On the surface, this seems a short children’s novel, and I picked it up for something to fly through as I travelled. I did not expect it to be so beautiful nor for it to be stylistically in the vein of magical realism I haven’t properly encountered in Australian stories, especially for a cowboy adventure written in the 60s.
It was fun, camp, reflected an era of bush ranging and colonial times in a way that was comfortable and inviting. All the characters were great and had a strong and necessary presence in the book.
There is one moment in this book that was extraordinarily poetic, which I’ll share:
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By this time Midnite and Khat had decided that they did not like Mr Smith at all, but they stayed with him for company, as he and Strurm and Drang were the only living things in the desert apart from themselves on the flies. So they traveled with them all day, and in the evening they came down from the sandhills to a white salt lake which was all surrounded by bones.
Midnite stared at the bones with great surprise. He saw horse bones and camel bones and pieces of harness, and boots and belts and hats and blankets, and many many smiling human skills.
‘What is this place?’ asked Midnite, in a nervous voice.
‘It is the end of Outback.’ said the explorer, ‘where come poets and explorers to die.’
As he spoke, Strurm and Drang knelt down among the bones, and Mr Smith got off Strurm’s back, and the two camels rolled over and expired.
‘Why do they die?’ asked Midnite, more nervously still.
‘Because they themselves exploring finished have.’ said the explorer. Then he shouted something in German, and fell down in the bones, dead and smiling.
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