The Empty Honour Board

by Martin Flanagan

In 1966, at the age of 10, Martin Flanagan was sent to a Catholic boarding school in north-west Tasmania. Of the 12 priests on the staff, three have since gone to prison for sexual crimes committed against boys in their care. In 2018 and 2019, a series of disclosures about the school appeared on the ABC Tasmania website. Then came the Pell case. What followed was a frenzy of opinions, none of which represented Flanagan's view.

The Empty Honour Board is part memoir, a reflection on truth and memory, and what is lost in rushing to judgement.

Flanagan's school abounds in memorable characters. There's a kid who escapes and gets as far as Surfers Paradise, and two boys who hold a competition during evening chapel to see who can confess more times. A wild boy receives a 'Bradmanesque' 234 strokes of the cane in one year.

It is a lonely and, at times, scary existence - as while the boys are victims of violence, they are also perpetrators. Drawn to neither the school nor its religion, Flanagan discovers himself through sport, later becoming known as one of Australia's most creative sportswriters.

But his boarding days linger. In his first three years at the school, he'd faced a series of adult moral challenges. Not being an adult, he had failed - in his own estimation. This becomes of great consequence in his 20s when his wife is about to have their first child. A major reckoning with his past, however, leaves him with his ambition as a writer.

A prison diary, a story of brotherly love, a journey of redemption, Flanagan's book goes inside an experience many have had, but few have talked about.

Genres: Memoir, Nonfiction, Audiobook

Audible Audio

Published July 25, 2023

About the author

Martin Flanagan is the author of twenty books, a play and two movie treatments. He is one of Australia’s most respected sports journalists and wrote for The Age from 1985 to 2017.

Reviews

[Margaret Galbraith · Rating 5 out of 5]

1966-71 was when Martin attended as a boarder at a Catholic school in Tasmania. That was around the same time I was at Airdrie Academy in Scotland and I thought our school was strict!!

I heard Martin’s talk at Adelaide Writer’s Week in March this year and was shocked by some of his memories of his time at school from an almost 11 year old young boy. I just had to read his book to find out more. It’s not an easy read and he came off relatively unscathed apart from canings but some of those young boys suffered terribly. I cannot begin to understand why these priests think it’s ok to traumatise young boys in their care. But worst of all was Martin’s mother saying he’d say anything to discredit the church! She knew Martin as a non believer in religion but to not believe abuse seen by your young son is beyond comprehension.

At least some of those priests have now been brought to justice but for some of those boys it’s not enough as they have a life sentence. Some committed suicide as they could not cope with the shame of it all but sadly we are or were all brought up to respect and trust authority. This book was about authority gone wrong in the most heinous way.

Brother two Richard Flanagan but a great writer in his own way.

[Lorraine]

THE EMPTY HONOUR BOARD a school memoir by Martin Flanagan is published by Penguin Random House in July 2023
Review by Lorraine Parker
This is a memoir written straight from the heart, and straight from the mind, as far as Flanagan’s memory permits. I became really engrossed in his story. However, in his early account I could only glean snippets of his life as Flanagan ‘jumps’ all over many topics reflecting, at time his chaotic thoughts.
There is no chronological order which, for me, makes for the true feeling of wandering memories triggered by a plethora of incidents, interactions and people.
At the age of 10 Martin was sent to boarding school. However, even by this age Martin felt that he, “had history” and was not a, “blank canvas”. His young life in Tasmania was very interesting, with Catholicism underpinning his families values. So much so that on one home visit, when he tried to tell his mother about what a priest / teacher did to a 12 year old boy his mother became very upset saying, you’ll do nothing to discredit the Church.” (Is this not a common attitude of that time!) His ‘war’ over religion continued with his mother, to the point where he was eventually asked to leave home. Martin reveals an in depth understanding and acceptance of her feelings and action.
For me, there were no real surprises in his boarding school life, which, in many ways had similarities to other school lives with reliance on the cane as punishment. However, school yard bullying was more prevalent and extreme. (No wonder living in the same environment 24 hours a day). Martin was witness to extreme bullying but was a quiet onlooker. (Aware that something should be done for the victim) Yes, at boarding school, Martin witnessed so much bizarre behaviour from not one but many of the priests. It was not unusual for boys being called, at night, to the room of a priest for punishment re their behaviour (in their pyjamas). To Tim, this was not so very odd but something he himself was so very lucky to avoid, remembering only the one incident where he was ‘touched’.
Martin’s older brother, Tim, and Martin’s sport seem to have been a ‘saviour’ to him. To me, it was his own unique personality and ‘in-built’ coping mechanisms that shielded him.
It is only half way through his memoir that Martin reveals that he actually was affected by his boarding school years. To quote, “my reckoning with my boarding school years came soon after we wed (to Polly)…. I was waking with night terrors and having panic attacks at night”. (I could not help thinking that he now felt safe and secure in his marriage and allowed these long buried feelings to surface). The following pages are fascinating. His honesty, transparency and life experience, make his writing profound.
I loved and admired his connection and experience with our aboriginal people.
His schools 25th Anniversary in the early 1980’s provide a riveting culmination to that time, as well as for many others who attended from his boarding school days. A unique read that will provoke thought and for so many readers, their own memories.

[Jan · Rating 5 out of 5]

Reaches Martin Flanagan’s usual high standard emphasising his unique empathy and honesty. This time the topic is of child sexual abuse within the Catholic boys-only school Flanagan attended from 1966 - 1971.

[Tony Neilson · Rating 5 out of 5]

As someone who attended the “school on the hill” a few years after Martin did, his account of his time there really struck home. There were still some priests there that Martin refers to, and still other new abusers arrived during my time. His observations of the school, his fellow students and the environment they had to survive in, are beautifully drawn, and I’m glad he was able to also recount the more recent attempts to recognise and address the harm that was done to generations of students.

A challenging and necessary book. A shame that it had to be written at all, but so glad it was someone like Martin Flanagan who was able to do so.

[Georgie · Rating 5 out of 5]

I had the privilege of attending a launch/QandA for this important text. Martin spoke with such honesty and empathy and I was deeply moved by the experience. I decided to listen to the audiobook for this memoir because I wanted to recapture that feeling of listening to Martin's distinct voice, style and tone. I love his graciousness, candor, humour, heart and overall reflection. Some of this text is deeply troubling and very relevant in light of so many convictions and commissions into institutional sexual abuse. It's important, for Tasmanian communities, Australian communities, really everyone. The weaving of the sporting references throughout was also beautifully handled.

[Sarah · Rating 5 out of 5]

I found this book deeply moving. As a history teacher, as a person who cherishes and respects the stories that get lost in time - the good, the bad and the ugly, as a person touched in an immensely positive way by my high school experience, I found this book wrenched at my heart. It is written in a way that is inviting, engaging and deeply respectful of a topic that is hard to talk about and hard to envisage, a bit disconcerting in its matter-of-fact style at times. Hats off to you Martin Flanagan, for telling a story worth telling.

[Cassie · Rating 4 out of 5]

An interesting, scarring, read. Kids in the Catholic Church, need I say more. Flanagan writes like the journalist he is - objective and to the point. With parts of his wider life story along the way, this memoir Is disturbing and brilliant.

[Jillwilson]

I feel uncomfortable attaching a rating to this book because it is so deeply personal. I read it straight after reading Annie Ernaux’s book ‘A Single Girl’ and the two books could not be more different - although both explore the impact of shame, and both are written by older people looking back at a specific part of their early lives.

I was interested in this book because I heard Martin being interviewed on Conversations and it was about as raw and honest a conversation as I have heard on radio. And I went to boarding school – but I wasn’t as young as he was when he was “sent away”(my term) and it wasn’t a Catholic boy’s boarding school.

Between the ages of 10 and 16, Martin Flanagan was a boarder at a Catholic high school, which he chooses not to name, in northern Tasmania. The period was the 1960s and early 70s. The school was run by an order of priests. Large dormitories, a pecking order, bullying and the vulnerability of being away from family – Flanagan explores all of these elements really well. I was lucky in the place I went and the cohort of girls that I was with. It was hard being away from home but we did not have the added layer of brutality inflicted by particular priests who routinely handed out canings to students. Some were also sexual abusers of the boys. Flanagan quotes George Orwell’s experience of boarding school (where a riding crop broke when he was being beaten by the man running the school). “Orwell describes ‘a sense of desolate loneliness and helplessness’. That’s me in third year.”

Flanagan writes in first person, reaching back into his memories, checking with his brother who as there at the same time - to enable the reader to see what it might have been like. There is deep shame in this story – the shame of being a bystander or part of the crew that stands by when someone is bullied. It is no surprise that Lord of the Flies is referenced quite a bit in the book. There is also courage when in his final year, Flanagan and two other boys speak up for a boy who has been sexually assaulted by a priest.

It was after a third priest from his time at the school was convicted of sexual crimes that he began this memoir. It was 2019, George Pell’s guilty verdict was being challenged in the High Court, and the issue of paedophile priests – and the impacts on victims’ lives – was alive in the media.

There’s a kind of irony sitting over the story in that Flangan’s father fought in World War 2 and was captured by the Japanese and forced to work on the Burma railway. He would have returned to what he might have hoped to be a safe place to raise a family – rural Tasmania. But the school he sends his sons to, and the religion that is a strong part of his wife’s faith – are actively dangerous places for many children and young people. There is a kindness in this book: Flanagan does not resent his parents for sending him to the school or for doubting him when he told them what he had witnessed there. He is generous towards other boys who bullied him, and to the priests. About the latter, he writes about the loneliness and lack of intimacy available to priests displaced in a small rural environment – with food almost as bad as that given to the students. This is not to excuse what some priests did – but to ensure (I think) that judgements are made with understanding.

Flanagan asks his brother: “Doesn’t it strike you as strange that lots of people who weren’t at our school are certain they know what happened there, and you and I were there and we’re not?” He emphasises: “I speak for no-one but myself”. However, the voices of survivors are threaded through the novel as Flanagan talks with some of the former students who were assaulted by priests. And the book ends with a Ritual of Lament in Burnie in 2021. (This is recorded on YouTube.) It is moving to watch survivor Peter Dwyer, flanked by his wife, talk about his reactions. He says of the reaction of the college and wider Catholic institution: “I hear words like “walking together” and “listening” but struggle with their meaning”. Flanagan writes: “His speech had been a mighty effort. It was like he rolled a boulder away from in front of a cave; people looked inside the cave and saw a soul’s torment.”

Great title/metaphor BTW and Michael McGirr really sums up the book well in his review in The Age: “The Empty Honour Board is possibly the most wise and insightful book to so far emerge from the mangled mess of child sexual abuse in Catholic institutions. It is marked by Martin Flanagan’s characteristic vulnerability and deep questioning.” (https://www.smh.com.au/culture/books/...)

[Sean · Rating 5 out of 5]

A tremendous memoir. I’d had no interaction with Flanagan’s work before I picked up this book. I read most of it in one gripping sitting. His writing is so open and moving that I feel gifted with the honour of reading it, like being trusted with a secret by a dear friend. It moves quickly, speeding through memories in a chaotic yet organised way, clearly in line with the author’s reflections on formative memories (followed by reflections on how he first reflected on them, which are some of the most tender and sad moments). Thank you Martin.

[Susan Wishart · Rating 2 out of 5]

My rating of this biography by Martin Flanagan reflects it's style and literary value rather than it's content. A look back to his school days, from eight to sixteen years old, as a boarder in a Tasmanian Catholic school decades ago, is a very regrettable part of our history. The physical, emotional and sexual abuse of young boys by the men in charge of their welfare and education is darkly disturbing. The legacy of these years has left many men with deep emotional scars.
Flanagan deserves praise for bringing this story into the light.

[Margaret · Rating 5 out of 5]

Powerful honest and somewhat scary. Sad for the boys subjected to awful abuse by those who were in a position of power.

[Kate Denny · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book will sit with me for a long time and is not what I was expecting on many levels. It is a book that has helped me understand why so many people who have gone to boarding school, even 30/40/50 years later, are so viscerally impacted by their time at these "institutions". There is a paragraph in the book that hit me particularly hard:

"Kevin reads from notes: 'We are often conditioned to see sexual abuse as violent ... it's more often a complicity gained through loyalty and the violation is experienced as tender, seductive and arousing sexual play ... I never felt scared or strange.'"

[Grace Djakic · Rating 5 out of 5]

I think anyone who wore the words “love the truth” on a blazer for 6 years (myself included) needs to read this. Exceptionally honest, and important.

[Sharon Albanese · Rating 4 out of 5]

A fascinating memoir from one of Australia's best known sports writers, here addressing ghosts from his past. The memoir centres on his experiences at a Catholic boarding school in the 1960s in Tasmania, which was subsequently the subject of a court case due to on going sexual abuse of the students who attended the school. Flanagan writes with great empathy and compassion, and brings in the stories of many of his peers, some of whom suffered terribly at the hands of the priests and in some cases, other students at the school. The effects of this experience have obviously been long lasting and extremely traumatic for many of the boys who attended the school. One small quibble- I would have liked Flanagan to go into some more detail about his own experiences -he tended towards a type of stream of conscientiousness style of writing, resulting in a disjointed feel which jumped back and forth between the present day and his school days. It was difficult to get a full grasp on the impact that staying at the school had on Flanagan- he seemed to hedge around the issue quite often, telling the experiences of his contemporaries rather than his own.
It's hard to imagine those years, not so long ago, when the boys had to suffer so much abuse and seemed to have no voice. Not only was there abuse by the adults but also many of the boys endured bullying at the hands of other students. The priests often came across as completely clueless as to how to handle many of the situations they needed to deal with, and how could they, considering they had no experience of life beyond the priesthood?
This memoir is very raw and uncompromising, and brutally honest. I admire Flanagan's courage in telling this story and understand his need to do so. I just wish he had focused a little more on himself. But maybe that explains the character of this man.

[Jennifer (JC-S) · Rating 4 out of 5]

‘This is another realm of storytelling we’re entering, talking about events that happened 50-odd years ago involving three molten forces – sex, religion and adolescence.’

I bought a copy of this book when it was first released but put off reading it afraid of where it might take me. Which boarding school, I wondered, and which priests were convicted? My first question was prompted by curiosity, my second by dread. As it happens, ‘the school on the hill’ is in a part of Tasmania I am very familiar with. And I am relieved that none of the priests convicted are any I was aware of.

From the book cover: ‘In 1966, at the age of 10, Martin Flanagan was sent to a Catholic boarding school in north-west Tasmania. Of the 12 priests on the staff, three have since gone to prison for sexual crimes committed against boys in their care. In 2018 and 2019, a series of disclosures about the school appeared on the ABC Tasmania website.’

I cannot comment on Martin Flanagan’s memoir, except to say how much I admire him for writing it. As I read, I travelled with him around Tasmania. I have my own memories of places like York Park and some of the Australian Rules Football teams and players mentioned. In a way, these memories make this book harder to read. Why? I am a year younger than Martin Flanagan and we inhabited a similar Tasmania. Where boarding school was a necessity for him to receive secondary education (as it still was for so many Tasmanian students when I left the island in 1974), I hope that most experiences were less traumatic.

There’s a dignified grace in Martin Flanagan’s account, in his acknowledgement that the fact that although he did not witness some of the events recounted by others this did not mean that they did not happen. Sadly, lives have been (and continue to be) destroyed by an adversarial system which focusses on an absence of proof as proof of absence.

I finished this book glad that Martin Flanagan had the strength to write it and that in doing so he was able to help himself and others.

Jennifer Cameron-Smith

[Kris McCracken · Rating 4 out of 5]

Martin Flanagan's The Empty Honour Board is a courageous and moving memoir of his time at Marist College in Burnie, Tasmania in the 1960s, where he experienced physical and sexual abuse. It is also a story of resilience and hope, as Flanagan writes about the friendships he formed with his fellow students and the healing process he has undergone since leaving the school. An important book that sheds light on a dark chapter in Tasmanian history.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ 1/2

[Anne Green · Rating 4 out of 5]

During the course of this memoir, Martin Flanagan returns to the scene of his old boarding school, where it was later learned many of the priests sexually interfered with the students (himself included). It's a compelling and honest retelling of his past and also his part in what happened, one that gives him a better understanding of his own emotional and psychological development and how it was shaped by those early years. He questions much received wisdom in regard to institutional sexual abuse and in doing so offers alternative points of view. Thought provoking, compassionate and deeply moving.

[Susan McDonald · Rating 5 out of 5]

Compelling, honest, non-sensationalised, and sensitive. This is a weighty topic and an authentic and genuine attempt to examine and reflect on institutions of bygone eras, the world that shaped them, and the impact they had on people. Flanagan's fluent incorporation of, and poignant reference to, narratives such as 'Lord of the Flies' and the concept of fear, as a human behaviour driver, give much food for thought. Less of an examination of sexual abuse within institutions, and more of a voicing of lived experience which casts the harshness of boarding-school life into the spotlight.

[James Webb · Rating 4 out of 5]

A great book that details some of the systemic failings in the Tasmanian boarding Catholic school system. The way Martin Flanagan records and recounts the experience that the boys went through is at times funny and at other times heart-rending.
Some of stories are very evocative and ring very true, something that seems important to his story. At times, the book seems to readily switch from a thread to another and I wish there were some more space given to some particular people and moments.
A worthwhile book that reveals a lot of the time, the place and the writer.

[Chris · Rating 5 out of 5]

Honest and open memoir on the author’s years in a Catholic boarding school, that was cursed with priests that preyed on students sexually. The author was not one of those students that was sexually assaulted, although he had a narrow escape. The memoir is a chance for him to reflect on his own behaviour as well as those of fellow students and the priests. All round not a schooling that any student should have to go through.

[Shontelle · Rating 2 out of 5]

2.5 stars
I didn't really jive with this style of memoir and much of the book felt irrelevant to the school and abuse that happened there. I think the marketing doesn't do this book any favours and would be more accurate if you went into this expecting a memoir rather than a narration of abuse. I also found a few topics discussed to be handled in odd ways and I don't know how I feel about that yet.

[Garry Ahrns · Rating 4 out of 5]

A book well worth reading, it has added value to my own understanding of abuse in the Catholic Church, and i would think also adds to the community commentary in a positive way.

It didn't seem to flow well for me, a bit disjointed, but that did not stop Martins story coming through.

There are some of his thoughts (assertions, suggestions) that don't sit well with me. But it is his story not mine.

[Donna · Rating 2 out of 5]

DNF. I read about 2/3 of this but then it lost my interest. The author seemed to stand at a distance from most of story he telling, and I couldn't work out what he was trying to tell us, what was his point.
Via audio

[Jim Sullivan · Rating 4 out of 5]

4.5*

Martin's description of boarding school mirrors my experience in the late 1960's and early 1970's. The punishment and bullying as articulated by Martin are so precise, capturing not just the events but also the emotional feel of the time. I also related to escapism through humorous rebellion events and sport.

I thought "flaps" fared better than most, and opening up is so courageous and strong.

The torment of being an audience to bullying and then a chorus was only too real for me as is the subsequent guilt having a lifelong impact.

Leaving home as a child to a penal environment on one hand and existing in a "Lord of the Flies" environment on the other, hardens and shapes who you are in adult life.

I am sure that Martin had reasons to camouflage some of the names of the priests, but the students of the time know exactly who they were. Martin's reference to Eric, not enjoying corporal punishment, and administering it anyway is also the impression I had. His nickname "Beat" suggests this impression was not universally held.

Revisiting this time by reading Martin's book, has not been an awful experience though. The sprinkling of humorous anecdotes and his compassion to victims, and even forgiveness to perpetrators, is enlightening and helpful to me to make sense of those years.

Beautifully written.

When I rate a book, I round down.

My criteria are:
5.0 - Amazing
4.5 - I loved it
4.0 - I liked it a lot
3.5 - I Liked it
3.0 - It was OK
2.5 - Just
2.0 - I wouldn't bother
1.5 - I didn't like it much

[Margaret · Rating 4 out of 5]

Ebook. Martin Flanagan’s writing is the utmost in objectivity and that is needed for this story. How can we know people unless we know their history? “To love the Truth” will set us free, as this book does. No answers, just truth that needs to be told and has been.

[Tori · Rating 3 out of 5]

A brief memoir focusing mostly on sport and school experiences. Although the blurb on the back seems to highlight the authors time at a Catholic school where abuse occurred, the memoir is mostly about everything else. Well written overall.

[Kathie Gardner · Rating 5 out of 5]

Honest moving account of his time at catholic boarding school in Tasmania during late 1060s

[Ann Koenig · Rating 4 out of 5]

Bit harrowing

[Tim Waters · Rating 5 out of 5]

Raw and revealing, and always unflinching in its honesty.

[Amos O'Henry · Rating 4 out of 5]

Enjoyed this book even with the jerky, jump about style. Close to the heart, well done for writing it.