We Of The Never-Never

by Jeannie Gunn

A well loved Australian Classic.

In 1902, newly-married Jeannie Gunn (Mrs Aeneas Gunn) left the security and comfort of her Melbourne home to travel to the depths of the Northern Territory, where her husband had been appointed manager of 'The Elsey', a large cattle station. One of the very few white women in the area, she was at first resented by people on and around the station, till her warmth and spirit won their affection and respect.

Mrs Gunn had an unerring ear and eye for the sounds and sights of the country; and this is her moving and simple account of her life amidst the beauty and cruelty of the land, and the isolation and loneliness - together with the comradeship and kindness of those around her. The favourite of generations of Australians since it was first published in 1908, We of the Never-Never can truly be called a classic.

Genres: Australia, Classics, Nonfiction, History, Biography, Memoir, Travel

247 pages, Kindle Edition

First published January 1, 1907

About the author

We of the Never Never is an autobiographical novel by Jeannie Gunn. Although published as a novel, it is an account of the author's experiences in 1902 at Elsey Station near Mataranka, Northern Territory in which she changed the names of people to obscure their identities. She published this book under the pen name Mrs Aeneas Gunn.

Mrs Gunn was the first white woman to settle in the area. Her husband was a partner in Elsey cattle station on the Roper River, some 300 miles (483 km) south of Darwin. On 2 January 1902 the couple sailed for Port Darwin so that he could take up his role as the station's new manager. In Palmerston (Darwin), Mrs Gunn was discouraged from accompanying her husband to the station on the basis that as a woman she would be 'out of place' on a station such as the Elsey. However, she travelled south and her book describes the journey and settling in. However on 16 March 1903 Aeneas died of malarial dysentery and Jeannie returned to Melbourne shortly afterwards.

Reviews

[Brenda · Rating 4 out of 5]

It was 1902 and with the “little Missus” being told she shouldn’t be joining her husband when he ventured to the homestead, “The Elsey” in the Never Never of the Northern Territory because a white woman didn’t belong, the determination of them both to go saw them on board a train from Darwin. Once leaving the relative comfort of that vehicle, it was horseback with their first setback being stuck on the wrong side of the Fergusson River with the country experiencing “the Wet”. But cross it they did and eventually after three days and sixty five miles, they arrived at the Katherine.

Another three hundred miles over rough terrain and tracks only the stockmen could see, they finally arrived at The Elsey. The homestead wasn’t much, but they would make do. With initial resentment from the stockmen, it wasn’t too long before they warmed to the “little Missus”. Her courage and tenacity in the face of it all meant respect from the men. The size of the remote cattle property meant the men were always off doing something or other. The bush hospitality meant they shared everything they had.

This Australian classic has been read by many and is an important historical book. Jeannie Gunn’s words in We of the Never Never paint vivid pictures of the isolation, the struggles and problems day to day activities were for the settlers, the treatment of the Aboriginals and the obvious but accepted (back then) racism that was all around. This is my second read of this book – my first was a lot of years ago, and although dated, I’ve enjoyed it once again. Recommended.

[Kylie H · Rating 3 out of 5]

I did enjoy this book, and the fact that it is autobiographical is amazing (I had to keep reminding myself of this). To be a lone white woman moving into the Never Never with mostly stockmen for company and hundreds of miles from the nearest city was arduous. And this was in the days before telecommunication!
I did however find myself at a complete loss as to what was being said sometimes. I think there was a mixture of Scottish and early Australian colloquial language used that I was not at all familiar with.
Enjoyable and interesting, yes! Hard to follow at times, also yes.
An Australian classic about the pioneering womenfolk.

[G.G. · Rating 4 out of 5]

From the outset, a melancholy air hangs over We of the Never-Never. As the author herself tells us in her “Prelude”:

All of Us shared each other’s lives for one bright, sunny year, away Behind the Back of Beyond, in the Land of the Never-Never…a land of dangers and hardships and privations yet loved as few lands are loved—a land that bewitches her people with strange spells and mysteries, until they call sweet bitter, and bitter sweet. Called the Never-Never, the Maluka [the author’s husband] loved to say, because they who have lived in it and loved it, Never-Never voluntarily leave it. Sadly enough, there are too many who Never-Never do leave it.

So from the first page we know that the author lived to tell her tale, but that others did not.

The tale she tells is of a city-born newly married white woman’s first and only year—1902—at Elsey Cattle Station, several hundred miles south of Darwin in Australia’s Northern Territory. “The missus,” as the author is known, surprises everyone with her determination to participate in the life of the station (“thought they mostly sat about and sewed,” the Quiet Stockman says in dismay.) She rides—side-saddle, of course—and camps out in the bush under a mosquito net. The station is huge and fenceless, and the cattle are “scattered through a couple of thousand square miles of scrub and open timbered country” (p. 102). Mail arrives every six weeks. Stores come less often, by bullock wagon; there’s a fascinating description (pp. 118-19) of how carefully the drivers spell and water their bullocks so they are able to “get over a fifty-mile dry,” i.e. a fifty-mile stretch without water to drink.

The isolation endured by those who live and work in the outback is astonishing:

We learned that our traveler had “come from Beyanst”, with a backward nod towards the Queensland border, and was going west; and by the time the cabbage and tea were finished he had become quite talkative.
“Ain’t see cabbage, ma’am, for more’n five years,” he said, leaning back on to a fallen tree-trunk…adding, when I sympathized, “nor a woman, neither, for that matter” (pp. 126-27).

Dan…returned at sundown in triumph with a great find: a lady traveler, the wife of one of the Inland Telegraph masters. Her husband and little son were with her, but—well, they were only men. It was five months since I had seen a white woman, and all I saw at the time was a woman riding towards our camp. I wonder what she saw as I came to meet her through the leafy bough gundies.* It was nearly two years since she had seen a woman. (pp. 130-31)

*“Gundies” are described by the author as “tiny, fresh, cool, green shade-houses here, there, and everywhere for the blacks; one set apart from the camp for a larder, and an immense one—all green waving boughs—for the missus to rest in during the heat of the day” (p. 123).

The author herself is never alone on Elsey Station, however; even when her husband and the other stockmen are away, she is surrounded by Aboriginal women, who are described as happy if somewhat wayward children, in the casually racist manner of the period. She also has a Chinese cook and gardener, Cheon (ditto). Despite her sense of superiority, she is well aware that

The white man has taken the country from the black fellow, and with it his right to travel where he will for pleasure or food, and until he is willing to make recompense by granting fair liberty of travel, and a fair percentage of cattle or their equivalent in fair payment—openly and fairly giving them, and seeing that no man is unjustly treated or hungry within his borders—cattle killing, and at times even man killing, by blacks will not be an offence against the white folk (p. 185).

I hardly need say that Aboriginal Australians are still agitating for these and other “fair liberties.” So that’s another reason for the sense of melancholy this memoir left me with.

And closer to home: my mother was born and grew up on a property in southern New South Wales, a world away from the vastness of the Northern Territory, and yet some of the scenes in We of the Never-Never are just familiar enough to make me mourn the loss of all of it—the delicate art of horse-breaking, the delights of the arrival of the mailman, the dry humour of the stockmen, the sense of the numinous “whispered out of the heart of Nature” (p. 171).

[Tien · Rating 4 out of 5]

A very enjoyable read mostly because of:

A Beautiful description of the Australian bush

"For a moment we waited, spellbound in the brilliant sunshine; then the dogs running down to the water's edge, the gallahs and cockatoos rose with gorgeous sunrise effect: a floating gray-and-pink cloud, backed by sunlit flashing white. Direct to the forest trees they floated and, settling there in their myriads, as by a miracle the gaunt, gnarled old giants of the bush all over blossomed with garlands of grey, and pink, and white, and gold."

"The Reach always slept; for nearly twelve miles it lay, a swaying garland of heliotrope and purple waterlilies, gleaming through a graceful fringe of palms and rushes and scented shrubs, touched here and there with shafts of sunlight, and murmuring and rustling with an attendant host of gorgeous butterflies and flitting bird and insects."

And... Very Quaint and /or Rustic feel of life

"There's one fairly steady, good-sized table at least it doesn't fall over, unless some one leans on it; then there's a bed with a wire mattress, but nothing else on it; and there's a chair or two up to your weight (the boss'll either have to stand up or lie down), and I don't know that there's much else exceptiong plenty of cups and plates - they're enamel, fortunately, so you won't have much trouble with the servant breaking things..."

"...walls sprouted with corner shelves and brackets - three wooden kerosene cases became a handy series of pigeonholes for magazines and papers..."

The book was very entertaining despite the feel that nothing ever happened, to my city-chic's mind anyway;

""Whatever do you do with your time?" ask the townsfolk, sure that life out-bush is stagnation, but forgetting that life is life wherever it may be lived."

Life out-bush was hard and what was very very obvious from this book was that humour was their mainstay. Life, then, definitely do not sound 'down' at all.

I couldn't help myself that I kept picturing scenes of 'Australia' (movie) whilst reading this book. However, I do realise that bushmen were most probably not as hot as Hugh Jackman, LOL.

[Calzean · Rating 3 out of 5]

It's an Australian classic. Jeannie Gunn recounts her 15 month stint in a remote cattle property in the Northern Territory during 1902-1903. She has a whimsical manner and her names for the people she meets is a highlight - The Sanguine Scot, The Dandy, Mine Host, the Quiet Stockman. It's a harsh life with much pride in the achievements of the settlers, and some terrible descriptions of the treatment of Aboriginals and the acceptable racism that existed. It's dated by it does form an important historical document.

[Phrynne · Rating 4 out of 5]

I had already read this book many years ago but somehow I had forgotten how sad the ending is! To have so much for just fourteen months and then have to return to Melbourne alone to pick up the pieces of her former life. It must have been really hard.

Anyway, I enjoyed this memoir from 1902, when Australia was a very different place in so many ways. I admired Jeannie Gunn for having the grit to leave her suburban city life and not just live, but thrive in the middle of nowhere. The living conditions on the Elsey Station were harsh for anyone but for woman from her background they must have seemed appalling. However she certainly had courage and a sense of humour which got her through most situations.

I enjoyed We Of The Never Never as a good memoir of a year of this author's life and also a very enjoyable tale. Of course, as it was written well over a hundred years ago, it is also a social documentary and reports actions and beliefs the way they were then. One of the chapters in particular leaves today's readers feeling very uncomfortable. I think we just have to be grateful that we have come so far in our change in attitudes and remind ourselves that there is still a long way for us to go!

[Anna · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is a challenging book to review. It very much reflects the attitudes of the time towards Aboriginal and Chinese people, attitudes which are now unacceptable and hard to read. However, there is also a lot to like about this book. It paints a vivid picture of station life, including the isolation and privations. The reader cannot help admiring Jeannie Gunn's willingness to leave behind a relatively comfortable life and join her husband in the remote 'Never-Never'. There are some beautiful passages describing the Australian landscape, and the characters are compellingly drawn. Though uncomfortable at times, this was still a very interesting read.

[Jazzy Lemon · Rating 5 out of 5]

The memoirs of Jeannie Gunn whilst living in the bush.
This book has the language of the times, but opened up new experiences for me. If the language will bother you, don't read it.

[Jo · Rating 2 out of 5]

One of the things I tried to do for this challenge was to read a number of books I have been meaning to read for some time. We of the Never Never was one such book. Because it is an Australian classic from the early 20th century, I expected to find parts of it confronting, and in that, I was not disappointed.

A quick precis: the book is a memoir of the author's first year on the Elsey, a station in the Northern Territory, several days' journey (by the modes of transport then available) from Katherine. She is there because she has just married the Elsey's manager, referred to in the book as "the Maluka" (this is later explained to be a name given to him by the Aboriginal people they have contact with and is, at least, so the author tells us, untranslateable). She is the only non-Aboriginal woman on the Elsey. She tells the story of her journey from Darwin to the Elsey early in the Wet season, and goes on to narrate other episodes, including staffing difficulties, the completion of the homestead and trips out on the station.

The book is a product of its time, and much of what I expected to, and did, find confronting is a reflection of that. The best example of this is the author's attitude towards race and class. She - or, at least, her persona as narrator - for the most part likes the people she finds on the Elsey, whether they are Black, white or Chinese (the cooks), but her attitude towards all of them is very plainly that of the lady of the manor towards the peasants in the village. Even when describing situations in which another person knows more than she does, her tone is patronising and condescending. This is most obvious in relation to her attitude towards the Aboriginal people she describes. There is no acknowledgement that she is discussing people who come from a cultural background entirely unlike hers, who have a different set of values to hers. Rather, she judges them as if her values are the only possible standard, and finds them lacking and childlike. There is a considerable degree of the "noble savage" myth in her perception of them, and a total lack of understanding of the great injustice that had already been done to them, which was continuing, and to which she contributed. I found this jarring and insulting.

I also found the author's attitude to gender roles troubling, although once again, I can understand it to be a product of the time. She readily accepts her position as the (relatively) cosseted sole white woman, and all that goes with that. That said, she shows a willingness to chip in that belies her princess-like status to some extent, and one might wonder how much of the avowed compliance with gender roles was exaggerated for the audience.

Finally, while the author acknowledges many of the hardships, difficulties and dangers faced by people living on a remote station in the early twentieth century, the book as a whole still seems to me to romanticise that life to a significant extent.

Despite my criticisms, Mrs Gunn wrote clearly and in a manner generally easy to follow, although, because of the pseudonyms she uses for many characters (particularly the white stockmen), it can be easy to get them confused. This perhaps contributes to the classist overtones of the book. Similarly, she refers to her husband as "the Maluka" from the beginning of the book, but the explanation does not come until about a third of the way in.

We of the Never Never is worth reading for two reasons. First, it is a book by a woman about a woman's life in a situation about which we know comparatively little (especially as it applied to women). Secondly, and more importantly, it gives some insight (although not, perhaps, the insight the author intended) into attitudes of the day in relation to race and gender, especially the former, and the atrocities committed under the guiding light of those attitudes. This helps us to understand how far we have to go in trying to redress those wrongs.

[Sabrina · Rating 3 out of 5]

Of course, I had to read We of the Never Never a classic, autobiographic Australian novel during my time here. The author writes about her experience of settling at a remote cattle station in the outback around Darwin in 1902. Overall, this was a homage to country and her bushmen companions.

I found the style quite peculiar with a lot of paragraphs and little explanation to the modern European-born reader (I have no idea how a cattle farm works). Additionally, she often wrote about herself in the third person as “the little missus”. I did not like this belittling. Moreover, it gave a distance to the reader and I missed insight into her personal views and experiences. She looks at events almost as an outsider would do, one who happens to overhear the campfire talk. In that sense, many statements are quoted yet her own feelings never revealed. So, this reader is left with many questions like what went through her head when everyone discouraged her to join her husband? When they belittled women? The Aboriginal people are further displayed as the simple often lazy and ineffective help. Class thinking was prevalent throughout.

…the flies, like the poor, were to be with us always.

I guess that was to be expected given the date this was written and yet, I cringed inside. There was some redemption highlighting the Aboriginal people’s wisdom about the land. Apparently she also wrote another book about an Aboriginal girl born there and if I understand Wikipedia correctly, this led to the return of the area to the traditional owners of the land.

[Kyla · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is one of my favourite books. Vivid descriptions of life in the Australian bush. Lots of great characters. Whenever I am having a perfect restorative cup of tea I think about how they could live without anything except tea.

[Saturday's Child · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book paints a vivid picture of a time and a place in Australia’s outback history.

[Christiane · Rating 4 out of 5]

Many reviewers seem to have been outraged by the racist and classist attitudes expressed by Mrs. Jeannie Gunn in this Australian classic and though I can see their point, I feel it is unfair to demand political correctness from an author who wrote these memoirs in 1903.

Mrs. Gunn lovingly evokes the lush and gorgeous scenery of the Roper River area of the Northern Territories and the colourful characters that inhabit and move around this vast stretch of country. A plucky, energetic, resourceful, dauntless woman, “the missus” took to her new life in the wilderness like a duck to water, talking about “we bush-folk” when hardly out of Darwin. According to her reminiscences she is practically immediately and whole-heartedly accepted and welcomed into their midst by the tough, rough, utterly decent and chivalrous station hands who had been so shocked at the idea of the boss bringing a wife into their lives (which surely would have implied watching their language and their manners from then on).

There must have been some upsets and difficulties accompanying this radical change of living conditions but being recently married and very much in love with her husband as well as having an outgoing and curious nature and a good sense of humour she totally enjoyed the busy station life, exploring the surroundings on foot and horseback, swimming in billabongs with the Aboriginal women and children and camping out-bush in that untamed nature, sitting around a camp-fire at night, dining on damper and tea, "being educated" by the men, swapping yarns, sleeping under the stars…

Apart from the men employed by the station there are a number of appealing bush characters; simple, hardy, self-sufficient, easy-going men; first and foremost the Fizzer, the mailman who tirelessly and dangerously travelled the wilderness in the line of duty, one of “those happy, natural people who always find the supply exactly suited to the demand”.

And while Mrs. Gunn’s attitude to the Aboriginals (and the Chinese cook Cheon) is undeniably patronizing by today’s standards there is no denying that she was genuinely fond of “the black people” and interested in learning about their myths and beliefs. She also had a way with words and there are some hilarious scenes and pidgin-English conversations, especially in the second part of the book: “The Little Black Princess”.

Mrs. Gunn may have idealized her all-too-brief stay on the Elsey cattle station, writing her story at her father’s home in Melbourne while mourning her husband’s tragic death the previous year but there can be little doubt that in the Never-Never she had the time of her life.

[Jake Goretzki · Rating 3 out of 5]

[Antipodean Season, cont.d]

Oh, reasonably good fun. I was actually expecting something much more lyrical and misty-eyed, but this is a pretty uncomplicated “My Year in the Top End” – everyone rolled up their sleeves, chased a few horses, ate a lot of damper and got on fine. (Though I have one yawning contextual question to pursue: what the bloody hell were they actually doing, work-wise? Why are they camping all the time? Are they grazing cattle over hundreds of miles? I dunno. Couldn’t they just fence them in? Off to Wikipedia).

I’m guessing it’s liked because it’s captured a few desirable strains of the proto-Aussie character. Stoical, unsentimental, self-sacrificing, loyal, unpretentious (though most of the characters here are actually Scottish). I quite liked the homely philosophy in some of it (that you do your bit and you help your neighbour do his bit…and leave the rest to that cosmic-whatever).

It was also interesting how in the first years of the 20th century the Missus is allowed to get on with it in a piece of fiction (when you consider the time). At the same time, there’s little in the way of relationship between her and the Maluka (beyond banter) – which might seem evasive but actually felt rather modern. There’s no time for bodice-ripping here (actually, you’d be seen though the mosquito nets).

Unsurprisingly, it’s exceptionally racist, as reflects the times (anyone not white is thoroughly infantilised or downright simple) – though you might argue that there are flickers of optimism. Cheon is given a kind of honorary status at the end and there’s a paragraph about cattle rustling being a trade-off for stealing land.

All the while, it reminded me just me how blank I can find it reading descriptive prose about a certain kind of environment that I don’t really know. Creeks and ravines – and that double-under thing in the river she describes? No idea. I get this with nautical stuff too. With Joseph Conrad or Moby Dick I always want to go “What the hell is he doing now? Is he like, like, parking the boat? The big boat or the small boat? Where’s he standing? Eh? Is he turning it left or something? Does he mean there’s a big wave or it’s getting wavier?”. Are we there yet?". That.

[Claire Melanie · Rating 2 out of 5]

I read this book as part of a subject called Historicising the Colonial Mythscape, part of an Australian Indigenous Studies degree. It is incredibly difficult to read for anyone with even a basic understanding of the genocidal impacts of the settler colonialism on Aboriginal people in Australia but it is an important artifact illustrating the incredible racism of the time. It is also interesting to see it reviewed as people's favourite book. Apparent that a lot of that racism is still around - there is a chapter called N****r Hunt FFS which details a murderous episode where the station's whites go out on a retributive mission - if they had been successful yet another massacre of Aboriginal people would have occurred. Do people not understand that when they read this text? I also find this book deeply ridiculous in that the author presents herself as a special kind of Australian pioneering woman, able to overcome the 'inherent deficiencies' of her gender to become a proper country person - she lived on a cattle station for just over a year and then returned to suburban Melbourne, never again to visit the NT. She's a woman who hates other women, who got ahead by exploiting those 'below' her (Aboriginal people) and then who made a living presenting herself as some kind of expert on Australian national identity and Aboriginal culture.

[Teri Pre · Rating 4 out of 5]

What a wonderful book! It's a bit confusing in parts because the author doesn't really use names, but otherwise, it seems like a very true account of life in the far reaches of Australia in the early 1900s. I know that some people will object to the way the aboriginal people were portrayed, but that's the way people though and it's good to remember that. Most of us have come a long way since then.

4.5

[Emmeline · Rating 4 out of 5]

so so goooooood!!!! the writing was incredible. Sometimes it was a bit hard to get into but otherwise excellent.

[Scot O'Hara · Rating 5 out of 5]

I found this surprising book to be an amazement. I absolutely loved the glimpse into life on the Australian Outback in the early 1900s from a female perspective. Having traveled briefly to the Outback last year, I wanted to explore what life was like there and this book really delivered. The book tells the true story of the hardships and glories of life dealing with the extreme climate, the harsh landscape, and the prejudices of the time (particularly prejudices towards women and indigenous people). You must recognize the book was written over 100 years ago and the text brings forth some cringe-worthy racial and gender prejudices of the time. To enjoy the book, you must be able to set aside those beliefs as a reflection of the time period and view the story as a history of the time, warts and all.

I loved being along for the journey. Gunn creates vivid landscapes and event. The characters are lively and memorable. I really hated to read the final pages because I found myself wanting to be in their company a little longer. I can see why this has become an enduring Australian classic. Do yourself a favor and read it!

[Sammy · Rating 4 out of 5]

Mrs Aeneas Gunn, as she was long known, wrote this pivotal Australian text from the first years of the 20th century, the story of the only white woman on a massive station in the outback. Gunn's writing is engaging and well-versed, and the story rarely lapses into melodrama, if only because we have to keep remembering that this is drawn from life - just on a magnified scale.

Of course, it's easy (and fair) to grimace at Gunn's portrayal of non-white people, not to mention her own less-than-progressive views on her role as a woman. But the lady was born in 1870, and she was content to be a pioneer in her on ways without getting enveloped in the still cloudy issue of feminism. As with many books of this kind, we can't necessarily blame Gunn for all of her stereotyping, we can simply ensure that we read with a critical eye, and treat this book as an important historical and literary piece - especially in terms of what it tells us about the role of women and the approach to the outback.

[Lisa · Rating 2 out of 5]

This may not be a fair rating since I'm just thinking about how good I think it is or how I enjoyed it and not the role it played in Australian mythology and education. She was an interesting lady and her experiences stand out but I had a hard time with the humor and lingo, as someone who isn't Australian. A good bit of the time I wasn't sure what was going on. It was an educational read, for sure.

[Kim · Rating 4 out of 5]

A truly heartwarming Classic. It's called The Never-Never because you never want to leave. The Northern Territory is still a remote place but back in the early 1900s, when Jeannie Gunn was living there, everything came in on bullock drays and horseback. The landscape is an original character all of it's own on Elsy Station along with the original characters of the "bush-folk".
They talk of two extreme seasons in the NT, The Dry and The Wet both have their dangers and both their charms.
The language and some of the attitudes are very antiquated but overall charming and full of goodwill.
Highly recommended for a gentle book set in the Far North.
Note: One of the chapters, in particular is disturbing in it's attitudes and the potential for what might happen. It's a contemporary social commentary of the squatters point of view during what Indigenous people of the far north called "The Wild Times".

[Lorene Mozsa · Rating 4 out of 5]

Life on the Elsey in the Northern Territory, Australia, 1902 is a difficult way of life compared to city folk, but its residents, their animals and passers-through are exposed to new challenges and adventures everyday.
I loved the authenticity of this story and the strength of the characters living in these bare, harsh conditions.
I think reading it might have been better for me than the audio version but that being said, the narrator was very good. I just got a little lost with some of the characters throughout the way.

[Jess ࣪˖ ִֶཐི༏ཋྀ · Rating 1 out of 5]

1.5; Quit after the 3rd slur. How are you going to be racist AND boring? Crocodile Dundee is better representation of the Aussie outback than this shit

[Ghyslaine · Rating 4 out of 5]

Dit boek uit 1906 was heel bijzonder. Het vertelt over de pioniers in het Australische binnenland. Jeannie Gunn is de eerste vrouw die het aandurft om daar te verblijven. Ze beschrijft de mensen die er wonen en de natuur met warmte en liefde in schitterende woorden. Ik heb genoten van dit boek.

[Helen Barr · Rating 3 out of 5]

This book was pretty interesting from a social history perspective. The somewhat racist and sexist attitudes of the time are a natural part of the characters conversations and behaviour. The ‘missus’ writes, ‘until I met Cheon [the cook] I thought the Chinese incapable of affection; but many lessons are learned out bush.’ At the same time, it is a book that emphasises humanity and the equalising nature of the bush. The ‘missus’ perceives the killing of the station cattle by the aboriginal people as being justified and is critical of what she sees as the superiority of the white race: ‘a black fellow kills cattle because he is hungry..white men killed the black fellow because they were hungry with a hunger that must be fed with gold.’ Jeannie Gunn's prose is relaxing, slow and beautiful and she captures something essentially Territorian. She describes a ‘gorgeous butterfly’ resting on the telegraph while ‘away in the great world men were sending telegrams amid clatter and dust, unconscious of that tiny group of bushfolk, or that Nature, who does all things well, can beautify even the sending of a telegram’. While friends and I were relaxing in the pools of Edith Falls, a beautiful spot outside of Katherine (‘relatively’ near where Gunn/the main character were stationed), a friend of mine echoed a similar sentiment: ‘Some idiots are in Melbourne right now.’

Jeannie Gunn’s love of frontier life and wisdom it propagates is a special part of the book: ‘ “Be still and know that I am God,” is still whispered out of the heart of Nature, and those bushmen, unconsciously obeying...in the ungrudging giving of a helping hand to all in need.’ She describes the rhythms of the day from silence, to thoughtful dialogue, to sound and action: ‘the long, restful preparation of silence; that emptying of all active though from the mind; that droning Scotch voice, so perfectly tuned to our mood... then silence again – a silence now vibrating with though.’ Then, ‘As gradually and naturally as it had crept upon us, that silence slipped away, and we spoke of the multitude of sounds and creatures about us, until, seeing deeper and deeper into Dan’s message every moment, we learned that each sound and creature was hoeing its own row as it alone knew how, and, in the hoeing, was lending all others a hand with theirs, as they toiled in the Mighty Row of the Universe, each obedient to the great law of the Creator that all else shall be left to Him, as through them He taught the world that no man liveth to himself alone.’

[Lyndal Simpson · Rating 4 out of 5]

I'll admit that it took me a while to get into this. Once I'd adapted to the old-fashioned language and had come to terms with the racism (and sexism) as being true to the day, I enjoyed the book as a glimpse into Australia in the early 1900s, and I felt the book did a great job at providing that.
The characters started to grow on me about halfway through, especially Cheon. Some of the racism was jaw-droppingly shocking - the "n- hunt" for example.
There was one paragraph where it was mentioned that the horses feared alligators. There are no alligators in Australia, just crocodiles. I assume the author just got it wrong, or that people who lived in the bush at that time loosely referred to crocodiles as alligators, not knowing that there was a difference between the two.
My favourite part was waiting for the Dry to break and for the Wet to come. I think the author did a great job of conveying what that was like. The focus on the food served for Christmas dinner went on a bit!
The end was so sudden and incredibly sad. I actually think the brevity of it made it even sadder. One minute it's a new year and everyone is discussing their hopes for the future, and then... death. I could really feel how painful it was for the author to write that brief section.
Probably more of a high-3 than a 4.

[Amanda Nunn · Rating 4 out of 5]

A revealing book about life on an early Australian cattle station.

It's a little confusing at first with the author's referring to places as if they are people and the multitude of nicknames she gives to those who accompany her into the bush, but easier once you get into it.

The author paints some beautiful and poignant pictures of life in the Australian bush. Most moving to me was the description of the postman's determined and dangerous journey along his mail route to the inside. Six times a year he would risk his life to deliver email to remote stations.

This book is however a product of its time. It's disheartening that the author so often places men on pedestals while denigrating her fellow women, and there is some fairly racist content. The author is actually surprised to discover that Chinese men can feel compassion, for instance, and the aboriginals are constantly described as childlike and credulous.

As unappealing as this content is, however, I think it is valuable to anyone seeking an honest picture of early Australia, as it starkly demonstrates the attitude of the white colonists towards the aboriginals and Chinese fellow colonists.

[Amelia · Rating 4 out of 5]

A classic Australian autobiography, flowery in descriptions at times but very lovable at all times. Great historical perspective on pioneering women in remote northern Australia and their relationships with stockmen, aboriginals, Chinese cooks and the land. Some of the terms would be considered racist these days but they're not meant insultingly at all. E.g. Lubras for aboriginal women and boys for aboriginal men.
Mrs Gunn was an entertaining writing in an interesting place with a good sense of humour and lots of tales to tell. Worth the read for the bush slang alone!

[Yvette Adams · Rating 3 out of 5]

In 1902 a young bride moves to a very remote property in the Northern Territory with her new husband. The language was a bit tough but their remoteness made for some interesting content, like the postman's tough journey which he only did 6 times at year, trying to work out for themselves when Easter Sunday was, their many visitors passing through. I love the romantic title, and the name of one chapter "Mostly Verandas and Promises" which is the description of the tiny house.

[Simone · Rating 2 out of 5]

Even though I loved the story (seen the movie many moons ago) the language was a little bit of struggle for me. (Dare I admit it, but I borrowed the movie on Netflix and rewatched it instead of finishing the book).