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The Earth Cries Out
Fresh, different and exquisitely written, this is an exciting debut novel.
One day we were in a dream world, where Julia was dead and the space where she once was became large and silent, and then we were in another country altogether — where stories and voices made their way into our house any way they could. They heaved under the floorboards, whispered in the windows. Creaked in the attic like a python grown too big on rats. And I collected them all to fill that silence Julia left.
After the accidental death of Ruth's five-year-old sister, their father decides that atonement and healing are in order, and that taking on aid work in a mountain village in Irian Jaya is the way to find it. It is the late 1990s, a time of civil unrest and suppression in the Indonesian province now known as West Papua.
The family drops into what seems the middle of nowhere, where they experience a vibrant landscape, an ever-changing and disorientating world, and — for Ruth — new voices. While her parents find it a struggle to save themselves, let alone anyone else, Ruth seeks redemption in bearing witness to and passing on the stories of those who have been silenced — even as she is haunted by questions about what it means to witness and who gets to survive.
One day we were in a dream world, where Julia was dead and the space where she once was became large and silent, and then we were in another country altogether — where stories and voices made their way into our house any way they could. They heaved under the floorboards, whispered in the windows. Creaked in the attic like a python grown too big on rats. And I collected them all to fill that silence Julia left.
After the accidental death of Ruth's five-year-old sister, their father decides that atonement and healing are in order, and that taking on aid work in a mountain village in Irian Jaya is the way to find it. It is the late 1990s, a time of civil unrest and suppression in the Indonesian province now known as West Papua.
The family drops into what seems the middle of nowhere, where they experience a vibrant landscape, an ever-changing and disorientating world, and — for Ruth — new voices. While her parents find it a struggle to save themselves, let alone anyone else, Ruth seeks redemption in bearing witness to and passing on the stories of those who have been silenced — even as she is haunted by questions about what it means to witness and who gets to survive.
- GenresFiction
285 pages, Paperback
First published February 27, 2017
8 people are currently reading
77 people want to read
About the author
Bonnie Etherington
7 books8 followersBonnie Etherington was born in Nelson, New Zealand, but spent most of her childhood in West Papua and her experiences there inspired her first novel. Currently, she lives with her husband and cat in Chicago, where she is working towards a PhD at Northwestern University, focusing on tropical ecologies in South East Asian and Oceania literatures. She was shortlisted for the Commonwealth Short Story Prize in 2016, and has had poetry, short fiction, and travel writing published in literary magazines and anthologies in Australia, New Zealand, the USA, and Malaysia. She was shortlisted for the BNZ Katherine Mansfield Award in 2013, and named AA Directions’ New Travel Writer of the Year in 2011.
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Displaying 1 - 14 of 14 reviews
September 7, 2018
‘The Earth Cries Out’ is the story of a family as they struggle side by side with the loss of a daughter and sister, as told through the eyes of child. After the death of Julia, the youngest child, the family chooses to move to a remote mountain village in Irian Jaya to work voluntarily building a hospital for the local people of Yuvut. This decision is made under a shroud of grief that is palpable, but not discussed, with the father thinking that such a move will allow the family to heal and give them a fresh start. The reality of this decision is that the family becomes more and more removed from each other as they navigate survival in this strange, beautiful, but brutal world. The remaining sibling Ruth tries to make sense of snippets of memory and snatched, overheard conversations, all remembered in a child-like fashion. As she explores the new area she is living in with all its wonders and horrors, she experiences a completely different and quite factual approach to living and dying. He mother remains holed up in the hut they are living in, locked away with her feelings. Her father leaves each day to navigate new territory in dealing with the local Papuan people, learning about new and foreign materials for the hospital build, and trying to operate in a climate that is rugged and harsh. Underlined with political unease that builds to unrest, it would seem that Irian Jaya is mirroring the conflict and trauma rippling only just beneath the surface of the family.
Bonnie Etherington has an almost ethereal way with words which makes you feel like you are carried along the top of the story. Each character is beautifully realised, and sympathetically portrayed. The landscapes breath and pulse with realness and colour, mirroring so much of what is happening in the storyline. As the burial hills in Yuvut become exposed by the roughness of the weather so does the rising grief of the family unit. This was a touching and moving read with exquisite writing. I look forward to reading more of this author's writing.
Bonnie Etherington has an almost ethereal way with words which makes you feel like you are carried along the top of the story. Each character is beautifully realised, and sympathetically portrayed. The landscapes breath and pulse with realness and colour, mirroring so much of what is happening in the storyline. As the burial hills in Yuvut become exposed by the roughness of the weather so does the rising grief of the family unit. This was a touching and moving read with exquisite writing. I look forward to reading more of this author's writing.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
January 6, 2018
At its heart, this is a deeply human story of grief and witness and family (blood and chosen), these themes are profoundly treated by Etherington in a masterful merging of history and fiction.
Etherington makes incredibly successful use of a blend of narrative frames from traditional first person narration to letters from the narrator Ruth to her grandfather to segments describing natural and political histories of the novels disparate settings across time. I learned a great deal about the history of West Papúa (and its airplanes and flora and fauna) while also finding myself powerfully invested in the story of the family who uprooted their lives in movements both towards and away from something.
The novel’s pace quickens and slows at precisely the right moments in the story - I found myself pausing to reflect on moments and passages just as they lilted themselves into the next. Etherington’s use of language manages to both transport her reader to Irian Jaya and put us in airborne elevation above it - I was especially moved (to laughter and to tears) by her use of metaphor and simile.
I was captivated by this book’s settings, language, and characters - the latter especially for their honest portrayal of a family who finds themselves in and out of place. I cannot recommend this book highly enough.
Etherington makes incredibly successful use of a blend of narrative frames from traditional first person narration to letters from the narrator Ruth to her grandfather to segments describing natural and political histories of the novels disparate settings across time. I learned a great deal about the history of West Papúa (and its airplanes and flora and fauna) while also finding myself powerfully invested in the story of the family who uprooted their lives in movements both towards and away from something.
The novel’s pace quickens and slows at precisely the right moments in the story - I found myself pausing to reflect on moments and passages just as they lilted themselves into the next. Etherington’s use of language manages to both transport her reader to Irian Jaya and put us in airborne elevation above it - I was especially moved (to laughter and to tears) by her use of metaphor and simile.
I was captivated by this book’s settings, language, and characters - the latter especially for their honest portrayal of a family who finds themselves in and out of place. I cannot recommend this book highly enough.
June 28, 2017
Lyrical and moving, The Earth Cries Out pairs one family's trauma with the larger political upheaval in West Papua in the 1990s. Etherington has a fresh and poetic voice; her gorgeous language evokes both the Indonesian landscape and the narrator's own internal world with vivid imagery that never veers into cliche. I felt mesmerized by her story and the book's ability to entirely encapsulate its readers in its lush, rich world. I loved how Etherington masterfully wove in a variety of voices throughout Ruth's story, thus reminding us of the power stories have to amplify and memorialize those whose voices might otherwise be forgotten. This is a beautifully written debut novel and I'm eagerly awaiting Etherington's next book.
March 9, 2017
This book was so beautiful. So many turns of phrase I had to highlight because of the way the words tasted. Gah, I don't even have the words to describe how wonderful and poignant and vivid and alive this novel is.
January 12, 2018
My 2018 reading year didn’t start well: I ditched my first two books, one after the other. But my first review of 2018 is a different story: The Earth Cries Out by Bonnie Etherington is a mesmerising, captivating novel that well deserves its nomination for the 2018 Ockham New Zealand Awards.
Narrated in a poignant melancholy tone, the novel takes us to a different place and time. Ruth Glass looks back on her childhood in the isolation of a village in the West Papuan highlands as a time of dislocation and intense loss. Her five-year-old sister Julia has died in an horrific accident at home, and everyone feels the guilt and unspoken blame. Her parents are on the verge of divorce at the time of the accident but at her father’s insistence they go as aid workers to West Papua (then in the 1990s known as Irian Jaya). He thinks it is a form of atonement that will heal them. His wife Marian is too broken to defy him. And Ruth is an eight-year-old child made older than her years by this tragic chain of events. She is haunted by the squabbles she had with her sister and confused by the mixed messages she gets about God, atonement and forgiveness. The silence overwhelms her.
Along with Ruth’s letters to her grandfather in Nelson, NZ, these local stories and voices are scattered through the novel. Ruth’s friend Susumina tells her stories of places haunted by death – which is an everyday occurrence in the village. Ruth’s family is not alone in its grief: everyone in Yuvut has lost a loved one, to childbirth, to injury and disease, to malnutrition, AIDS or to the Indonesian regime which suppresses the independence movement with brutal violence.
To read the rest of my review please visit https://anzlitlovers.com/2018/01/04/t...
Narrated in a poignant melancholy tone, the novel takes us to a different place and time. Ruth Glass looks back on her childhood in the isolation of a village in the West Papuan highlands as a time of dislocation and intense loss. Her five-year-old sister Julia has died in an horrific accident at home, and everyone feels the guilt and unspoken blame. Her parents are on the verge of divorce at the time of the accident but at her father’s insistence they go as aid workers to West Papua (then in the 1990s known as Irian Jaya). He thinks it is a form of atonement that will heal them. His wife Marian is too broken to defy him. And Ruth is an eight-year-old child made older than her years by this tragic chain of events. She is haunted by the squabbles she had with her sister and confused by the mixed messages she gets about God, atonement and forgiveness. The silence overwhelms her.
One day the yellow house held Julia’s voice, and then it did not. One day I was a sister, and then I was not. One day we were in a dream world, where Julia was dead and the space where she once was became large and silent, and then we were in another country altogether – where stories and voices made their way into our house any way they could. They heaved under the floorboards, whispered in the windows. Creaked in the attic like a python grown too big on rats. And I collected them all to fill that silence Julia left. (p.11)
Along with Ruth’s letters to her grandfather in Nelson, NZ, these local stories and voices are scattered through the novel. Ruth’s friend Susumina tells her stories of places haunted by death – which is an everyday occurrence in the village. Ruth’s family is not alone in its grief: everyone in Yuvut has lost a loved one, to childbirth, to injury and disease, to malnutrition, AIDS or to the Indonesian regime which suppresses the independence movement with brutal violence.
To read the rest of my review please visit https://anzlitlovers.com/2018/01/04/t...
March 11, 2017
When I started this book, I was struck by how moved I was a mere 5 pages in. I did not anticipate the degree to which I would be moved by the end. The book begins with a death, but does not dabble in sentiment; instead, it takes the pure, raw emotions of loss and fear (relatable in some way to nearly everyone) and connects it to a life that many of us never think on, life in a third-world country.
The brilliance of Etherington's book lies not just in the elegant prose; it lies in Etherington's ability to bring out an awareness that our lives are part of a larger, diverse world filled with things both foreign and familiar at the same time. To describe in detail the nuances of that awareness would rob you, the reader, of an experience that will surely move you, and most likely alter your perceptions about race, politics, and what it means to be human.
The only advice I have to offer is, read this book, as soon as you can. It is very likely that many of your friends will be talking about it.
The brilliance of Etherington's book lies not just in the elegant prose; it lies in Etherington's ability to bring out an awareness that our lives are part of a larger, diverse world filled with things both foreign and familiar at the same time. To describe in detail the nuances of that awareness would rob you, the reader, of an experience that will surely move you, and most likely alter your perceptions about race, politics, and what it means to be human.
The only advice I have to offer is, read this book, as soon as you can. It is very likely that many of your friends will be talking about it.
March 27, 2017
Simply amazing! This novel had me hooked from the very first chapter. Brilliant story flow and well written characters, this book feels like magic and memory all at once and leaves you feeling something powerful. I could not put it down.
September 29, 2017
As soon as I began the first chapter I was immediately immersed into a complex missionary world traversing lives and cultures. Right away I tasted a bit of Australia and Papua and then bit off a big bite of real life in Yavut, West Papua, in a mountain village of Irian Jaya, by a prose so colourful and poetic that I couldn't put it down. There's so much to take in!
"As for me, I can collapse the experience of years and of others like an accordian. Isn't that what the old people do? So much happens in so short a space that it needs to be reduced to nothing so that we can wrap our hands around it and throw it away or hoard it close."
Vacations are always busy times for me, so I've never been on vacation, picked up a novel and read it in its entirely before returning home, until now, living that accordian full of experiences. I was tranfixed by the descriptions, rich similes and metaphors, powerful poignant vignettes, each a series of notes and melodies traversing so many peoples lives and their customs making an odd music of sorts with one another.
I honestly felt great desperation and painful mourning as I read, living vicariously in a country so thoroughly exploited that my heart ached in most chapters, and yet there was also hope in unexpected moments throughout the novel. I found one such spot in the chapter Sweet Potato, where single mothers of all ages discover a beautiful way to live communally, taking care of themselves, one another and each others' children.
Hope many readers choose to pick this one up. It's a most valuable and thought-provoking read.
"As for me, I can collapse the experience of years and of others like an accordian. Isn't that what the old people do? So much happens in so short a space that it needs to be reduced to nothing so that we can wrap our hands around it and throw it away or hoard it close."
Vacations are always busy times for me, so I've never been on vacation, picked up a novel and read it in its entirely before returning home, until now, living that accordian full of experiences. I was tranfixed by the descriptions, rich similes and metaphors, powerful poignant vignettes, each a series of notes and melodies traversing so many peoples lives and their customs making an odd music of sorts with one another.
I honestly felt great desperation and painful mourning as I read, living vicariously in a country so thoroughly exploited that my heart ached in most chapters, and yet there was also hope in unexpected moments throughout the novel. I found one such spot in the chapter Sweet Potato, where single mothers of all ages discover a beautiful way to live communally, taking care of themselves, one another and each others' children.
Hope many readers choose to pick this one up. It's a most valuable and thought-provoking read.
September 19, 2025
It's the second book I've ever read which was set in Papua. I appreciated the author's ability to use words to paint pictures and her desire to write about this exotic place.
That said, it was hard to get through. There were so many sentence fragments and simple sentences that it became distracting. The author also really trusts the reader and leaves a lot unsaid. She gives us the dots but rarely connects them. Just let's them hang (sentence fragment and parentheses in honor of the hours I spent on this book). Sometimes that works, but when you're trying to describe a world your readers are most likely unfamiliar with, the dots must be connected.
That said, it was hard to get through. There were so many sentence fragments and simple sentences that it became distracting. The author also really trusts the reader and leaves a lot unsaid. She gives us the dots but rarely connects them. Just let's them hang (sentence fragment and parentheses in honor of the hours I spent on this book). Sometimes that works, but when you're trying to describe a world your readers are most likely unfamiliar with, the dots must be connected.
May 30, 2018
An absorbing journey into the heart and soul of an alien culture that captures with poignancy its emergence from Stone Age to modern complexities and thwarted development viewed through the cautious but wise eyes of youth. The writing is provocative, compelling and laced with the taste and flavours of a innocent yet tainted land and people finding their way through the pitfalls dressed as progress. A great accomplishment from a local Nelsonian writer who has effectively used her own life experiences in a generous and sharing manner.
August 2, 2023
Some parts of the book were beautifully written. My opinion is that there were lost opportunities to open a window into this part of the world beyond superficial observation. Is is a complex place with a complex history and more depth would have made it a more meaningful and powerful read for people who are not familiar with the geopolitical, socio demographic and geological realities of the country and neighboring West Papua. I applaud Bonnie on her first book and hope she can revisit her old home once again in literature.
June 27, 2017
This book was an emotional read, at times too real and too raw and too heavy to get through without taking breaks. The stories in this book reflect real stories and places so vividly it was a shock to see them in writing. Amazing work, I was honoured to read it and to be able to relate to it so personally.
June 7, 2019
Haunting, yet hopeful look at how grief poisons a family in Papua, Indonesia.
September 29, 2019
A book that should be read. Insight in to life in West Papua.
The different ways of grieving between pakeha New Zealanders and the indigenous people of West Papua.
The different ways of grieving between pakeha New Zealanders and the indigenous people of West Papua.
Displaying 1 - 14 of 14 reviews