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The Crying Place
A stunning literary debut that takes the reader into the mysteries and truths that lie at the heart of our country.
In the rear vision, the road was golden and straight and even, its length making sense of the sky, of the vast black cloud that was set to engulf it. I pulled over and got out. Stared at it, this gleaming snake - where I'd been, where it was going. The route that Jed had once taken.
After years of travelling, Saul is trying to settle down. But one night he receives the devastating news of the death of his oldest friend, Jed, recently returned from working in a remote Aboriginal community. Saul's discovery in Jed's belongings of a photo of a woman convinces him that she may hold the answers to Jed's fate. So he heads out on a journey into the heart of the Australian desert to find the truth, setting in motion a powerful story about the landscapes that shape us and the ghosts that lay their claim.
The Crying Place is a haunting, luminous novel about love, country, and the varied ways in which we grieve. In its unflinching portrayal of the borderlands where worlds come together, and the past and present overlap, it speaks of the places and moments that bind us. The myths that draw us in. And, ultimately, the ways in which we find our way home.
In the rear vision, the road was golden and straight and even, its length making sense of the sky, of the vast black cloud that was set to engulf it. I pulled over and got out. Stared at it, this gleaming snake - where I'd been, where it was going. The route that Jed had once taken.
After years of travelling, Saul is trying to settle down. But one night he receives the devastating news of the death of his oldest friend, Jed, recently returned from working in a remote Aboriginal community. Saul's discovery in Jed's belongings of a photo of a woman convinces him that she may hold the answers to Jed's fate. So he heads out on a journey into the heart of the Australian desert to find the truth, setting in motion a powerful story about the landscapes that shape us and the ghosts that lay their claim.
The Crying Place is a haunting, luminous novel about love, country, and the varied ways in which we grieve. In its unflinching portrayal of the borderlands where worlds come together, and the past and present overlap, it speaks of the places and moments that bind us. The myths that draw us in. And, ultimately, the ways in which we find our way home.
480 pages, Paperback
Published March 1, 2017
16 people are currently reading
377 people want to read
About the author
Lia Hills
7 books27 followersLia Hills is a poet, novelist and translator. Her work has been published, translated and performed in countries as varied as Japan, Switzerland and the US.
Lia’s latest novel, The Crying Place, is due for release with Allen and Unwin in March 2017. Recipient of a Creative Victoria grant in 2012 for her work on the novel, Lia has travelled regularly to the centre of Australia to research and write The Crying Place, set partly in Pitjantjatjara country. As part of the process, Lia stayed in Aboriginal communities and began learning the Pitjantjatjara language.
Her debut young adult novel, The Beginner’s Guide to Living received starred reviews and was shortlisted for the Victorian, Queensland and Western Australian Premiers’ Literary Awards, and the NZ Post Book Awards, among others. Her novel was translated into several languages and sold into numerous countries, including Germany, Brazil and the US (Farrer, Straus & Giroux), where it was released into the adult, young adult and crossover markets.
Lia’s translation of Marie Darrieussecq’s acclaimed novel, Tom is Dead, from French to English, was described as ‘a text as powerful as the original’ (The Monthly). Following its successful reception, Lia was asked to teach a double-Masters class in literary translation at Monash University, a joint venture with Jean Moulin University (Lyon).
Upon the release of her first poetry collection, the possibility of flight, both the collection and individual poems garnered awards. Her work as poet also includes the widely-praised Moving Galleries, a poetry/art project on Melbourne’s train network. Co-initiator, Lia worked with the project from its inception, and was appointed director when the project became an independent entity in 2011.
Lia lives with her family in the hills outside Melbourne, where she works full-time as a writer, often observed by birds.
Lia’s latest novel, The Crying Place, is due for release with Allen and Unwin in March 2017. Recipient of a Creative Victoria grant in 2012 for her work on the novel, Lia has travelled regularly to the centre of Australia to research and write The Crying Place, set partly in Pitjantjatjara country. As part of the process, Lia stayed in Aboriginal communities and began learning the Pitjantjatjara language.
Her debut young adult novel, The Beginner’s Guide to Living received starred reviews and was shortlisted for the Victorian, Queensland and Western Australian Premiers’ Literary Awards, and the NZ Post Book Awards, among others. Her novel was translated into several languages and sold into numerous countries, including Germany, Brazil and the US (Farrer, Straus & Giroux), where it was released into the adult, young adult and crossover markets.
Lia’s translation of Marie Darrieussecq’s acclaimed novel, Tom is Dead, from French to English, was described as ‘a text as powerful as the original’ (The Monthly). Following its successful reception, Lia was asked to teach a double-Masters class in literary translation at Monash University, a joint venture with Jean Moulin University (Lyon).
Upon the release of her first poetry collection, the possibility of flight, both the collection and individual poems garnered awards. Her work as poet also includes the widely-praised Moving Galleries, a poetry/art project on Melbourne’s train network. Co-initiator, Lia worked with the project from its inception, and was appointed director when the project became an independent entity in 2011.
Lia lives with her family in the hills outside Melbourne, where she works full-time as a writer, often observed by birds.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 69 reviews
July 1, 2017
4.5★s
“No matter where I’d travelled, what city or village I’d landed in, Jed was either there in person or in spirit. Even in absentia, he was more present than most of the people around me. I couldn’t explain it, had rarely felt the need to – it would be like trying to rationalise the wind or the stars. But Jed was a fact I could no longer rely on. I was on my own now. And. It was becoming gallingly clear to me, I was not equipped.”
The Crying Place is the second novel by Australian poet, novelist and translator, Lia Hills. When Saul learns of his friend’s suicide, he sets off on a sort of pilgrimage: a trek into the Australian desert to find Nara, the woman Jed had described as “his country”, and to try to understand what had pushed his friend to this awful act.
His search is, by no means, straightforward, and the answers not necessarily those he seeks. Saul’s journey is as much an introspective one, exhuming from within memories of earlier times with Jed, and he has “a sense in that moment – just as I had that night by the river – that there was a gaping truth at the heart of his words. That somehow he had access to the future in a way I never would.”
As Saul connects with the place and the people, wise words and good advice are offered: “All you gotta do is take a walk out there beyond the gap and you’ll come up with a hundred new types of divinity before sunset. But me, you know what I found? I found people, and some good ones at that. The kind who’ll let a man fumble for words when he sees something he doesn’t understand, and allow him his silence when saying nothing is about as much as he can manage”
He remembers: “You were always the first to jump. Your feet would grip the edge of the rock, our breath held collectively as the clouds parted and the river swelled. You never looked – you knew the water was there, trusted it would catch you, no matter what – always leapt with your hands high above your head as if, in case of error, you might climb your way back up the sky”
Hills gives the reader a feast of beautiful and evocative descriptive prose: “The sky was so congested with stars that it was more a city than a place revealed by our distance from one, the stars so luminous that they fell into relief against the dark spaces between them” and “… a man with a wiry beard and deep creases in his face as chronometric as tree rings” and “He looked about eleven or twelve, on the threshold of adolescence, everything about him liminal: the scrawniness of his arms that ended in man-size hands; the angle he walked oriented to the sun, his shadow minimised” are examples.
This novel explores love and grief and also highlights the importance to indigenous people of connection to place, of rituals like sorry camp, of not saying the deceased’s name, of ancient myths and of being “on country”. While in the first instance, the meaning of indigenous words is explained, a glossary of Pitjantjatjara words would have been handy.
It’s a serious tale but not without humour. Anyone who had White forced on them in high school can relate to this: “I browsed through the fiction box… A clutch of Patrick Whites. I hadn’t read White since uni, where I’d treated him like eating bony fish – good for you but just too much work”. Within this gorgeous cover is contained a moving and thought-provoking tale that will stay with the reader long after the last page is turned
“No matter where I’d travelled, what city or village I’d landed in, Jed was either there in person or in spirit. Even in absentia, he was more present than most of the people around me. I couldn’t explain it, had rarely felt the need to – it would be like trying to rationalise the wind or the stars. But Jed was a fact I could no longer rely on. I was on my own now. And. It was becoming gallingly clear to me, I was not equipped.”
The Crying Place is the second novel by Australian poet, novelist and translator, Lia Hills. When Saul learns of his friend’s suicide, he sets off on a sort of pilgrimage: a trek into the Australian desert to find Nara, the woman Jed had described as “his country”, and to try to understand what had pushed his friend to this awful act.
His search is, by no means, straightforward, and the answers not necessarily those he seeks. Saul’s journey is as much an introspective one, exhuming from within memories of earlier times with Jed, and he has “a sense in that moment – just as I had that night by the river – that there was a gaping truth at the heart of his words. That somehow he had access to the future in a way I never would.”
As Saul connects with the place and the people, wise words and good advice are offered: “All you gotta do is take a walk out there beyond the gap and you’ll come up with a hundred new types of divinity before sunset. But me, you know what I found? I found people, and some good ones at that. The kind who’ll let a man fumble for words when he sees something he doesn’t understand, and allow him his silence when saying nothing is about as much as he can manage”
He remembers: “You were always the first to jump. Your feet would grip the edge of the rock, our breath held collectively as the clouds parted and the river swelled. You never looked – you knew the water was there, trusted it would catch you, no matter what – always leapt with your hands high above your head as if, in case of error, you might climb your way back up the sky”
Hills gives the reader a feast of beautiful and evocative descriptive prose: “The sky was so congested with stars that it was more a city than a place revealed by our distance from one, the stars so luminous that they fell into relief against the dark spaces between them” and “… a man with a wiry beard and deep creases in his face as chronometric as tree rings” and “He looked about eleven or twelve, on the threshold of adolescence, everything about him liminal: the scrawniness of his arms that ended in man-size hands; the angle he walked oriented to the sun, his shadow minimised” are examples.
This novel explores love and grief and also highlights the importance to indigenous people of connection to place, of rituals like sorry camp, of not saying the deceased’s name, of ancient myths and of being “on country”. While in the first instance, the meaning of indigenous words is explained, a glossary of Pitjantjatjara words would have been handy.
It’s a serious tale but not without humour. Anyone who had White forced on them in high school can relate to this: “I browsed through the fiction box… A clutch of Patrick Whites. I hadn’t read White since uni, where I’d treated him like eating bony fish – good for you but just too much work”. Within this gorgeous cover is contained a moving and thought-provoking tale that will stay with the reader long after the last page is turned
February 28, 2017
Time stands still for Saul when he receives the phone call that will tear his whole world apart – his best friend Jed, who is like a brother to him, is dead, believed to have committed suicide. His last contact with Jed was a short message on his phone after Jed’s return from a remote Aboriginal community where he’d been working: “Where are you?” He never got the chance to speak to him again. Racked by grief and guilt for not realising that Jed may have been in trouble, Saul embarks on a mission to retrace Jed’s last steps, which leads him to the remote community of Ininyingi, located off the map in the centre of Australia near the western border of the Northern Territory. There he meets Nala, the woman Jed claimed he loved more than anything in the world. What happened to Jed to make him leave all that behind and lead him on the path to his own destruction?
The Crying Place is a deep, contemplative novel with writing so evocative that it will instantly transport you to a faraway place in the heart of the country, where primal laws still apply and ancient spirits roam free. Or, in Hills’ own words: “where two worlds overlap.” Getting lost in its pages is like a homecoming, a consolidation of feelings not often acknowledged in our Western society. It is raw and confronting, and will challenge you to look deep inside your heart to question everything you believe. Who are we, but an extension of our friends, our family, our ancestors? Jed saw his girlfriend Nala as “his world”. Similarly, the world is a different place for Saul without Jed, as if a piece of himself was missing. There is love that runs so deep that losing that person is like giving away part of your own soul. In a society which tends to sweep the issue of death and dying under the carpet, Saul has no grounding to deal with his own grief over the loss of a friend that had been like a brother to him.
Lia Hills’ The Crying Place resonated with me on many levels. Suicide is a terrible tragedy in any society. For the loved ones left behind, there is not only grief to deal with, but also a heavy burden of guilt, of wondering if the death could have been prevented, if there had been anything they should have said or done. Also, our expectation for people to show a stiff upper lip and “just get on with it” after the funeral is over rarely does justice to the terrible pain of loss that sits deep in our bones, sapping our energy, leaching the joy out of every day.
In a society where family and community ties are slowly getting lost, be it through geographical or generational distance, death is a lonely, sad affair, with few outlets for the sheer hopelessness the ones left behind can be experiencing. As Saul is being introduced to an ancient way of dealing with death and grief, he is enabled to find his own way to lay Jed’s spirit to rest, to move on and find a kind of peace within his own soul.
Hill’s beautiful lyrical writing was a pleasure to get lost in and managed to create a vivid picture of the outback setting and its people she describes with such grace and insight. Similarly, Saul’s voice created a gritty reality in my mind that became as vivid to me as if I had walked in his footsteps myself, felt his despair.
This book will resonate with anyone who has ever lost a loved one, where the grief sat so deep that physical pain was preferable to the emotional agony experienced. But despite this, it is also a story of hope, of moving on, of laying the spirits of the dead to rest and finding peace. A beautiful and insightful story, very much recommended.
Thank you to the publisher Allen & Unwin and Bookstr for providing me with an advanced reading copy of this novel in exchange for an honest review.
*blog* *facebook*
The Crying Place is a deep, contemplative novel with writing so evocative that it will instantly transport you to a faraway place in the heart of the country, where primal laws still apply and ancient spirits roam free. Or, in Hills’ own words: “where two worlds overlap.” Getting lost in its pages is like a homecoming, a consolidation of feelings not often acknowledged in our Western society. It is raw and confronting, and will challenge you to look deep inside your heart to question everything you believe. Who are we, but an extension of our friends, our family, our ancestors? Jed saw his girlfriend Nala as “his world”. Similarly, the world is a different place for Saul without Jed, as if a piece of himself was missing. There is love that runs so deep that losing that person is like giving away part of your own soul. In a society which tends to sweep the issue of death and dying under the carpet, Saul has no grounding to deal with his own grief over the loss of a friend that had been like a brother to him.
Lia Hills’ The Crying Place resonated with me on many levels. Suicide is a terrible tragedy in any society. For the loved ones left behind, there is not only grief to deal with, but also a heavy burden of guilt, of wondering if the death could have been prevented, if there had been anything they should have said or done. Also, our expectation for people to show a stiff upper lip and “just get on with it” after the funeral is over rarely does justice to the terrible pain of loss that sits deep in our bones, sapping our energy, leaching the joy out of every day.
“I owed it to Jed to understand what had happened to him. Do justice to the life we’d led. A neat funeral wouldn’t have cut it. Not even close.”
In a society where family and community ties are slowly getting lost, be it through geographical or generational distance, death is a lonely, sad affair, with few outlets for the sheer hopelessness the ones left behind can be experiencing. As Saul is being introduced to an ancient way of dealing with death and grief, he is enabled to find his own way to lay Jed’s spirit to rest, to move on and find a kind of peace within his own soul.
Hill’s beautiful lyrical writing was a pleasure to get lost in and managed to create a vivid picture of the outback setting and its people she describes with such grace and insight. Similarly, Saul’s voice created a gritty reality in my mind that became as vivid to me as if I had walked in his footsteps myself, felt his despair.
This book will resonate with anyone who has ever lost a loved one, where the grief sat so deep that physical pain was preferable to the emotional agony experienced. But despite this, it is also a story of hope, of moving on, of laying the spirits of the dead to rest and finding peace. A beautiful and insightful story, very much recommended.
Thank you to the publisher Allen & Unwin and Bookstr for providing me with an advanced reading copy of this novel in exchange for an honest review.
*blog* *facebook*
April 5, 2017
An astounding, raw and evocative book. What is "connection to country" ? Is it being grounded in your homeland, feeling the primitive biophilia of landscape, connecting to personal history...? Are places born or made? Is your 'country' set at birth or formed around the people you love?
On a basic level, this is a tale of a man journey to discover the truth behind he best mate's death. Saul breaks open our hearts and minds as we travel among the spinifex, spirits and dingoes into the outback, venturing into Pitjantjatjara country to help him find his own.
On a basic level, this is a tale of a man journey to discover the truth behind he best mate's death. Saul breaks open our hearts and minds as we travel among the spinifex, spirits and dingoes into the outback, venturing into Pitjantjatjara country to help him find his own.
October 5, 2018
3 and 1/2 as towards the end, I thought it went on and on, but maybe I skimmed over a vital bit of info, but I lost interest in him, and even what had happened.
July 11, 2017
This is one of those books that stayed with me long after I put down the pages. In my mind, I find phrases and scenes re-appearing, mulling them over, unpacking the layers of meaning and perspective. The imagery created by the flow of the language is very strong, challenging and probing ideas about grief and love, culture and tradition.
October 6, 2021
‘How does a man choose where to die?’
Saul, a restless traveller is seeking to settle down when he receives the devastating news that his friend Jed is dead. Saul is in Sydney when he receives the news and sets out for Melbourne where Jed was living when he died. Family and friends want Saul to travel to Hobart for Jed’s funeral, but he cannot bring himself to attend. Instead, after sorting through Jed’s belongings in Melbourne, he sets out on a journey of his own. He has found a photograph amongst Jed’s belongings, of a woman. And Saul believes that if he can find this woman then he may be able to find the truth about Jed’s death.
Saul sets off alone, in his trusty Subaru, for Alice Springs. Here he finds the information he needs to find the woman, Nara, in a remote Aboriginal community. Along the way, Saul remembers Jed, the adventures they shared, and wonders about the mysteries of life and death.
‘A story is like a river. It has a source. It has tributaries, some as far reaching and expansive as memory, others a thin trickle, so tenuous their influx is barely noticed.’
The story moves through beautifully described landscape, into spaces and experiences beyond Saul’s experience. He has with him a copy of ‘Voss’, Patrick White’s metaphysical novel about a man and the woman he secretly loves. Once Saul arrives at his destination, he starts to learn about indigenous culture and folklore, about the different forms of grief, and about family ties. He is following Jed to try to understand his death, but his own journey will lead him to appreciate life differently.
This is a story to read slowly both to appreciate Saul’s journey and the importance of family ties and grief in the community where Saul finds himself. What does home mean for Saul? Is it a place, or a feeling? What can he learn about Jed by meeting with Nara and her extended family?
Saul’s restlessness, his inability to find a place to settle indicates that he does not know where he belongs. While I wonder about Jed, his relationship with Nara and where they each belong, it is Saul’s journey that captured and held my attention. So many questions to consider, amidst the heat, the dust, and the flies.
Grief and loss are universal parts of the human condition, but our reactions are not.
I found this novel incredibly moving, a story I will revisit.
Jennifer Cameron-Smith
Saul, a restless traveller is seeking to settle down when he receives the devastating news that his friend Jed is dead. Saul is in Sydney when he receives the news and sets out for Melbourne where Jed was living when he died. Family and friends want Saul to travel to Hobart for Jed’s funeral, but he cannot bring himself to attend. Instead, after sorting through Jed’s belongings in Melbourne, he sets out on a journey of his own. He has found a photograph amongst Jed’s belongings, of a woman. And Saul believes that if he can find this woman then he may be able to find the truth about Jed’s death.
Saul sets off alone, in his trusty Subaru, for Alice Springs. Here he finds the information he needs to find the woman, Nara, in a remote Aboriginal community. Along the way, Saul remembers Jed, the adventures they shared, and wonders about the mysteries of life and death.
‘A story is like a river. It has a source. It has tributaries, some as far reaching and expansive as memory, others a thin trickle, so tenuous their influx is barely noticed.’
The story moves through beautifully described landscape, into spaces and experiences beyond Saul’s experience. He has with him a copy of ‘Voss’, Patrick White’s metaphysical novel about a man and the woman he secretly loves. Once Saul arrives at his destination, he starts to learn about indigenous culture and folklore, about the different forms of grief, and about family ties. He is following Jed to try to understand his death, but his own journey will lead him to appreciate life differently.
This is a story to read slowly both to appreciate Saul’s journey and the importance of family ties and grief in the community where Saul finds himself. What does home mean for Saul? Is it a place, or a feeling? What can he learn about Jed by meeting with Nara and her extended family?
Saul’s restlessness, his inability to find a place to settle indicates that he does not know where he belongs. While I wonder about Jed, his relationship with Nara and where they each belong, it is Saul’s journey that captured and held my attention. So many questions to consider, amidst the heat, the dust, and the flies.
Grief and loss are universal parts of the human condition, but our reactions are not.
I found this novel incredibly moving, a story I will revisit.
Jennifer Cameron-Smith
July 12, 2017
4 1/2 stars
The Crying Place is an intricate novel, part eulogy, part pilgrimage combined with a surreal travelogue. Lia Hills successfully writes in the voice of a young man Saul, who is trying to accept and understand himself, as well as the individuals he encounters in Central Australia. After a brief phone call, Saul abruptly leaves his job in Sydney and drives to Melbourne in search of his friend Jed. The two young men have been friends since school in Tasmania and travelled all over the world together, but from Saul’s reminiscences Jed always seemed to be just ahead of Saul. Saul cannot accept that his friend is gone and in order to grasp what happened to Jed and who he really was - he tracks the people who were important to him and visits the last places where his friend had been.
It is a worthy novel in the genre searching for identity. I particularly related to the perception of the sole traveller following in the footsteps of an ancestor (or a friend) and the sensation of being alone with oneself and learning to be self-reliant and at peace with oneself.
As Saul’s journey leads him to the outback of Australia and into a remote Aboriginal community, the reader learns with Saul a little about the complexity of Aboriginal culture and knowledge learning. The descriptions of his journey, through the desert landscape, the unique plants and wild animals are very precise and beautiful.
The Crying Place is a confronting contemporary novel, which explores the collective grieving process in two disparate cultures. It is a remarkable read.
The Crying Place is an intricate novel, part eulogy, part pilgrimage combined with a surreal travelogue. Lia Hills successfully writes in the voice of a young man Saul, who is trying to accept and understand himself, as well as the individuals he encounters in Central Australia. After a brief phone call, Saul abruptly leaves his job in Sydney and drives to Melbourne in search of his friend Jed. The two young men have been friends since school in Tasmania and travelled all over the world together, but from Saul’s reminiscences Jed always seemed to be just ahead of Saul. Saul cannot accept that his friend is gone and in order to grasp what happened to Jed and who he really was - he tracks the people who were important to him and visits the last places where his friend had been.
It is a worthy novel in the genre searching for identity. I particularly related to the perception of the sole traveller following in the footsteps of an ancestor (or a friend) and the sensation of being alone with oneself and learning to be self-reliant and at peace with oneself.
As Saul’s journey leads him to the outback of Australia and into a remote Aboriginal community, the reader learns with Saul a little about the complexity of Aboriginal culture and knowledge learning. The descriptions of his journey, through the desert landscape, the unique plants and wild animals are very precise and beautiful.
The Crying Place is a confronting contemporary novel, which explores the collective grieving process in two disparate cultures. It is a remarkable read.
March 2, 2017
I was able to read this via giveaways and can truly say its a real book that makes you think. Suicide in rural Australia is a very real thing and this book is one that handles it in the most amazing way.
March 19, 2017
The Crying Place by Lia Hills is an evocative exploration of belonging, country and grief. Saul is bereft and devastated at the unexpected and wholly unimaginable news that his closest friend, Jed, has committed suicide. Saul finds a photograph of a woman in Jed’s belongings, and sets out to find her and – he hopes – answers to the mystery of his friend’s death.
This is a book of journeying – both to the interior of Australia but also just as much an interior exploration of self. Let me state upfront that if you are looking for a fast-placed plot and action-driven thriller, this is not the book for you. The Crying Place is a thoughtful, and thought-provoking, examination of grief and guilt, which extends beyond the merely personal. It is a quiet book, with an undercurrent of turbulence that pulls the narrative along to its ultimately satisfying conclusion. The characters are honestly and realistically drawn, but possibly the most important ‘character’ is that of the landscape itself. Hills captures a sense of place masterfully, and her sensory evocation of desert is a constant presence in the book. While writing, Hills made several trips to Central Australia and spent time in remote Aboriginal communities. She acknowledges the process of writing this novel as being akin to a collaboration, and the book provides a fascinating insight into some aspects of cultures and a way of life that are foreign and remote to most non-indigenous Australians.
Hills is also a poet, and her use of language in this book is reminiscent of the poet’s art – visual, aural, economical, and beautifully crafted. It is a book that rewards patience and eschews easy answers, raising many questions along the way. Highly recommended if you enjoy literature that will challenge and prompt you to reflect on aspects of the human condition - friendship and grief and the responsibilities we bear to others.
This is a book of journeying – both to the interior of Australia but also just as much an interior exploration of self. Let me state upfront that if you are looking for a fast-placed plot and action-driven thriller, this is not the book for you. The Crying Place is a thoughtful, and thought-provoking, examination of grief and guilt, which extends beyond the merely personal. It is a quiet book, with an undercurrent of turbulence that pulls the narrative along to its ultimately satisfying conclusion. The characters are honestly and realistically drawn, but possibly the most important ‘character’ is that of the landscape itself. Hills captures a sense of place masterfully, and her sensory evocation of desert is a constant presence in the book. While writing, Hills made several trips to Central Australia and spent time in remote Aboriginal communities. She acknowledges the process of writing this novel as being akin to a collaboration, and the book provides a fascinating insight into some aspects of cultures and a way of life that are foreign and remote to most non-indigenous Australians.
Hills is also a poet, and her use of language in this book is reminiscent of the poet’s art – visual, aural, economical, and beautifully crafted. It is a book that rewards patience and eschews easy answers, raising many questions along the way. Highly recommended if you enjoy literature that will challenge and prompt you to reflect on aspects of the human condition - friendship and grief and the responsibilities we bear to others.
February 15, 2017
An intricate and atmospheric read that explores love, friendship, the human experience, and the journey through the grief process. The outback settings are very visual. The story flows well and is engaging throughout. There were moments of lightness and some moments that were profoundly moving. A wonderful new addition to Australian Literature.
March 20, 2017
Perhaps this book was just not for me but I really struggled with it from start to finish. Although it is well written, it is just too descriptive and didn't really flow well. The main character is not engaging and it doesn't help that the first half of the book focuses on his lonesome road trip (which is really heavily focused on descriptions of the land and road he travels).
I almost gave up on it numerous time but forced myself to keep reading in the hope that the ending would make it worth while given the strong topics it raises (suicide, the problems faced by remote communities, friendship, cultural sensitivity, connection to land). It did improve slightly when he finally reaches the remote community and finds the lady he was looking for, but in the end I was still disappointed that I didn't end up feeling any emotional connection to the characters or the story.
After all my persistence with it, I continue to feel that the story did not fill its potential.
I almost gave up on it numerous time but forced myself to keep reading in the hope that the ending would make it worth while given the strong topics it raises (suicide, the problems faced by remote communities, friendship, cultural sensitivity, connection to land). It did improve slightly when he finally reaches the remote community and finds the lady he was looking for, but in the end I was still disappointed that I didn't end up feeling any emotional connection to the characters or the story.
After all my persistence with it, I continue to feel that the story did not fill its potential.
March 10, 2017
I've given up on this. After 150 pages of scene-painting and very little action, of irrelevant characters who make a one chapter appearance (and the chapters are usually no more than three pages long), I've had enough of slogging through it. I know it's a literary work rather than an action thriller, but for goodness' sake, even literary books have to have some story, not just an endless series of reflections and scenes of the narrator driving.
Hills actually writes well, but there's just very little content.
Hills actually writes well, but there's just very little content.
March 28, 2017
I thoroughly enjoyed traveling with Saul to the crying place. Beautifully written, exquisite descriptions of the vast landscape, wonderful depictions of characters, places, despair, our extraordinary country and the indigenous peoples and their culture. I was intrigued from the outset ... its not fast paced, but that to me characterised the slow crawl of outback Australia, the slow pace that grief takes. Highly Recommended.
December 17, 2017
One of the best books I have read in 2017, just a bit clunky at times.
What impressed me most was the way the mood of the story changed from melancholy as Saul deals with the surprising suicide of his best friend Jed to dealing with grief than guilt than to more of a happy place. There's a lot about the beauty of the Australian outback, respect for the country and wonderful portraits of women and children.
What impressed me most was the way the mood of the story changed from melancholy as Saul deals with the surprising suicide of his best friend Jed to dealing with grief than guilt than to more of a happy place. There's a lot about the beauty of the Australian outback, respect for the country and wonderful portraits of women and children.
October 13, 2018
Nothing made me desire to drive away from St. Kilda to the heart of the land and experience the desert more than this book.
Hauntingly took me back to the time that I was that bar maid at the espy and the not accepting death of my mother and the shock of having someone gone from your life forever. The mystery of Jed's suicide leads Saul to the desert and to Nara and her country.
Hauntingly took me back to the time that I was that bar maid at the espy and the not accepting death of my mother and the shock of having someone gone from your life forever. The mystery of Jed's suicide leads Saul to the desert and to Nara and her country.
September 27, 2017
I have a fondness for books that focus on Australian indigenous culture, and I feel that Hills demonstrated knowledge and sensitivity. It is a beautifully written, evocative tale of grief, loss, country and place.
November 22, 2017
Just beautifully written. I just came up for air after reading one para about shaving that included metaphor and family references that took my breath away. Then there’s the setting and story. Compelling reading.
December 28, 2018
The novel’s prologue tells of the Pitjantjatjara practice of creating a head cap made out of gypsum, worn by mourners for someone who has died. The heavy cap reminds the mourner of the heaviness of their grief. When the appropriate period is over, the cap is removed and placed as a grave marker. The discovery of almost sixty of the caps in the Simpson Desert was ‘akin to finding the Elgin Marbles.’ Unlike the Marbles though, the mourning caps would be left where they were found.
I’ve retold the detail of this prologue because it was such a powerful image and introduced the concept of grief and Indigenous culture that The Crying Place is about. Yet for me the rest of the book didn’t quite live up to its promise.
The rest of the novel is about Saul, a restless white Australian who with his friend Thaddeus has explored other deserts in the world, especially the Sahara. Now Thaddeus is dead, by his own hand, and Saul seeks to understand what brought his friend to this end. Lia Hills shifts the narrative between Saul’s memories of growing up in Tasmania with Thaddeus, riding motorbikes through the Sahara and his journey into Australia’s vast interior to find answers about his friend’s life and death. His only clue is a photograph of an Aboriginal woman, Nara.
The Author’s Note explains that Hills wrote the first draft in three weeks during a road trip and then spend over four years of research including conversations with Aboriginal elders in Central Australia. Each chapter is headed with words from the Pitjantjatjara language and provide food for thought. Hills’ thorough research, knowledge and respect for Indigenous culture is clear. For much of it I was gripped by Saul’s journey and his memories of previous journeys into brutal but magical desert landscapes. The descriptions were wonderful and so much about his visit to the Simpson compelling.
So where did my disappointment lie? Mainly I think that I simply found it too long. I feel that some judicious editing would have made the book tighter and more effective. So much detail obscured the main thrust of the story - the grief journey. Despite some very moving moments, in the end I didn’t care as much as I should have about Saul, Thaddeus or Nara’s stories. The ending was inconclusive rather than enlightening. Three and a half stars.
I’ve retold the detail of this prologue because it was such a powerful image and introduced the concept of grief and Indigenous culture that The Crying Place is about. Yet for me the rest of the book didn’t quite live up to its promise.
The rest of the novel is about Saul, a restless white Australian who with his friend Thaddeus has explored other deserts in the world, especially the Sahara. Now Thaddeus is dead, by his own hand, and Saul seeks to understand what brought his friend to this end. Lia Hills shifts the narrative between Saul’s memories of growing up in Tasmania with Thaddeus, riding motorbikes through the Sahara and his journey into Australia’s vast interior to find answers about his friend’s life and death. His only clue is a photograph of an Aboriginal woman, Nara.
The Author’s Note explains that Hills wrote the first draft in three weeks during a road trip and then spend over four years of research including conversations with Aboriginal elders in Central Australia. Each chapter is headed with words from the Pitjantjatjara language and provide food for thought. Hills’ thorough research, knowledge and respect for Indigenous culture is clear. For much of it I was gripped by Saul’s journey and his memories of previous journeys into brutal but magical desert landscapes. The descriptions were wonderful and so much about his visit to the Simpson compelling.
So where did my disappointment lie? Mainly I think that I simply found it too long. I feel that some judicious editing would have made the book tighter and more effective. So much detail obscured the main thrust of the story - the grief journey. Despite some very moving moments, in the end I didn’t care as much as I should have about Saul, Thaddeus or Nara’s stories. The ending was inconclusive rather than enlightening. Three and a half stars.
March 29, 2017
The Crying Place by Lia Hills
When I first started reading The Crying Place, it didn’t grab me. I found it slow, slightly obscure; it didn’t seem to say what it meant outright and I felt I had to work at understanding it a little too much for after work at the end of a busy evening. Yet I persevered, partly because I still find it difficult to abandon any book, but also because I had a feeling that if I didn’t stick with it, I would regret it. There was something there, a slow build, just out of my reach. The first one hundred pages have you feeling like you’re on the verge of something important, it’s just unclear as to what that important thing is. From that point on though, I found myself slipping into the story, it’s slow pace now welcoming instead of impeding, allowing me to fully appreciate what was going on instead of wondering why it wasn’t hurrying up. It’s a truly moving novel, the kind of story that haunts you and creates a feeling of deep unease within your psyche. Anecdotes are sprinkled throughout, casually woven into the story in a manner that was quite skilled and added to my overall enjoyment of the novel. However, these anecdotes were also at times distressing, both in their casual delivery and the weight of what they truly meant. History, when reflected upon in a casual manner, can often be cruel like that. A single statement can leave you feeling bereft, completely disturbed and haunted by the bigger picture that single statement eludes to. I felt this many times throughout The Crying Place. The contemplation it wrought within me was quite profound.
I found myself becoming quite invested in Saul, the main character, and his journey. Possessed with a strong sense of honour and a willing appreciation for other’s cultures, I liked him a lot. His journey into the outback was somewhat nostalgic for me, having undertaken a similar trip to Uluru, just coming from a different state and consequently driving in a different direction. I think it was this, coupled with presently living in a remote community with a high population of indigenous Australians, which aided in my appreciation of The Crying Place. I was in a unique position to fully contemplate the themes within the novel without being removed from them on account of living in a metropolis. Even so, many things I thought I understood about Aboriginal culture turned out to be not the case, and I now feel richer for the newfound knowledge, yet also profoundly saddened by a situation that is essentially of our own making. The importance of allowing people to preserve and practice their own cultures cannot be overstated. To take away a person’s culture is to strip them bare, eliminate their essence. The ripple effect of destroying a culture is profound and everlasting. I feel quite weighted down by this novel, but I also feel glad for that. I think it would do all of us some good to feel the weight of truth and history, to see instead of look, and to fully understand who we all are within our own cultures. Grief and loss are universal, but how we each handle them differs and I commend Lia Hills on her examination of this in such a sensitive and illuminating manner.
Thanks is extended to Allen and Unwin who provided me with an advanced copy of The Crying Place for review.
#aww2017
When I first started reading The Crying Place, it didn’t grab me. I found it slow, slightly obscure; it didn’t seem to say what it meant outright and I felt I had to work at understanding it a little too much for after work at the end of a busy evening. Yet I persevered, partly because I still find it difficult to abandon any book, but also because I had a feeling that if I didn’t stick with it, I would regret it. There was something there, a slow build, just out of my reach. The first one hundred pages have you feeling like you’re on the verge of something important, it’s just unclear as to what that important thing is. From that point on though, I found myself slipping into the story, it’s slow pace now welcoming instead of impeding, allowing me to fully appreciate what was going on instead of wondering why it wasn’t hurrying up. It’s a truly moving novel, the kind of story that haunts you and creates a feeling of deep unease within your psyche. Anecdotes are sprinkled throughout, casually woven into the story in a manner that was quite skilled and added to my overall enjoyment of the novel. However, these anecdotes were also at times distressing, both in their casual delivery and the weight of what they truly meant. History, when reflected upon in a casual manner, can often be cruel like that. A single statement can leave you feeling bereft, completely disturbed and haunted by the bigger picture that single statement eludes to. I felt this many times throughout The Crying Place. The contemplation it wrought within me was quite profound.
I found myself becoming quite invested in Saul, the main character, and his journey. Possessed with a strong sense of honour and a willing appreciation for other’s cultures, I liked him a lot. His journey into the outback was somewhat nostalgic for me, having undertaken a similar trip to Uluru, just coming from a different state and consequently driving in a different direction. I think it was this, coupled with presently living in a remote community with a high population of indigenous Australians, which aided in my appreciation of The Crying Place. I was in a unique position to fully contemplate the themes within the novel without being removed from them on account of living in a metropolis. Even so, many things I thought I understood about Aboriginal culture turned out to be not the case, and I now feel richer for the newfound knowledge, yet also profoundly saddened by a situation that is essentially of our own making. The importance of allowing people to preserve and practice their own cultures cannot be overstated. To take away a person’s culture is to strip them bare, eliminate their essence. The ripple effect of destroying a culture is profound and everlasting. I feel quite weighted down by this novel, but I also feel glad for that. I think it would do all of us some good to feel the weight of truth and history, to see instead of look, and to fully understand who we all are within our own cultures. Grief and loss are universal, but how we each handle them differs and I commend Lia Hills on her examination of this in such a sensitive and illuminating manner.
Thanks is extended to Allen and Unwin who provided me with an advanced copy of The Crying Place for review.
#aww2017
July 2, 2017
Saul gets a phone call one night, revealing that his oldest friend, Jed, has just taken his life. It’s been awhile since Saul has spoken to Jed, but they were once intensely close. Rocked by the news, Saul sets out to work out why Jed killed himself, a journey that sees him go into the dead heart of Australia and meet Nara, the woman who may have the answers Jed’s seeking.
The Crying Place is a haunting read, an evocative depiction of a man coming to terms with grief and the landscape of Australia’s red centre. Although slow and contemplative, rich in detail, I found myself eagerly devouring the story and falling in love with it.
The novel is narrated in first person from Jed’s POV and, unfortunately, I didn’t completely buy it – there was something that felt a bit inauthentic. However, Hills’ writing was so luminous that I couldn’t bring myself to mind. The landscapes are so vividly realised, the contrast of the desert landscapes of Saul’s present and past adventures with Jed contrasting brilliantly with his recollection of a childhood by Tasmania’s Derwent River.
I was swept away by this impressive novel, falling in love with the characters and the relationships depicted. It is a novel that lingers, that makes you think, question and remember. Even with my little niggles, The Crying Place is a novel to treasure.
Disclaimer: I received my copy free from the publishers as the result of winning a competition. I was not obligated to review it.
The Crying Place is a haunting read, an evocative depiction of a man coming to terms with grief and the landscape of Australia’s red centre. Although slow and contemplative, rich in detail, I found myself eagerly devouring the story and falling in love with it.
The novel is narrated in first person from Jed’s POV and, unfortunately, I didn’t completely buy it – there was something that felt a bit inauthentic. However, Hills’ writing was so luminous that I couldn’t bring myself to mind. The landscapes are so vividly realised, the contrast of the desert landscapes of Saul’s present and past adventures with Jed contrasting brilliantly with his recollection of a childhood by Tasmania’s Derwent River.
I was swept away by this impressive novel, falling in love with the characters and the relationships depicted. It is a novel that lingers, that makes you think, question and remember. Even with my little niggles, The Crying Place is a novel to treasure.
Disclaimer: I received my copy free from the publishers as the result of winning a competition. I was not obligated to review it.
June 1, 2017
When I started reading this book I was totally captivated. However the latter stages disappointed - I felt that the journey that was promised at the beginning was not explored fully. Perhaps the care the author took to ensure sensitivity to culture and people resulted in too much remaining unsaid. Having said that, anyone who has an affinity with 'country' or struggles with sorrow will probably find this a worthwhile read.
March 17, 2017
I was so excited to read this book after seeing some really positive reviews, but was a bit disappointed as I struggled at the beginning and I almost gave up on it. The first half of the book, although very eloquently written, was such a struggle for me. The writing style was just so, so descriptive and poetic and very introspective to Saul's character, which I think would have worked amazingly in shorter bursts or as short fiction, but for such an extended work just became too much. I would have given up but for the high hopes I'd had for this story, so I struggled through- it took me a lot longer than I normally take to finish a book for the start of this one- and once Saul reached the remote community and more characters were introduced for him to bounce off of and add some more dimension, I started to enjoy it a lot more. And I have to say I am so happy that I pushed through and didn't give up on this book, because I really loved the ending, and the depictions of loss and grief and discovery. Overall only a 2.5-3 because of the willpower it took me to keep reading long enough to be really immersed in the story, but I am definitely excited to see what Lia Hills comes up with in the future.
May 19, 2017
I have had to think about this book quite a lot. I wouldn't say I enjoyed it. Parts of it irritated me considerably but I think it is really important book for Australia and I have been waiting for it for a long time. It was great to see an aboriginal language being used, it was great to see the aboriginal experience being described. I love the contrast between Tasmania and the desert. I didn't warm to Saul as a character which made it hard to be sympathetic to his situation.
September 4, 2018
My rating relates mostly to the art of writing. The subject and the story were not too much to my liking.
The Preface tells what the book is about - grief. Grief in Aboriginal culture.
Interestingly the subject of the only other book by Lia Hills - The Beginner's Guide to Living - is also grief.
Young, but no too young, man learns that his closest friend committed suicide. He is overtaken by grief and guilt - could he do something to save his friend?
Overtaken to such an extent, that instead of going for funeral, he undertakes a long journey to visit place where his friend spent last months of his life, to meet a person who apparently was important for his friend in that time.
It is a long journey, from pulsating with life Sydney to a remote desert somewhere on the border of Northern Territory, Western Australia and South Australia.
In quite a number of Goodreads reviews I found a complaint, that the journey is too long, nothing happens, boring.
I agree, to some extent. I also got an impression, that the author, having traveled all this long way ( and I know it from my own experience), tries to "sell" each detail of it. After some 80 pages I felt tired - been there, saw it, come to the point. But it did not discourage me from further reading - simply the book is too beautifully written to be skipped. I just changed my reading method. The book consists of over 80 short chapters. I read just few of them each day and just enough to give me inspiration to think, dream, enjoy. And I was not disappointed.
Desert - it plays a very significant role in the story. And plays it very well. Not only Australian desert, but also Sahara where the main character and his friend experienced adventurous and thought-provoking few months.
Eventually he reaches his destination - an Aboriginal settlement in the middle of nowhere and the trouble starts - for the main character and for me as a reader.
On one hand I appreciate insight into Aboriginal life, way of thinking and traditions. On the other hand I cannot find any connecting point with current day civilization. The same conclusion I reached reading Peter Carey's - A long way from home.
It is a very saddening conclusion for me.
The Preface tells what the book is about - grief. Grief in Aboriginal culture.
Interestingly the subject of the only other book by Lia Hills - The Beginner's Guide to Living - is also grief.
Young, but no too young, man learns that his closest friend committed suicide. He is overtaken by grief and guilt - could he do something to save his friend?
Overtaken to such an extent, that instead of going for funeral, he undertakes a long journey to visit place where his friend spent last months of his life, to meet a person who apparently was important for his friend in that time.
It is a long journey, from pulsating with life Sydney to a remote desert somewhere on the border of Northern Territory, Western Australia and South Australia.
In quite a number of Goodreads reviews I found a complaint, that the journey is too long, nothing happens, boring.
I agree, to some extent. I also got an impression, that the author, having traveled all this long way ( and I know it from my own experience), tries to "sell" each detail of it. After some 80 pages I felt tired - been there, saw it, come to the point. But it did not discourage me from further reading - simply the book is too beautifully written to be skipped. I just changed my reading method. The book consists of over 80 short chapters. I read just few of them each day and just enough to give me inspiration to think, dream, enjoy. And I was not disappointed.
Desert - it plays a very significant role in the story. And plays it very well. Not only Australian desert, but also Sahara where the main character and his friend experienced adventurous and thought-provoking few months.
Eventually he reaches his destination - an Aboriginal settlement in the middle of nowhere and the trouble starts - for the main character and for me as a reader.
On one hand I appreciate insight into Aboriginal life, way of thinking and traditions. On the other hand I cannot find any connecting point with current day civilization. The same conclusion I reached reading Peter Carey's - A long way from home.
It is a very saddening conclusion for me.
October 19, 2024
There are few authors I read slowly. This is a slow paced book that demands to be read slowly to savour the detail and absorb the complexity of the story. Author Lia Hills writes with amazing insight into the Aboriginal community with its ageless traditions and a fascinating introduction that sets the tone of the book.
Saul and Jed grew up together in Tasmania and later travelled together to several countries before taking their own paths. Saul hears that Jed has died after living and working for some time in a remote Aboriginal community in central Australia. He sets off to find out what happened to Jed. The journey just to reach this small community is an adventure that is interspersed with snippets or lessons from archaeology, geology, history, indigenous language, songlines and dreamtime stories. This all creates and builds the landscape of country which is an integral part of this story throughout. Then there are the actual characters that Saul meets on his journey - all flawed, complex and authentic. Throughout there are flashbacks too that either add intrigue or suggest reason.
This a beautifully crafted and moving story that had me rereading many bits just to enjoy the language and imagery. A powerful and haunting book. Highly recommended.
Saul and Jed grew up together in Tasmania and later travelled together to several countries before taking their own paths. Saul hears that Jed has died after living and working for some time in a remote Aboriginal community in central Australia. He sets off to find out what happened to Jed. The journey just to reach this small community is an adventure that is interspersed with snippets or lessons from archaeology, geology, history, indigenous language, songlines and dreamtime stories. This all creates and builds the landscape of country which is an integral part of this story throughout. Then there are the actual characters that Saul meets on his journey - all flawed, complex and authentic. Throughout there are flashbacks too that either add intrigue or suggest reason.
This a beautifully crafted and moving story that had me rereading many bits just to enjoy the language and imagery. A powerful and haunting book. Highly recommended.
June 21, 2019
Our protagonist is Saul, and this story is about the death of his best friend, Jed. The news of Jed’s death sends Saul on a road trip, a search for answers, a journey of discovery. Yes, those are cliches. No, I’m not apologising for them. They suit the novel. Saul and Jed grew up in Tasmania. They travelled all over the world together. Then they went their separate ways. Jed ended up in the middle of Australia working in an Aboriginal community and Saul settled in Sydney, with a job he hated. For some reason, Jed went to Melbourne and killed himself. So Saul retraces Jed’s steps to try to make sense of things. This brings him to an Aboriginal community where he (and the reader) gain many insights into the mourning rituals of a community where he really doesn’t belong. I found myself drifting in and out of focus with this one. So much so that I actually still don’t get what happened. Some nice insights into customs and 21st century expectations through a Koori lens but overall, I’m not sure I recommend.
September 13, 2017
I heard Lia Hill speak at the Mornington library recently and her passion about the book, her research and her journey into the heartland of Australia was infectious. She discussed her writing techniques which were largely recording her ideas and impressions onto a digital voice recorder as she travelled. It was fascinating.
The story is a journey into the outback by Saul, a young white man from the city. He is devastated to learn of the suicide of his best friend Jed, recently returned after working in a remote aboriginal community. Saul discovers the photo of an aboriginal woman in Jed's belongings and begins a quest into the centre.
The descriptions of the landscape are evocative, immediate and very real. Not so Saul's "quest" which felt, to me, as though they were superimposed as a vehicle for Hills to describe her impressions of the landscape. I was disappointed that this book did not live up to its promise.
The story is a journey into the outback by Saul, a young white man from the city. He is devastated to learn of the suicide of his best friend Jed, recently returned after working in a remote aboriginal community. Saul discovers the photo of an aboriginal woman in Jed's belongings and begins a quest into the centre.
The descriptions of the landscape are evocative, immediate and very real. Not so Saul's "quest" which felt, to me, as though they were superimposed as a vehicle for Hills to describe her impressions of the landscape. I was disappointed that this book did not live up to its promise.
August 25, 2017
Saul's best friend, Jed, after an extended trip to Central Australia commits suicide. Saul wants to find out more ... he does, but the real reason of Jed's anguish doesn't seem to really get answered which left me feeling a bit unsatisfied.
Lia Hills is a great author and the writing is quite poetic. As an example from chapter 11
"Water tanks squatted like alien warships in a paddock as I cleared road works back on the highway, dust from the track to the arboretum still clinging to my windows. A crow scanned me from a eucalypt that looked like someone had picked it up and wrung out its bark."
The issue of death and grieving and how different communities deal with it is explored.
Lia Hills is a great author and the writing is quite poetic. As an example from chapter 11
"Water tanks squatted like alien warships in a paddock as I cleared road works back on the highway, dust from the track to the arboretum still clinging to my windows. A crow scanned me from a eucalypt that looked like someone had picked it up and wrung out its bark."
The issue of death and grieving and how different communities deal with it is explored.
October 17, 2017
Found this one difficult to put down; I really enjoyed the writing style and found it comparable to Alex Miller. Saul is a traveler who superficially presents as a worldly-wise, confident young man. After receiving news that his lifelong best friend has died, he travels, grief stricken, to a remote Aboriginal community in search for meaning. As he slowly explores the community and his friendship, he discovers himself.
He writes "a story is like a river. It has a source. It has its tributaries, some as far-reaching and expansive as memory, others a thin trickle, so tenuous their influx is barely noticed. Some stories arrive like torrents, unpredictable and short-lived, whereas others are always there, broad and slow-moving and dependable, their undercurrents barely detectable on the surface." The book is very much about connections, between people, and about country, and water is a metaphor with many references. The prose is just beautiful, sparse and haunting in places, and evocative and detailed in others. In the end, I think this sentence sums it up for me:
"People who come here with an answer for everything usually leave wondering what the hell the question was.’
He writes "a story is like a river. It has a source. It has its tributaries, some as far-reaching and expansive as memory, others a thin trickle, so tenuous their influx is barely noticed. Some stories arrive like torrents, unpredictable and short-lived, whereas others are always there, broad and slow-moving and dependable, their undercurrents barely detectable on the surface." The book is very much about connections, between people, and about country, and water is a metaphor with many references. The prose is just beautiful, sparse and haunting in places, and evocative and detailed in others. In the end, I think this sentence sums it up for me:
"People who come here with an answer for everything usually leave wondering what the hell the question was.’
April 6, 2018
I love it when you read a run of engaging stories. Maybe I am biased by this one as two of the main characters (Jed and Saul) lived in Hobart and I have a soft spot for the location of my first university. Jed has died and Saul is in mourning and guilt ridden. He takes off following the vague information he has (a photo, a name) to find the other person Jed loved, Nara. This takes him travelling into the heart of Australia with its red sand and own tortured history. My trip to Alice, staying with a local, seeing that same red sand and hearing some indigenous stories may also have given this story a depth which helped made it a five star read.
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