This third novel from acclaimed Queensland author Sally Piper focuses on the repercussions, within one family, of a terrible crime. Even though sixteen years have passed, Billie will never recover from the murder of her daughter, Jess, and clings to her memory — and the site of her death — like a life raft. Daniel, who was a toddler when his mother was killed, can recall little of what happened but knows if he's to have any chance of a better future he needs to move on from that defining event – if only his grandmother would let him. Meanwhile Daniel's stepmother, Carla, also feels trapped by Jess's legacy but has a plan that she believes will help everyone to escape from the long shadow of the past. Deeply human, evocative and beautifully written, Bone Memories explores themes of human connection and the memorialisation of place.
Sally Piper is a former nurse who lives and writes in Meanjin/Brisbane.
Her debut novel GRACE'S TABLE (UQP 2014/Legend Press UK 2019) was shortlisted in the 2011 Queensland Premier’s Literary Awards and in 2013 she was awarded a Varuna Publishing Fellowship for her manuscript.
Her second novel THE GEOGRAPHY OF FRIENDSHIP (UQP 2018/Audible Audiobooks 2018/Legend Press UK 2019) was shortlisted in the 2019 Australian Book Industry Awards.
Her third novel BONE MEMORIES (UQP 2022/Bolinda Audiobooks) was a finalist in the 2023 Queensland Literary Awards for a Work of State Significance and the Courier-Mail People’s Choice Queensland Book of the Year Award, was longlisted for the 2023 International Dublin Literary Award and longlisted for the 2023 Sisters in Crime Davitt Award.
She holds a Master of Arts in Creative Writing from Queensland University of Technology. She has had short fiction and non-fiction published in various print and online publications to include an award-winning short story in the first One Book Many Brisbanes anthology, Griffith Review, The Saturday Paper, The Sydney Morning Herald, The Weekend Australian and other literary magazines and journals in Australia and the UK.
16 years on and Billie will never recover from the murder of her daughter Jess. Billie clings to her memory and the site of her death. Jess's son Daniel was a toddler when she died and can't recall much but knows he needs to move on to have a better future - if Billie would let him. Meanwhile Daniel's stepmother Carla feels trapped by Jess's legacy but has a plan that she believes will help everyone escape from the past.
I found this one quite difficult to review because although I wouldn't say I greatly enjoyed it, I did think it was beautifully written and an important look at the different long-term effects of grief. On the one hand I found myself frustrated at the character of Billie at times because it felt like she was so focused on her own grief that it was having a detrimental effect on others, but on the other hand I couldn't imagine as a parent having my child murdered, particularly with the offender unknown. The narrative explores the different ways people grieve and remember their loved one while having to learn to live without them; the perspectives alternate between Billie, Jess's son Daniel, and also Carla who comes onto the scene years after Jess's death but whose life is also affected daily just by being in Jess's family. Overall: I thought this was a poignant story; while it's not necessarily my type of narrative I did appreciate the concept and I'm sure many readers will find this a powerful book.
Readers of Australian literary fiction and family dramas will really enjoy Bone Memories, for its intensity and keen insight into grief, family, and place-memory.
Author Sally Piper’s third novel Bone Memories (UQP 2022) feels like a building crescendo of her work to date, a powerful message about the natural world, and a quiet meditation on our place in it. Piper writes with calm authority about the interconnectedness of humans and the earth, and the synergy of the natural world. Loss is palpable in this novel, as is a recognition and appreciation of trees, plants and soil. This is a terribly and truly sad novel. It is also agonisingly hopeful. Bone Memories is a thoughtful and considered attempt to make sense of a modern world dominated by people and their endless need for consumption and ownership. Piper compares this with the tens of thousands of years of indigenous connection with land that has gone before; years of people stepping lightly on the land and communing with it in a way that seems so at odds with the current focus on domination, cultivation, development and colonisation. Of staking a claim and then changing the land to fit our own purposes, instead of the ancient First Nations’ vocation of listening to the earth and her geographical features and allowing them to guide the way we interact with the natural topographies around us. The earth, soil, land – the country beneath our feet, teeming with microorganisms and bugs and the tree roots that silently communicate through underground passageways – all of it filled with the bones of those gone before, animal, human or plant. Layer upon layer of accumulated bone memories, tangible evidence that everything now gone once existed, and that all now living will soon enough be gone. This is a quiet and respectful book, a work that invites the reader to ponder the big questions about life and loss, death and regeneration, place and ownership and release. Beautifully written, with so many well-crafted sentences, Bone Memories is a thought-provoking book about the legacy of trauma and the stain of loss on the land. It also touches on victim-blaming and the rights (or otherwise) of the living to claim the land to memorialise the dead. With three distinct voices and perspectives from three different characters, the book provides no answers, although there is no doubt where the author’s sympathies lie. Billie is almost rooted in the earth, so strong is her connection to the place she lives, made stronger by the murder of her daughter Jess 16 years earlier in a beautiful spot of bushland only walking distance from their back gate. The giant fig tree that bore witness to this terrible crime, and that sheltered the dead woman and her traumatised three-year-old son, Daniel, until help arrived, is a site of almost religious significance to Billie. With a simple plaque screwed onto the tree’s massive trunk, this site has become representative to Billie of her daughter and all that she lost, all that was taken from Billie and Daniel that terrible day. Billie has become indistinguishable from the tree and all it means for her. It is where her daughter drew her last breath. It is sacred, sacrosanct, holy. Daniel remembers little of that day. Now 19, he occasionally has migraines that flash shattered pictures of what might be memories – of his mother’s attacker, of the face that eludes him. No matter how much his grandmother, Billie, implores him to remember, so that some justice might be found, Daniel is unable to piece together the elusive fragments. Now a young adult, with his own life about to unfold before him, he begins to question his grandmother’s resolute and unbreakable connection with the past, and with the places – the tree especially – that memorialise Jess. Daniel carries his mother in his heart and struggles with an inability to move forward while so much of his history is anchored to what went before. The third perspective is provided by Carla, now married to Angus (Jess’ husband and Daniel’s father). What a family to land in. How to navigate the complicated circles of grief suffered simultaneously but differently by Billie, by Angus, by Daniel. Carla and Angus now have a child together, Scout. How to introduce her to the malignant force that binds them together? After eight years together with Angus, Carla is ready to move on, to forge a new life for her and Angus, for Daniel and Scout, and yes, even for Billie; to put the past to rest and look to the future. But this puts her in direct confrontation with Billie, who is determined that her daughter Jess and the place she lost her life will not be forgotten. The fig tree and the ground upon which it is deeply rooted carry the stain of Jess’ life and loss and memory. How could Carla even consider breaking that bond? Tied in with this story is another loss – that of a small Italian child, Marco, who has gone missing while on holiday with his family in Australia. This inexpressible grief – the loss of a child – is married together with Billie’s hurt of years earlier. In moments, Billie sees Marco in visions, images that seem real and true. I would have loved to have seen more of these ethereal moments, which are beautifully captured and rendered with such sensitivity. It is a different child, a different time, a different story, but somehow the two thread together seamlessly to emphasise the sharp bite of brutality, the keen cut of abrupt loss, the long tail of trauma. This is a heavy book – how could it not be, with such issues at its heart? But the weightiness of the content is not dense or impenetrable; rather it is thought-provoking and inquiring. And the darkness is tempered by light – the impossible beauty of the natural world, and Piper’s ruminations on the wonder and magic of nature. The novel’s depth is also lifted by the luminous language, the complex and detailed descriptions, the vivid and joyful celebration of our connection to the land, if only we would take the time to stop and notice. To commune. To pay homage. To relish and appreciate the beauty all around us. One of the significant questions of this book surrounds who has the right to memorialise a particular place to commemorate the loss of one person, when that place, that ground, has likely seen losses of tens of thousands? Not only human losses – massacres, for example, or disasters – but the extinction of species, the destruction of bushland, the myriad ways in which the land is desecrated. The author admits herself vulnerable to the numerous white crosses or posies of plastic flowers or chained bicycles that denote the site of a tragic accident. Why should this very private pain then become public? Why should someone completely unconnected to the incident be reminded of pain and grief and loss when perhaps they seek only to commune with nature on a restful bushwalk, or drive to work unassailed with reminders of the dead? Piper wrestles with this thorny issue throughout the book, aware of her own biases and conflictions, open to opposing opinions, ever hungry to delve deeper into the ethical quandary. This dilemma remains unsolved, as do so many other unanswered questions. But that is the point of this book – the questions and the discussion, not an unequivocable answer. As with all good novels, Piper leaves that in the hands and minds of the reader, to interrogate their own thoughts about this matter, and to come to their own conclusions. This story of a family living in the shadow of unimaginable pain and loss comes to a conclusion, or a resolution, as it inevitably must. The ending is fitting and satisfying. Sally Piper is a wise and thoughtful writer who devotes herself entirely to the subject she is writing about. This book began as some thoughts about the holloways of England but became something much closer to home, almost as if the writer had to travel a far enough distance to enable her to look back at her own country through a different or more refined lens. In the end, she has created something that encompasses the entire world and our relationship with it. I absolutely loved the second line: ‘Time to clear the litter of the living from the path to the dead’, a reference to Billie’s unending devotion to sanctifying the ground that she believes still holds traces of her daughter. Bone Memories will make you question your relationship with the natural world, your responsibility to it, your care of it, and what it gives you in return. This book will leave you pondering long after the last page.
This was a novel that spoke to me on a very deep level. The lines of trauma and grief intersecting within the story and laying down roots into the ground upon which the family lived, tying them to a place that was both shrine and millstone. Told from three perspectives, Sally Piper comprehensively explores the passage of grief, with a particular focus upon time and place. How long should we grieve for? Should there even be a time limit? What if our grief begins to harm those around us? Can anyone really tell another person that it’s time to let go? How much should we emotionally invest in a place where a person has died? I loved how she explored all these questions through the themes of the novel and gave each differing perspective empathetic weight.
We have Daniel, who lost his mother when he was a toddler, a witness to a murder he cannot remember:
‘People claimed they abhorred violence but then had a perverse fascination with it. Imagine is a word he’d heard used around him a lot. Imagine the mother, the boy, the fear, his dreams, the killer still out there. The flashbacks. The memories. (If only there were more.) Strangers inserting themselves into the script of his life from the comfort of a lounge chair or over a coffee or beer. But no matter how wild or colourful their imaginations, no matter how vivid or gory the details they conjured, they didn’t have a clue. Only those whose lives had been touched by violence understood the shame and guilt and mistrust. And the periods of blind fucking rage.’
Billie, a mother who understandably cannot let it go, her daughter’s murder still unsolved sixteen years on:
‘She was victim and survivor. The one left behind. Her trauma rippled out from the origins of that one event – that man, that knife, his intent – just as seismic waves rippled from deep within Earth, sometimes undetected but always exerting a force, realigning lives and making people do and say things they might not otherwise. Billie felt the tremor of her trauma most days. Sometimes so strongly that it nearly knocked her off her feet. At other times it was a subtle as a breath.’
And Carla, the woman who is now living in Jess’s house, married to her husband and stepmother to her son:
‘The circumstances of Jess’s death meant she was above criticism. Could do no wrong in the eyes of those she’d left behind. Any arguments she might have caused, any harsh words she might have said, any act of unkindness no matter how large, were all forgiven and forgotten long ago. Meanwhile, Carla had to turn up every day and be as good as, if not better than, a dead woman. That was what she hated, not Jess: the sometimes fraudulent nature of her own existence. Because she wasn’t always good or kind. Not in thought or action.’
Other themes explored deal with women as victims and how they are represented by the media, an issue that is ongoing and problematic:
‘At least there was no blame directed at Jess in these reports. Not the way it was for some murdered girls, for the young sex worker, Susannah, whose life had been reduced to an occupation. Her daughter might have been killed in a park, but it was in broad daylight, a mother and her child – sacrosanct. Wearing a too-big pink t-shirt over floral yoga pants. Not asking for anything. Billie wondered if this contributed to the national outpouring of grief? That there were certain standards, a kind of hierarchy, to take into consideration for the murdered. If so, Jess was at the top of it. The blameless victim.’
Bone Memories was for me, a magnificent novel. I felt so much whilst reading it and the story has lingered within me even more than a week on from finishing. The ending had a haunting inevitability to it that seemed as though it could not have played out any other way. I have so much love for this novel and respect for Sally Piper for digging in deep into the corners of grief, shaking it out, and giving us much to contemplate.
"The cross had come to him in a kaleidoscopic image during a migraine; those debilitating events he sometimes had to get through. He'd come to think of them as Picasso portraits into the past. During them he glimpsed angles and shapes of possibility, which he'd try to give form to, his mind working like a dreamcatcher."
This is the story of a family sixteen years after their mother/daughter/wife Jess was murdered by an unknown assailant. Queensland author Sally Piper explores the different ways in which this family, including the second wife Carla, are still trying to come to terms with the tragedy, in particular Jess's mum Billie and son Daniel. Daniel, three at the time of the murder, was the only witness.
Told from three different points of view, the novel feels very real, the characters complex, and the inclusion of Carla and the daughter of the second marriage, Scout, add extra dimensions. The ideas of loss, suffering, a need for justice, the guilt of wanting to move on but being afraid to do so, are just some of the feelings that are exposed through some quite beautiful writing, especially in the setting of place and the role of a physical memorial. This is a quiet and powerful novel.
I adored this book. It’s #AusLit that I hope many readers discover and immerse themselves in.
From the moment I read the blurb, I knew this would be a book for me. I have an interest in explorations of grief and loss and this book does exactly that; deeply examining the lives of a family who lost their daughter, wife and mother when she was murdered sixteen years ago. The story also looks at the effect of lingering loss on new members to the family, following a new marriage, which I thought was a particularly interesting storyline.
The connections to nature and its ties to life, death and the memorialisation of land are beautifully woven throughout this tale. The wisdom and acute observations of human nature and connection to the land and memory had me wanting to underline passages as I read. I’m still thinking about the characters and this is a story I’ll return to.
Sally Piper has written a tender and exquisite story that had me turning the pages, immersing myself in this story and deeply connecting with the lives and emotions of the characters.
I highly recommend you read this superb example of Australian fiction. It’s a book I want to push into the hands of readers.
Thank you to the publisher for gifting me a copy of this book for review.
It seems almost axiomatic now that people should be allowed to grieve in their own way and at their own pace so Sally Piper's latest novel is a timely reminder that it's not as simple as that...
We've all seen those roadside memorials and wondered about the story behind them. From time to time we see media about councils wanting to tidy them up, and the distraught relatives who want them left there. We see conflict-laden stories about the memorialisation of places where significant tragedies have occurred, such as the Twin Towers site, and closer to home the Sari Club. It's not just the commercial value of these sites, it's also that a new generation comes along who may be respectful but they want to move on.
Some memorials are bled into our consciousness without any visible signs. I can never drive over the Westgate Bridge without thinking of the last moments of Darcey Freeman.
In Piper's story, however, it's proximity to the site where Billie's daughter Jess was murdered. Every day she visits the bushland and lovingly cleans the small plaque that records her loss. She has a deep attachment to the bush, and believes that her daughter's presence is there. Sixteen years after the murder, it defines Billie and her life. And when she loses her job at a garden centre she has more time to brood and obsess over her sacred place.
Her grandson, Daniel, however, who witnessed the murder as a toddler but remembers nothing of it, is ready to move on. He is a gentle, kind and thoughtful boy, but like his younger stepsister Scout, he doesn't want to be defined as a victim.
Well written narrative with characters you can empathise with. Carla, second wife to a family grieving the loss of a mother murdered with her 3 year old by her side, has the unenviable job of fitting into a family with a gaping hole in it. The story follows the family navigating their way post this trauma. How long is “long enough” to grieve? Carla comes in the scene 8 years after the death and the story is another 8 years after this. I enjoyed the different points of view on how people deal with loss and grief. I found Billie (mother of the murdered character) to be really frustrating in how she imprinted her grief onto her grandson. I also found the ending really selfish. This speaks to the writers point - who are we to prescribe how people deal with death and loss? It was an engaging read even though Billie grated on me, she was unable to move on from her loss and make a new start.
with a 1/2 This was an engrossing and intelligent read where both the characters and geography play significant 'roles' within the story. A most competent skilled writer who uses the English language to its full potential.
I picked this up from the 2023 Dublin Literary Award Longlist, as it's by an Australian author. It's a beautiful but devastating novel. Billie is grieving the loss of her only child, 16 years on from her death, and the family around her is struggling with not only their own grief, but her attachment to, even reliance on, hers. The book really pulls you from one side to another, at times seeing Billie's unerring grief as unreasonably deep still, and at other times cutting you with its sheer palpability. But above all this book leaves you to question if there is a 'right' way to grieve, and the pressure that is placed on people who have suffered incredible loss to pick themselves up and carry on. Every character connected to the loss has a valid response, but the responses don't meld together into a shared support system. It's a difficult book to read; Billie's situation is upsetting, as is her impact on her grandson. But Piper writes so gently about loss that I think it is an important read for anyone processing their own grief, and for all of us, as we all will inevitably suffer loss at some point in our lives.
A slow burn, "Bone Memories" delves into the intricate relationships surrounding Billie, a grieving mother haunted by her daughter Jess's brutal murder 16 years ago. The novel explores the dynamics among Billie, Jess's widow Angus, Jess's son Daniel, and Carla, Angus's second wife.
Piper's writing style, marked by incomplete clauses and sentence fragments, can sometimes be rhythmically challenging. The book explores the aftermath of Jess's murder, navigating themes of grief, trauma, and the lasting emotional legacy. It resonates deeply, addressing trauma, suffering, and the connection to a place.
The perspectives of Daniel, Billie, and Carla add depth to the exploration of human nature's interconnectedness. I will confess to having a great deal of frustration with Billie, whose notion of motherhood struck me as cloying and selfish. This extended into an obsessive grief and its corrosive impact on those around her as she insisted on a single notion of memorial.
Still, the novel offers a poignant look at the long-term effects of grief, memorialisation, and the struggle to move forward. "Bone Memories" invites reflection on humanity's relationship with the natural world, the rights to memorialise and the weight of trauma.
Bone Memories is an intricately layered exploration of grief after violent rupture, not only on the human level as Piper examines the ongoing ripple effects within a family unit, but it also works on a metaphoric level within the Australian landscape. Does the landscape hold the memories of the violent crimes committed on and within it? I was fascinated by the examination of the concepts of place and ownership and connection. A beautifully written family saga and eulogy to our rapidly changing natural world....with a perfect ending. Endings are so hard and Sally Piper nails it.
(Please note - I choose not to participate in the star rating system).
I read this in one sitting, because I didn’t want to leave these characters and the the themes that were being teased out in this book. After her daughter's horrific murder, Billie cares for her grandson and son in law, until he remarried. Her link to the land and the tree where the daughter died is immense. This book is as much about our relationship with the land as it is about relationships with people. I was in awe at the skill of the writing and the tying together of the threads of the story. This is the first book that I have read by this author, but will certainly be looking for more.
Bone Memories is a novel about grief, guilt, regret, hope and love. The whole narrative is infused with a deep respect and admiration for the natural world, centring around a tree that holds a great deal of meaning. Each character is carefully crafted, and each has a compelling journey as the book unfolds.
While the novel starts as a thoughtful and reflective story, it seems to gather momentum throughout, so that the ending feels like a thundering, heart-pounding run. An intricate, emotional and satisfying read.
This is a deeply moving story, a tug of human emotions, shown from a family’s contrasting points of view. Sally Piper’s extraordinary writing, her acute observations, and the sensitivity she brings to the page to explore the nuances of grief and loss, are sublime. Never once sentimental, this story tracks the ongoing impact of a heinous crime, and the push and pull of those left behind in their search for peace. An elegy bound to the land, brimming with spirit and tenderness.
I was very taken with this story about grief and the power of the past. This was the first Sally Piper book I’ve read and I’ve already added more to be TBR pile. She totally captivated me with this powerful story. I understood Billie because of how Sally carefully handled her and I felt for Daniel whose life was imprisoned by Billie’s grief and refusal to let go of the past and move forward. It was raw and it was a well written story.
I’ve just finished Bone Memories, that I was lucky enough to get from UQP. It was an interesting and thought provoking read, at some times sad and others uplifting. It tells of a blended family, continuing to try to find a way forward, 16 years after the unsolved murder of one of them. It explores the family dynamics, and the conflicting needs of the family members. Despite finding one of the characters rather frustrating, I enjoyed this book. Well worth a look.
Beautiful, raw and earthy. This book is pure poetry and it’s blurb predicts none of the sheer delight within the pages that follow. I want to re-read this book with a high lighter in my hand and revisit the phrasing and unique groupings of words. What a wonderful way to spend the majority of the 26th of January, immersed in the work of an Australian author waxing lyrically and poetically about nature, love and loss set in the bush of Queensland. I am inspired.
So much grief and love in this novel, and so Australian without cliche. The love and grief that is part of parenting shines through poor Billie's obsession with her daughter's murder, the confusion of adult/child Daniel. Love from Carla is that catalyst that propels much of the story. An intense book, I had to take frequent breaks reading it.
This is the third of Piper’s books I’ve read and while I really liked the others, this one is truly marvellous. I especially liked how the changing third person narration gave the protagonists’ very differing perspectives - their certitude and sometimes their doubts. The lyrical description of the land was also just magical. Do read it!
A compelling read that explores our sense of place and memories. The characters were believable and intriguing and their journey through life after a dramatic and violent incident harrowing. I couldn’t stop reading and loved the way the book described the city I lived in for so many years, it bring back many memories.
There is some beautiful writing in this book, but i lost interest at times. I found it a little slow-going and seemed to repeat similar parts of the story too much for my liking.