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Dancing Home
Blackie and Rips are fresh out of prison when they set off on a road trip back to Wiradjuri country with their mate Carlos. Blackie is out for revenge against the cop who put him in prison on false grounds. He is also craving to reconnect with his grandmother’s country. Driven by his hunger for drugs and payback, Blackie reaches dark places of both mystery and beauty as he searches for peace. He is willing to pay for that peace with his own life. Part road-movie, part ‘Koori-noir’, Dancing Home announces an original and darkly funny new voice.
216 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2018
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Displaying 1 - 16 of 16 reviews
July 9, 2023
A story that explores the complexity of living as an indigenous person in Australia. While Blackie had some life opportunities as a child the stigma and stereotyping still ultimately leads to an inability for him to create a life that is free from racial bias. Collis clearly depicts the humanity, suffering and the strength of family relationships that underpin his life and ultimately lead to an unexpected conclusion.
October 19, 2025
Important story of the harm inflicted upon Aboriginal people by the police, highlighting issues of racial profiling, excessive force, and high rates of death in custody due to inadequate medical care and numerous other injustices.
This is powerful work and I recommend it to other white Australians in particular. However, I found the writing style deeply unappealing and would have preferred more utilisation of the ‘show, don’t tell’ narrative technique.
This is powerful work and I recommend it to other white Australians in particular. However, I found the writing style deeply unappealing and would have preferred more utilisation of the ‘show, don’t tell’ narrative technique.
November 18, 2017
Paul Collis, the author of Dancing Home (UQP 2017), won the 2016 David Unaipon Award for an outstanding unpublished manuscript by an Indigenous writer. This award has paved the way for Aboriginal voices to be heard; for our country’s first storytellers to tell their stories in their own words, in their own way. The result is always impressive, sometimes surprising, and always informative. And while previous non-fiction winners have presented knowledge and historical truths, the fiction winners are no less important, conveying truths and prejudices through fictional stories.
In Dancing Home, we meet Blackie and Rips, two damaged Aboriginal men just out of prison. Blackie is bent on revenge against a white cop – an old schoolmate – who was instrumental in his false incarceration. Together with their new mate, Carlos, they embark on a road trip back to Wiradjuri country. It’s the land of Blackie’s ancestors, specifically his grandmother, who – although she has passed on – continues to make her presence felt in Blackie’s life, inhabiting his dreams and pricking his conscience. As the three men cross country, fuelled as much by hate and revenge as by the drugs they take along the way, we become intimately engaged with their histories, their families and their dreams. We come to see them not merely as drug-addicted and dangerous criminals, but as proud men struggling to do the right thing by their families and friends, despite society’s harsh reception.
The language and dialogue of Dancing Home is raw and authentic. The characters are presented as flawed and weak; they are frightening and threatening. But through the characters’ own introspection, and the incidents that have shaped their lives, we begin to see past that carapace to what is beneath. And under that hard shell are men who value beauty and family, men who respect their elders and their history and their land, men who strive in the face of persecution and battle on in the face of discrimination and prejudice. We start to understand the complex layers of racial and social barriers that they must navigate; we are given a glimpse into what life is like for these men. We see the human similarities that join us, rather than only the differences that set us apart.
For many reasons, Dancing Home is an uncomfortable read. It tells of violence and brutality, of betrayal and addiction, of poverty and disadvantage. But it also glows with an inner sense of self-sacrifice, and a message about belonging. Blackie is a character I felt I knew; despite his many failings, I felt he was someone I would like. He has a good heart, and he operates within his own morality. The book raises many questions about race; it doesn’t attempt to answer those questions, but leaves us pondering their repercussions.
In Dancing Home, we meet Blackie and Rips, two damaged Aboriginal men just out of prison. Blackie is bent on revenge against a white cop – an old schoolmate – who was instrumental in his false incarceration. Together with their new mate, Carlos, they embark on a road trip back to Wiradjuri country. It’s the land of Blackie’s ancestors, specifically his grandmother, who – although she has passed on – continues to make her presence felt in Blackie’s life, inhabiting his dreams and pricking his conscience. As the three men cross country, fuelled as much by hate and revenge as by the drugs they take along the way, we become intimately engaged with their histories, their families and their dreams. We come to see them not merely as drug-addicted and dangerous criminals, but as proud men struggling to do the right thing by their families and friends, despite society’s harsh reception.
The language and dialogue of Dancing Home is raw and authentic. The characters are presented as flawed and weak; they are frightening and threatening. But through the characters’ own introspection, and the incidents that have shaped their lives, we begin to see past that carapace to what is beneath. And under that hard shell are men who value beauty and family, men who respect their elders and their history and their land, men who strive in the face of persecution and battle on in the face of discrimination and prejudice. We start to understand the complex layers of racial and social barriers that they must navigate; we are given a glimpse into what life is like for these men. We see the human similarities that join us, rather than only the differences that set us apart.
For many reasons, Dancing Home is an uncomfortable read. It tells of violence and brutality, of betrayal and addiction, of poverty and disadvantage. But it also glows with an inner sense of self-sacrifice, and a message about belonging. Blackie is a character I felt I knew; despite his many failings, I felt he was someone I would like. He has a good heart, and he operates within his own morality. The book raises many questions about race; it doesn’t attempt to answer those questions, but leaves us pondering their repercussions.
April 4, 2018
Drearily self-consciously, obscenely self-indulgent.
Profanities abound as 'in character' The attempt to show 'insight' into Aboriginal lifestyles and the basis for inequality seem to produce nothing more than contempt, imo, for those abusing themselves, their own history and any chances/opportunities to either stay as a 'camp black' or to become an achiever with a foot in both camps.
Whilst this tale may accurately reflect the lives of the protagonist, his relatives, friends and history it only does so in the most banal and crude fashion.
Characteristics are set in the early pages but continue unabated. Profanities and drug lifestyle told as an internal running commentary make neither good observational retelling nor a conscious narrative.
Read seriously to begin with. Then dipped, then read the last pages...and thought ugh...poor case history. I get it. FInished.
Profanities abound as 'in character' The attempt to show 'insight' into Aboriginal lifestyles and the basis for inequality seem to produce nothing more than contempt, imo, for those abusing themselves, their own history and any chances/opportunities to either stay as a 'camp black' or to become an achiever with a foot in both camps.
Whilst this tale may accurately reflect the lives of the protagonist, his relatives, friends and history it only does so in the most banal and crude fashion.
Characteristics are set in the early pages but continue unabated. Profanities and drug lifestyle told as an internal running commentary make neither good observational retelling nor a conscious narrative.
Read seriously to begin with. Then dipped, then read the last pages...and thought ugh...poor case history. I get it. FInished.
November 6, 2017
What you get from this book is an overwhelming experience of the violence found in Aboriginal people's lives. Particularly for men. The author writes brilliantly about this, using expletive-full language in both conversation and inner reflections. Blackie is just out of gaol, in his way back to his home in a stolen car, with his mates, all of them high on drugs. The plot unfolds with a fast-paced intense focus over a very short period of time. Blackie is the driver of the action, and maintains his hope and pride no matter what. The lifestyle is savagely grim: petty crime and drug based, balanced by bonds of kinship and the desire to protect others. Depictions of police brutality make it seem like a long running war between black and white. It left me full of despair.
February 28, 2022
A story of systemic racism, police brutality and corruption. While the ending is not surprising, it is devastating. The beauty of this narrative is in the details: the meaning of returning “home”, reconnecting with one’s roots, and the power of community support. I was deeply saddened by Blackie’s narrative, his latent anger, his difficult childhood, his troubled path from youth to adulthood. I was also deeply moved by his compassion for those he loved, his connection to his grandmother, his deep awareness of nature’s signs. This is one of those stories that stays with you because you know it to be the true story of many people, despite its fictional characters.
January 23, 2018
I have very mixed views on this book and am finding it difficult to rate. Maybe 3.5 stars? On the one hand the author has clearly gone to great pains to get the dialogue right, and although there is LOTS of swearing (a warning to those of delicate sensibilities) he depicts a life not often found in Australian literature with great passion. On the other hand I found the writing outside of the dialogue to be stilted and sometimes cliched. Definitely worth reading if only to for its description of indigenous life in modern Australia.
November 15, 2017
Powerful narrative depicting an ill-fated, heart-breaking homecoming and so many important themes: the impact of 225 years of oppression, police brutality and victimisation, the failure of educational institutions to meet the needs of the indigenous minority, pervasive racism from high schools to pharmacies and the maelstrom of emotions and spiritual connections between family and community. Shocking and brutal yet light-hearted and tender.
September 11, 2022
Starting with a machismo and drug-fuelled road trip, this book morphs smoothly into something more tender, sad and hopeful in the second half. At its strongest when focused on the Wiradjuri community, this felt like one of the best portrayals of regional life for a long time. Collis' band of protagonists, often hard to like on the road, grow into something much greater when surrounded by community and love. And there's something really great in that.
August 1, 2025
I heard Paul Collis speak at a Wheeler Centre event and was inspired to read this book. I like the concept of Koori Noir, which he spoke about in detail, in conversation with Samuel Wagan Watson, the poet. I cant say I loved it but I am glad I read it and it’s certainly worth a look if you’re interested in exploring the breadth of First Nations writing.
March 4, 2018
This is a very different book to anything I have read before. The language is a bit confronting, but the story is excellent. I found the whole book extremely uncomfortable to read and the ending did not abate this feeling. I think this book should be read by most white Australians
April 21, 2018
Written in a harsh manner and while the portrayal of the importance of family was clear, there was not much depth in any of the characters. Interesting to read about indigenous life in western NSW.
October 12, 2024
Wow. Powerful and devastating. All the other reviews getting caught up on the 'cussing' in this book are completely missing the point. Dancing Home is an important read.
December 15, 2018
My first attempt to read this book led to me abandoning it, but I thought long and hard about doing that, and was hesitant to send it back to the library unfinished.
It is a raw, powerful, authentic portrayal of the damage done to Indigenous people by policies past and present that have been inflicted on them. It's the story of two drug-addicted, violent men, just released from prison for a crime that Blackie says he didn't commit. They are on a road-journey back to his Wiradjuri country, to reconnect with his family but also to have his revenge against the policeman who confected evidence against him and landed him in gaol.
I read more than half of the book, and was impressed by energy of the writing and the uncompromising style. Collis tells it like it is, apparently, see Cass Moriaty's review here at GR too. But it is unrelentingly grim, and although I have read a fair bit of Indigenous Lit and reviewed it on my blog, I had not long before read Kim Scott's True Country which had left me feeling nothing but despair about the state of Australia's Indigenous people, and I found myself turning away from Dancing Home to read other things. That could be a metaphor for what so many Australians do, to turn away, but for many of us it is not because we don't care, but because we feel utterly powerless. We have a government that includes people who refused to attend the Apology to the Stolen Generations and still refuses to listen. This government won't consider a Makarata, or an acknowledgment of sovereignty or the possibility of a treaty - and won't even implement the policies that are need for Closing the Gap to succeed.
But I came back to this book, and tried again when I was not feeling so disheartened. I finished it, and have scheduled my review for Indigenous Literature Week at ANZLitLovers.com (July8-15 2018), see https://anzlitlovers.com/2018/07/08/d....
It is a raw, powerful, authentic portrayal of the damage done to Indigenous people by policies past and present that have been inflicted on them. It's the story of two drug-addicted, violent men, just released from prison for a crime that Blackie says he didn't commit. They are on a road-journey back to his Wiradjuri country, to reconnect with his family but also to have his revenge against the policeman who confected evidence against him and landed him in gaol.
I read more than half of the book, and was impressed by energy of the writing and the uncompromising style. Collis tells it like it is, apparently, see Cass Moriaty's review here at GR too. But it is unrelentingly grim, and although I have read a fair bit of Indigenous Lit and reviewed it on my blog, I had not long before read Kim Scott's True Country which had left me feeling nothing but despair about the state of Australia's Indigenous people, and I found myself turning away from Dancing Home to read other things. That could be a metaphor for what so many Australians do, to turn away, but for many of us it is not because we don't care, but because we feel utterly powerless. We have a government that includes people who refused to attend the Apology to the Stolen Generations and still refuses to listen. This government won't consider a Makarata, or an acknowledgment of sovereignty or the possibility of a treaty - and won't even implement the policies that are need for Closing the Gap to succeed.
But I came back to this book, and tried again when I was not feeling so disheartened. I finished it, and have scheduled my review for Indigenous Literature Week at ANZLitLovers.com (July8-15 2018), see https://anzlitlovers.com/2018/07/08/d....
April 29, 2020
This is an uncomfortable and confronting read in many ways. It's also very funny and very profound. It's a window into a world of the marginalised, poor and Indigenous Australia that doesn't often get portrayed in books or on film and I found it really fascinating. Maybe it should be required reading in Australia? The writing is completely unpretentious and effortlessly poetic.
February 28, 2020
Brutal, lyrical, gentle and essential.
Displaying 1 - 16 of 16 reviews