Abraham Quin is in his mid-seventies, a migrant, thrice-divorced, a one-time postman and professor, a writer now living alone in the Adelaide Hills. In Chinese Postman he reflects on his life with what he calls ‘the mannered and meditative inaction of age’, offering up memories and anxieties, obsessions and opinions, his thoughts on solitude, writing, friendship and time. He ranges widely, with curiosity and feeling, digressing and changing direction as suits his experience, and his role as a collector of fragments and a surveyor of ruins. He becomes increasingly engaged in an epistolary correspondence with Iryna Zarebina, a woman seeking refuge from the war in Ukraine.
As the correspondence opens him to others, the elaboration of his memories tempers his melancholy with a playful enjoyment in the richness of language, and a renewed appreciation of the small events in nature. This understanding of the experience of old age is something new and important in our literature. As Quin comments, ‘In Australia, the old made way for the young. It guaranteed a juvenile legacy.’
Brian Castro was born in Hong Kong in 1950 of Portuguese, Chinese and English parents. He was sent to boarding school in Australia in 1961 (1962, Oakhill College, Castle Hill / 1963-67, St Joseph's College, Hunter's Hill.). He attended the University of Sydney from 1968-71 and won the Sydney University short story competition in 1970. He gained his BA Dip.Ed. in 1972 and his MA in 1976 from Sydney University.
He was joint winner of the Australian/Vogel literary award for his first novel Birds of Passage (1983), which has been translated into French and Chinese. This was followed by Pomeroy (1990), Double-Wolf (1991), winner of The Age Fiction Prize, the Victorian Premier's Innovatory Writing Award and the Vance Palmer Prize for Fiction, and subsequently After China (1992), which again won the Vance Palmer Prize for Fiction at the 1993 Victorian Premier's Awards. This was also subsequently translated into French and Chinese. His fifth novel, Drift, was published in July 1994. His sixth novel Stepper won the 1997 National Book Council 'Banjo' Prize for fiction. In 1999 he published a collection of essays, Looking For Estrellita (University of Queensland Press). In 2003 Giramondo published his 'fictional autobiography', Shanghai Dancing, which won the Vance Palmer Prize at the 2003 Victorian Premier's Awards, the Christina Stead Prize at the 2004 NSW Premier’s Awards and was named the NSW Premier’s Book of the Year. His most recent novel, The Garden Book, published by Giramondo in 2005, was shortlisted for the 2006 Miles Franklin Literary Award and won the Queensland Premier's Prize for Fiction.
Brian Castro has worked in Australia, France and Hong Kong as a teacher and writer, and for several years was a literary reviewer for Asiaweek magazine. He wrote the text for The Lingerie Catalogue, a collaborative project with photomonteur Peter Lyssiotis. Castro also contributed the text Stones for Al-Kitab for a limited edition work by Peter Lyssiotis entitled A Gardener At Midnight, produced in 2004.
Brian Castro currently divides his time between Adelaide and Melbourne.
Two of his novels, Pomeroy and Stepper (Stepper, oder Die Kunst der Spionage) have been published in German by Klett Cotta. His novel After China (L’Architecte Chinois), was published by Editions de L’Aube in France in 2003.
Did not enjoy this but had a look as it was shortlisted for the Miles Franklin Award 2025. It reads more like a diary of events and his life but I did enjoy the first half better than the second half.
Abraham Quin lives in Adelaide and is in his mid 70s. A Chinese migrant who was married 3 times and divorced each time. It’s about his memories and people he’s befriended over the years. There were too many big words that I felt were unnecessary to the story. I found myself looking up meanings to understand what the author was trying to convey but I just confused myself more which I guess is when I began to lose interest.
It wasn’t the best of times, it wasn’t the worst of times but definitely not the happiest of times. The book reads more like an exercise in clever abstraction than an attempt to tell a well-crafted story. Quin, the protagonist, is at once human and extreme. He's not always likable, but believable enough. His drinking, health issues, and uncertain online relationship with a Ukrainian woman provide through lines, yet they’re constantly chopped up by fragmented scenes and abrupt POV shifts.
At moments, if you isolate segments and ignore others, a worthwhile story peeks through. But a reader shouldn’t have to do that heavy lifting. Instead, the book leans into experiment for experiment’s sake. It’s hard to imagine it would have gained much notice without the Miles Franklin Award elevating it.
As you can see in my thoughts about Blindness and Rage, a Phantasmagoria (2007) and other reviews of Brian Castro's books, I have never let my limitations as a reader get in the way of reading his books before. In the case of Chinese Postman (2024) it's because although I finished it, I didn't feel inclined to invest the time to read it properly and prefer to direct would-be readers to more erudite reviews...
Late in Michael Winkler's review on the ABR podcast, he identifies the first of my dissatisfactions about Chinese Postman. Amongst other discontents about the indignities of ageing, there is a great deal of scatological content and I wasn't interested. Winkler doesn't comment on the passages about drinking too much, but there was far too much of that as well. I skipped these musings time and again as they interfered with my reading of an otherwise mostly enjoyable novel.
#Digression 1: Is it a novel? Giramondo categorises it as such, but I suspect that Castro wouldn't since (like Rodney Hall in Vortex) Castro in Chinese Postman is deliberately playing with form, using a few throughlines to pull together disparate fragments of melancholy musings about all sorts of things.
I also skipped the ongoing throughline about an email correspondence with a woman from Ukraine. It's not clear whether her emails originate with a scammer or not. In the review at The Conversation Tony Hughes-d'Aeth wonders whether she is a gifted chatbot? The confection of Russian fraudsters? and I wondered why he didn't suspect a Ukrainian fraudster. Or a Chinese one? Or one like the Nigerian one in I Do Not Come to You by Chance (2009) by Adaobi Tricia Nwaubani? How quickly things have degenerated into Cold War binaries!
Anyway too much of what's in Chinese Postman is content about the current war and I didn't want to read it. I can read all I want to about that in the media, and it was soon apparent that Castro's contribution is just as partisan as anything else I can access to read.
I’m a contemporary of the writer whose work I have been following from the time of his Vogel Book Prize in 1983 - noting always how his life and experiences are woven through his writing - as if viewed through a shard of crystal - like his life - but distorted/illuminated differently. This book is stunning. Read it.
3.5 stars. A novel about an old Chinese man’s reflections of his past and issues that are of interest to him. His thoughts on writing, living in Australia, solitude, and his relationships. He was married three times.
I particularly enjoyed the first half of the novel. There is little plot or character development. A slow meditative read.
This book was shortlisted for the 2025 Miles Franklin Award.
This book has been shortlisted for the Miles Franklin Literary Award in 2025. I did not enjoy it. There are a lot of big words used, seemingly to bamboozle the reader into thinking clever things are being said. Upon further reflection, though, these “clever” statements are not particularly clever at all. The character whose head we are in is not likeable, so it wasn’t a fun time wandering through his meandering thoughts. All in all, this was a disappointing read that felt like a slog to get through. Onwards and hopefully upwards for the rest of the MFLA shortlisted books! 2.5 stars
This book was the worst. So pretentious and made no sense. I genuinely tried to understand it but honestly it was just the dementia induced rantings of a horny self obsessed ex professor.
Found this a very difficult read - not much story, more the musings of a recluse at the end of their life. Lots of philosophizing, but very low on any plot. Seemed self indulgent by the author. There were some interesting parts about the war in Ukraine, but the central reason for his interest in the war goes unresolved.
This book is beautifully written, in Castro’s inimitable style, but I struggled to get through it. There is no real plot, it is a series of musings of the main character, Quin, who seems to be a fairly close facsimile of Castro himself—Quin is a retired academic and author who once worked as a bicycle postman living in the Adelaide Hills. There are no chapters. The whole thing is sort of held together by a thread where Quin is corresponding with a Ukrainian woman throughout the war with Russia and trying to get her to come and stay with him in Australia after her husband is captured by the Russians in the surrender at the Azovstal Steel Works.
Each part is interesting and written very well but it just got tiresome where nothing is really happening. The whole adds up to less than the sum of its parts.
I like books with stories. Found this to be more a collection of thoughts of an old man. A stage for author to use lots of big words and his literary knowledge as the character, Abraham Quin, reflects on his life and what it is like to be old and seeking to alleviate his anxieties after retirement. I completed the book because I do enjoy big words but spent a lot of time checking meanings and was interested in author’s perspective on old age since I am getting there myself. It did not give me reason to hope!
I can see what this novel was trying to do. But it didn't do it for me.
The fragmented narrative, the playing with the question of what is true. Unreliable memories. Old touchstones and modern crises. Somehow, I clocked it all. But I was distanced from it, I didn't feel. And maybe that's my failing...
An old man reflects on life. The narrative jumps around in content and ideas from sentence to sentence, and switches from 1st to 3rd and occasionally 2nd person perspective. I actuall kind of liked the experimental style and didn't dislike the book, but I felt like I'd read enough to get an idea of it and didn't need to finish.