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THE LIFE AND DEATH OF SANDY STONE
200 pages, Hardcover
First published November 7, 1991
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March 20, 2008
There is something incredibly bitter about a lot of Humphries’ stuff. Dame Edna is obnoxious, although sometimes very funny, Paterson is revolting – but Sandy Stone is his master creation. Unlike the others, Sandy is handled with sympathy. There is real love and affection as well as humour and satire.
Sandy Stone is a returned man, someone who fought in the war and came home to buy a house called Kia Ora (Maori for Good Health) and live his life with his wife in a street called Gallipoli Crescent. It is hard to state the significance of this street name to a non-Australian. Gallipoli is still our central myth, our core defining event, the tragedy that birthed us as a nation – or so we are constantly reminded. Locating Stone here is locating him as the Australian everyman. It is possible that many of his monologues might not make much sense to anyone reading them outside Australia, though one would have much more chance at understanding them in Britain than in the States, I would suspect.
There is something very human about Sandy. Not just because he generally appears in pyjamas, but the exquisite dullness of his life was the exquisite dullness of life in Melbourne in the 1950s. There is an early monologue which is just a series of advertisements strung together – so Sandy just says the names of department stores like Buckley and Nunns or ‘there’s a Maple’s Store right near your door’ throughout the act. Even though much of this Melbourne was long gone before I was born or lived here it is impossible to listen to this and not get a real feeling for the city.
He is married to Beryl and goes to the RSL (Returned Serviceman’s League) for ‘a nice evening’s entertainment’. Or he goes next door to listen to an illegally imported copy of The Sound of Music – the record not being allowed to be sold in Australia until the stage show had drummed up enough bums on seats.
About half way through the book Sandy dies – it would take more than this to stop him talking – and so the last monologues are from beyond the grave. Beryl was off on her Women’s Weekly World Tour at the time – him ruining Scandinavia for her. Although, he had not disgraced himself, having washed out the milk bottle and put on a clean pair of pyjamas.
Some of the little stories he tells are not funny, they are poignantly sad, like the slaters coming out of a photo album, one of those moments that catch one’s breath. Others are quite amusing – the Asian family sitting on the porch shelling peas on a Sunday afternoon (‘we’re all the same really’) only to throw away the peas and keep the shells.
But the funniest thing in the book, and one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen anywhere, is his description of the toaster and the crumpets. “How a toaster that can’t pop a crumpet can throw a grown woman across the room…” I have been known to make very embarrassing sounds while laughing at this - sort of snorting while gasping for breath – I’m prepared to admit that it is not terribly attractive.
It is hard to see that Humphries really likes many of his characters – in fact, the point seems to be that he really doesn’t like them at all. They are his way of punishing people. But not Sandy. It is clear he has a deep and abiding affection for Sandy and this removes some of the bitterness while never actually becoming saccharine.
The book also contains advertisements on every page from the 1950s. It really is a pleasure.
Sandy Stone is a returned man, someone who fought in the war and came home to buy a house called Kia Ora (Maori for Good Health) and live his life with his wife in a street called Gallipoli Crescent. It is hard to state the significance of this street name to a non-Australian. Gallipoli is still our central myth, our core defining event, the tragedy that birthed us as a nation – or so we are constantly reminded. Locating Stone here is locating him as the Australian everyman. It is possible that many of his monologues might not make much sense to anyone reading them outside Australia, though one would have much more chance at understanding them in Britain than in the States, I would suspect.
There is something very human about Sandy. Not just because he generally appears in pyjamas, but the exquisite dullness of his life was the exquisite dullness of life in Melbourne in the 1950s. There is an early monologue which is just a series of advertisements strung together – so Sandy just says the names of department stores like Buckley and Nunns or ‘there’s a Maple’s Store right near your door’ throughout the act. Even though much of this Melbourne was long gone before I was born or lived here it is impossible to listen to this and not get a real feeling for the city.
He is married to Beryl and goes to the RSL (Returned Serviceman’s League) for ‘a nice evening’s entertainment’. Or he goes next door to listen to an illegally imported copy of The Sound of Music – the record not being allowed to be sold in Australia until the stage show had drummed up enough bums on seats.
About half way through the book Sandy dies – it would take more than this to stop him talking – and so the last monologues are from beyond the grave. Beryl was off on her Women’s Weekly World Tour at the time – him ruining Scandinavia for her. Although, he had not disgraced himself, having washed out the milk bottle and put on a clean pair of pyjamas.
Some of the little stories he tells are not funny, they are poignantly sad, like the slaters coming out of a photo album, one of those moments that catch one’s breath. Others are quite amusing – the Asian family sitting on the porch shelling peas on a Sunday afternoon (‘we’re all the same really’) only to throw away the peas and keep the shells.
But the funniest thing in the book, and one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen anywhere, is his description of the toaster and the crumpets. “How a toaster that can’t pop a crumpet can throw a grown woman across the room…” I have been known to make very embarrassing sounds while laughing at this - sort of snorting while gasping for breath – I’m prepared to admit that it is not terribly attractive.
It is hard to see that Humphries really likes many of his characters – in fact, the point seems to be that he really doesn’t like them at all. They are his way of punishing people. But not Sandy. It is clear he has a deep and abiding affection for Sandy and this removes some of the bitterness while never actually becoming saccharine.
The book also contains advertisements on every page from the 1950s. It really is a pleasure.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
Displaying 1 of 1 review