Examining ideas of belonging and being an outsider, this story follows Billy, a young school teacher and drifter who arrives in Australia's remote far north in search of his past, his Aboriginal roots, and his future. Through masterful language and metaphor, as well as a sophisticated tone that is both subtle and spirited, the novel finds Billy in a region not only of abundance and beauty but also of conflict, dispossession, and dislocation. On the frontier between cultures, Billy must find where he belongs in what is ultimately a powerful portrayal of the discovery of self and a sensitive exploration of race and culture.
Born in 1957, Kim Scott's ancestral Noongar country is the south-east coast of Western Australia between Gairdner River and Cape Arid. His cultural Elders use the term Wirlomin to refer to their clan, and the Norman Tindale nomenclature identifies people of this area as Wudjari/Koreng.
His novel Taboo won the Victorian premier’s literary award for Indigenous writing in 2019.
His other novels include True Country and Benang. He also writes poetry and short fiction. His professional background is in education and the arts.
I found it really difficult to get through this book. Partially because the multiple narratives became confusing at times, but largely because overall I didn't find the story compelling enough to make it worthwhile.
A feeling of torn in two, between grief and beauty occurs from page one of this pretty brilliant writing. Can I come out and say I loved every page I turned of this - no. Often I found myself pushing forward to get past moments in the book I was torn up over, and truly depressed about, and conflicted heavily about. For an author to be able to take you to such places and be able to do so, often, that says alot about Kim Scott's writing.
Often very brief and abbreviated dialogue speaks volumes in very clashing moments you experience between varying cultures and expectations on both sides of these origins. Having seen Kim Scott in an International session at the Library of Congress Book Festival, I was intrigued of how he struggled to explain the moments of storytelling that escape the view of one countries' view of another country. That escape is difficult, and yet Scott manages to weave tales that reach out of the pages, hold onto you and stay with you. Sometimes shaking you, and sometimes you trying to shake off the memory of some of the other experiences.
There is much to experience in True Country, and while definitely not a novel that the goal is to uplift your spirits from beginning to end, realizations far and wide will definitely be brought right to your front door.
The style of writing by Kim Scott definitely gave you the feeling of being in the country at the centre of the story around a mission in Aboriginal country. The behaviour and conversations of indigenous people and missionaries together and apart gave a clear picture of what life was like.
Gorgeous language. I love Scott's use of both Noongar and English. The story would be poorer without either. The book is set in North-Western Australia and tells the story of a school teacher and his wife arriving to teach at an Aboriginal settlement school. Scott sketches settings unobtrusively, with no no obvious emphasis, yet the book's sense of place is vivid and engrossing. Clever, moving book.
A meandering glimpse into the life of what’s left of a Western Australian, Aboriginal mission… its traditional owners, government rangers, disillusioned missionaries, and a newly arrived crop of teachers.
I was keen to read this after reading the blurb, even though I wasn’t fond of the last Scott novel I read. However, I found the switching perspectives, loose narrative structure, and wandering plot hard to follow, digest, and ultimately enjoy.
There are great characters here, great content and stories to be shared, and themes to dissect. I really like some parts of the story, and found the landscape descriptions beautiful and some of the experimental repetitive and sparingly used language almost poetic… I think in the hands of another reader, this would be an easy favourite… much like Wright’s ‘Carpentaria’ (2006).
I’ve got Scott’s ‘That Deadman Dance’ (2010) on the shelf. Looking forward to giving that a go.
This book was really a struggle. Hadn't it been a part of the compulsory reading for my course, I probably wouldn't have finished it. Somehow, the book seems overcrowded. There are plenty of different characters in the story, some of them appear for a few moments and then just disappear. Some of the stories stay unfinished. Some seem unconnected with the rest of the novel. I found it hard to create a bond with any of the characters, even with Billy. In the second part of the book, it's tiring to follow who is narrating the story at the moment. Anyway, the last part of the book was really good. Even though many things fell into place eventually, the book still feels an aftertaste of downfall, despair and lost labour.
The language in this might have needed a local narrator on audiobook. Very unique to this American. First WA author and I'm picturing a lot through the framing of Mystery Road...
I wonder if there's a literature analysis by Aboriginal writers of a White western colonialist lens here, a la Conrad to Kipling "empty" continent "blank canvas" natives, and the protagonist's soul's purpose. The very ending of this book was also heavy on the male perspective. It was only in 2007 that The Intervention was justified outside policy enforcement in Aboriginal communities, to rescue these supposedly silent sufferers lacking much agency and development. The other first nations writers I've read were women. The contrast was notable.
True Country, Kim Scott’s debut novel first published in 1993, has been on my TBR for ages, so I was happy to join a readalong with Emma at Book Around the Corner. But unlike Kim at Reading Matters, I did not love this book. It is powerful writing, and innovative in design and intent, but it is also deeply depressing because it paints such a vivid picture of the dysfunctional behaviours that we are told still plague indigenous communities today. True Country is a kind of bildungsroman, but one that has been creatively adapted to serve a new purpose. The central character, Billy Storey, does not ‘go out into the wider world’ in search of the self, becoming educated in the ways of the world while the reader looks on. Billy’s search for identity takes him out of the White world that he knows, to the intimate world of a (fictional) remote northern Australian indigenous community, where everything that he already knows does not apply. His confused identity, shaped by more than two centuries of assimilationist policies and family denial, is confronted by the confident assertion of identity from the local indigenous people, who know who they are even though their culture is changing. So while Billy is there ostensibly to teach at the school, what actually happens is that the teacher finds himself being taught – learning a whole new culture and lifestyle, along with different values and ways of behaving. He learns a history more ancient than any he was familiar with, and he learns in ways that are unconventional in westernised societies. He is on a challenging learning journey, and the text brings the reader along with Billy to learn about Aboriginality at the same time. (It’s important to note that although there were increasing numbers of indigenous memoirs, there were not many novels written by indigenous authors at that time in the late 20th century). In the beginning, Billy and his wife Liz identify with and are identified as Whites, differentiated by their education, their jobs, their clothes, by having air-conditioning in the house and easy access to a cool beer after work, and most of all by their prospects. The respect they are shown is also differentiated: the other Whites treat them with the same professional respect they reserve for themselves, while the indigenous people (mostly) treat them with a kind of amused tolerance for their lack of understanding and ignorance about the community’s heritage and lifestyle. But there are also instances of behaviour towards Billy and Liz that most Australians would consider disrespectful – such as having their home invaded by a horde of kids and their clothes and possessions used and ‘borrowed’. But this is not considered disrespectful by some members of the indigenous community, while other mission-educated Aborigines are furious about it. This is indicative both of a shift in cultural values from communal ownership to the idea of private property, but also confusion about Billy’s identity. Billy has the money to buy a boat and if he’s a whitefella, he isn’t obliged by kinship rules to share it. But if he ‘belongs’, then he should be willing to lend it to anyone who asks. The position of his wife (who the reader assumes to be White) is subsumed in Billy’s, as far as the community is concerned). This portrait of comparative privilege shifts, as Billy falls in love with the land, enjoys aspects of living off the land such as fishing, and finds himself captivated by the stories of an Elder called Fatima. About half way through the book this change is signalled by two events…
Through many voices – past and present, embodied and ethereal – Kim Scott explores the terrain we are all still wanting to claim as out own, yet cannot hold by mere words. From the first stumbling conversation and the patience of the speaker in awaiting the proof of listening, the familiarity of images and expectations in indigenous communities opens out to possibilities we must each become a part to. Ultimately this book is an invitation to participate. And it recognises this is not a comfortable nor easy journey.
A beautiful book set in what I read as a fictionalized version of Kalumburu. Scott renders the full-on beauty of the north Kimberley and the complications of life on the community perfectly. The impressionist-y quality of the storytelling and the shifting voices and perspectives reflect his ambivalence about his role in the community, his relationship with stories and country, and his own Aboriginality.
Because of all the hype about this book I was really looking forward to reading it but instead I found it so difficult to read that I gave up after about fifty pages. I found it very confusing and frankly not interesting enough to be worthwhile trudging on with it.
This is my favourite of Scott's works that I've read thus far. It's an intense, illuminating, challenging and beautifully written work that forces you to reflect on so many aspects of Aboriginal/Settler relations in Australia.
This book was v complex. I think I would need to read it again to fully understand it. Too bad it's too boring that I will probably never pick it up again lol