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Furneaux Island #3
The Settlement
In The Settlement, Jock Serong reimagines in urgent, compelling prose the ill-fated exploits of George Augustus Robinson at the settlement of Wybalenna—a venture whose blinkered, self-interested cruelty might stand for the colonial enterprise itself.
On the windswept point of an island at the edge of van Diemen’s Land, the Commandant huddles with a small force of white men and women.
He has gathered together, under varying degrees of coercion and duress, the last of the Tasmanians, or so he believes. His purpose is to save them—from a number of things, but most pressingly from the murderous intent of the pastoral settlers on their country.
The orphans Whelk and Pipi, fighting for their survival against the malevolent old man they know as the Catechist, watch as almost everything about this situation proves resistant to the Commandant’s will. The wind, the spread of disease, the strange black dog that floats in on the prow of a wrecked ship....
But above all the Chief, the leader of the exiles, before whom the Commandant performs a perverse, intimate dance of violence and betrayal.
On the windswept point of an island at the edge of van Diemen’s Land, the Commandant huddles with a small force of white men and women.
He has gathered together, under varying degrees of coercion and duress, the last of the Tasmanians, or so he believes. His purpose is to save them—from a number of things, but most pressingly from the murderous intent of the pastoral settlers on their country.
The orphans Whelk and Pipi, fighting for their survival against the malevolent old man they know as the Catechist, watch as almost everything about this situation proves resistant to the Commandant’s will. The wind, the spread of disease, the strange black dog that floats in on the prow of a wrecked ship....
But above all the Chief, the leader of the exiles, before whom the Commandant performs a perverse, intimate dance of violence and betrayal.
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First published August 30, 2022
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About the author
Jock Serong
9 books222 followersJock Serong lives and works on the far southwest coast of Victoria. He was a practising lawyer when he wrote Quota and is currently a features writer, and the editor of Great Ocean Quarterly. He is married with four children, who in turn are raising a black dog, a rabbit and an unknown number of guinea pigs. Quota was his first novel.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 67 reviews
February 17, 2023
“They were saved, that was the message. They were leaving for an island where they would live as free people, and could devote themselves to thanking God and learning European ways. The old people had fallen quiet, perhaps because they explained everything in stories and they simply had no story for this preposterous idea.”
The Settlement is the sixth novel by award-winning Australian author, Jock Serong. In October 1831, Loftus the Surveyor accompanies a party of soldiers, convicts and indigenous people as they trek through the bush in north-eastern Tasmania, looking for the Big River mob, the Lairmairermener people. Mannalargenna, chief of the Oyster Cove mob, is meant to be leading them.
The settlers want the land cleared of natives, and evangelist George Robinson, referred to as “The Man”, is attempting to do this peacefully, although many of the stockmen can’t see any good reason for cumbersome negotiation when force works just as well. The Governor’s plan for the natives amounts to exile somewhere out of the way. Robinson intends to settle them on an island and civilise and Christianise them. He obsessively records (not quite) all for posterity in journals he expects to publish to great acclaim.
Robinson has promised that, for his help with locating the Lairmairermener and convincing them to quit their country, Mannalargenna’s people will later be permitted to return to country. But Mannalargenna is a shrewd chief, reluctant to search out his enemy without an audience with the Governor to secure said promise. All this, Loftus observes.
He takes particular note of two children, both apparently orphans: Whelk has been assigned to assist The Man since he was very young; the tiny girl they name Pipi, probably the daughter of a Big River woman found killed during a raid, is inseparable from Whelk. Loftus becomes especially concerned for them with the attention and interest shown by the facially disfigured (and thus frightening to children) Catechist who will oversee their religious education on Flinders Island.
It later proves his concern is not misplaced: this supposed Christian is cruel and nasty, while his wife turns a blind eye. Loftus, by then the settlement’s Storekeeper, sees what is happening, but lacks the courage to act. Until much later, that is.
On the island, now calling himself The Commandant, faced with increasing native mortality, Robinson and his crew of Surgeon, Sergeant, Overseer, Catechist and convicts demonstrate their complete lack of respect for this exiled population. This is perhaps not surprising from men who believe they are the only civilised ones, men who make no attempt to understand or give any value to culture and tradition, ignorant of, or casually dismissive of the importance of beliefs and customs.
“… he was nearly done with his list of names, taking the long and complex ones that the natives used, and replacing them with kings and queens and counts and dukes. It conferred dignity and simplified conversation, something his predecessors had been unable to achieve.”
The Commandant’s decision to desecrate a grave and the newly buried body evokes only the slightest flicker of guilt, easily rationalised away with the importance of making history. “It was a matter of respect: imagine what a travesty it would be if some badger tunnelled the thing out.”
With utterly gorgeous prose, Serong captures and conveys the tragedy of what these people were forced to endure at the hands of those charged with their welfare. It is difficult not to feel indignant, angry and sad on their behalf, and sorrow that one race does this to another.
A tiny sample of Serong’s skill with prose: “This long march left behind a leaf litter of memories, scraps and fragments of people’s pasts, falling away from them all the time as the Man strove to invent their future” and “The language the Man was using was not English, maybe not an earthly language at all. It had curls and babbles and lumps in it, a stream working frantically over stones” and “The Commandant had never stopped to study the man’s face: the despair in it was immense, emptiness collected like grime in the long creases”.
Enhancing the text are sketches, intended for inclusion in Robinson’s (never-published) book, of three of the surviving Oyster Cove mob done by pardoned convict engraver, Thomas Bock, along with snippets of the artist’s conversation with each one. This is a powerful, compelling piece of historical fiction.
This unbiased review is from a copy provided by Text Publishing.
The Settlement is the sixth novel by award-winning Australian author, Jock Serong. In October 1831, Loftus the Surveyor accompanies a party of soldiers, convicts and indigenous people as they trek through the bush in north-eastern Tasmania, looking for the Big River mob, the Lairmairermener people. Mannalargenna, chief of the Oyster Cove mob, is meant to be leading them.
The settlers want the land cleared of natives, and evangelist George Robinson, referred to as “The Man”, is attempting to do this peacefully, although many of the stockmen can’t see any good reason for cumbersome negotiation when force works just as well. The Governor’s plan for the natives amounts to exile somewhere out of the way. Robinson intends to settle them on an island and civilise and Christianise them. He obsessively records (not quite) all for posterity in journals he expects to publish to great acclaim.
Robinson has promised that, for his help with locating the Lairmairermener and convincing them to quit their country, Mannalargenna’s people will later be permitted to return to country. But Mannalargenna is a shrewd chief, reluctant to search out his enemy without an audience with the Governor to secure said promise. All this, Loftus observes.
He takes particular note of two children, both apparently orphans: Whelk has been assigned to assist The Man since he was very young; the tiny girl they name Pipi, probably the daughter of a Big River woman found killed during a raid, is inseparable from Whelk. Loftus becomes especially concerned for them with the attention and interest shown by the facially disfigured (and thus frightening to children) Catechist who will oversee their religious education on Flinders Island.
It later proves his concern is not misplaced: this supposed Christian is cruel and nasty, while his wife turns a blind eye. Loftus, by then the settlement’s Storekeeper, sees what is happening, but lacks the courage to act. Until much later, that is.
On the island, now calling himself The Commandant, faced with increasing native mortality, Robinson and his crew of Surgeon, Sergeant, Overseer, Catechist and convicts demonstrate their complete lack of respect for this exiled population. This is perhaps not surprising from men who believe they are the only civilised ones, men who make no attempt to understand or give any value to culture and tradition, ignorant of, or casually dismissive of the importance of beliefs and customs.
“… he was nearly done with his list of names, taking the long and complex ones that the natives used, and replacing them with kings and queens and counts and dukes. It conferred dignity and simplified conversation, something his predecessors had been unable to achieve.”
The Commandant’s decision to desecrate a grave and the newly buried body evokes only the slightest flicker of guilt, easily rationalised away with the importance of making history. “It was a matter of respect: imagine what a travesty it would be if some badger tunnelled the thing out.”
With utterly gorgeous prose, Serong captures and conveys the tragedy of what these people were forced to endure at the hands of those charged with their welfare. It is difficult not to feel indignant, angry and sad on their behalf, and sorrow that one race does this to another.
A tiny sample of Serong’s skill with prose: “This long march left behind a leaf litter of memories, scraps and fragments of people’s pasts, falling away from them all the time as the Man strove to invent their future” and “The language the Man was using was not English, maybe not an earthly language at all. It had curls and babbles and lumps in it, a stream working frantically over stones” and “The Commandant had never stopped to study the man’s face: the despair in it was immense, emptiness collected like grime in the long creases”.
Enhancing the text are sketches, intended for inclusion in Robinson’s (never-published) book, of three of the surviving Oyster Cove mob done by pardoned convict engraver, Thomas Bock, along with snippets of the artist’s conversation with each one. This is a powerful, compelling piece of historical fiction.
This unbiased review is from a copy provided by Text Publishing.
December 14, 2023
I'm conflicted about this one. Serong is one of my favourite writers and I had high expectations of his fictional treatment of the story of George Augustus Robinson - an historical figure who loomed large in my history lessons at school in Tasmania. While it's an important story, and (generally) a great read, I did have a few issues with it.
Firstly, I didn't like the way the European characters remained nameless. Rather than using their names, Serong refers to them by function or title, for example The Commandant and The Catechist (or wife of). This was problematic for me, especially when two key characters changed function partway into the story. It slowed me down and made it difficult for me to remember who was who. By contrast, I appreciated the use of the tribal names of the Indigenous characters, with only very occasional mention of the names bestowed upon them by the colonisers. I mean, I get the point Serong was making, but it was hard to read.
Secondly, the first 25% of the book was very slow. This was the part where The Man was 'non-violently' rounding up all the indigenous people he could find in Van Diemens Land. However, the pace improved dramatically once they all arrived at the Wybalenna settlement.
I suppose my other gripe is not so much about the book, but about the decision to position it as book #3 of the Furneaux trilogy, when the first two books were so clearly and directly connected. By contrast, this book seems almost an outlier. Same location, similar period, but all the rest is left to the imagination. On the positive side, it can easily be read as a standalone, or read before the other two books in the trilogy.
More generally, I found this to be a very moving story and I'm glad to have read it. As he usually does, in one particular scene Serong has left me with a vision I'm not likely to ever forget!
Firstly, I didn't like the way the European characters remained nameless. Rather than using their names, Serong refers to them by function or title, for example The Commandant and The Catechist (or wife of). This was problematic for me, especially when two key characters changed function partway into the story. It slowed me down and made it difficult for me to remember who was who. By contrast, I appreciated the use of the tribal names of the Indigenous characters, with only very occasional mention of the names bestowed upon them by the colonisers. I mean, I get the point Serong was making, but it was hard to read.
Secondly, the first 25% of the book was very slow. This was the part where The Man was 'non-violently' rounding up all the indigenous people he could find in Van Diemens Land. However, the pace improved dramatically once they all arrived at the Wybalenna settlement.
I suppose my other gripe is not so much about the book, but about the decision to position it as book #3 of the Furneaux trilogy, when the first two books were so clearly and directly connected. By contrast, this book seems almost an outlier. Same location, similar period, but all the rest is left to the imagination. On the positive side, it can easily be read as a standalone, or read before the other two books in the trilogy.
More generally, I found this to be a very moving story and I'm glad to have read it. As he usually does, in one particular scene Serong has left me with a vision I'm not likely to ever forget!
March 10, 2023
3.5 rounded up
This is the sad but based in truth story of a shameful part of Australia’s history - where the settlers brought ‘God to the savages’ and ‘saved them by making them just like the colonisers.’
Tasmania particularly was harsh on its natives, and this descriptively written story follows the white men (who are only every referred to by their title - The Commandant, The Surgeon etc), and the Aborigines that they have collected together to Europeanise, in a small, almost forgotten settlement.
This details the efforts to clothe the naked natives, to bring an English God to their godlessness, and to educate them in the proper way, but only served to lose a culture and many lives to white man’s illnesses (although, based on the surgeon’s descriptions of treatment, that’s not likely only a racially based issue - thankfully we stopped bleeding people as a frontline remedy). It’s a difficult read, especially where the orphans Whelk and Pipi are concerned, and it meanders around a period of time where the dangers were all around, and sometimes closer than one may have thought.
This is the sad but based in truth story of a shameful part of Australia’s history - where the settlers brought ‘God to the savages’ and ‘saved them by making them just like the colonisers.’
Tasmania particularly was harsh on its natives, and this descriptively written story follows the white men (who are only every referred to by their title - The Commandant, The Surgeon etc), and the Aborigines that they have collected together to Europeanise, in a small, almost forgotten settlement.
This details the efforts to clothe the naked natives, to bring an English God to their godlessness, and to educate them in the proper way, but only served to lose a culture and many lives to white man’s illnesses (although, based on the surgeon’s descriptions of treatment, that’s not likely only a racially based issue - thankfully we stopped bleeding people as a frontline remedy). It’s a difficult read, especially where the orphans Whelk and Pipi are concerned, and it meanders around a period of time where the dangers were all around, and sometimes closer than one may have thought.
Read
October 19, 2023The following book reviews have been shared by Text Publishing – publisher of The Settlement
‘The Settlement is a shocking but perversely beautiful evocation of the endurance and dignity of Aboriginal resistance to the sadism of the colony’s God and guns. Its gripping plot, extraordinary Black and white characters, and elegant prose will haunt you long after the last page.’
Paul Daley
‘An extraordinarily vivid imagining of one of the most significant encounters in Australian history.’
Amanda Lohrey
‘Grips from the first page. It's unsentimental, truthful and profound – all in a milieu effortlessly imagined.’
Don Watson
'Serong's finest work, and a story Australians should hear.’
Robbie Arnott
‘[The Settlement is] compelling to read, and also powered by Serong's descriptive, muscular prose…Reckoning comes in blazing moments of truth-telling, where the reality of this colonising project cannot be denied…This is a book that doesn’t let us readers off the hook—nor should it.’
Jackie Tang, Readings
‘[Jock Serong] is undertaking important work of reckoning with Australia’s troubled history. [The Settlement] is part of that reckoning – an absolute must read.’
Better Reading
‘[A] darkly poignant, sadly true and painfully enagaging story that rarely, if ever, makes it into Australian history books.’
Robert Goodman, Pile by the Bed
'Devastating…[Serong] animates the benighted settlement through pungent prose and uncanny summoning of place…A novel of empathy and intelligence.’
Age/SMH
'Traces of Charles Dickens, Cormac McCarthy, and Patrick White thread through his prose, which is often genre-based – the agile plotting and unexpected metaphor of Raymond Chandler is apparent here…The Settlement is deeply connected to history and prior literature.’
Brenda Walker, Australian Book Review
‘Compelling…powerful and evocative…[The Settlement] gives you thorough understanding of the power wielded by the early colonists, and the choices forced on those who didn’t have it.’
Good Reading
‘This is a book that must be read, from an author whose writing has reached new heights.’
Barry Reynolds, Herald Sun
‘Serong is a wonderful writer…he retains the gift of propulsive plots and gripping narratives. And readers interested in stories that face the complexity and complicity of our colonial past – paired with beautiful writing – will be intrigued by his latest novel.’
Jo Case, InDaily
‘Moving and devastating.’
Sarah L’Estrange, RN Book Show
‘To the settlement’s confined, Serong invests appropriate human dignity denied by their oppressors and their history.’
Paul Daley, Guardian
‘[Jock Serong] shows a real talent for expressing Australian history in all its glory, and its sorrow…A moving and highly poignant tale of survival, and courage.’
NZ Booklovers
‘[The Settlement] is an intensely moving, stunning and uncomfortable story based on real history…for all the tragedy of the story, it is beautifully written, with a gentle touch and an absorbing style that draws the reader in.’
ReadPlus
‘A gripping voyage into the heart of colonial Australia’s cruel and tumultuous past, delivering a unique and haunting perspective on the ill-fated Settlement of Wybalenna…Serong breathes life into excerpts from Robinson’s real journals to weave this deft tapestry of complex characters…The Settlement serves as a poignant reminder of the brutal realities fo Australia’s colonial history and the unforgivable displacement of First Nations people…Do yourself a favour and pick up this book; I am glad I did.’
Law Society Journal
‘The Settlement is a shocking but perversely beautiful evocation of the endurance and dignity of Aboriginal resistance to the sadism of the colony’s God and guns. Its gripping plot, extraordinary Black and white characters, and elegant prose will haunt you long after the last page.’
Paul Daley
‘An extraordinarily vivid imagining of one of the most significant encounters in Australian history.’
Amanda Lohrey
‘Grips from the first page. It's unsentimental, truthful and profound – all in a milieu effortlessly imagined.’
Don Watson
'Serong's finest work, and a story Australians should hear.’
Robbie Arnott
‘[The Settlement is] compelling to read, and also powered by Serong's descriptive, muscular prose…Reckoning comes in blazing moments of truth-telling, where the reality of this colonising project cannot be denied…This is a book that doesn’t let us readers off the hook—nor should it.’
Jackie Tang, Readings
‘[Jock Serong] is undertaking important work of reckoning with Australia’s troubled history. [The Settlement] is part of that reckoning – an absolute must read.’
Better Reading
‘[A] darkly poignant, sadly true and painfully enagaging story that rarely, if ever, makes it into Australian history books.’
Robert Goodman, Pile by the Bed
'Devastating…[Serong] animates the benighted settlement through pungent prose and uncanny summoning of place…A novel of empathy and intelligence.’
Age/SMH
'Traces of Charles Dickens, Cormac McCarthy, and Patrick White thread through his prose, which is often genre-based – the agile plotting and unexpected metaphor of Raymond Chandler is apparent here…The Settlement is deeply connected to history and prior literature.’
Brenda Walker, Australian Book Review
‘Compelling…powerful and evocative…[The Settlement] gives you thorough understanding of the power wielded by the early colonists, and the choices forced on those who didn’t have it.’
Good Reading
‘This is a book that must be read, from an author whose writing has reached new heights.’
Barry Reynolds, Herald Sun
‘Serong is a wonderful writer…he retains the gift of propulsive plots and gripping narratives. And readers interested in stories that face the complexity and complicity of our colonial past – paired with beautiful writing – will be intrigued by his latest novel.’
Jo Case, InDaily
‘Moving and devastating.’
Sarah L’Estrange, RN Book Show
‘To the settlement’s confined, Serong invests appropriate human dignity denied by their oppressors and their history.’
Paul Daley, Guardian
‘[Jock Serong] shows a real talent for expressing Australian history in all its glory, and its sorrow…A moving and highly poignant tale of survival, and courage.’
NZ Booklovers
‘[The Settlement] is an intensely moving, stunning and uncomfortable story based on real history…for all the tragedy of the story, it is beautifully written, with a gentle touch and an absorbing style that draws the reader in.’
ReadPlus
‘A gripping voyage into the heart of colonial Australia’s cruel and tumultuous past, delivering a unique and haunting perspective on the ill-fated Settlement of Wybalenna…Serong breathes life into excerpts from Robinson’s real journals to weave this deft tapestry of complex characters…The Settlement serves as a poignant reminder of the brutal realities fo Australia’s colonial history and the unforgivable displacement of First Nations people…Do yourself a favour and pick up this book; I am glad I did.’
Law Society Journal
March 21, 2023
The Settlement is one of the books on the longlist for the Walter Scott Prize for Historical Fiction 2023. It’s probably not a book I would have come across had it not appeared on the list. In the Acknowledgments section, the author refers to The Settlement as the third book in a trilogy – the previous books being (I think) Preservation and The Burning Island. As I didn’t discover this until I finished it, I can say with confidence that The Settlement can be read as a standalone.
I think we’re probably all aware of terrible injustices perpertrated on indigenous people over the centuries, particularly as a result of colonialism. (Arguably, they are still going on today.) In The Settlement the author focuses on one particularly heinous one, the true story of the forced resettlement of tribespeople from their traditional homeland in van Diemen’s Land (the colonial name for Tasmania) to Flinders Island by George Augustus Robinson. Many of the events are drawn from Robinson’s own journal in which he recorded in meticulous detail events on the island.
Ostensibly aimed at protecting the tribespeople from murder by white settlers, the purpose of his so-called ‘Friendly Mission’ is to ‘Christianise and civilise’ them. Leaving aside the possibility that this is driven by genuine religious zeal (which actually doesn’t make it any more forgiveable) he believes success will bring him political advancement. What the book also reveals is Robinson’s involvement in frankly quite disgusting acts of desecration, purportedly in the name of science. And the settlement turns out to be a place of disease and death for many of the tribespeople with the area of the graveyard set aside for them soon overflowing. As one character remarks, ‘This place eats human lives’.
The only character with any redeeming features is the Storekeeper. (A clever feature of the book is that the non-indigenous characters are referred to only by the role they perform in the settlement – the Surgeon, the Commandant, the Overseer, etc – whereas the indigenous people retain their given names.) But even the Storekeeper turns a blind eye for a long while to the evil taking place. Some of this involves the utterly vile Catechist, a violent and perverted individual who may even not be who he professes to be. The Storekeeper distracts himself with rum and by spending hours building a wall until he cannot stand by any longer. Cleverly, the wall also acts as a metaphor for the colonialist’s desire to demonstrate proprietorship of land by creating artificial boundaries. ‘The wall, indeed all of the settlement’s fences, were lines that followed no contour in nature: in fact, they fought the contours, dividing one man’s ground from another’s, and some creatures from others. The old people, who’d lived in the other world, must have been baffled. Offended, even, since drawing lines on the land was where it all started.’
At the heart of the book is a betrayal, the breaking of a promise to Mannalargena, the leader of the tribe, that they will eventually be returned to their traditional homelands. History tells us Robinson’s enterprise ultimately resulted in failure; The Settlement graphically reveals the human cost of that failure. However, two acts of resistance introduced into the novel stand as examples of the fight against oppression.
I think we’re probably all aware of terrible injustices perpertrated on indigenous people over the centuries, particularly as a result of colonialism. (Arguably, they are still going on today.) In The Settlement the author focuses on one particularly heinous one, the true story of the forced resettlement of tribespeople from their traditional homeland in van Diemen’s Land (the colonial name for Tasmania) to Flinders Island by George Augustus Robinson. Many of the events are drawn from Robinson’s own journal in which he recorded in meticulous detail events on the island.
Ostensibly aimed at protecting the tribespeople from murder by white settlers, the purpose of his so-called ‘Friendly Mission’ is to ‘Christianise and civilise’ them. Leaving aside the possibility that this is driven by genuine religious zeal (which actually doesn’t make it any more forgiveable) he believes success will bring him political advancement. What the book also reveals is Robinson’s involvement in frankly quite disgusting acts of desecration, purportedly in the name of science. And the settlement turns out to be a place of disease and death for many of the tribespeople with the area of the graveyard set aside for them soon overflowing. As one character remarks, ‘This place eats human lives’.
The only character with any redeeming features is the Storekeeper. (A clever feature of the book is that the non-indigenous characters are referred to only by the role they perform in the settlement – the Surgeon, the Commandant, the Overseer, etc – whereas the indigenous people retain their given names.) But even the Storekeeper turns a blind eye for a long while to the evil taking place. Some of this involves the utterly vile Catechist, a violent and perverted individual who may even not be who he professes to be. The Storekeeper distracts himself with rum and by spending hours building a wall until he cannot stand by any longer. Cleverly, the wall also acts as a metaphor for the colonialist’s desire to demonstrate proprietorship of land by creating artificial boundaries. ‘The wall, indeed all of the settlement’s fences, were lines that followed no contour in nature: in fact, they fought the contours, dividing one man’s ground from another’s, and some creatures from others. The old people, who’d lived in the other world, must have been baffled. Offended, even, since drawing lines on the land was where it all started.’
At the heart of the book is a betrayal, the breaking of a promise to Mannalargena, the leader of the tribe, that they will eventually be returned to their traditional homelands. History tells us Robinson’s enterprise ultimately resulted in failure; The Settlement graphically reveals the human cost of that failure. However, two acts of resistance introduced into the novel stand as examples of the fight against oppression.
September 25, 2025
Disappointing. Loved Jocks other books. This one just not for me
September 30, 2022
Serong began this compelling historical novel with a “Statement Regarding First Nations Cultural Knowledge”. His sensitivity towards their “custodianship of appropriate cultural knowledge and history in relation to their unceded lands” immediately established the level of respect and sensitivity of the author towards the Indigenous people and their stories. The story he related, a fictionalised yet highly researched account of the settlement overseen by George Augustus Robinson between 1830-1834 during the Frontier Wars in Tasmania, focused on Robinson's dubious motives and possibly duplicitous promises to save the natives from genocide in this shelter at the hands of the soldiers and pastoral settlers and, eventually, to bring them back to their lands.
The brilliance of Serong’s characterisation of the white administrators of the settlement, whom he named only by their position within the compound, stood out as the strength of the narrative. Serong delved deep within the minds of each of the white men (The Man, later called the Commandant, the Storekeeper, the Catechist), portraying men consumed by ego and the “pitiless logic of religious colonisation” {The Age}. The abuse, the violence, the indignities suffered by the Indigenous were achieved with the complicity of blindness, which horrified the reader and made clear the criminality and dehumanisation that had been perpetrated by the colonisers. The entrapment of the Indigenous was described by Serong with heart-wrenching clarity, including that of their leader (Mannalargenna) and of the two children who were also exposed to abuse and degradation. The fate of the young Whelk and Pipi served as symbols of inhumanity and resistance.
Coincidentally, in the middle of my reading the novel, I had watched Part 2 of Rachel Perkins’ hard-hitting documentary, “The Australian Wars” (SBS). The focus of this segment was directly on these unacknowledged Frontier Wars and on the need for Australia to finally recognise their impact as part of Australian history. The analysis of noted historians and the dramatisation of the violence perpetrated on the Indigenous deepened my understanding of Serong's stunning account.
I eagerly wait for the literary awards of 2022-23, this novel certainly to be mentioned and awarded for its excellence.
The brilliance of Serong’s characterisation of the white administrators of the settlement, whom he named only by their position within the compound, stood out as the strength of the narrative. Serong delved deep within the minds of each of the white men (The Man, later called the Commandant, the Storekeeper, the Catechist), portraying men consumed by ego and the “pitiless logic of religious colonisation” {The Age}. The abuse, the violence, the indignities suffered by the Indigenous were achieved with the complicity of blindness, which horrified the reader and made clear the criminality and dehumanisation that had been perpetrated by the colonisers. The entrapment of the Indigenous was described by Serong with heart-wrenching clarity, including that of their leader (Mannalargenna) and of the two children who were also exposed to abuse and degradation. The fate of the young Whelk and Pipi served as symbols of inhumanity and resistance.
Coincidentally, in the middle of my reading the novel, I had watched Part 2 of Rachel Perkins’ hard-hitting documentary, “The Australian Wars” (SBS). The focus of this segment was directly on these unacknowledged Frontier Wars and on the need for Australia to finally recognise their impact as part of Australian history. The analysis of noted historians and the dramatisation of the violence perpetrated on the Indigenous deepened my understanding of Serong's stunning account.
I eagerly wait for the literary awards of 2022-23, this novel certainly to be mentioned and awarded for its excellence.
October 9, 2022
This is the third book in the author’s significant series about the indigenous people of Van Diemen’s land and their interaction with colonial settlement of their land. The author focuses on known historical figures to produce an immensely powerful story. It’s full of violence and grief, with only the smallest sign of good intentions at work on the part of church and government.
I can’t use the word entertaining to describe its power, but it’s the sort of writing where you can’t look away from the horror. It’s valuable work, and we need more of it to broaden our nation’s grasp of history.
I can’t use the word entertaining to describe its power, but it’s the sort of writing where you can’t look away from the horror. It’s valuable work, and we need more of it to broaden our nation’s grasp of history.
December 25, 2022
Wow, what a powerful recreation of the Tasmanian Aboriginal experiences in the early to mid 1830s. While using the historical artefacts, dominated as always by Robinson’s diary, this is so much more a human retelling of the sadness that white settlement caused to traditional lifestyles and the psychological impact on the people.
August 24, 2023
Ahh 2.5-3? This took me (2?) months to read despite being only a couple hundred pages. It was particularly gruelling from the get-go, with the first chapter confusing and particularly long. I appreciated what Serong was doing with the first chapter, however meeting all the characters at once was overwhelming and I forgot who was who.
With that said, Serong highlights an important part of Australia's coloniser history. The book deepened my understanding of 'settlements' or camps made for, in this case, people indigenous to Palawan (Tasmania). While the book is fiction, Serong draws from real journal entries and uses a real 'settlement' that existed.
I enjoyed the history but was a bit bored of conversations and reflections from the several pious white male saviours. I have enjoyed Serongs writing style previously but his style + this being set in late 1800s made it hard to follow exactly what was going on and stay engaged.
With that said, Serong highlights an important part of Australia's coloniser history. The book deepened my understanding of 'settlements' or camps made for, in this case, people indigenous to Palawan (Tasmania). While the book is fiction, Serong draws from real journal entries and uses a real 'settlement' that existed.
I enjoyed the history but was a bit bored of conversations and reflections from the several pious white male saviours. I have enjoyed Serongs writing style previously but his style + this being set in late 1800s made it hard to follow exactly what was going on and stay engaged.
January 12, 2023
In one way this books reads more comfortably than the previous two in the series, but in another way it reads much darker for the distressing trickery and mistreatment and deception shown.
For an understanding of how untrue the statement that Truganina was the last Tasmanian and why there are Aboriginal people on Tasmania reclaiming their languages and keeping the connection to land.
For an understanding of how untrue the statement that Truganina was the last Tasmanian and why there are Aboriginal people on Tasmania reclaiming their languages and keeping the connection to land.
February 15, 2023
An enlightening and uncomfortable read about a relatively hidden chapter of Australia’s history.
February 6, 2023
I’m heading to Flinders Island soon for a holiday and thought it would be a good idea to read this version of the very dark events that occurred there in the past. I’ve tried quite hard to get into the book but I failed - or it failed me. I found it very hard to follow and lacking in clarity. I could tell it was full of misunderstanding and cruelty as Australians First Nations people were again treated worse than any human should be. I will instead visit the museum at Wybalena to hear first hand the unnatural history of this stunning outpost of Australia.
June 10, 2023
This novel is based on the true story of the relocation of Tasmania's traditional owners to Flinders Island in the 1800s to their unfortunate demise.
January 4, 2023
TW: slavery, trauma to First Nations peoples.
This book was an insight into the turn of the century where there was a big push for many men to be “white saviours” and try to protect Aboriginal people from those who wanted to harm, maim or murder them.
Unfortunately pastoralists, religious sects and missions were not the answer, it’s still forceable removal, denial of culture, beliefs and practices.
This book unfortunately fell far from the mark for me, and I struggled to connect with any part of this story, which is a shame as it appeared to have a great blurb and premise.
Thanks to text publishing for a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.
This book was an insight into the turn of the century where there was a big push for many men to be “white saviours” and try to protect Aboriginal people from those who wanted to harm, maim or murder them.
Unfortunately pastoralists, religious sects and missions were not the answer, it’s still forceable removal, denial of culture, beliefs and practices.
This book unfortunately fell far from the mark for me, and I struggled to connect with any part of this story, which is a shame as it appeared to have a great blurb and premise.
Thanks to text publishing for a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.
February 17, 2023
“They were saved, that was the message. They were leaving for an island where they would live as free people, and could devote themselves to thanking God and learning European ways. The old people had fallen quiet, perhaps because they explained everything in stories and they simply had no story for this preposterous idea.”
The Settlement is the sixth novel by award-winning Australian author, Jock Serong. The audio version is narrated by Lewis Fitz-Gerald. In October 1831, Loftus the Surveyor accompanies a party of soldiers, convicts and indigenous people as they trek through the bush in north-eastern Tasmania, looking for the Big River mob, the Lairmairermener people. Mannalargenna, chief of the Oyster Cove mob, is meant to be leading them.
The settlers want the land cleared of natives, and evangelist George Robinson, referred to as “The Man”, is attempting to do this peacefully, although many of the stockmen can’t see any good reason for cumbersome negotiation when force works just as well. The Governor’s plan for the natives amounts to exile somewhere out of the way. Robinson intends to settle them on an island and civilise and Christianise them. He obsessively records (not quite) all for posterity in journals he expects to publish to great acclaim.
Robinson has promised that, for his help with locating the Lairmairermener and convincing them to quit their country, Mannalargenna’s people will later be permitted to return to country. But Mannalargenna is a shrewd chief, reluctant to search out his enemy without an audience with the Governor to secure said promise. All this, Loftus observes.
He takes particular note of two children, both apparently orphans: Whelk has been assigned to assist The Man since he was very young; the tiny girl they name Pipi, probably the daughter of a Big River woman found killed during a raid, is inseparable from Whelk. Loftus becomes especially concerned for them with the attention and interest shown by the facially disfigured (and thus frightening to children) Catechist who will oversee their religious education on Flinders Island.
It later proves his concern is not misplaced: this supposed Christian is cruel and nasty, while his wife turns a blind eye. Loftus, by then the settlement’s Storekeeper, sees what is happening, but lacks the courage to act. Until much later, that is.
On the island, now calling himself The Commandant, faced with increasing native mortality, Robinson and his crew of Surgeon, Sergeant, Overseer, Catechist and convicts demonstrate their complete lack of respect for this exiled population. This is perhaps not surprising from men who believe they are the only civilised ones, men who make no attempt to understand or give any value to culture and tradition, ignorant of, or casually dismissive of the importance of beliefs and customs.
“… he was nearly done with his list of names, taking the long and complex ones that the natives used, and replacing them with kings and queens and counts and dukes. It conferred dignity and simplified conversation, something his predecessors had been unable to achieve.”
The Commandant’s decision to desecrate a grave and the newly buried body evokes only the slightest flicker of guilt, easily rationalised away with the importance of making history. “It was a matter of respect: imagine what a travesty it would be if some badger tunnelled the thing out.”
With utterly gorgeous prose, Serong captures and conveys the tragedy of what these people were forced to endure at the hands of those charged with their welfare. It is difficult not to feel indignant, angry and sad on their behalf, and sorrow that one race does this to another.
A tiny sample of Serong’s skill with prose: “This long march left behind a leaf litter of memories, scraps and fragments of people’s pasts, falling away from them all the time as the Man strove to invent their future” and “The language the Man was using was not English, maybe not an earthly language at all. It had curls and babbles and lumps in it, a stream working frantically over stones” and “The Commandant had never stopped to study the man’s face: the despair in it was immense, emptiness collected like grime in the long creases”.
Enhancing the text are sketches, intended for inclusion in Robinson’s (never-published) book, of three of the surviving Oyster Cove mob done by pardoned convict engraver, Thomas Bock, along with snippets of the artist’s conversation with each one. This is a powerful, compelling piece of historical fiction.
The Settlement is the sixth novel by award-winning Australian author, Jock Serong. The audio version is narrated by Lewis Fitz-Gerald. In October 1831, Loftus the Surveyor accompanies a party of soldiers, convicts and indigenous people as they trek through the bush in north-eastern Tasmania, looking for the Big River mob, the Lairmairermener people. Mannalargenna, chief of the Oyster Cove mob, is meant to be leading them.
The settlers want the land cleared of natives, and evangelist George Robinson, referred to as “The Man”, is attempting to do this peacefully, although many of the stockmen can’t see any good reason for cumbersome negotiation when force works just as well. The Governor’s plan for the natives amounts to exile somewhere out of the way. Robinson intends to settle them on an island and civilise and Christianise them. He obsessively records (not quite) all for posterity in journals he expects to publish to great acclaim.
Robinson has promised that, for his help with locating the Lairmairermener and convincing them to quit their country, Mannalargenna’s people will later be permitted to return to country. But Mannalargenna is a shrewd chief, reluctant to search out his enemy without an audience with the Governor to secure said promise. All this, Loftus observes.
He takes particular note of two children, both apparently orphans: Whelk has been assigned to assist The Man since he was very young; the tiny girl they name Pipi, probably the daughter of a Big River woman found killed during a raid, is inseparable from Whelk. Loftus becomes especially concerned for them with the attention and interest shown by the facially disfigured (and thus frightening to children) Catechist who will oversee their religious education on Flinders Island.
It later proves his concern is not misplaced: this supposed Christian is cruel and nasty, while his wife turns a blind eye. Loftus, by then the settlement’s Storekeeper, sees what is happening, but lacks the courage to act. Until much later, that is.
On the island, now calling himself The Commandant, faced with increasing native mortality, Robinson and his crew of Surgeon, Sergeant, Overseer, Catechist and convicts demonstrate their complete lack of respect for this exiled population. This is perhaps not surprising from men who believe they are the only civilised ones, men who make no attempt to understand or give any value to culture and tradition, ignorant of, or casually dismissive of the importance of beliefs and customs.
“… he was nearly done with his list of names, taking the long and complex ones that the natives used, and replacing them with kings and queens and counts and dukes. It conferred dignity and simplified conversation, something his predecessors had been unable to achieve.”
The Commandant’s decision to desecrate a grave and the newly buried body evokes only the slightest flicker of guilt, easily rationalised away with the importance of making history. “It was a matter of respect: imagine what a travesty it would be if some badger tunnelled the thing out.”
With utterly gorgeous prose, Serong captures and conveys the tragedy of what these people were forced to endure at the hands of those charged with their welfare. It is difficult not to feel indignant, angry and sad on their behalf, and sorrow that one race does this to another.
A tiny sample of Serong’s skill with prose: “This long march left behind a leaf litter of memories, scraps and fragments of people’s pasts, falling away from them all the time as the Man strove to invent their future” and “The language the Man was using was not English, maybe not an earthly language at all. It had curls and babbles and lumps in it, a stream working frantically over stones” and “The Commandant had never stopped to study the man’s face: the despair in it was immense, emptiness collected like grime in the long creases”.
Enhancing the text are sketches, intended for inclusion in Robinson’s (never-published) book, of three of the surviving Oyster Cove mob done by pardoned convict engraver, Thomas Bock, along with snippets of the artist’s conversation with each one. This is a powerful, compelling piece of historical fiction.
July 23, 2023
Aboriginal readers are advised that this review
contains the names of deceased persons.
Third in the Furneaux Islands Trilogy, (see my reviews here) The Settlement is Jock Serong's fictionalisation of a dark chapter in Tasmania's history. It was longlisted for the 2023 Walter Scott Prize for Historical Fiction and the 2023 ALS Gold Medal, and at the time of writing is also longlisted for the 2023 Margaret and Colin Roderick Literary Award. (Which is what prompted me to take it from the TBR and read it now).
Jock Serong is an author who came to my attention when he won a British award for writing On the Java Ridge (2017), a literary thriller that doesn't feature violence against women. His first two novels were crime novels i.e. Quota (2014) and The Rules of Backyard Cricket (2016) and The Settlement concludes his historical fiction series about the European settlement of Bass Strait. (In an interview with Corrie Perkins, he reveals that his next book is set in the C20th century enabling him to avoid the arrival of the internet.)
If you've been reading my reviews for a while, you might remember my review of Lyndall Ryan's Tasmanian Aborigines, A History since 1803 (2012) which I read in the year it was published. It is a landmark history of 400+ pages, not listed among other reference books used by Serong for his novel. Of these I have Truganini by Cassandra Pybus and Tongerlongeter by Nicholas Clements and Henry Reynolds. I haven't read them yet, and that's the point. Many of the stories that we need to know about our country will be more widely known if written as popular fiction than in weighty non-fiction texts, and that's fine IMO as long as the fiction is written with respect for the history, especially where it's contested.
Robinson's legacy is contested. Lyndall Ryan describes him as an ethnographer and humanist. As I wrote in my review:
Ryan is insistent on the point that whatever the tragic consequences of his attempts, this man was the first to try to learn about the Tasmanian Aborigines, and without him they would certainly have been exterminated, probably by 1835. His journals reveal just how hard the settlers tried to do just that.
The blurb's 'pastoral settlers' who were taking over Tasmanian lands were former soldiers. Ryan explains that they were veterans of the Napoleonic War. They were experienced at killing other people. Again, from my review of Tasmanian Aborigines...
When the wars ended, discontented returned officers and gentlemen who felt they were owed recompense for their war service were (like soldier-settlers after WW1 in Australia) fobbed off with grants of land in remote places. In both cases, that land granted to them was falsely held to be terra nullius, land belonging to no one. The Napoleonic veterans fared better than their WW1 counterparts, however, because their grants of land were accompanied by a convict labour-force. It was this massive invasion of pastoral settlers that effected the transformation of Tasmania from a creole small-scale agricultural society – with some accommodation between roughly equal numbers of indigenous people and the settlers – to a pastoral society. The colonial population surged from about 2000 to 23,500 by 1830. There was bound to be resistance, and there was.
I read The Settlement with these perspectives in the back of my mind.
To read the rest of my review please visit https://anzlitlovers.com/2023/07/23/t...
June 4, 2025
Serong does well to bring this remarkable and deeply troubling story to all. His highly symbolic novel captures the brutality and barbarism of colonialism in Tasmania in the 19th century.
I initially found the book challenging in that I wanted this story to be told precisely. However, Serong instead uses composite characters to explore the broader themes of colonial exploitation and the moral complexities of people such as Robinson. He does this by referring to roles rather than actual names. This approach allows him to delve into the symbolic and thematic aspects of colonialism without being confined to strict historical accounts.
For example, I could see multiple figures depicted in the role of the catechist. Wybalenna's first catechist, Robert Clark, (a man known for his extreme cruelty to the Van Diemen's children housed with him at Wybalenna) is one such character. But Serong's catechist could easily have also depicted John Batman who did in real life have rotting nose due to syphilis. The symbolism of a decaying body serves as a metaphor for the rotting morality of the colonial project.
The children in the novel symbolise vulnerability and exploitation faced by Tasmania's First Peoples. They personalise the brutal history of the Wybalenna settlement and the wider impact of colonialism.
I have read fairly wildly on this era of Tasmanian history and some events were new to me. Firstly, I did not know that Robinson was sending bones of the original people to England. I have since discovered that it is quite likely true. Nor was I aware that Robinson was supposedly having an affair with the storekeeper's wife. Kassandra Pybus mentions this in her book, Truganini. The inclusion of this flaw symbolises Robinson's failure to live up to his own ideals.
George Augustus Robinson, referred to as The Man, and later the Commandant, is painted as highly self-promoting with little regard to the people he is so-called saving. Whilst I agree with this sentiment (Robinson was a deal breaker and he did make the most of his opportunity to document 'the ancient people', for his advantage and later abandoning them at Port Phillip.) And yet, I also did feel Robinson had a genuine concern for the people, even if somewhat faulty. Robinson 'wept for the terrible cruelties visited upon his "unbefriended and hapless people" and for what they had not yet fully comprehended: the irrevocable loss of their country.' (Truganini, Pybus). Even if he believed he was helping, the outcomes were largely devastating and shaped by his own self-interest.
Other characters were more endearing: The leader Mannalargenna was a clever soul who pretended to assist Robinson in the search for other clans, but in fact was leading him on a merry dance, hunting and enjoying his natural way of life. The surveyor/storekeeper was a warm light in a clouded sky in the way he cared for Whelk and Pipi and did his best within the limitations of his role.
Unfortunately, Robinson's aim to ‘protect’ Aboriginal people ultimately failed. This history needs to be read by all Tasmanians and Australians more broadly. The past injustices still reverberate today with the Tasmanian Aboriginal communities. Their ongoing resilience speaks to the strength in the way they maintain and continue their culture.
I initially found the book challenging in that I wanted this story to be told precisely. However, Serong instead uses composite characters to explore the broader themes of colonial exploitation and the moral complexities of people such as Robinson. He does this by referring to roles rather than actual names. This approach allows him to delve into the symbolic and thematic aspects of colonialism without being confined to strict historical accounts.
For example, I could see multiple figures depicted in the role of the catechist. Wybalenna's first catechist, Robert Clark, (a man known for his extreme cruelty to the Van Diemen's children housed with him at Wybalenna) is one such character. But Serong's catechist could easily have also depicted John Batman who did in real life have rotting nose due to syphilis. The symbolism of a decaying body serves as a metaphor for the rotting morality of the colonial project.
The children in the novel symbolise vulnerability and exploitation faced by Tasmania's First Peoples. They personalise the brutal history of the Wybalenna settlement and the wider impact of colonialism.
I have read fairly wildly on this era of Tasmanian history and some events were new to me. Firstly, I did not know that Robinson was sending bones of the original people to England. I have since discovered that it is quite likely true. Nor was I aware that Robinson was supposedly having an affair with the storekeeper's wife. Kassandra Pybus mentions this in her book, Truganini. The inclusion of this flaw symbolises Robinson's failure to live up to his own ideals.
George Augustus Robinson, referred to as The Man, and later the Commandant, is painted as highly self-promoting with little regard to the people he is so-called saving. Whilst I agree with this sentiment (Robinson was a deal breaker and he did make the most of his opportunity to document 'the ancient people', for his advantage and later abandoning them at Port Phillip.) And yet, I also did feel Robinson had a genuine concern for the people, even if somewhat faulty. Robinson 'wept for the terrible cruelties visited upon his "unbefriended and hapless people" and for what they had not yet fully comprehended: the irrevocable loss of their country.' (Truganini, Pybus). Even if he believed he was helping, the outcomes were largely devastating and shaped by his own self-interest.
Other characters were more endearing: The leader Mannalargenna was a clever soul who pretended to assist Robinson in the search for other clans, but in fact was leading him on a merry dance, hunting and enjoying his natural way of life. The surveyor/storekeeper was a warm light in a clouded sky in the way he cared for Whelk and Pipi and did his best within the limitations of his role.
Unfortunately, Robinson's aim to ‘protect’ Aboriginal people ultimately failed. This history needs to be read by all Tasmanians and Australians more broadly. The past injustices still reverberate today with the Tasmanian Aboriginal communities. Their ongoing resilience speaks to the strength in the way they maintain and continue their culture.
September 6, 2022
An interpretation of George Augustus Robinson’s persuading what aborigines he could contact to resettle in Finders Island at Wybalenna. He tried to persuade the world that doing so would prevent the aborigines from being killed by the VDL early settlers. As it happened nearly all died anyway, only 47 resettling in hardly better conditions at Oyster Cove. While Robinson claimed the highest motives, he was always driven by a fawning ambition to become admired, especially by the great and powerful. Here he is portrayed as egocentric, all decisions being made to further his own ends. He was immoral, having an ongoing sexual relationship with another settler’s wife, an inveterate liar, and a hypocrite, translating his own venal actions into what he called God’s Will: in short, a conman. He thus conned the aboriginals into leaving their now dangerous tribal lands into following him to what he called a safer and pleasant place. In this he at first had the support of the highly influential chief Mannalargenna who at first highly respected him, but later believed Robinson had duped them all. Robinson had no idea or respect for native customs, completely misunderstanding how they thought. Significantly, all the Europeans are referred to by their role: the Commandant, the Surveyer/Storekeeper (same person), the Catechist, the Surgeon, the Coxswain, while all aboriginals are referred to by their name, many Europeanised.
The story is horrifying. Apart from the contemptible actions of The Man, who later becomes the self-styled Commandant (Robinson), the story begins with rounding up the natives as seen largely through the eyes of Whelk a young boy who relates to the Surveyor, and especially to a small girl they call Pipi who adores Whelk and he her. The group is attacked by a settler who intends to kill them all but fog and rain descend and they escape. There is a brief section narrated by convict painter Thomas Bock of Truganinni, Woorady and Mannalargenna, before going on to Flinders. I thought this aside was superfluous at the time but later it fitted in, and it also authenticated Serong’s story. The key figures from now, apart from the Commandant, are the Storekeeper, the only decent European, Whelk and Pipi, who are victims of the thoroughly evil Catechist, a sadistic pedophile, who amplifies the horror. The Surgeon treats any ailment with letting up to two quarts of blood. In his treatment of snakebite, he does that, then forcing brandy down the victim’s throat, cuts a wedge around the bite, and injects ammonia into the wound. The aboriginals suffer badly from a lung infection, due to their longing for their own lands and also to the cold. The Commandant’s response to this is prayer, which by now they aborigines reject, for after all God has let them down.
Serong’s narration is in short jerky yet poetic sentences, not straight, not Victorian, that take some acclimatising to, but once you get it, it draws you in. It is doubtful that so many of the Aboriginals spoke such good English, albeit a semi-pidgin, but it was a necessary poetic license. Serong took 8 years and much research to write this novel and it is a convincing portrait of, and important take on, Tasmanian history.
The story is horrifying. Apart from the contemptible actions of The Man, who later becomes the self-styled Commandant (Robinson), the story begins with rounding up the natives as seen largely through the eyes of Whelk a young boy who relates to the Surveyor, and especially to a small girl they call Pipi who adores Whelk and he her. The group is attacked by a settler who intends to kill them all but fog and rain descend and they escape. There is a brief section narrated by convict painter Thomas Bock of Truganinni, Woorady and Mannalargenna, before going on to Flinders. I thought this aside was superfluous at the time but later it fitted in, and it also authenticated Serong’s story. The key figures from now, apart from the Commandant, are the Storekeeper, the only decent European, Whelk and Pipi, who are victims of the thoroughly evil Catechist, a sadistic pedophile, who amplifies the horror. The Surgeon treats any ailment with letting up to two quarts of blood. In his treatment of snakebite, he does that, then forcing brandy down the victim’s throat, cuts a wedge around the bite, and injects ammonia into the wound. The aboriginals suffer badly from a lung infection, due to their longing for their own lands and also to the cold. The Commandant’s response to this is prayer, which by now they aborigines reject, for after all God has let them down.
Serong’s narration is in short jerky yet poetic sentences, not straight, not Victorian, that take some acclimatising to, but once you get it, it draws you in. It is doubtful that so many of the Aboriginals spoke such good English, albeit a semi-pidgin, but it was a necessary poetic license. Serong took 8 years and much research to write this novel and it is a convincing portrait of, and important take on, Tasmanian history.
December 20, 2022
Our Review...
The Settlement is Jock Serong’s third book in his Furneaux series – following Preservation and The Burning Island – though it can easily be read as a stand-alone.
Drawing on the journals of George Augustus Robinson, Serong fictionalises Robinson’s interactions with the indigenous Tasmanians he purported to protect, constructing a powerful narrative of dispossession, trickery, murder and colonialism.
Following the success of his hunting parties in gathering the last of the Tasmanian tribes fighting a frontier war against the brutal occupation of their lands in the early 1830’s, Robinson – simply referred to as The Man and later, The Commandant – is portrayed as a complex but ultimately flawed protector. Inflated with his own sense of destiny and a desire to be acknowledged for the great achievement of ridding Tasmania of “impediments to civilisation”, he turns a blind eye to the effects of his harsh policies on the people isolated on his “Friendly Mission” at Wybalenna on Flinders Island.
The powerful narrative of The Settlement is driven by Serong’s depiction of the ruthless, religiously-justified, destruction of a culture the colonialists could never understand. Torn from their country, denied their ceremonies, rituals and customs, Tasmania’s original inhabitants are abandoned to poverty and disease on the mission. Their treatment makes the reader at once ashamed and angry, a balance Serong handles with aplomb.
He creates a cast of unforgettable characters: the Storekeeper who observes the disintegration of his marriage while trying to alleviate the suffering of the innocent; The Catechist, one of the most loathsome figures in recent Australian literature; The Surgeon, looking to build his knowledge before moving to a better, more suitable posting; and the indigenous people held captive on the island, Tongerlongeter, Mannalargenna, Whelk and Pippy.
This is Jock Serong’s sixth book, and it shows. The writing at the sentence level is exquisite, while the overall narrative moves with a slow-burning fury. No reader will finish this book and not be moved by it.
Miles Franklin winner, Amanda Lohrey describes The Settlement as “An extraordinarily vivid imagining of one of the most significant encounters in Australian history.”
She is right. And it is a book that will doubtless attract the attention of the Miles Franklin judges in the coming year.
Review by Mark Smith
The Settlement is Jock Serong’s third book in his Furneaux series – following Preservation and The Burning Island – though it can easily be read as a stand-alone.
Drawing on the journals of George Augustus Robinson, Serong fictionalises Robinson’s interactions with the indigenous Tasmanians he purported to protect, constructing a powerful narrative of dispossession, trickery, murder and colonialism.
Following the success of his hunting parties in gathering the last of the Tasmanian tribes fighting a frontier war against the brutal occupation of their lands in the early 1830’s, Robinson – simply referred to as The Man and later, The Commandant – is portrayed as a complex but ultimately flawed protector. Inflated with his own sense of destiny and a desire to be acknowledged for the great achievement of ridding Tasmania of “impediments to civilisation”, he turns a blind eye to the effects of his harsh policies on the people isolated on his “Friendly Mission” at Wybalenna on Flinders Island.
The powerful narrative of The Settlement is driven by Serong’s depiction of the ruthless, religiously-justified, destruction of a culture the colonialists could never understand. Torn from their country, denied their ceremonies, rituals and customs, Tasmania’s original inhabitants are abandoned to poverty and disease on the mission. Their treatment makes the reader at once ashamed and angry, a balance Serong handles with aplomb.
He creates a cast of unforgettable characters: the Storekeeper who observes the disintegration of his marriage while trying to alleviate the suffering of the innocent; The Catechist, one of the most loathsome figures in recent Australian literature; The Surgeon, looking to build his knowledge before moving to a better, more suitable posting; and the indigenous people held captive on the island, Tongerlongeter, Mannalargenna, Whelk and Pippy.
This is Jock Serong’s sixth book, and it shows. The writing at the sentence level is exquisite, while the overall narrative moves with a slow-burning fury. No reader will finish this book and not be moved by it.
Miles Franklin winner, Amanda Lohrey describes The Settlement as “An extraordinarily vivid imagining of one of the most significant encounters in Australian history.”
She is right. And it is a book that will doubtless attract the attention of the Miles Franklin judges in the coming year.
Review by Mark Smith
January 26, 2023
What a book to have finished on the eve of Invasion Day/Australia Day 2023. Serong has tackled head-on George Robinson's shocking impact on Tasmania's First Nations people at Wybalenna. I found this book an interesting fictionalised angle to Cassandra Pybus' book Truganini, which I loved (if you can love a book covering horrifying subject matter). Review: https://www.instagram.com/p/CMEgdyjDB...
In The Settlement, actual settler names are replaced with roles: the Commandant, the Storekeeper, the Surgeon. Only the First Nations people are granted names, and they are familiar: Truganini, Mannalargenna, Woorady. Serong also adds a small number of fictional characters to build out the details of the story he wants to tell.
One review I read said that Serong's mistake here is that he has written the First Nations characters as flawless and the settlers as fatally flawed, but I actually found it more nuanced than that. Serong portrays flawed humans, where one group inhumanly dominates the other. What might be seen as Serong sentimentalising the First Nations people could also be seen as him carefully not telling the story from the perspective of those people when he himself is not one of them. Rather than sentimentalising them, it has the effect of maybe just leaving them slightly flat. But this book is about the settlers - their psychology and pyschopathy - and, with the exception of Mannalargenna, the First Nations people are kind of secondary to the story being told. Calling out these settlers for what they were seems to be Serong's goal here, and it is bravely and unblinkingly done.
I also loved how Serong captured the human condition of self-deception as a survival mechanism: "If you could imagine every exile in a foreign land, or imagine being betrayed by the person you loved the most in all the world and having to accept that you never knew them. If these things could be stacked up, the human soul couldn't withstand it. That's why we're such practised deceivers, lad. Our capacity for joy is infinite. But our capacity for sorrow has a weight limit."
It's a beautiful and devastating book.
Please shop at your local independent bookstore.
Follow me at www.instagram.com/avrbookstuff.
In The Settlement, actual settler names are replaced with roles: the Commandant, the Storekeeper, the Surgeon. Only the First Nations people are granted names, and they are familiar: Truganini, Mannalargenna, Woorady. Serong also adds a small number of fictional characters to build out the details of the story he wants to tell.
One review I read said that Serong's mistake here is that he has written the First Nations characters as flawless and the settlers as fatally flawed, but I actually found it more nuanced than that. Serong portrays flawed humans, where one group inhumanly dominates the other. What might be seen as Serong sentimentalising the First Nations people could also be seen as him carefully not telling the story from the perspective of those people when he himself is not one of them. Rather than sentimentalising them, it has the effect of maybe just leaving them slightly flat. But this book is about the settlers - their psychology and pyschopathy - and, with the exception of Mannalargenna, the First Nations people are kind of secondary to the story being told. Calling out these settlers for what they were seems to be Serong's goal here, and it is bravely and unblinkingly done.
I also loved how Serong captured the human condition of self-deception as a survival mechanism: "If you could imagine every exile in a foreign land, or imagine being betrayed by the person you loved the most in all the world and having to accept that you never knew them. If these things could be stacked up, the human soul couldn't withstand it. That's why we're such practised deceivers, lad. Our capacity for joy is infinite. But our capacity for sorrow has a weight limit."
It's a beautiful and devastating book.
Please shop at your local independent bookstore.
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August 6, 2024
A retelling of the history of the Aboriginal settlement at Wybalenna on Flinders Island in Bass Strait.
After the indigenous peoples of Tasmania were rounded up, they were transported to a new settlement on Flinders Island where they were meant to flourish away from the murderous intentions of the white colonial settlers.
However, the settlement proves disastrous. It is cold and wet, so the last Tasmanians suffer from constant respiratory problems and begin to die. In spite of the supposed care of the Commandant, the people are not happy as they have been separated from their land, and are not able to keep their culture or traditions. As well, they discover that the Commandant is taking body parts from their dead to send back to British Museums as examples of specimens of a dying race.
Even worse, the Catechist, who is in charge of teaching the children about Christianity, abuses them in his own house.
After the death of the young girl, Pipi, at the hands of the Catechist, her best friend, Whelk, becomes his latest victim. However, he manages to escape, and eventually, he also manages to escape the island all together.
This is a harrowing novel which highlights this sad and depressing period of history. It is told with great empathy. Required reading to understand our colonial story.
After the indigenous peoples of Tasmania were rounded up, they were transported to a new settlement on Flinders Island where they were meant to flourish away from the murderous intentions of the white colonial settlers.
However, the settlement proves disastrous. It is cold and wet, so the last Tasmanians suffer from constant respiratory problems and begin to die. In spite of the supposed care of the Commandant, the people are not happy as they have been separated from their land, and are not able to keep their culture or traditions. As well, they discover that the Commandant is taking body parts from their dead to send back to British Museums as examples of specimens of a dying race.
Even worse, the Catechist, who is in charge of teaching the children about Christianity, abuses them in his own house.
After the death of the young girl, Pipi, at the hands of the Catechist, her best friend, Whelk, becomes his latest victim. However, he manages to escape, and eventually, he also manages to escape the island all together.
This is a harrowing novel which highlights this sad and depressing period of history. It is told with great empathy. Required reading to understand our colonial story.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
October 22, 2022
Wow! My feelings at the end of this book was akin to survivors guilt; I am white, I come from a European background, while my family's life here started after the events in the book, we still stood on land which was not given to us willingly.
This is a book which I think if it gives the reader a fraction of understanding of how appallingly the Tasmanian Aborigines were treated then I think the author has been successful with what I suspect was his unstated aims.
The book is more of less divided into two distinct sections, the search for the Big River Tribe, and the 'resettlement' of the indigenous Tasmanians allegedly for their 'protection'. Somewhat ironically the protection was from European settlers who were prepared to kill Aborigines. Yet, the so called 'protection' offered by the settlement was anything but.
This was not an easy book to read, but was one that I genuinely believe should be more widely read, even to get an inkling of what the generational trauma experienced by our First Nations peoples is all about.
This is a book which I think if it gives the reader a fraction of understanding of how appallingly the Tasmanian Aborigines were treated then I think the author has been successful with what I suspect was his unstated aims.
The book is more of less divided into two distinct sections, the search for the Big River Tribe, and the 'resettlement' of the indigenous Tasmanians allegedly for their 'protection'. Somewhat ironically the protection was from European settlers who were prepared to kill Aborigines. Yet, the so called 'protection' offered by the settlement was anything but.
This was not an easy book to read, but was one that I genuinely believe should be more widely read, even to get an inkling of what the generational trauma experienced by our First Nations peoples is all about.
November 16, 2022
Jock Serong at his best! Based on the true story of George Augustus Robinson and his quest to round up all of the indigenous inhabitants of Van Diemen's Land and relocate them to Flinders Island - a barren outpost in Bass Strait - with the promise of returning them at an appropriate time in the future, this story is profoundly disturbing but truthful in a way that needs to be told. Without naming the white collaborators apart from their titles...Commandant, Storekeeper, Catechist the story of their brutal treatment of the aboriginal population is frightening. To their displacement add the spread of disease, the enforced Christianization, and the denial of all traditional ways of life this novel paints a very grim portrait of Australian colonial history. In an attempt to personalize the indigenous characters we are given their names but only the chief, Mannalargena, really comes to life for us. How ironic that Robinson achieved his aim of becoming Chief Protector of Aborigines in Port Phillip in 1839!
October 22, 2022
In Tasmania 1831, the white settlers have wreaked havock on the indigenous people, slaughtering them as they expand their settlements and pastoral leases. George Augustus Robinson tried to save what he believes to be the remaining aborigines by taking them to an island and establishing the settlement of Wybalenna. He convinces the chief, Mannalargenna who then persuades his people to follow Robinson in the hope that they will regain their land and be able to survive. Robinson, who went on to become the Protector on the Mainland, known as the "devil" for the practice of removing children from their families, has a blinkered approach that is largely based on his own self-interest and desire to establish his reputation with the Governor and with the authorities in England.
Cruelty, disease, Christianity, death and betrayal are at the heart of this novel, which describes in detail, based on Robinson's own diaries, the harshness and ugliness of the times.
This is a powerful book.
Cruelty, disease, Christianity, death and betrayal are at the heart of this novel, which describes in detail, based on Robinson's own diaries, the harshness and ugliness of the times.
This is a powerful book.
November 29, 2022
A historic fiction tale, The Settlement by Jock Serong is based on sadly, tragic factual events. Set in Tasmania in the 1830s, it recounts the Wybalenna settlement on Flinders Island. Initially, the narrative conveys the hunt for the Big River Tribe, and then recounts their resettlement, supposedly for their so-called ‘protection’. The narrative recounts various characters’ perspectives and is hard to read at times, with its disheartening brutality and nepotism. Readers will find this book discomforting, albeit told with the usual Serong aplomb and is solidly based on many years of detailed research. This is a fine example of using literary fiction to engage in a sordid aspect of Australian history. So, a four star read rating and as always, the opinions herein are totally my own and freely given.
October 3, 2022
The sordid, sorry history of the Wybalenna settlement on Flinders Island is brought into tragic view through Jock Serong's fictional treatment. George Augustus Robinson, an immigrant from England, appears, through historical accounts, to have been a quiet, self-taught, fairly compassionate Christian. When he took on the job of protecting Aboriginal Tasmanians from the threat of genocide, he did so with the usual colonial belief they could only be saved by turning to Christ. The isolation and harsh strictures imposed on them killed their spirits and then their bodies. It is an ugly and important reminder of the cost still exacted on indigenous peoples whose cultures and histories were destroyed to make way for the settler populations.
February 8, 2023
"...pursue a duty to bring lightness to darkness. Civilisation.”….so much destruction around the ‘empire ‘ The premise of civilising the indigenous peoples of the empire was not only misguided it brought upon the peoples unknown cruelty that would impact generations to come....as evidenced in Australia today.
Any book which 'teaches' me about the plight of our indigenous peoples is a worthwhile read.
This insightful book needs to be on school curriculum...and taken home for the parents to read.
Any book which 'teaches' me about the plight of our indigenous peoples is a worthwhile read.
This insightful book needs to be on school curriculum...and taken home for the parents to read.
March 2, 2023
I am a great fan of Serong's writing. The plot of this book is based on the rounding up of the decimated tribes of Tasmania, and their incarceration to Flinders Is. It explores the ego of the men involved in the process, and on the island, and the women. It is a challenging read, I know appalling cruelty was applied to the aboriginal people. This book made not only that uncomfortable reading, but the ego, motivation, blindness of the white men and women involved. Couldnt put it down in a horrified way.
March 17, 2024
https://denisenewtonwrites.com/?p=5369
The Settlement is the conclusion to a trilogy of historical fiction novels by award-winning Aussie author Jock Serong. Set in early colonial times in Van Diemen’s Land (Tasmania) the three books tell the uncomfortable story of the violence of the colonial project, the evil manifested by those involved, and the defiance of the island’s First Nations.
Jock Serong has again woven a dark story around the equally dark bones of historical fact. He has cemented his place as one of my favourite Australian contemporary authors.
The Settlement is the conclusion to a trilogy of historical fiction novels by award-winning Aussie author Jock Serong. Set in early colonial times in Van Diemen’s Land (Tasmania) the three books tell the uncomfortable story of the violence of the colonial project, the evil manifested by those involved, and the defiance of the island’s First Nations.
Jock Serong has again woven a dark story around the equally dark bones of historical fact. He has cemented his place as one of my favourite Australian contemporary authors.
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