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Harland's Half Acre
Born on a poor dairy farm in Queensland, Frank Harland’s life is centered on his great artistic gift, his passionate love for his father and four brothers and his need to repossess, through a patch of land, his family’s past. The story spans Frank’s life; from before the First World War, through years as a swaggie in the Great Depression and Brisbane in the forties, to his retirement to a patch of Australian scrub where he at last takes possession of his dream.
Harland’s Half Acre tells how a man sets out to recover the land his ancestors discovered and then lost and how, in fulfilment, this vision becomes a new reality.
Harland’s Half Acre tells how a man sets out to recover the land his ancestors discovered and then lost and how, in fulfilment, this vision becomes a new reality.
240 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1984
14 people are currently reading
215 people want to read
About the author
David Malouf
85 books301 followersDavid Malouf is a celebrated Australian poet, novelist, librettist, playwright, and essayist whose work has garnered international acclaim. Known for his lyrical prose and explorations of identity, memory, and place, Malouf began his literary career in poetry before gaining recognition for his fiction. His 1990 novel The Great World won the Miles Franklin Award and several other major prizes, while Remembering Babylon (1993) earned a Booker Prize nomination and multiple international honors.
Malouf has taught at universities in Australia and the UK, delivered the prestigious Boyer Lectures, and written libretti for acclaimed operas. Born in Brisbane to a Lebanese father and a mother of Sephardi Jewish heritage, he draws on both Australian and European influences in his work. He is widely regarded as one of Australia's most important literary voices and has been recognized with numerous awards, including the Neustadt International Prize for Literature and the Australia Council Award for Lifetime Achievement in Literature.
Malouf has taught at universities in Australia and the UK, delivered the prestigious Boyer Lectures, and written libretti for acclaimed operas. Born in Brisbane to a Lebanese father and a mother of Sephardi Jewish heritage, he draws on both Australian and European influences in his work. He is widely regarded as one of Australia's most important literary voices and has been recognized with numerous awards, including the Neustadt International Prize for Literature and the Australia Council Award for Lifetime Achievement in Literature.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 36 reviews
December 18, 2020
4.5 to 5★
“The power he had, as he more and more felt it, was a practical thing. His pictures were a reminder and inventory. They were also a first act of repossession, which made them charms of a sort and their creating an act of magic. The idea scared him a little but he was stubborn. He had chosen a course and would stick to it. For life - if that is what it came to.
As a boy, Frank Harland discovers a passion for drawing and tries to capture everything he can on scraps of paper and cardboard. He draws the family, the land, and almost every person he comes across, in everyday poses with instantly recognisable slumps of the shoulders or tilts of the head.
His father, Clem, has always painted word pictures of his dreams and of the family’s wonderful farm at Killarney, Queensland. His father is mostly full of . . . blarney, to put it politely.
“Killarney was the realest place he knew. It had been created for him entirely out of his father's mouth.”
Many of the characters in this book skate through life with boyish good looks and charm, like Clem, or with girlish fluttering and dreaminess. They contrast strongly with Frank, who has a painful sense of responsibility to work and to try to look after his siblings.
Frank is the pivotal character, but Clem is the one who set the course of Frank’s life. Clem had sweet-talked Frank’s mother into marriage with his dreams to reclaim the farm, but after having Jim and Frank, she dies suddenly, leaving Clem a widower at 23.
Ever the charmer, Clem soon attracts female sympathy and a new wife. They send toddler Frank to live for a few years with Clem’s sister, who lost her own son in WWI. This auntie warns him his father is a lazy, charming user of people, but Frank won’t listen and doesn’t remember his mother and
“. . . the more it seemed to him that he had had no mother at all but had been born out of some aspect of his father that was itself feminine; not in being soft or yielding, but in being, quite simply, powerful, and so full of animal warmth that it must inevitably give birth to something other than itself. . .
his father's talk, the endless flow of words on that caressing breath that must itself, Frank decided, be the creative medium. He could only have been breathed forth in a great bubble or spat bodily from his father's mouth.”
Where his father enchants with words, Frank captures the imagination with pictures.
When Frank finally returns home, he’s now one of five brothers. As his family falls apart again through the Depression, Frank wanders like a swaggie, lives in extreme poverty in Brisbane, and is befriended by an unusual couple, Knack, who is a Polish refugee, and his friend Edna, who have a junk shop selling all manner of old wares.
Malouf writes slow, meandering, poetic passages, and then, just as I get comfortable, there is a sudden, unexpected, tragedy. But nothing stops Frank’s work.
As it begins to sell a bit, Frank adopts his sister’s son, Gerald, to give him a decent start in life. Frank hasn’t lost sight of his dream to restore the Harland family somehow, but Gerald finds his uncle strict and unreasonable.
The story is told both by the author and another narrator, Phil. Phil’s well-to-do father was intrigued by this peculiar artist and took Phil to meet him when he was a boy. Phil, who also enjoyed junk shops, was startled to recognise Edna in one of the paintings.
At his Aunt Roo’s party, Phil meets Gerald. Gerald is another with boyish good looks and easy charm and they become friends and rivals for a girl.
So we have three families and their various generations interacting, loving, feuding, caring, abandoning.
This has something of Steinbeck’s Depression as well as Fitzgerald’s Gatsby society. Phil reminds me a little of Nick, who told the Gatsby story.
Another wonderful Malouf. Just a little of his descriptive work. The next time you’re sitting in silence in the bush, consider this, about the island Frank finally retreats to.
“The silence was deep but never absolute. There was always the slight hushing sound of a breeze high up in the leaves, even when all below was still, the clatter of banksia cones, a low ground-bass of tickings and fumblings and brittle rustling, as straws or small bones were lifted, egg-shells cracked, twigs tapped and fretted, tiny wings flapped, and a grasshopper's saw-foot rasped across bark. Each sound was infinitesimal, but multiplied they made a continuous burring note, so low and unchanging that the ear could ignore it and the mind might take its ceaseless buzz for silence.”
The white noise people pay money for.
I think I read recently that this is being reissued.
======
In 2016, the Australia Council awarded David Malouf AO the Australia Council Award for Lifetime Achievement in Literature.
http://www.australiacouncil.gov.au/ne...
“The power he had, as he more and more felt it, was a practical thing. His pictures were a reminder and inventory. They were also a first act of repossession, which made them charms of a sort and their creating an act of magic. The idea scared him a little but he was stubborn. He had chosen a course and would stick to it. For life - if that is what it came to.
As a boy, Frank Harland discovers a passion for drawing and tries to capture everything he can on scraps of paper and cardboard. He draws the family, the land, and almost every person he comes across, in everyday poses with instantly recognisable slumps of the shoulders or tilts of the head.
His father, Clem, has always painted word pictures of his dreams and of the family’s wonderful farm at Killarney, Queensland. His father is mostly full of . . . blarney, to put it politely.
“Killarney was the realest place he knew. It had been created for him entirely out of his father's mouth.”
Many of the characters in this book skate through life with boyish good looks and charm, like Clem, or with girlish fluttering and dreaminess. They contrast strongly with Frank, who has a painful sense of responsibility to work and to try to look after his siblings.
Frank is the pivotal character, but Clem is the one who set the course of Frank’s life. Clem had sweet-talked Frank’s mother into marriage with his dreams to reclaim the farm, but after having Jim and Frank, she dies suddenly, leaving Clem a widower at 23.
Ever the charmer, Clem soon attracts female sympathy and a new wife. They send toddler Frank to live for a few years with Clem’s sister, who lost her own son in WWI. This auntie warns him his father is a lazy, charming user of people, but Frank won’t listen and doesn’t remember his mother and
“. . . the more it seemed to him that he had had no mother at all but had been born out of some aspect of his father that was itself feminine; not in being soft or yielding, but in being, quite simply, powerful, and so full of animal warmth that it must inevitably give birth to something other than itself. . .
his father's talk, the endless flow of words on that caressing breath that must itself, Frank decided, be the creative medium. He could only have been breathed forth in a great bubble or spat bodily from his father's mouth.”
Where his father enchants with words, Frank captures the imagination with pictures.
When Frank finally returns home, he’s now one of five brothers. As his family falls apart again through the Depression, Frank wanders like a swaggie, lives in extreme poverty in Brisbane, and is befriended by an unusual couple, Knack, who is a Polish refugee, and his friend Edna, who have a junk shop selling all manner of old wares.
Malouf writes slow, meandering, poetic passages, and then, just as I get comfortable, there is a sudden, unexpected, tragedy. But nothing stops Frank’s work.
As it begins to sell a bit, Frank adopts his sister’s son, Gerald, to give him a decent start in life. Frank hasn’t lost sight of his dream to restore the Harland family somehow, but Gerald finds his uncle strict and unreasonable.
The story is told both by the author and another narrator, Phil. Phil’s well-to-do father was intrigued by this peculiar artist and took Phil to meet him when he was a boy. Phil, who also enjoyed junk shops, was startled to recognise Edna in one of the paintings.
At his Aunt Roo’s party, Phil meets Gerald. Gerald is another with boyish good looks and easy charm and they become friends and rivals for a girl.
So we have three families and their various generations interacting, loving, feuding, caring, abandoning.
This has something of Steinbeck’s Depression as well as Fitzgerald’s Gatsby society. Phil reminds me a little of Nick, who told the Gatsby story.
Another wonderful Malouf. Just a little of his descriptive work. The next time you’re sitting in silence in the bush, consider this, about the island Frank finally retreats to.
“The silence was deep but never absolute. There was always the slight hushing sound of a breeze high up in the leaves, even when all below was still, the clatter of banksia cones, a low ground-bass of tickings and fumblings and brittle rustling, as straws or small bones were lifted, egg-shells cracked, twigs tapped and fretted, tiny wings flapped, and a grasshopper's saw-foot rasped across bark. Each sound was infinitesimal, but multiplied they made a continuous burring note, so low and unchanging that the ear could ignore it and the mind might take its ceaseless buzz for silence.”
The white noise people pay money for.
I think I read recently that this is being reissued.
======
In 2016, the Australia Council awarded David Malouf AO the Australia Council Award for Lifetime Achievement in Literature.
http://www.australiacouncil.gov.au/ne...
June 8, 2017
The story is about one of the strange quarks of life that makes the least likely figure, in this case Frank Harland, noted as an artist of extraordinary talent beyond what he could have been considering his circumstances. Born to a dirt poor widower before the Great War we follow Harland’s outsider life and that of his outsider family as he becomes closely associated with the flawed middle class Vernon’s.
I rapidly got sucked in hard by this brilliant book. Malouf’s writing is a pleasure. Descriptive without being overwrought. He has written such wonderful prose that I found myself rereading his powerful descriptions of Harland’s art as well as the accidental life and fate that he was immersed by. The writing was so good that it could seamlessly convey the changes in narration from the third person to the first, never making me the reader lose track of the intense power of the words written. Their power made it easy to read of a changing Brisbane, and with that Australia in general, from one being a begotten colonial outpost to a nation becoming part of a changing wider world. All this mirrored through the life of the strange but gifted Harland and his family through to, the sometime narrator, Phil Vernon who in his own way was aware of being an observer to that change.
I was recommended this book by Greg. His fantastic review here.
An Australian literary classic!
I rapidly got sucked in hard by this brilliant book. Malouf’s writing is a pleasure. Descriptive without being overwrought. He has written such wonderful prose that I found myself rereading his powerful descriptions of Harland’s art as well as the accidental life and fate that he was immersed by. The writing was so good that it could seamlessly convey the changes in narration from the third person to the first, never making me the reader lose track of the intense power of the words written. Their power made it easy to read of a changing Brisbane, and with that Australia in general, from one being a begotten colonial outpost to a nation becoming part of a changing wider world. All this mirrored through the life of the strange but gifted Harland and his family through to, the sometime narrator, Phil Vernon who in his own way was aware of being an observer to that change.
I was recommended this book by Greg. His fantastic review here.
An Australian literary classic!
August 27, 2019
He no more asked for these gifts than one asks for their eyesight or their height. No, this is incorrect. The gift part is wrong. Is crucial. He didn’t look upon it as being different. Different from who? His father, whose art was conning, swaying, basking in the illusion of his better self?
Through his life it went unquestioned, his existence was his work.; creating a line then following that line into further lines and into the creation it was destined to be. Done with that work he moved onto what beckoned next. He was the work. The work was him. It hadn’t occurred to him to commercialize what he had done since he was not part of that world; never had been; never thought about it.
So, it was easy for others to think of him as strange, someone foreign, a hermit or whatever other category came to mind to explain to them what was unexplainable; soothe the scratch at the back of their throat.
The Harland family was large as we skipped up and down through the generations as told not by Frank but by his nephew who is an attorney. This is not a first person account by the artist. The nephew is both distant and intrigued enough to make a narrator who can parse out the press of creativity from the existence of the everyday life lured into the swirls of conventions, expectations. He is not young enough to go announce to the world this parting of the cracked land leaving a large island for those who will toil without considering it, as what is necessary for the survival of the species. The other island is more of an isle where creativity ascends.
It seems strange to refer to him as Frank or even Harland. Compulsory it hems him in. His life rises above hemming and limiting. It isn’t that he does not care it is simply that the only thing he is allowed to care about due to his neurological swayings, the heat and yearning from his darting blood is his drawing and painting; the ascending line. This leads him as he ages to a hollowed out crag in the side of a hill on his family’s property. Barely he stakes out some shelter, a means of gathering, cooking simple food. He cares not for his health. The only one’s allowed into this carved out hermitage are a small group of art students from the local college who beyond the art have come to care about the artist as a friend and one who needs to be cared for? But in this hermitage he can work endlessly without the care for food or sleep. The other is our narrator who respects his uncles need for privacy but appears after a storm per se to help out. Death is always there but bodily death would be so much less than the death of his continued creative work.
Is this book a summons to the creativity lurking in most, threatening to burst out with its ample flame of colors and upend what we have thought of as our lives; scorching our aims and goals, dreams of a laddered climb but where the ladder turns step-less, and nightmares proliferated by the fears spawned by the shackles of an economy that can only exist if others fear failing, fear they are insufficient. The small island, isle, can be reached only by the fearless, a strength accorded to the few.
It requires much sacrifice but to reach the isle sacrifice no longer exists; only the work. An account so vivid that it plays through my mind now two weeks later. It enlarges its scope and the space is nameless as is the man in the hermitage and his work. Anything said in words will only limit what is limitless. These words also.
Through his life it went unquestioned, his existence was his work.; creating a line then following that line into further lines and into the creation it was destined to be. Done with that work he moved onto what beckoned next. He was the work. The work was him. It hadn’t occurred to him to commercialize what he had done since he was not part of that world; never had been; never thought about it.
So, it was easy for others to think of him as strange, someone foreign, a hermit or whatever other category came to mind to explain to them what was unexplainable; soothe the scratch at the back of their throat.
The Harland family was large as we skipped up and down through the generations as told not by Frank but by his nephew who is an attorney. This is not a first person account by the artist. The nephew is both distant and intrigued enough to make a narrator who can parse out the press of creativity from the existence of the everyday life lured into the swirls of conventions, expectations. He is not young enough to go announce to the world this parting of the cracked land leaving a large island for those who will toil without considering it, as what is necessary for the survival of the species. The other island is more of an isle where creativity ascends.
It seems strange to refer to him as Frank or even Harland. Compulsory it hems him in. His life rises above hemming and limiting. It isn’t that he does not care it is simply that the only thing he is allowed to care about due to his neurological swayings, the heat and yearning from his darting blood is his drawing and painting; the ascending line. This leads him as he ages to a hollowed out crag in the side of a hill on his family’s property. Barely he stakes out some shelter, a means of gathering, cooking simple food. He cares not for his health. The only one’s allowed into this carved out hermitage are a small group of art students from the local college who beyond the art have come to care about the artist as a friend and one who needs to be cared for? But in this hermitage he can work endlessly without the care for food or sleep. The other is our narrator who respects his uncles need for privacy but appears after a storm per se to help out. Death is always there but bodily death would be so much less than the death of his continued creative work.
Is this book a summons to the creativity lurking in most, threatening to burst out with its ample flame of colors and upend what we have thought of as our lives; scorching our aims and goals, dreams of a laddered climb but where the ladder turns step-less, and nightmares proliferated by the fears spawned by the shackles of an economy that can only exist if others fear failing, fear they are insufficient. The small island, isle, can be reached only by the fearless, a strength accorded to the few.
It requires much sacrifice but to reach the isle sacrifice no longer exists; only the work. An account so vivid that it plays through my mind now two weeks later. It enlarges its scope and the space is nameless as is the man in the hermitage and his work. Anything said in words will only limit what is limitless. These words also.
December 4, 2021
The Australian writer David Malouf isn't usually on many American's radar when it comes to the 'great writers' of the world (but then again, we are a bit self-centered, aren't we?) or even one that's read often. A few of his books have upwards of 2,000-3,000 ratings here, but as of this review, there's only 229 ratings and 32 reviews of "Harland's Half Acre", which means in the nearly 40 years it's been around, it's either been read at the time of publication and almost forgotten or rarely read here in Goodreads -- this is a pity because much can be appreciated from Malouf's writing. At times, a tragic scene occurs without much setup, while at other times, he could spend a whole page or two describing a scene from its initial action to it's impending reaction. I know it takes a special writer to keep your interest in situations such as this, but he does nonetheless.
"Harland's Half Acre" is best read slowly. It's 230 pages are not meant for the reader who skims through to find entertaining bits. As he writes his novels in a dream sense, poetically hoofing about, piecing puzzle shapes together until they cohesively fit, time is of the essence. If you are expecting to find an appreciation of his writing as you sit waiting on an appointment, tread elsewhere.
The family Harland is the namesake of this short novel, but so many others are involved. Frank Harland, the artist, touches many people's lives as he moves like a nomad through Queensland. Frank never truly explains his thoughts, his opinions, but Malouf characterizes him so well that even without being drawn out, you know what constitutes him; Frank's environment has shaped who he is and the people who are drawn to him and the people he ruins are all the same. Moving like the wind, they are here and then gone.
Enjoyable.
"Harland's Half Acre" is best read slowly. It's 230 pages are not meant for the reader who skims through to find entertaining bits. As he writes his novels in a dream sense, poetically hoofing about, piecing puzzle shapes together until they cohesively fit, time is of the essence. If you are expecting to find an appreciation of his writing as you sit waiting on an appointment, tread elsewhere.
The family Harland is the namesake of this short novel, but so many others are involved. Frank Harland, the artist, touches many people's lives as he moves like a nomad through Queensland. Frank never truly explains his thoughts, his opinions, but Malouf characterizes him so well that even without being drawn out, you know what constitutes him; Frank's environment has shaped who he is and the people who are drawn to him and the people he ruins are all the same. Moving like the wind, they are here and then gone.
Enjoyable.
July 27, 2024
The blurb is quite wrong and has little to do with this beautiful book. Malouf is brilliant.
April 3, 2013
David Malouf has created an artist and got him right, true and real. For advice on the life of an artist and technical working methods Malouf consulted Jeffrey Smart.
The novel is set in Australia, covering the life of artist Frank Harland from his birth to his death, through the twentieth century. The depression years, WWII and into the 1960's in Franks final years as a famous artist living as a recluse in a makeshift camp on Stradbroke Island.
The story is of two very different Australian families. Every character is flawed in some way. All richly described, with many strong women characters. There are some beautiful passages throughout the book. Describing the orchard trees as individual was an ingenious way of establishing the individual uniqueness of the characters in the story. Even the approaching storm, a metaphor of change in thinking or perception.
During WWII in Brisbane, Frank is living in an abandoned picture theatre. He has a close friendship with two people, Knack and Edna, (Walter Nestorius and Edna Byrne), a couple from very different pasts. They grew up in very different worlds. There is a wonderful description of what Frank is trying to capture as he paints a portrait of Edna.
Malouf is a master - he has woven around the people the manners and morals of the times. A few times in the book two people are known as 'a fascinator', a personality that has a charisma that charms anybody.
By chapter 6 - The Island, I am right into the book and know all the characters. Frank is now a famous artist, a recluse living on Stradbroke island on the Queensland coast. A clear image of the island comes into focus as the elements, vegetation, water, birdlife and animals appear incidentally around Frank and the people who are concerned for his welfare. A massive storm hits the island, wrecks Frank's camp and makeshift tent. The storm at the beginning of the book when Frank was a child had a different effect on him than the storm on the island when he's an old man, calm and philosophical at losing everything.
There is a lovely description of Stradbroke Island from the helicopter.
At the Harland retrospective exhibition, one of the story's central characters, Phil Vernon, walks around looking at the many works. Here is a wonderful explanation of how Phil recognises a faculty in Frank that can't be described or even revealed. Fifty years work, and how the body of work on the walls collectively seem out of the context of seeing them individually being created in their environment over the years.
The novel has numerous references to the difference of Australia to Europe. I think that the author is saying Australia is a blank canvas of unlimited possibilities for its characters to paint their lives.
This book is a classic, an important addition to Australian literature.
The novel is set in Australia, covering the life of artist Frank Harland from his birth to his death, through the twentieth century. The depression years, WWII and into the 1960's in Franks final years as a famous artist living as a recluse in a makeshift camp on Stradbroke Island.
The story is of two very different Australian families. Every character is flawed in some way. All richly described, with many strong women characters. There are some beautiful passages throughout the book. Describing the orchard trees as individual was an ingenious way of establishing the individual uniqueness of the characters in the story. Even the approaching storm, a metaphor of change in thinking or perception.
During WWII in Brisbane, Frank is living in an abandoned picture theatre. He has a close friendship with two people, Knack and Edna, (Walter Nestorius and Edna Byrne), a couple from very different pasts. They grew up in very different worlds. There is a wonderful description of what Frank is trying to capture as he paints a portrait of Edna.
Malouf is a master - he has woven around the people the manners and morals of the times. A few times in the book two people are known as 'a fascinator', a personality that has a charisma that charms anybody.
By chapter 6 - The Island, I am right into the book and know all the characters. Frank is now a famous artist, a recluse living on Stradbroke island on the Queensland coast. A clear image of the island comes into focus as the elements, vegetation, water, birdlife and animals appear incidentally around Frank and the people who are concerned for his welfare. A massive storm hits the island, wrecks Frank's camp and makeshift tent. The storm at the beginning of the book when Frank was a child had a different effect on him than the storm on the island when he's an old man, calm and philosophical at losing everything.
There is a lovely description of Stradbroke Island from the helicopter.
At the Harland retrospective exhibition, one of the story's central characters, Phil Vernon, walks around looking at the many works. Here is a wonderful explanation of how Phil recognises a faculty in Frank that can't be described or even revealed. Fifty years work, and how the body of work on the walls collectively seem out of the context of seeing them individually being created in their environment over the years.
The novel has numerous references to the difference of Australia to Europe. I think that the author is saying Australia is a blank canvas of unlimited possibilities for its characters to paint their lives.
This book is a classic, an important addition to Australian literature.
May 23, 2011
I've been a long time between Malouf novels and had forgotten how well he can write. But he's breathtaking. He kinda reminds me of Michael Ondaatje in that he has a trick of starting in one direction but then shifting plot and focus so that what you read is something other than what you expected. Like shifting sand. You don't end up where you thought you were headed. With prose this supple and pleasing to the mind, though, you always wind up in a good place. You find your headed toward a reading of very good fiction. I think this is an accomplished novel, polished, and impressive because I think it's a first novel. I don't know why I'd never read it. I'm glad I finally got to it.
September 26, 2021
An amazingly good book! The story is about the life of an artist from birth to death named Frank Harland, which was an exceptionally good story but more importantly it was how the story was told. Malouf's writing was incredible with very crisp precise descriptive prose, but what made this even more incredible was his ability to mix ambiguity with his precision. Many of the incidences and events in the book were told without ever stating what or who the event was about but by skirting around it with descriptions of the peripheral scene and eventually creating a picture in the readers mind. An example of this is a suicide committed by one of the main characters without ever clearly stating who or what happened. In this example Malouf wrote: " ...when Tam went down next day to sit on the chopping block under the house, and comfort himself or sulk, there was something new there, swinging feet down from one of the beams". From that sentence Malouf went on without ever stating who or what happened but still making it very clear to the reader what occurred. Another very blatant example that illustrates Malouf's use of ambiguity is that the first chapter was told by Frank in the first person about his childhood but then the second chapter, told also in the first person, was of a childhood that was obviously not that of Frank. It was a little confusing at first but this was how Malouf introduced us to a second narrator, Phil, who became a main character in Frank's life. There was no introductory narration or indication that the change was taking place but it was brilliantly done. The book then alternated the narration of each in the first person with each chapter. My review really falls short in describing Malouf's brilliant writing so all I can say is it was incredible.
January 19, 2016
It’s been too long since David Malouf’s last novel Ransom (see my review) and readers who love his work will be delighted by the reissue of Harland’s Half Acre by Vintage Books Australia.
First published in 1984 when Malouf (b.1934) was fifty, Harland’s Half Acre brings us a world long gone even when he wrote it. A world where motherless children were split up and farmed out to relations bereaved in The Great War, while the remaining children lived in grubby chaos in a single-roomed shack. A world where bread pudding was a celebratory luxury and finishing school was an ambition reserved only for the brightest one, and then only if someone in the family did well enough to fund it. A world where one wife dies from an infected wound caused by a rose thorn and her successor Sally - having produced three more little children in quick succession – dies from the Spanish Flu. Malouf introduces his story with the childhood and adolescence of Frank Harland growing up on the remnants of his family’s former prosperity, where he is sustained by the garrulous fantasies of his feckless father, a man himself chained to the drudgery of an unprofitable dairy farm and five motherless boys.
No doubt childhoods like these have been the subject matter of many sorrowful or bitter memoirs, but Frank Harland’s life has its compensations and this first chapter is a testament to the human spirit. In the subdued house of his Aunt Else and Uncle Fred where the shirts of their only son Ned still hang in the cupboard, Frank learns to draw and so discovers the art that sustains him throughout his long life. And when reunited with his family after Sally’s death, he visits the ruins of the family’s fortunes lost to drink, gambling and mismanagement, and invests his father’s nostalgic stories with an imaginative reconstruction of their lives, creating a ‘memory’ of grand people in a grand house not much like what it really was. These ideas of former glory couple with a profound sense of responsibility to his family and form his ambition to somehow restore their fortunes. For all their faults he loves them dearly, and this love of his family is the making of the man.
To read the rest of my review please visit http://anzlitlovers.com/2013/03/11/ha...
First published in 1984 when Malouf (b.1934) was fifty, Harland’s Half Acre brings us a world long gone even when he wrote it. A world where motherless children were split up and farmed out to relations bereaved in The Great War, while the remaining children lived in grubby chaos in a single-roomed shack. A world where bread pudding was a celebratory luxury and finishing school was an ambition reserved only for the brightest one, and then only if someone in the family did well enough to fund it. A world where one wife dies from an infected wound caused by a rose thorn and her successor Sally - having produced three more little children in quick succession – dies from the Spanish Flu. Malouf introduces his story with the childhood and adolescence of Frank Harland growing up on the remnants of his family’s former prosperity, where he is sustained by the garrulous fantasies of his feckless father, a man himself chained to the drudgery of an unprofitable dairy farm and five motherless boys.
No doubt childhoods like these have been the subject matter of many sorrowful or bitter memoirs, but Frank Harland’s life has its compensations and this first chapter is a testament to the human spirit. In the subdued house of his Aunt Else and Uncle Fred where the shirts of their only son Ned still hang in the cupboard, Frank learns to draw and so discovers the art that sustains him throughout his long life. And when reunited with his family after Sally’s death, he visits the ruins of the family’s fortunes lost to drink, gambling and mismanagement, and invests his father’s nostalgic stories with an imaginative reconstruction of their lives, creating a ‘memory’ of grand people in a grand house not much like what it really was. These ideas of former glory couple with a profound sense of responsibility to his family and form his ambition to somehow restore their fortunes. For all their faults he loves them dearly, and this love of his family is the making of the man.
To read the rest of my review please visit http://anzlitlovers.com/2013/03/11/ha...
October 5, 2025
”Measurements, deed numbers, names were a form of code through which Frank Harland could express what he might otherwise admit to only in loving encounters with paint and canvas or in a rage of silence.”
Harland’s Half Acre is the portrait of Frank Harland, an Australian artist. Instead of creating another insane or emotional artist as often represented in media, Malouf breathes to life a disciplined man who avoids emotion and desperately holds his family together from a distance.
Another central character is Phil Vernon, who first meets Frank as a boy. Phil, who considers himself a romantic but took a sensible career to please his father, admires Frank’s creativity and becomes a loyal force in his life.
This book centers strongly on family, realistically showing how distinct personalities can clash and meld together in one household. The second chapter, “An Only Child,” is potentially the best piece of writing I’ve read about a family, with every Vernon being written into flesh and bone, their fears and desires ticking away to an unavoidable explosion.
Another strong section is the chapter “Nephews.” Gerald’s description of Frank contrasts sharply with Phil’s view of the man, causing the reader to wonder who to side with. I also have a love-hate relationship with Malouf’s unique way of allowing huge plot points to pass in one sentence, skipping the melodrama and waiting for the reader to catch up.
This is the first book I’ve finished that is set in Australia, and Malouf brought it to life for me. His vivid imagery makes me feel as if I’ve spent the last month with the Vernons and the Harlands in the twentieth century. He does a fantastic job showing Australia’s strong ties to its European roots, with characters revering those who have actually set foot in Europe. Over the years, he writes of the changes to the culture as it becomes less British and more distinct and fitting to its harsh environment.
Reading this book was like falling in love slowly. It’s a shame this book has less than 50 reviews, and I feel very lucky to have found it a thrift store, otherwise I would likely never have heard of it. I’m excited to try more books by David Malouf, as he’s one of the most talented writers I’ve yet had the fortune of reading.
Harland’s Half Acre is the portrait of Frank Harland, an Australian artist. Instead of creating another insane or emotional artist as often represented in media, Malouf breathes to life a disciplined man who avoids emotion and desperately holds his family together from a distance.
Another central character is Phil Vernon, who first meets Frank as a boy. Phil, who considers himself a romantic but took a sensible career to please his father, admires Frank’s creativity and becomes a loyal force in his life.
This book centers strongly on family, realistically showing how distinct personalities can clash and meld together in one household. The second chapter, “An Only Child,” is potentially the best piece of writing I’ve read about a family, with every Vernon being written into flesh and bone, their fears and desires ticking away to an unavoidable explosion.
Another strong section is the chapter “Nephews.” Gerald’s description of Frank contrasts sharply with Phil’s view of the man, causing the reader to wonder who to side with. I also have a love-hate relationship with Malouf’s unique way of allowing huge plot points to pass in one sentence, skipping the melodrama and waiting for the reader to catch up.
This is the first book I’ve finished that is set in Australia, and Malouf brought it to life for me. His vivid imagery makes me feel as if I’ve spent the last month with the Vernons and the Harlands in the twentieth century. He does a fantastic job showing Australia’s strong ties to its European roots, with characters revering those who have actually set foot in Europe. Over the years, he writes of the changes to the culture as it becomes less British and more distinct and fitting to its harsh environment.
Reading this book was like falling in love slowly. It’s a shame this book has less than 50 reviews, and I feel very lucky to have found it a thrift store, otherwise I would likely never have heard of it. I’m excited to try more books by David Malouf, as he’s one of the most talented writers I’ve yet had the fortune of reading.
December 7, 2018
Malouf is an amazingly gifted writer, most assuredly... though i will admit to not enjoying the story of this book as much as 'Ransom', 'The Conversations at Curlow Creek', 'An Imaginary Life', or 'Remembering Babylon'... maybe the stories in those books were more evident to a reader such as myself, who misses representations of symbolism rather easily... so yes, i wallowed in Malouf's prodigious talent with words, phrases, and descriptions... his characters are full-bodied and well-fleshed and complete, beautifully so... i simply found the telling of the tale to be a bit random, and with too many shifts in scene/character/place/time... still, if words are for enjoyment then you will love this book, probably more than me, albeit for different reasons...
October 21, 2018
Like everything Malouf writes, it's simply more than what you think it's going to be about.
August 26, 2021
I was attracted to this book because it was about an artist in Australia. I too am an artist and love novels about other artists. They connect me to the creative spirit. I most enjoyed Malouf’s long and detailed descriptions of people, the past, the landscape, people’s thoughts and events. By the time I got to the end of the book I realised that I really had experienced the life of a unique artist in mid 20th century Australia. Sometimes Malouf is a bit ‘wordy’ , but upon reflection, I think that’s what I most enjoyed bout the book.
August 15, 2018
David Malouf has become one of my favourite writers. In Harland’s Half Acre he describes Australian landscapes to a tee and takes me back to what seems like another life, a simple one, when visiting aunts and uncles as a child and the various personalities not understood at the time but, on reflection revealed as a product of our culture and unique location.
December 17, 2021
What a joy to be immersed in Frank Harland's life. So many memorable characters and such profound compassion shown for them. Epic in scope but taking great care in noticing and giving dignity to ordinary, everyday scenes.
March 23, 2019
What a horrible book. The first chapter was wonderful, then suddenly the book segued into I don't know what.
January 17, 2023
The most uninteresting Malouf book I've attempted.
Abandoned about 100 pages in.
Put it in the community free library box.
Maybe someone else will like it more.
Abandoned about 100 pages in.
Put it in the community free library box.
Maybe someone else will like it more.
April 13, 2023
A moving and vivid tale of art, artistry and isolation.
Read
August 19, 2013My reading of Harland’s Half Acre, was made all the more enriching by having attended a talk its author, David Malouf, gave at the Stanton Library in February 2013. Always very generous with his ideas, he provided emerging writers like myself with invaluable insights into his writing process. Most significant, was his idea of trusting readers’ intelligence by not spelling out everything about a scene or incident. One way of doing this, he said, was to remove paragraph-ending sentences that recapitulated what had gone before.
The main character, Frank, is difficult; the world he inhabits is difficult. The book is a poignant story of tragedies large and small, of lives unfulfilled, warped by the monstrous narcissism of the father, Clem. There is a sense of unease, too, when the reader meets the other main character, Phil. Malouf turns Proust’s Madeleine cake, that quintessential marker for memory, through 90 degrees to make the remembered smell of pink musk sweets a betrayal of a much loved grandfather.
Although Phil’s grandparents’ place is largely a household of women, I feel Malouf does not ‘write women’ well. There is always a hint of criticism as if they are lacking something men possess to make them fully functioning human beings. Malouf is on firmer ground in his descriptions of Brisbane’s houses – ‘Queenslanders’ − with their dark spaces and uneven floorboards and what happens when things, and people, fall through the cracks. As in Malouf’s memoir, 12 Edmonstone Street, ‘each house, like each place, has its own topography, its own lore’.
It is only after the tragedies (the shooting murder-suicide of Knack and Edna; the suicide of Gerald by hanging), that the book comes alive for me. When he goes to live on the island, Frank finds artistic fulfillment, in spite of his harsh living conditions. The reclusive artist Ian Fairweather is often cited as the model for Frank but for me, Malouf’s descriptions evoke the shapes and colours of the strange and beautiful landscapes of Fred Williams.
Reading the book was not easy. It is not the page-turning type of book one takes to the beach or onto a plane to lose oneself in the narrative. It requires, demands, concentration and commitment. In short, Malouf requires readers to respect his judgment – as he respects theirs.
The main character, Frank, is difficult; the world he inhabits is difficult. The book is a poignant story of tragedies large and small, of lives unfulfilled, warped by the monstrous narcissism of the father, Clem. There is a sense of unease, too, when the reader meets the other main character, Phil. Malouf turns Proust’s Madeleine cake, that quintessential marker for memory, through 90 degrees to make the remembered smell of pink musk sweets a betrayal of a much loved grandfather.
Although Phil’s grandparents’ place is largely a household of women, I feel Malouf does not ‘write women’ well. There is always a hint of criticism as if they are lacking something men possess to make them fully functioning human beings. Malouf is on firmer ground in his descriptions of Brisbane’s houses – ‘Queenslanders’ − with their dark spaces and uneven floorboards and what happens when things, and people, fall through the cracks. As in Malouf’s memoir, 12 Edmonstone Street, ‘each house, like each place, has its own topography, its own lore’.
It is only after the tragedies (the shooting murder-suicide of Knack and Edna; the suicide of Gerald by hanging), that the book comes alive for me. When he goes to live on the island, Frank finds artistic fulfillment, in spite of his harsh living conditions. The reclusive artist Ian Fairweather is often cited as the model for Frank but for me, Malouf’s descriptions evoke the shapes and colours of the strange and beautiful landscapes of Fred Williams.
Reading the book was not easy. It is not the page-turning type of book one takes to the beach or onto a plane to lose oneself in the narrative. It requires, demands, concentration and commitment. In short, Malouf requires readers to respect his judgment – as he respects theirs.
June 21, 2015
Curious book because it is remarkably remote, yet it carries considerable emotional weight.
It takes a long time for the two principals to meet and we then learn much about their association in retrospect.
Frank Harland is a remarkably original artist who ultimately achieves considerable fame. His friend (a loose term) is Phil Vernon, a lawyer who represents him and looks after his affairs, such as they are. Their families are vastly different in background and socio-economic status yet curiously similar, with their disappointments amidst the crowded hubbub of their respective households. Frank’s father is a shallow, charming, lazy dairy farmer who continues to dissipate what little is left of the family fortune- the family lives in a hut. Some of Frank’s siblings cause him worry and grief over the years. Frank becomes the strength of the family, although not in any conventional home-making sense, but rather in his dedication to his calling, to restoring what he can of the family land and support for his brothers and sisters.
Phil Vernon comes from a well-to-do Brisbane family with a powerful grandmother who is a stiff and cold matriarch with a dying husband, Phil’s grandfather, a man who has failed to live up to his even his own modest aspirations.
The fulcrum of the story is Phil's father, Bob, a man who has devoted his working life (more out of duty than passion) to the fruit and vegetable wholesaling business established nominally by his father, but in reality by his frightening mother. But he comes alive when out walking with his boy, greeting the locals. Phil's father supports various people round the place and is enthusiastic about a young artist, which is how young Phil first meets Frank Harland.
The story traverses the years of Frank’s life and there are clever and well observed references to contemporary events and mores of the time, from world war two to the mining boom of the 1970s (my favourite moment is when one of Phil’s relatives profits mightily through the rapidly rising value of Poseidon shares).
Frank Harland appears to be based, at least in part, on the recluse of Bribie Island (off the Queensland coast), the painter Ian Fairweather, who lived the bulk of his life in a lean to – fortunately the climate was pretty benign, except for, as Frank Harland experienced, the occasional cyclone.
It takes a long time for the two principals to meet and we then learn much about their association in retrospect.
Frank Harland is a remarkably original artist who ultimately achieves considerable fame. His friend (a loose term) is Phil Vernon, a lawyer who represents him and looks after his affairs, such as they are. Their families are vastly different in background and socio-economic status yet curiously similar, with their disappointments amidst the crowded hubbub of their respective households. Frank’s father is a shallow, charming, lazy dairy farmer who continues to dissipate what little is left of the family fortune- the family lives in a hut. Some of Frank’s siblings cause him worry and grief over the years. Frank becomes the strength of the family, although not in any conventional home-making sense, but rather in his dedication to his calling, to restoring what he can of the family land and support for his brothers and sisters.
Phil Vernon comes from a well-to-do Brisbane family with a powerful grandmother who is a stiff and cold matriarch with a dying husband, Phil’s grandfather, a man who has failed to live up to his even his own modest aspirations.
The fulcrum of the story is Phil's father, Bob, a man who has devoted his working life (more out of duty than passion) to the fruit and vegetable wholesaling business established nominally by his father, but in reality by his frightening mother. But he comes alive when out walking with his boy, greeting the locals. Phil's father supports various people round the place and is enthusiastic about a young artist, which is how young Phil first meets Frank Harland.
The story traverses the years of Frank’s life and there are clever and well observed references to contemporary events and mores of the time, from world war two to the mining boom of the 1970s (my favourite moment is when one of Phil’s relatives profits mightily through the rapidly rising value of Poseidon shares).
Frank Harland appears to be based, at least in part, on the recluse of Bribie Island (off the Queensland coast), the painter Ian Fairweather, who lived the bulk of his life in a lean to – fortunately the climate was pretty benign, except for, as Frank Harland experienced, the occasional cyclone.
July 13, 2021
What struck me most about this book was how the Australian landscape was a slippery metaphor for Harland's art and life--slippery in that it slipped in and out of metaphor, at times becoming overwhelmingly itself. It was an odd sensation for me, and I found it intriguing. The storytelling is at once sweeping but slow-moving. This might be because there are not that many fully developed scenes--lots of exposition where much time passes but discrete events are not narrated. Both the first-person narrator and the artist-protagonist seem cut off from important parts of their personality. I found that fascinating, but wondered whether I needed more to feel the story as deeply as it deserved, as if it were a profound subject that wasn't mined deeply enough. But it may be Malouf's project is more about the characters' dissociation from life than about the mystery of art, and the unsettled feeling it gave me might be just what he was aiming for.
December 21, 2014
I had three books I really wanted to read and this was one of them and unfortunately I know I read it too fast. The subtlety's were many and it deserves a slower more thoughtful read than I gave it. What a wonderful writer Malouf is that can punch out something as good as this so quickly. His thoughts must just be worth writing down unedited.
I paint so I can really see how Harland managed to be were he was. Without the tag of Artist he would have been deemed nuts and with the obsession of his Art it most likely made him worse than he may have been, doomed one way or the other. I enjoyed the whole book, not all the characters were particularly endearing but the plot and the way we as readers are taken through the family drama's almost was and it personal so you got involved. There were so many uplifting and generous parts of the book that it created a balance.
I paint so I can really see how Harland managed to be were he was. Without the tag of Artist he would have been deemed nuts and with the obsession of his Art it most likely made him worse than he may have been, doomed one way or the other. I enjoyed the whole book, not all the characters were particularly endearing but the plot and the way we as readers are taken through the family drama's almost was and it personal so you got involved. There were so many uplifting and generous parts of the book that it created a balance.
April 5, 2014
While this was compulsory reading for my Post colonial Literature class, I thought this was quite a good novel. Despite the fact it's not something I would usually choose to read, and the style was unfamiliar, I really appreciated the detail that David Malouf put into every single aspect of this book. It showed a real knowledge of human experience and character as I was able to understand the personality of each character before they uttered a word of dialogue. Frank was a highly motivated character but he remained a mystery, a little distant, however as the reader we understand that this natural evasiveness is in itself an aspect of his character, and it is only through the lens of Phil that we understand this.
June 23, 2013
What a great book. Some reviewers have said they couldn't follow or engage with the plot and have blamed the author. I disagree. The brilliance of Malouf's writing here is that it mirrors Frank Harland's painting style. He gives an impression of the story and the essence of the characters - just enough to spark instant recognition of something or someone familiar in those with a creative mind or vivid imagination. In places, he describes places and people in great detail. In others, he sketches out the cruial points and lets the reader do the rest. The writing is like an ink and wash picture. It's genius. One of the best books I've ever read.
November 25, 2016
This is my reading of David Malouf's work and it is so easy to see what all the fuss is about. Malouf is a writer of exceptional talent. It was all too easy to be swept into the novel and carried away into the lives of these two men.
I have to admit my favourite sections where Malouf captures through words the complexities and richness of the Australian bush.
Others have written far more eloquent reviews on Goodreads which do greater justice to the book than my gushing over this really engaging read by a master story teller.
I have to admit my favourite sections where Malouf captures through words the complexities and richness of the Australian bush.
Others have written far more eloquent reviews on Goodreads which do greater justice to the book than my gushing over this really engaging read by a master story teller.
September 28, 2010
David Malouf is another famous Australian author that I'd like to read more of. I spent a year studying in Australia and devoured as many Australian authors as I could in that time (and still do). I picked this one out from the sale bin of a charity shop. The story is told from different angles by two main protagonists which merge into one as the story concludes. A lovely story of an Australia mostly now gone past.
June 21, 2013
Beautiful stuff. Reminded me of Bruce Chatwin's On the Black Hill, although that one is a bit bleak whereas this one is not. Malouf is good with characterization and setting. Conversations flow easily. With all of that going, plot is pretty much a secondary concern when reading him, but with this book, the plot is pretty strong as well.
August 7, 2016
The start put me in mind of East of Eden, but the book didn't live up to expectations. There was a very boring middle section that I struggled to get through and then a section where it tried too hard to be 'literary'. An inconsistent style and uninspiring story made this quite a disappointing read. But maybe I missed the plot?
August 7, 2016
The start put me in mind of East of Eden, but the book didn't live up to expectations. There was a very boring middle section that I struggled to get through and then a section where it tried too hard to be 'literary'. An inconsistent style and uninspiring story made this quite a disappointing read. But maybe I missed the plot?
August 15, 2015
Mid 2. Frank Harland's travails to maintain his ancestor's lands detail the random events that shape one's destiny and the importance of family. Malouf fails to engage this reader in the plot of this tormented artist's attachment to the family plot.
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