I’ve been meaning to stop reviewing on Goodreads and start reviewing over here instead (if you can call it reviewing: I never write more than a few paragraphs), so here’s my first attempt.
N by John A Scott is an Australian novel, released last year and since shortlisted for the Victorian Premier’s Literary Award (announced on Wednesday). It’s also part of my #TBR20 reading list. Speaking of which, that’s all about to go out the window: I’m currently at Varuna working on a book and they have so many books here I’ve been wanting to read. So let me off the hook while I get through Margo Lanagan’s Black Juice, Nicole Smith’s Sideshow, Alison Croggon’s Navigatio and Emma Donoghue’s Frog Music (and if I still have time, Shirley Jackson’s The Haunting of Hill House). And so, to N.
I’ll be surprised if I read a new release I like better this year. N is an extraordinary, ambitious and very long effort (600 pages plus, in tincy print). The story opens at a Cabinet meeting: ministers are debating what to do with a boat-load of refugee children in an unseaworthy vessel, moored off Fremantle. For political expediency they decide to send it back out to sea to sink.
It’s 1941, and Australia is about to become a fascist police state sharing its land and power with the invading Japanese army. Artists, intellectuals and Aboriginal people are sent to internment camps; the Australian people become suspicious of independent thought; torture of dissidents and suppression of free media become common-place.
The novel follows many different characters – an artist’s wife whose world has fallen apart, a public servant unwittingly administering the rise of fascism, a playwright who has begun to see visions, a war artist, a guerrilla Australian solider, a ghost writer with far-right dreams of immortality. There is a love story, a mystery story, strange and fantastical happenings, brilliant rewritings of Australian history and myth (including a restaging of the invasion of Gallipoli held at the MCG which pleasingly mirrored something I wrote in my own novel) and, in the end, a plea for us to take a bloody hard look at ourselves and the kind of country we’re creating.
Maybe it was because I’d just read this article about the treatment of asylum seekers, but at the end of N I burst into tears. What terrible things we are blithely allowing to happen.
I thought this review from the Saturday Paper was very interesting: the reviewer found the book unmoving, and compared it unfavourably to The Narrow Road to the Deep North. As I was reading N and being horrified and moved by eerie similarities to modern Australia, I thought “god I wish The Narrow Road to the Deep North had been more like this” (though i do agree some of Scott’s characters were pretty caricaturey, and I could have done without the heavy-handed afterword, but anyway). Keep in mind I think Gravity’s Rainbow and Infinite Jest are among the best books ever written, and that I love books such as Cold Light which are written from a bureaucrat’s perspective, and make of that what you will.
Here’s another much more in-depth review from The Sydney Review of Books.