Clem Whelan's got a problem: trapped in the suburbs in the Sunnyboy summer of 1984 he has to decide what to do with his life. Matriculation? He's more than able, but not remotely interested. Become a writer? His failed lawyer neighbour Peter encourages him, but maybe it's just another dead end? To make sense of the world, Clem uses his telescope to spy on his neighbours. From his wall, John Lennon gives him advice; his sister (busy with her Feres Trabilsie hairdressing apprenticeship) tells him he's a pervert; his best friend, Curtis, gets hooked on sex and Dante and, as the year progresses and the essays go unwritten, he starts to understand the excellence of it all.
His Pop, facing the first dawn of dementia, determined to follow an old map into the desert in search of Lasseter's Reef. His old neighbour, Vicky, returning to Lanark Avenue - and a smile is all it takes. Followed by a series of failed driving tests; and the man at his door, claiming to be his father.
It's going to be a long year, but in the end Clem emerges from the machine a different person, ready to face what he now understands about life, love, and the importance of family and neighbours.
Stephen Orr is an Australian writer of novels, short stories and non-fiction. His works are set in uniquely Australian settings, including coastal towns, outback regions and the Australian suburbs. His fiction explores the dynamics of Australian families and communities.
>One of the aspects of getting older that's a bit eerie, is finding that part of your life has become 'the olden days'. Initially, my idea of 'the olden days' was that era when my parents were children and young adults, a time that they would evoke with nostalgia (or otherwise). Then, emerging with self-mockery but solidifying into nostalgia (or not), 'the olden days' become the years of my own child- and young adulthood. But what's really spooky is when the years of The Offspring's child-and young adulthood have become 'the olden days'.
Though they'll enjoy it just as much, I suspect that the generation after mine will read Stephen Orr's new autobiographical novel somewhat differently to me. This Excellent Machine was a revelation, because The Offspring was (just like his parents) immune to popular culture. So whereas most parents were dragged into 1980s culture by their children, I wasn't. Orr's book is a 'foreign country' to me. It's like reading about a tourist attraction you missed seeing while you were on a once-in-a-lifetime trip.
Orr is one of my favourite authors: I've read all but one of his seven novels, and he is a genius with characterisation and setting. In This Excellent Machine Clem Whelan is the central character, trapped in the Sunnyboy summer of 1984 and wondering what to do with his life. When he quizzes his mother once again about his long-absent, best-forgotten father, he knows the script even before they start, and eventually he recognises the pattern:
I'd had enough. She was like a mower starting on a very big paddock. (p.85)
*Ouch!*
There is a conspiracy of silence about this absent father. Clem lives in a close-knit street in a working-class suburb of Adelaide. (Only, most people are not working, except in backyard ventures or casual, pointless jobs. The 1980s was when people started to find out what globalisation really meant). Everyone knows everyone else, and people rarely move away so the neighbours remember Clem's birth and early childhood. And they remember his father, but they keep schtum about it too. Clem has reached the age where he needs to know, mainly because he is in search of a mentor to guide him through his difficult last year at school. He's not sure it's going to be worth it, and his teachers, ground down because of the hopelessness of their students' future, aren't much help. Pop's advice is to knuckle down but Clem thinks it might be too late...
‘Looking back, I can’t say what made 1984 so special.’
For Clem Whelan, 1984 is a pivotal year. He’s not sure what he wants to do with his life. He has choices to make, but decisions are not easy. He could matriculate (he’s smart enough) but he’s not interested. He might like to be a writer, and while his neighbour Peter encourages him, he’s not sure. It’s tough being a teenager on the brink of more responsibility. Clem lives in a working-class suburb of Adelaide, where just about everyone has lived long enough to have known him since he was a baby. He lives with his sister, mother and grandfather. There’s a mystery about his father, who left when he was young, but no-one will tell him.
So, Clem tries to make his own sense of the world: using his telescope to spy on his neighbours, looking to John Lennon on his wall for advice. His sister tells him he’s a pervert, the adults in his life encourage him in different directions, and his best friend Curtis gets hooked on sex.
I remember 1984, from a different perspective, as the mother of a small child. I remember Sunnyboys and Datsun 120Ys. But while I was reading Clem’s story, I was also remembering my own equivalent matriculation year in 1973. And I can hardly forget the Datsuns: my father was the service manager for a local Datsun (now Nissan) dealership in regional Tasmania and I learned to drive in Datsuns. But memories are often gentler than the actual experiences, of trying to negotiate a path through possibilities, of trying to work out what is important and why. Clem finds some teachers more helpful than others, but Nick the art teacher, the most helpful one, is quickly moved on.
‘Sometimes dreams are bouncy castles, half-filled with air.’
Clem’s grandfather is starting to grapple with dementia. He’s spent years working on cars, but he’s finding it more difficult to remember the sequence for repairs. But Clem’s grandfather has a dream: it involves Lasseter’s Reef and requires Clem to pass his driving test to help him get there.
This novel is peopled with interesting characters, each with their own story. And these stories feed into the novel Clem is writing about life; the excellent machine where people go in and emerge changed. Clem’s 1984 is generally a much more benign place than George Orwell’s ‘1984’.
‘Life has a way of making you live it.’
Which was your pivotal year? Was 1984 memorable for you? Clem’s story is worth reading.
I’ve only read three of Stephen Orr’s novels so far. I want to read the rest.
I enjoy Stephen Orr's books for many reasons. His stories, usually set in the South Australia of my boyhood, are relatable, familiar and very interesting. He also writes about moral, ethical and social challenges that prompt you to think. His books tend to move at a slow pace, which I suspect wouldn't be to everyone's taste, especially those readers with limited appreciation of the places and attitudes in the story. This Excellent Machine is the story of 17 year old Clem Whelan and the people in his street, Lanark Avenue, in the fictional suburb of Gleneagles, which sounds a lot to me like the real Adelaide suburb of Windsor Gardens. Clem deals with many challenges and adventures, including his absent father, his dreaming grandfather and a mixed bag of neighbours from various social and economic circumstances. The book revolves around how Clem is recording and observing this life to collect and write anecdotes for his own novel. Not a lot happens outside of everyday challenges, however a road trip to find Lassester's Reef in Central Australia is entertaining. I liked it, because I like Stephen Orr. It's not a relaxing read, but satisfying for the wonderful sense of character and location.
What a disarming combination of shrewdly observed kitchen-sink detail and sentimental whimsy this coming-of-age novel turns out to be.
Somewhat to my surprise, I had tears streaming down my face as I read the last chapter, which amounts to a paean of love for a childhood and adolescence lived in very modest and ordinary circumstances.
I was terrifically impressed by the way Orr has been able to combine in a completely convincing manner an extraordinary wealth of telling detail about what it might have been like to be a seventeen year old boy struggling to finish year twelve of school in the Adelaide suburb of Gleneagles in 1984 with occasional wry and pithy asides that remind us constantly that the boy who lived through this experience did ultimately become an acute (but never showy) wordsmith.
Don't be deceived by the seeming modesty of the subject matter or the style here. This book is a cracker.
Not a light airport read. This is a book to be read and savored. The narrative leaps about a bit and needs to be followed closely. The Excellent Machine is a year in a life of a boy who comes out the other end older, wiser, sadder. As an older reader it was a look back to simpler but not necessarily better times (1984) and perhaps you need to be an Aussie who grew up in the country to fully appreciate the place and language.
Stephen Orr has painted a realistic picture of life in small places in the 60s, 70s and 80s where people knew each other but did not interfere in their lives - only coming when help was needed. By the 80s, life in the cities was already vastly different and the town and country divide more obvious but in the year of Clem's matriculation, his home-town was just beginning to catch up.
Thoroughly enjoyed spending a week with Clem and his family, friends and neighbours, living near NE Road in Adelaide, South Australia. Clem is a decent lad and his care for his pop was heart warming.