The Drover’s Wife: The Legend of Molly Johnson

by Leah Purcell

Leah Purcell’s play caused a sensation on performance and won the NSW Premier’s Prize Book of the Year and now she has expanded that play to write a novel that while still ‘Tarantino meets Deadwood’ is also so much more.

In the titular character The Drover's Wife, Purcell has created a figure who is as resonant and significant as Ned Kelly. Lawson’s original short story is reimagined vividly to portray the drover’s heroic wife as a righteous avenger - on behalf of herself, her children and her race - in a savage male world. Challenging responses to family violence and black white relations. A taut thriller of our pioneering past, The Drover's Wife is full of fury, power, family love and intimate friendships. And has a black sting to the tail, reaching from our nation's settled infancy into our complicated present.
Leah Purcell is a multi award-winning playwright, actor, director, screenwriter and filmmaker. Indigenous and First Nation themes, characters and issues lie at the heart of all her work.

The Drover's Wife was first a play written by and starring Purcell, performed in 2017. It won the Victorian and New South Wales Premier's Literary Awards for Best Play, Best Book and the Prize for Literature; the Australian Writer's Guild Award for Best Play and Major Work; the David Williamson Prize for Excellence in Writing for Australian Theatre; the Helpmann Award for Best Play and Best New Australian Work; and the Sydney-UNESCO City of Film Award.

Leah Purcell is currently at work on the feature film adaptation of The Drover's Wife, as writer, director and lead actor. She is a proud Goa-Gunggari-Wakka Wakka Murri woman from Queensland.

Genres: Fiction, Historical Fiction, Historical, Australia, Book Club, Audiobook, Indigenous

288 pages, Paperback

First published December 3, 2019

About the author

Leah Purcell is a multi-award-winning and self-made author, playwright, actor, director, filmmaker, producer, screenwriter and showrunner. At the heart of her work are female and First Nation themes, characters and issues. The Drover's Wife was first a play written by and starring Purcell, which premiered at Belvoir St Theatre in late 2016 and swept the board during the 2017 awards season, winning the New South Wales Premier's Literary Award for Playwriting and Book of the Year; the Victorian Premier's Literary Award for Drama and the Victorian Prize for Literature; the Australian Writers' Guild Award for Best Stage Work, Major Work and the David Williamson Prize for Excellence in Writing for Australian Theatre; the Helpmann Award for Best Play and Best New Australian Work; and the Sydney-UNESCO City of Film Award. The feature film adaptation of The Drover's Wife, written, directed and starring Leah Purcell, is slated for a 2020 release. Leah Purcell is a proud Goa, Gunggari, Wakka Wakka Murri woman from Queensland.

(source: Amazon.au)

Reviews

[Marchpane · Rating 4 out of 5]

“He was the last of his tribe and a King; but he had built that wood-heap hollow.”—Henry Lawson, The Drover’s Wife

Leah Purcell’s post-colonial and feminist reimagining of the classic 1892 Henry Lawson short story, The Drover’s Wife first appeared on stage in 2016. A loose interpretation of Lawson’s frontier tale, Purcell’s take is a much grittier western, shifting focus to the brutal truth of women’s and indigenous experiences in those times. That play has now been expanded further into this novel (with a feature film soon to follow).

Miles from anyone, heavily pregnant, and with her husband away drovin’, Molly Johnson protects and cares for her four young children with quiet ferocity. When Yadaka, a Guugu Yimithirr man suspected of slaughtering a prosperous white family, arrives at Molly’s shack, dramatic and violent events are set in motion.

This novel turns so many of our national myths on their head: the image of the stoic frontierswoman created by Lawson; the ‘jolly swagman’; hard-drinking, hard-fighting masculinity; the romance of life in the bush. Yadaka is so much more than Lawson’s ‘stray blackfellow’ who ‘built that wood-heap hollow’—Purcell gives him a name, a history, language, story, Country. And through him and Molly, she poses big questions about what race meant then and what it means now.

As a novel it is a little uneven, and the prose occasionally clunky in those areas that can’t exploit Purcell’s strengths as a screenwriter/playwright. Chapter Four (introducing a genteel married couple from England and filling in their backstory) was so full of Harlequin-romance clichés I almost gave up. Thankfully it was just a blip, the writing recovered (the occasional ‘chiselled chest’ and ‘handsome jawline’ notwithstanding) and the focus moved back to Molly’s hardscrabble existence, depicted in raw and vivid terms.

The power of The Drover’s Wife is in its two central characters, Molly and Yadaka, and the connections between them; its furious interrogation of our national identity and history; as well as the filmmaker’s knack for narrative tension and drive. You may see some of the turns coming, but the expert pacing and the way all the plot strands dovetail is just so narratively satisfying. The conclusion (which differs from the play’s) is heartbreaking yet hopeful, and I can’t wait to see this brought to life once more on screen.

[Kim · Rating 4 out of 5]

I read this last night in a cosy bed as the rain was lashing at the window and the Southerly wind was being whipped down from the top of the Snowy Mountains.
Set in the High Country in the late 1890s, a pregnant Molly Johnson lives alone with her 4 children while her abusive husband is out droving for months at a time.
She's self-sufficient but it's a challenging life, living so remotely, and there seems to be a number of visitors, not many of them friendly that keep turning up.
It's a wild story and provides a fascinating backstory and great detail to Henry Lawson's original short story and Leah Purcell's award winning play that was first performed in 2016.
Highly recommended.

[Rachel · Rating 4 out of 5]

Set in the 1890s, in the High Country of Victoria, this is a feminist and Indigenous retelling of Henry Lawson’s 1892 short story by Leah Purcell, a Goa, Gunggari, Wakka Wakka woman. It has a gothic western style, with drama, violence and tragedy.

The story began as a prize-winning play, including the NSW Premier's Award for Playwriting and Book of the Year in 2017; and the Victorian Premier's Literary Award for Drama and the Victorian Prize for Literature.

Purcell gives the drover’s wife a name, Molly Johnson, and a backstory. Molly ekes out a rugged existence providing for herself and her children while her drunk and violent husband is away droving for much of the year. Her meeting with Yadaka, a Guugu Yimithirr man, changes much for Molly, as their relationship evolves through storytelling.

The story also involves English couple Louisa and Nate Clintoff. Louisa is an idealistic suffragette eager to see change for Australian women, and Nate is a war-wounded soldier tasked with bringing law to Everton in the Snowy Mountains.

The third story involves a Ngambri Walgalu woman called 'Black Mary' or Waraganj, “the whitest gin in all the land” of Lawson’s tale, and her interaction with wealthy settlers the Edwards. The three stories eventually intersect but unfortunately the murder mystery is never really solved.

The point of view shifts rapidly from third to first person, but I didn’t mind this. There were a few anachronisms but overall I enjoyed this book. It was a powerful story, with some sad and ugly moments. I’m keen to see the movie now.

[Ali · Rating 3 out of 5]

There is a great tale here, weaving Lawson's insights into a broader history-informed narrative of early colonised life. This is a story of racism and sexism and endurance and love. Purcell is primarily a scriptwriter, and the telling has clumsy moments and some pacing issues. The rapid switching between point of view can also be more distracting than enlightening at times. When Purcell moves the action forward, she hits her stride, and I couldn't help thinking that she could have lost some of the internal monologues, which reinforce points that are made effectively through the story. These are, however, minor quibbles, in what is a cracking read telling the kinds of stories about Australia's past that we need more of.

[Steven · Rating 1 out of 5]

This book shows what can happen when the writer doesn't trust the reader, and when the editor is out to lunch.

For example, the day after Danny nearly dies: "Danny continues to write his name in the dirt. He is extra-sombre this morning, and rightly so. He experienced a great ordeal yesterday and is still a little shaken up. He rewrites his name in the damp earth, claiming his place here on dry land. Making his mark in this life, perhaps."

Or, when the pregnant Molly takes a bath: "Molly lies half-submerged in the steaming water, her pregnant belly on display in all its maternal glory. Beautiful and calm, she floats, not a care in the world – no weight on her shoulders today. Her mind is free of thought or concern, calmed by the tranquil sounds of nature. She's just in the moment, in the here and now."

Or, on stockmen and their care for their horses: "Three stockmen amble along on their horses, moving a few thousand head of sheep. The head stockman, Robert Parsen, has fiery-red hair and a full beard and is built like a bullock. Tied to his horse is a mare that looks a little spooked and unkempt, unusual for a stockhorse – a stockman's horse is his prized possession."

There is page after page of "telling" in this book, as if readers are ignorant about the world, our country, our colonial past.

There are many changes of first-person narrator, which I found more distracting than helpful. The same with changes of tense.

There were even lapses in spelling and grammar:
– "Winter is coming, and washing in the river gets too cold to bare."
– "Molly's concern grows as she wonders who these strangers are and what do they want."

And so, 120 pages in, I am giving up. But what a missed opportunity!

[Jennifer (JC-S) · Rating 4 out of 5]

‘And there is no one here who cares for her opinion. She’s just a woman.’

Towards the end of the nineteenth century, in the heart of Australia’s alpine region, Molly Johnson lives with her four surviving children. Her husband Joe is a drover and is away for months at a time. Molly’s eldest son Danny, just turned twelve, is effectively the man of the house. Molly has another child due soon and is trying to make the necessary preparations. Life is tough: the Johnsons are isolated, but Molly often finds it easier when Joe is not around. Her children are important to her, and she looks after them as well as she can.

‘Joe Junior would ask, ‘Tell us those trials and triboolations, ‘ is how he would say it, ‘Ma, please?’ He’s heard them stories many times – they all have. But that’s what life stories are for: to be told and retold. To remember. The memories livin’ on long after you’re gone. Family history.’

And in Britain, Louisa and Nate Clintoff are preparing to travel to Victoria to establish a new life with their son Samuel. Nate is to provide the police presence in the town of Everton in the same alpine region where the Johnsons live. Louisa is keenly interested in the rights of women.

Two quite different families whose lives will intersect, first when by chance and then through tragedy.

In preparation for childbirth, Molly sends the younger children away to Everton to be cared for. Danny will return to help her. But before he returns, Molly has a visitor. His name is Yadaka, an Aboriginal man. He is wounded and on the run from authorities. He helps Molly, and she provides him with shelter.

All these threads will be drawn together. A prosperous white family has been murdered, and Yadaka is seen as a suspect. Prejudice seems more important than evidence. Molly learns some history from Yadaka but struggles to accept it. And then Nate Clintoff arrives, looking for Joe Johnson.

And so, we have a story with the unsettling ingredients of violence and poverty, the subservient roles of women and Aboriginal people, and secrets. Henry Lawson’s ‘The Drover’s Wife’ provides a starting point for Ms Purcell’s novel (and her earlier play of the same title) but her story evolves far beyond Lawson’s short story. There are uncomfortable twists, reminders of prejudice and inequality, and of what people are driven to, sometimes, to survive.

Louise Clintoff seemed a little too modern at times, with her talk of global economic depression (page 23) and could Molly really have known about hormones in 1893 (page 18)? And we had no senators before federation in 1901. But while anachronistic, these are relatively minor points which (while they should have been picked up in editing) did not interfere with my appreciation of the story.

‘A life’s story untold is a life not lived, missus.’

I recommend this novel to anyone who would like to revisit some of the legends we Australians tell ourselves about the past.

Jennifer Cameron-Smith

[Brittney Gibbon · Rating 3 out of 5]

The Drover’s Wife: a tale of racism, sexism, family violence, love and friendship. A story that could have been great but just didn’t quite deliver.

Don’t get me wrong, the book isn’t awful (and the second half was easily better than the first) but the overall reading experience just was not enjoyable. Yes, I flew through it in a couple of days – it wasn’t hard reading – but the shifting perspectives (which I usually love!), changes between first and third person narrative and an overall sense of disconnect made this a clunky experience; if there was a flow to this narrative I never once felt like I’d found it.

In addition to the jarring nature of the narrative, the relationships and characters didn’t quite hit the mark for me either. The potential was there but I needed more depth. There was so many interactions, so many points in this narrative that I WANTED to hit hard, but they just didn’t.

The one exception to this rule was the love and fierce sense of protection Molly felt for her children. The relationship between mother and child is the only one Purcell was able to really bring to life for me, and it was done well. Molly will do absolutely anything she needs to to protect her own and that leads to some truly shocking turns.

At its core this book does have soul. Purcell does paint a vivid picture of this life and at times I almost felt I was there in that harsh land with Molly. The heart of the narrative, the history, the Indigenous Dreamtime; these things were all beautifully represented.

I just wish the execution were better – this could’ve been great had it just been a little more polished.

[Kimberley · Rating 5 out of 5]

Please everyone read this amazing book. It is sometimes brutal, sometimes beautiful. It will break your heart and make you smile. A perfect example of what needs to be remembered about Australian (and women's) history.

[Greg · Rating 3 out of 5]

A few years back, indigenous playwright Leah Purcell wrote an award-winning play based on the classic Henry Lawson story about the drover's wife, left alone to scrabble out a hard living in the bush with her children.

Purcell brings two points-of-view to this story that Lawson did not: that of the local indigenous people violently displaced by the mountain cattlemen, and that of the burgeoning feminist movement. Purcell's Molly is a much tougher, resilient and assertive character than the put-upon, isolated character that Lawson wrote of with his sympathetic eye.

Purcell's plot expands on the short story really well, sowing a few seeds early on to set up a startling and action-packed last third. This reads like it would have been fantastic to see on stage.

BUT ...

This book is ruined by a whole series of brain-dead anachronisms that any half-way decent editor should have picked up on and fixed prior to publication. For example, uneducated bush dweller Molly worries about her hormones during pregnancy, ten years before science identified the first hormone, and decades before they ever became linked to health issues during pregnancy. Similarly, she has London feminist Louisa using terms like "bachelor pad" and "global economic depression". I'd be almost 100% certain that neither of those terms were in use in the 1890s. (According to the dictionary, the term "pad" for somewhere to live originated with the hippies in 1960).

This is not just pedantry (although there are also spelling errors that riled the pedant in me), because it seriously misleads the reader. I spent most of chapter two convinced that the Louisa story thread was set in the 1930s and that she was referring to the Great Depression. It was only after a different allusion that I worked out that all of this was happening in 1893. That's something that would not happen on stage, because you could see from the actors' costumes what the setting is.

Sadly, Purcell has ultimately failed to translate her successful drama into an equally successful novel due to either not being up to the task, or having editors who were not up to the job of keeping the manuscript on the rails.

[Rebecca Preedy · Rating 3 out of 5]

More three and a half than three.

[Rebecca Boreham · Rating 2 out of 5]

The second half of the book felt better than the first. The style in the first half was clunky and had the feel of a lot of pre-written stuff pasted together. I wondered if the character background notes for actors in the play were being used to flesh out characters rather than the story and dialogue showing it. I wished that a more ruthless editor had worked with the author, because I really liked the concept and the refocussing of the story from the female and first nations perspective.

Edited : the movie is excellent - I think performance is where this story shines.

[Jill · Rating 2 out of 5]

I wish I could like this book more. I admire the idea of rewriting Lawson's story with a feminist slant and the introduction of Aboriginal perspectives. However I found the writing style jarring, the switches between point of view confusing and the anachronisms sloppy. Good editing would have improved this book immensely.

[Jacqui · Rating 2 out of 5]

Disappointing. The story has lots of potential and it tackles important themes. However, the simplistic telling, the ill-advised and ill-controlled shifts in verb tense and narrative voice, and the wildly anachronistic language, all render it trite. Such a shame.

[Carmel · Rating 4 out of 5]

In the end I absolutely loved this very powerful story - a retelling of Henry Lawson’s 1892 short story about a drovers wife left alone in the isolated outback. The setting for this novel is in the high snowy mountain country of NSW and the landscape has a beautiful and big part in the book. Overall, it was a wonderful read highlighting strength in adversity, the wrongs of the past, the women’s movement, racism and discrimination, domestic violence and brutality, socio economic divides and the depth of a mothers love. As the story ended I was crying. However to get to the end I was faced with some challenges. There are a lot of characters introduced throughout the book spread across many generations. I found some characters superfluous and it a bit tricky to navigate which generation I was in for the first half of the book. The other challenge was the flitting between first person and third person. I believe having listened to the author in the epilogue that this was her way of transitioning the story from its original play /theatre format to a novel …. It worked, sort of, but it did distract me wondering “who’s” mind I was in. Leah Purcell has done a fabulous job writing this story and providing us with much to ponder. The strength of the her and her ancestors aboriginal storytelling is apparent. I’d probably give it 5 stars for that but scaling it down just as I didn’t quite enjoy the first half which was convoluted with too many characters and varying perspectives.

[Angelique Simonsen · Rating 5 out of 5]

I ordered this as a light read over the lockdown only to be taken completely by surprise. I was thinking another outback easy read/romance but this book was nothing of the sort.
A empathetic tale of the late 1800s Australia and attitudes were portrayed correctly. A bloody hard life and Molly was an outstanding woman for her time. I enjoyed the descriptions of life for both the colonists and the Aboriginal community.
This will have you by the heartstrings

[Alice · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5 stars
This book had a slow start but by the end I felt truly invested in the characters. The ending felt appropriate but still made me annoyed.
Leah Purcell did a great job to keep surprising me with plot twists.

[Greg Barron · Rating 4 out of 5]

Not flawless, but full of heart, character, and moral strength. Australia needs more books (and authors) like this, and I really enjoyed it.

[Overbooked ✎ · Rating 1 out of 5]

I love Henry Lawson's collections and I was prepared to love this adaptation of his famous short story. Unfortunately, this book does not relate the atmosphere nor the mores of the period, way too modern and the feminist message (in Louisa's sections in particular) is pushed too far.
Such a shame, a missed opportunity.
DNF @20%

[Jess · Rating 4 out of 5]

4.5 stars! Would be 5 stars but it made me cry. Glad I actually read this university set text, as it was beautiful and heartbreaking.

[Len · Rating 4 out of 5]

I'm always a sucker for historical novels, and found this one a very valuable portrayal of Australia's violent history.
Some choices in the writing were challenging, with a lot of shifting perspectives crammed quickly together, particularly at the start of the novel. The turn of phrase was also jarring, often being anachronistic or otherwise strange. Rather than helping the story exist outside of time, it just sat in a space where it didn't quite occupy either space.
I did enjoy the story itself, and Molly Johnson's character was refreshingly feminine in her strength and vulnerability. I think particularly in western or other action-y genres painful gender roles can be very played out and women must be written as men in order to be considered strong. Instead, both Molly and Yadaka both showed strength and vulnerability in respectively masculine and feminine ways that helped elevate the story.
-spoilers for the ending-
I adore a happy ending, but I understand why neither Molly or Yadaka received one, both instead playing out a very Australian tragedy. I can't help but wonder if Australians know how to write anything else, but considering our colonial history I completely understand why: there are no happy endings there.
Except for the swagman who started the conflict of the novel? I completely understand why he wasn't arrested for the crime, but his "sodomising" and murdering of this family is hardly mentioned at all from the start, and his mysterious darting into the bushes near Nate and Louisa's house is never mentioned again. For him, this story seems to be a pretty wonderful time as the book just entirely forgets about him. There isn't even a throwaway line about how justice isn't served. This is strange for a book so focused on gender and violence.
The sexual assault at the end was also a strange inclusion. Molly never even thinks about it after it's happened until she has to for the sake of plot, so that she can be seen as guilty and executed.
-
All in all, I'd give this a 7/10, to be honest I really enjoyed it and am keen to see the film, but I did find some stylistic choices odd.

[Lisa · Rating 4 out of 5]

The Drover's Wife, the legend of Molly Johnson by Indigenous author Leah Purcell has an unusual genesis in a prize-winning play. The Drover's Wife was first premiered at the Belvoir St Theatre in 2016, and won numerous awards in 2017 including the NSW Premier's Award for Playwriting and Book of the Year; and the Victorian Premier's Literary Award for Drama and the Victorian Prize for Literature. The feature film based on the play is due for release in 2020.

Though I didn't know Purcell's name until she picked up these prestigious literary awards, I did know her work as a scriptwriter. Her credits as a writer, actor and director for the stage, film and TV include film and TV that I've seen: Jindabyne, Redfern Now, and Cleverman. She is prolific.

And now there is the novel. Like the play it emerges from Henry Lawson's legendary short story, The Drover's Wife, (1893) a tale of deprivation and loneliness and courage in the Australian bush. (You can read the original here). But as you can see from the ABC interview with Purcell below, her version of the story is transformed to deal with a different history of those pioneering days: domestic violence and rape; the Stolen Generations, frontier violence, and the hidden Black ancestry of many White Australians.

To read the rest of my review (and see an interview with the author) please visit https://anzlitlovers.com/2019/12/22/t...

[Alison · Rating 3 out of 5]

Gave up. Just didn’t hold my interest even tho I wanted to like it.

[Tenkara Smart · Rating 5 out of 5]

Great story with memorable characters, and I learned a bit about aboriginal culture in Australia.

[Jill Lawson · Rating 3 out of 5]

I started on "The Drover's Wife" with a lot of interest and a sense of duty. Interest because of it's unusual history: first a well-known short story by Henry Lawson (no relation) then Leah Purcell's re-imagined versions as a multi award-winning play, then a film, and now a novel. Duty because it seemed like such an important thing to have done for the telling of Australia's history.
My responses are mixed, with some praise and many quibbles. The depiction of the extra-ordinarily hard lives of almost everyone in colonial times, the fleshing out of Lawson's brief story, the descriptions of "country" - all are very well done. However, poorly edited writing (especially weird anachronisms in the characters' speech), a confusing structure, and the piling on of horrors are serious detractions. Among other things, Molly's too-good-to-be-true mothering, and the helpful visits from her grandmother's ghost require some suspension of belief which would have been easier to do with less overall problems.

[David Dick · Rating 3 out of 5]

At its best this retelling or reimagining of the canonical Australian short story is itself self-reflexively about how stories are told, retold, passed on, and mythologised. How they can shape something as large as a culture and be impactful on something as vital as a family and it's survival. Story, then, in this novel is an important act of elevation; of showing the significance of an act or moment or series of events to a person's or people's understand of the world, including not only its glory and success, but its injustices and disservices and nastiness. Moreover, it picks at important themes of women in settler Australia and the brutality of this life, along with the struggles of our indigenous peoples. When it goes full western tropes with all these ideas, Purcell’s novel is really great. But I did find it gratuitous in an unsuccessful way. Yes, this is a violent, sexualised, dangerous world, but the caustic viciousness of its telling detracted from the overall impact. Moreover, from a plot perspective, it was plodding and slow. The shifting narrative perspectives were interesting, I guess, but didn't really add anything to the piece, besides an occasional moment of first-person soliloquy and insight that could have easily be done in the more consistent third person. Largely, they just broke the flow. I found myself really trudging through it. The writing was a bit too blunt and tell-y, while also being periodically scattered with weird off-putting flourishes. Still, I liked how it ended and returned ultimately to the ideas of story, of the Dreaming, and the centrality of all this to Indigenous culture.

[Rae · Rating 3 out of 5]

There were elements of this story I absolutely loved, particularly the imagery of the High country that Purcell paints with her words, and the relationships between characters (particularly Molly and her children). However, the disjointed flow of the narrative didn’t appeal to me, and I found the constant changing of perspectives and voice - between characters and third/first person - to be quite jarring (and often unnecessary). I think sometimes less is more. Perhaps a more simple narrative structure, with a few less voices throughout the text, would have helped to clear away the feelings of disorientation. Having said that though, perhaps this is Purcell’s intention all along - to bring Molly’s own personal confusion and uncertainty from the narrative content into the form as well.

[Anna Loder · Rating 5 out of 5]

I don’t understand the indifferent reviews. I thought it was brilliant. I think it makes such a compelling statement on our national identity. There were definitely times when I felt chills. I thought it was a powerful story that really describes what could have been. For me the plot and narrative was tight. I thought it took on some very big, important themes; resilience, sacrifice, family and love, violence against women and racism “my only crime is existin’ while black”, “you say, “I just shot a native”...”, I think it did a fantastic job. How beautiful and intricate the indigenous culture is..

[Amanda Renslow · Rating 3 out of 5]

I have a lot of mixed feelings about this one. I'm typically a fan of multiple perspectives in a novel, but many times it felt like too much and the shifts were abrupt. I did listen to the audio version thanks to the Libro.fm ALC program, so perhaps in the print version the changing perspectives are clearer. The story started slow but did pick up for me about 50% in, and I was enjoying it a lot more by then. The note from the author did give me some more insight and appreciation.

[Tracy · Rating 5 out of 5]

Breathtaking, brilliant and such a retelling / or really a more honest telling... There are layers that open the story up with a considered, well researched, sympathetic insight from a talented writer.

As the ongoing story of a colonised nation (Australia) evolves this is a story that is important - all the characters, issues and events are part of the last 200 (ish) years and bringing the stories forward into our collective consciousness is essential.

A wise, thoughtful and a timely contribution to a wider more inclusive shared past story. I loved the descriptions of land and place. The voices given to the characters were engaging and it is a story well retold /reimagined..

[Helen · Rating 5 out of 5]

Leah Purcell tells an amazing tale. Based roughly on Henry Lawson’s short story “The Drover’s Wife”.

Molly Johnson lives remotely in Australia’s high country with her four children and pregnant with another. Her husband Joe is away most of the time, just how Molly likes it as Joe is a brutal man.

Yadaka is a proud Aboriginal man. Kind and gentle and confused by the way of the white man. But Yadaka has a story to tell and it’s not until he meets Molly Johnson that he realises whom the story is for. It is for Molly and Molly alone.

Set in the late 1800s, this is a tale of hardship, great sadness, injustice and brutality. A must read for everyone!