200 pages.
November 20, 2015
Absolute load of rubbish. I don't know why I read these prize winning books as it usually means they are rubbish.
No plot, no substance. It just didn't get going. A farmer having sex with a sheep (I kid you not), is not a book I need in my life
No plot, no substance. It just didn't get going. A farmer having sex with a sheep (I kid you not), is not a book I need in my life
October 15, 2019
A great read. A nice mix of the mundane and the magnificent - without judgement. Try it for yourself.
July 7, 2019
3.5 stars
May 7, 2012
Mateship with Birds: by Carrie Tiffany. This is a book beautifully written which evokes perfectly and unsentimentally life in the repressed 1950s in Victoria, Australia. The play on words "Mateship" and "Birds" was obvious from the beginning and the interwoven stories of Harry and Betty, and the kookaburras was masterful. There were scenes that I preferred not to read about involving Mues and I skipped over these because they made me feel very uncomfortable. The style of the diary of the kookaburras was like blank verse owing to the constraints of the diary it was written in, i.e. the length and width of the pages and I found these passages a delight. The letters Harry wrote to Michael, full of matter-of-fact advice and experience, I found very touching and Betty's response, I thought, was probably a result of her embarrassment about the subject. The ending was very sudden and I found that I wanted to know what happened after Harry and Betty finally "got it together". However, the author wisely left the story right there. Nevertheless, although I enjoyed most of the book, it is not one I would want to read again.
January 28, 2012
Mateship with Birds is a clever title for this book. While’ bird’ can mean both the winged variety and in slang, a sexually attractive woman, ’mateship’ draws on dual meanings too: mating - finding a mate, courtship rituals and mating for life; and also the Australian notion of mateship – meaning a special kind of friendship: laconic, but loyal: an indivisible, enduring bond between equals. In an Australian bush town in the 1950s, the wooing of a woman is more complex than the instinctive courtship of birds, but if it succeeds, the down-to-earth relationship that emerges is solid and strong, a mateship for life. But how best can a lonely man achieve it? A slow, careful campaign that shows what a great father he’d be? Or give in to instinct and be a lover, as the birds do?
To read the rest of my review please visit http://anzlitlovers.wordpress.com/201...
To read the rest of my review please visit http://anzlitlovers.wordpress.com/201...
February 4, 2013
This book started so well, with its lyrical prose and clarity, that I thought I would devour it in a single seating. I appreciate the attention to detail, and the fact that it made me feel (though weird feelings, I should say). Carrie Tiffany describes the human body like nothing I have ever read. Even the act of sex itself comes under sharply observed details, albeit calm, sweet and ultimately quite sensual. I wonder what I would have done if I was still an adolescent. I'd hate to think of my hand slipping down somewhere, touching, and ...! Ooops! Enough with that.
The book deserves a lot more credit than I give it here. My point of contention is the many voices, the many stylistic devices and the long poems (Harry's diary.)Makes either for the fun of a very keen reader (I'm working on that)or for a re-reader (if that qualifies as an English word!)Overall, good short book with a great cover design. Definitely makes you want to pick it up.
The book deserves a lot more credit than I give it here. My point of contention is the many voices, the many stylistic devices and the long poems (Harry's diary.)Makes either for the fun of a very keen reader (I'm working on that)or for a re-reader (if that qualifies as an English word!)Overall, good short book with a great cover design. Definitely makes you want to pick it up.
May 21, 2013
A disappointing read, especially after glowing reviews, a Stella Prize and a Miles Franklin shortlist.
The novel does have its moments, especially in Tiffany's descriptions of the rural Australian landscape and when she's speaking from inside her characters. But it had a very 'creative writing class' feel to it. I especially disliked Harry's bird journal entries; Tiffany really seemed to be stretching an attempt at poetic metaphors there.
Crikey's Bethanie Blanchard puts its best, when she says that the underlying message in this novel is "that humans, and the female body in particular, are exactly like that of an animal, or indeed, the land." (full review here: http://blogs.crikey.com.au/liticism/2...)
The novel does have its moments, especially in Tiffany's descriptions of the rural Australian landscape and when she's speaking from inside her characters. But it had a very 'creative writing class' feel to it. I especially disliked Harry's bird journal entries; Tiffany really seemed to be stretching an attempt at poetic metaphors there.
Crikey's Bethanie Blanchard puts its best, when she says that the underlying message in this novel is "that humans, and the female body in particular, are exactly like that of an animal, or indeed, the land." (full review here: http://blogs.crikey.com.au/liticism/2...)
February 16, 2012
I normally like aussie country stories however I found this book too disjointed to even really get into the story. The writing style felt scatty and I was distracted by the constant jumping from idea to idea.
Whilst the story was mostly ok I was not comfortable with some of the content and felt it detracted rather than added to the story. One good thing was the 'poetry like' musings of the lead about the family of kookaburras, this I found very amusing.
A very quick read, thanks FirstReads giveaway for the free book but disappointed that what I thought the book was going to be didn't eventuate.
Whilst the story was mostly ok I was not comfortable with some of the content and felt it detracted rather than added to the story. One good thing was the 'poetry like' musings of the lead about the family of kookaburras, this I found very amusing.
A very quick read, thanks FirstReads giveaway for the free book but disappointed that what I thought the book was going to be didn't eventuate.
January 26, 2020
Literary fiction delves into other people's attitudes towards life and I think Betty and Harry in ‘Mateship with Birds’ were just drastic enough to appeal to the Stella judges literary palates. Maybe even chosen to generate discussion. This novel is very Australian thus having limited appeal overseas but who would want an Aussie author’s work butchered to fit the international market. The authenticity, the rural thread of animal and native bird minutiae woven through the storyline is powerful. I felt this book was a type of therapy for the author with challenging chapters which made me cringe. Some parts triggered uncomfortable recollections which prove readers bring their own interpretation to a story. Carrie Tiffany has added to Australian literary achievements and her work will be liked but this book just didn’t appeal to me strongly enough.
May 21, 2020
I gave this novel my full attention, even restarting it after having read the first 60 pages with confusion. Although I appreciated the separate parts of Tiffany's narrative, I could not immerse myself in it as a whole. The writing was at times artistic, particularly the descriptive details of landscape. Her anthropomorphic portrayal of the lives of the birds and cows that lived on Harry's farm was intriguing, bringing me closer to them than to the human lives of her characters.
What puzzled me most was the fascination with sex, moreso with lust, presented in an awkwardly scientific manner as Harry, the lonely farmer, tried to explain its mechanics to the teenaged boy (Michael), the fatherless son of Harry's neighbour Betty. Harry's unrequited sexual interest remained Betty, an uncomfortable pairing, yet both harboured a frustrated sexual interest in the other.
Tiffany was awarded the inaugural Stella Prize in 2013. I enjoyed the poetry she included in her novel, representing Harry's record of the birds' relationships to each other as he watched them through his binoculars. However, how the parts of this enigmatic novel tied together remained puzzling.
What puzzled me most was the fascination with sex, moreso with lust, presented in an awkwardly scientific manner as Harry, the lonely farmer, tried to explain its mechanics to the teenaged boy (Michael), the fatherless son of Harry's neighbour Betty. Harry's unrequited sexual interest remained Betty, an uncomfortable pairing, yet both harboured a frustrated sexual interest in the other.
Tiffany was awarded the inaugural Stella Prize in 2013. I enjoyed the poetry she included in her novel, representing Harry's record of the birds' relationships to each other as he watched them through his binoculars. However, how the parts of this enigmatic novel tied together remained puzzling.
January 27, 2020
This book really didn’t appeal to me in the way I was expecting it to do. A disappointment.
February 3, 2022
I enjoyed the bits about birds, but there was too much about nipples. Just far too much.
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