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Man Out of Time
From the award-winning and critically acclaimed author of The Other Side of the World comes a brilliant and provocative new novel about inheritance and self-destruction.
When Stella's father, Leon, disappears in September 2001, the police knock at her door. She baulks at their questions, not sure how to answer. 'What if I just write it down for you.'
One summer, a long time ago, Stella sat watching her father cry while the sky clouded over. He had tried to make amends: for his failures, for forgetting to buy the doll she once hoped for, for the terrible things he had done.
The first time Stella sensed that something was wrong was on her ninth birthday. There was an accident, and when she opened her eyes there was the tang of blood in her mouth. Leon was beside her. But not quite there. In the winter, when her father finally came home from hospital, he looked different. Looked at her differently.
Now he was missing, and Stella held the key to his discovery. But did he want to be found? And after all that has passed, could Stella bring herself to help him?
Stella's whole life has been stained by her father's very struggle to exist. Would this be her inheritance too? Could she choose the steady minutes of an ordinary day? Or would she follow the path of a man out of time?
A masterful and deeply moving novel about inheritance and self-destruction, and of how the memories we carry and the blood we share discolour our view of the world ... and ourselves.
When Stella's father, Leon, disappears in September 2001, the police knock at her door. She baulks at their questions, not sure how to answer. 'What if I just write it down for you.'
One summer, a long time ago, Stella sat watching her father cry while the sky clouded over. He had tried to make amends: for his failures, for forgetting to buy the doll she once hoped for, for the terrible things he had done.
The first time Stella sensed that something was wrong was on her ninth birthday. There was an accident, and when she opened her eyes there was the tang of blood in her mouth. Leon was beside her. But not quite there. In the winter, when her father finally came home from hospital, he looked different. Looked at her differently.
Now he was missing, and Stella held the key to his discovery. But did he want to be found? And after all that has passed, could Stella bring herself to help him?
Stella's whole life has been stained by her father's very struggle to exist. Would this be her inheritance too? Could she choose the steady minutes of an ordinary day? Or would she follow the path of a man out of time?
A masterful and deeply moving novel about inheritance and self-destruction, and of how the memories we carry and the blood we share discolour our view of the world ... and ourselves.
304 pages, Paperback
First published August 28, 2018
14 people are currently reading
409 people want to read
About the author
Stephanie Bishop
11 books130 followersStephanie Bishop is a widely acclaimed novelist and critic. She is the award-winning author of four novels, The Singing (2005), The Other Side of the World (2015), Man Out Of Time (2018) and The Anniversary (2023).
She is the recipient of multiple prizes, including The Readings Prize for New Australian Writing, the Literary Fiction Book of the Year Award, the Victorian Premier’s Literary Awards (shortlisted), the Christina Stead Prize for fiction (shortlisted) and the Stella Prize (longlisted). Her work has been translated into four languages. In 2006 she was named one of the Sydney Morning Herald’s Best Young Novelists of the Year.
She has received fellowships to Yaddo, Tenjinyama Art Studio, Himachal Pradesh University, and Oxford University, where she was a Visiting Scholar at the Centre for Life Writing and holds a PhD from Cambridge University.
Bishop’s essays and fiction have appeared in the London Review of Books, the Times Literary Supplement, The Monthly and the Sydney Review of Books, among other publications.
She is the recipient of multiple prizes, including The Readings Prize for New Australian Writing, the Literary Fiction Book of the Year Award, the Victorian Premier’s Literary Awards (shortlisted), the Christina Stead Prize for fiction (shortlisted) and the Stella Prize (longlisted). Her work has been translated into four languages. In 2006 she was named one of the Sydney Morning Herald’s Best Young Novelists of the Year.
She has received fellowships to Yaddo, Tenjinyama Art Studio, Himachal Pradesh University, and Oxford University, where she was a Visiting Scholar at the Centre for Life Writing and holds a PhD from Cambridge University.
Bishop’s essays and fiction have appeared in the London Review of Books, the Times Literary Supplement, The Monthly and the Sydney Review of Books, among other publications.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 62 reviews
September 8, 2018
A brilliant, slippery novel about family, madness, depression and shame. Hard to describe, but impossible not to be moved by.
February 11, 2019
This has just been longlisted for the #stellaprize (Australian female authors award) and is getting lots of buzz. But... I just didn’t get it. It was way too dreamy and vague for me, reality blended with dreams blended with psychosis and I couldn’t find my footing anywhere. There was no sense of place or time and the characters were like out of focus photos with no definition. Perhaps it was too clever or sophisticated for me?
February 12, 2019
Bishop's prose in this novel is luminous. Her management of point of view shifts and the layers and loops of memories and plot points is breathtaking. It's an accomplished novel that is quite a technical achievement. Her grasp on these aspects of the novel add so much to the story of a man's spiral into mental illness and the reverberations of that descent on his wife and daughter.
August 12, 2018
Brilliant and heartbreaking; time, memory and love all blown apart.
February 6, 2019
Stephanie Bishop’s new novel Man Out of Time (Hachette Australia Books 2018) was nothing I expected. This extraordinary portrait of a man and his descent into madness, and the deterioration of his relationships with those around him, is presented in beautiful language that reads like a meditation on life, love and loss. This is literary writing at its finest. The plot is there but is so subtly incorporated into the portrayal of the characters and the existential musings, that it seems to occur almost without us noticing. We become so completely immersed in the interior lives of the three main characters that the inevitability of the things that happen becomes almost incidental to the way that they happen and the inevitable psychological effects.
The simple precis of the plot is this: Stella’s father, Leon, disappears in September 2001. The book then plunges backwards into the history of Stella’s troubled relationship with her father, who once foretold that she would write about him only when he was dead. Leon’s psychological instability and the management of this by his wife, Frances, were a constant background soundtrack to Stella’s childhood. His behaviour was often disappointing, frequently difficult to comprehend, occasionally disturbing. This story – told at various points from the perspective of all three characters – is a non-linear, very literary exploration of what it means to be born at the wrong time and to run out of time. It depicts the struggle of a daughter to help her father when he has let her down at crucial points in her life, and it is a nuanced examination of the traits we inherit and the memories we hold, and how they unsettle our future and determine how we perceive our choices. It is a study of mental illness passed along as a family trait: the beauty and power of its difference as well as the trauma and danger of its grip.
The simple precis of the plot is this: Stella’s father, Leon, disappears in September 2001. The book then plunges backwards into the history of Stella’s troubled relationship with her father, who once foretold that she would write about him only when he was dead. Leon’s psychological instability and the management of this by his wife, Frances, were a constant background soundtrack to Stella’s childhood. His behaviour was often disappointing, frequently difficult to comprehend, occasionally disturbing. This story – told at various points from the perspective of all three characters – is a non-linear, very literary exploration of what it means to be born at the wrong time and to run out of time. It depicts the struggle of a daughter to help her father when he has let her down at crucial points in her life, and it is a nuanced examination of the traits we inherit and the memories we hold, and how they unsettle our future and determine how we perceive our choices. It is a study of mental illness passed along as a family trait: the beauty and power of its difference as well as the trauma and danger of its grip.
August 18, 2019
The writing is an enviable technical achievement with characters and plot a blur of memories, dreams and timelines. The book looks at a father spiralling into madness, his relationship with his daughter who sees the man she wants to marry when she is nine years old disappear into care, reappear, act normal, retreat into a fantasy world and be a bit creepy.
There is a wild madness in the writing that matches the mood of the father and the confusion of the daughter. Not sure it totally works but it is a book to be analysed further.
There is a wild madness in the writing that matches the mood of the father and the confusion of the daughter. Not sure it totally works but it is a book to be analysed further.
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July 20, 2024Didn’t finish, found it hard to follow.
June 8, 2018
I had to think on this book for a while before I wrote this as it is very much a multi-layered book. There is the plot, the things that happen. However these things are not as important as the way the characters perceive them and feel about them; Bishop's writing is such that you get a front row seat into this. It is not like you are at the movie watching events unfold. You are within the character and feeling it unfold, getting an idea of what it feels like within. It is much more of an intense experience of being with the character, it goes much further than evoking empathy.
It is one of those stories that made me question what is bequeathed us by our parents and our family? Can we ever truly escape it? Is it inevitable that we eventually turn into one of our parents? And if that is the case, do we get to chose which one? These questions are much more pointed because of the opposing psychological and emotional states of Stella's parents.
The event that precipitated Leon's descent into madness is less important than the descent itself (I use the term madness very loosely here). Also the fact that, while Frances probably tried harder to hold on to her bond with Leon, it was Stella who was able to maintain it more effortlessly despite herself. Bishop's writing is beautiful in places and was really evocative of this. She allowed the reader a gentle slide into Leon's disordered way of thinking through his internal dialogues as well as those with his family, mainly Stella.
The novel also addresses how children may react, or act out, in the face of a parent's descent into disorder (I think that is a much better term than madness), not just how one might react emotionally.
I enjoyed this book. The three characters (there really are only three that are explored in any great depth) are interesting and I grew attached to them all. I can't really say that I disliked any of them. Sometimes I wondered why they were doing the things they were, but Bishop always drew this out, slowly and gently without bashing either the reader or the characters over the head. I would class it as an emotional drama and I really enjoyed the places that the characters took me.
It is one of those stories that made me question what is bequeathed us by our parents and our family? Can we ever truly escape it? Is it inevitable that we eventually turn into one of our parents? And if that is the case, do we get to chose which one? These questions are much more pointed because of the opposing psychological and emotional states of Stella's parents.
The event that precipitated Leon's descent into madness is less important than the descent itself (I use the term madness very loosely here). Also the fact that, while Frances probably tried harder to hold on to her bond with Leon, it was Stella who was able to maintain it more effortlessly despite herself. Bishop's writing is beautiful in places and was really evocative of this. She allowed the reader a gentle slide into Leon's disordered way of thinking through his internal dialogues as well as those with his family, mainly Stella.
The novel also addresses how children may react, or act out, in the face of a parent's descent into disorder (I think that is a much better term than madness), not just how one might react emotionally.
I enjoyed this book. The three characters (there really are only three that are explored in any great depth) are interesting and I grew attached to them all. I can't really say that I disliked any of them. Sometimes I wondered why they were doing the things they were, but Bishop always drew this out, slowly and gently without bashing either the reader or the characters over the head. I would class it as an emotional drama and I really enjoyed the places that the characters took me.
February 20, 2019
Bleak. A novel that makes you work hard, which I don't mind, but is the child's name enough?
February 22, 2019
Stephanie Bishop's third novel,
Man Out of Time
, tells the story of a family - parents Leon and Frances, and their daughter, Stella - and the impact of Leon's chronic mental illness.
The story spans decades, beginning with Stella's ninth birthday when her father's failure to buy the doll she coveted resulted in his unravelling.
Hospital stays and unexplained absences follow and as Stella becomes a rebellious teen, she wonders if, like her father, she will also struggle to exist.
Bishop returns to the themes she visited in The Other Side of the World - trust, expectations and responsibilities within a family. Despite the strong themes, the story lacks cohesiveness. The use of some unusual elements - photos and diagrams - were contrived and distracting, although there was an oddly satisfying two-page list of things Leon said 'no' to that illustrated the relentlessness and chaos of his thoughts -
The parts of the story that explored Leon's psychosis were interesting, however, there's a thin line between creating a plot point and conflating certain behaviours with a particular mental illness - when you start to get into the territory of stereotypes and generalisations without clear explanation, it weakens the narrative.
I found much of the writing overly descriptive and awkward. For example -
I have a picture in my mind when I'm reading and details such as 'little fingers just touching' strays into the 'telling me' zone rather than 'showing me'. So, rather than seeing the intimacy in this pre-wedding moment, I'm thinking through the logistics. The description goes on to say 'He bent over to kiss her hair, then she looked up, clutching his hand in hers...' So then I was thinking, 'Hang on, how does that work? Weren't they sitting next to each other on the bed?' And suddenly, the reading experience has become laborious.
Some readers will find this book incredibly immersive whereas I found it meandering and vague, simply not my style.
2/5 Given the blurb (which suggests a mystery), I had hoped for something more compelling.
Note: this book comes with trigger warnings (suicide, abuse, chronic mental illness).
The story spans decades, beginning with Stella's ninth birthday when her father's failure to buy the doll she coveted resulted in his unravelling.
The argument that followed was inevitable. It was not about the gift, but that was the only thing they could bring themselves to talk about, a cause to latch onto in order to expel something else.
Hospital stays and unexplained absences follow and as Stella becomes a rebellious teen, she wonders if, like her father, she will also struggle to exist.
Bishop returns to the themes she visited in The Other Side of the World - trust, expectations and responsibilities within a family. Despite the strong themes, the story lacks cohesiveness. The use of some unusual elements - photos and diagrams - were contrived and distracting, although there was an oddly satisfying two-page list of things Leon said 'no' to that illustrated the relentlessness and chaos of his thoughts -
No to the hum of the fridge.
No to polka dots on anything.
No to jazz.
No to sequins of leopard print.
No to the banal.
No to the perfection of copperplate.
No to cable-knitted jumpers.
No to electric bar heaters.
No to guinea pigs.
No to roses or sausages...
The parts of the story that explored Leon's psychosis were interesting, however, there's a thin line between creating a plot point and conflating certain behaviours with a particular mental illness - when you start to get into the territory of stereotypes and generalisations without clear explanation, it weakens the narrative.
I found much of the writing overly descriptive and awkward. For example -
On the morning of their marriage he had come to Frances with his shirtsleeves hanging and passes her the cufflinks; for the life of him he could not keep the cuff ready to push the metal bars through the buttonhole. Would you? he asked, lifting his wrists and showing her his disarray. He passed her the links and they sat down on the edge of the bed, the links on the blanket beside her. Show me, she said, and he proffered her his wrists, both together, the sides of his little fingers just touching.
Frances bent over him, fiddles, the tips of her fingers brushing his wrist skin as she worked one link in and fastened it, then the other.
I have a picture in my mind when I'm reading and details such as 'little fingers just touching' strays into the 'telling me' zone rather than 'showing me'. So, rather than seeing the intimacy in this pre-wedding moment, I'm thinking through the logistics. The description goes on to say 'He bent over to kiss her hair, then she looked up, clutching his hand in hers...' So then I was thinking, 'Hang on, how does that work? Weren't they sitting next to each other on the bed?' And suddenly, the reading experience has become laborious.
Some readers will find this book incredibly immersive whereas I found it meandering and vague, simply not my style.
2/5 Given the blurb (which suggests a mystery), I had hoped for something more compelling.
Note: this book comes with trigger warnings (suicide, abuse, chronic mental illness).
February 24, 2019
4.5 ⭐
I went and bought Man Out of Time after it was long-listed for the Stella Prize. I'm glad that it was chosen by the panel, because I don't think I would have otherwise read it - it wasn't really a book that was previously on my radar.
In brief, this is a book about mental health and the relationships within a small family; particularly the father-daughter dynamic. And as the title might suggest, the book is also pre-occupied with time.
The book is tense and introspective. Bishop did a wonderful job of really getting inside these characters' minds. In particular, the sections which explored Leon's mental state while he was unwell were very effective - you felt the heaviness of the catatonia and disembodiment, and the frenzy and fear during his more manic episodes.
The book has some interesting stylistic choices. The story shifts back and forth across time, and sometimes abruptly shifts between tense or person, disorienting the reader. During sections where Leon (the father) is unwell, the book often switches into second person, giving you a sense of his alienation from himself, but also having the effect of drawing the reader more immediately into his experience. Some sections also include photographs and drawings - and first I found this a bit unusual, but it did help with getting more inside Leon's head.
Overall, this was an unsettling (sometimes disturbing) but beautifully written novel.
I went and bought Man Out of Time after it was long-listed for the Stella Prize. I'm glad that it was chosen by the panel, because I don't think I would have otherwise read it - it wasn't really a book that was previously on my radar.
In brief, this is a book about mental health and the relationships within a small family; particularly the father-daughter dynamic. And as the title might suggest, the book is also pre-occupied with time.
The book is tense and introspective. Bishop did a wonderful job of really getting inside these characters' minds. In particular, the sections which explored Leon's mental state while he was unwell were very effective - you felt the heaviness of the catatonia and disembodiment, and the frenzy and fear during his more manic episodes.
The book has some interesting stylistic choices. The story shifts back and forth across time, and sometimes abruptly shifts between tense or person, disorienting the reader. During sections where Leon (the father) is unwell, the book often switches into second person, giving you a sense of his alienation from himself, but also having the effect of drawing the reader more immediately into his experience. Some sections also include photographs and drawings - and first I found this a bit unusual, but it did help with getting more inside Leon's head.
Overall, this was an unsettling (sometimes disturbing) but beautifully written novel.
February 26, 2019
Shifting perspectives, fluid timelines, fevered dreams, and all in stunning prose. Leon's descent into madness, his falling in and out of lucidity and the effects on his daughter and wife left me feeling both deeply uncomfortable and moved in equal parts. This novel is some work to read and keep up with, deliberately leaving the reader in the dark in areas, but absolutely well worth the effort.
March 1, 2019
This is quite a hard review to write. In fact, probably one of the hardest I’ve had to tackle in a while. Every book has its challenges when it comes to writing reviews, some are much more challenging than others. This is another of the titles long listed for the Stella Prize and I’m not going to lie – at the time, I picked this one up to read because it was the slimmest of the ones I had in my possession and I was looking for something I could get read in the time that I had that day. However this was no quick, easy read at all. It’s a complex, detailed in some ways, vague in others type of story about mental illness and the effects that has on a family.
Stella is nine when there’s an ‘accident’ and after that her father goes away. Leon is treated for his condition, often with electroconvulsive therapy and when he returns, Stella is 14 and a typical teenager, at odds with her mother and in trouble for things like not going to school and smoking. Leon has trouble with this new Stella, who isn’t the child he remembers. It seems that while he was away, although his wife visited him, Stella did not. The two of them are almost like strangers when he returns and they have to reestablish their relationship, which is full of bumps in the road. There’s a scene that made me quite uncomfortable to read because I honestly thought it was going in a much more sinister direction than it did…..and I think that perhaps Stella was quite unnerved by it also.
Leon’s a character that’s hard to get a read on because of his illness. His actions are frequently frustrating and also sometimes, quite scary. His wife, Stella’s mother seems long resigned to managing this (and him) the best way she can and she soldiers on through her years of single parenting, after Leon is hospitalised and treated for his condition. When he’s ready for release, she takes him back, for where else does he have to go? Even though after five years of separation, it must feel like they’re not even really married anymore. It seems a sad and unfulfilling life for everyone at times and yet they are all trapped in it.
There were times when I really struggled through some parts of this book. The writing is very good but it’s not really my sort of style and sometimes the way in which the story was being told, things washed over me without me really absorbing them. I found myself having to go back and reread passages to make sure that I was actually taking in what was happening (going to be honest, sometimes that didn’t necessarily help!). It’s a very multi-layered read which drifts in and out of different time frames at different points and often we are presented with just a character’s viewpoint of what’s happening which doesn’t give the entire picture. Some character’s thoughts remain a mystery to the reader – I think I would’ve liked to know a lot more about Frances, Leon’s wife and Stella’s mother.
This is one of those books where I can see why it’s made the list – it’s tackling a very difficult topic and I think it addresses it in a unique and compassionate way and also a way that leaves much room for interpretation. But I didn’t love it, I found that my attention drifted a lot while reading it and it’s one of those books that kind of made me feel like I was missing things when I was reading it. It’s one of those things that’s hard to put a finger on but the story just didn’t touch me personally or affect me in the ways that it probably should have. The way it was told wasn’t particularly a way I enjoyed, even though I can see how beautiful the writing is in many places. Stephanie Bishop says a lot with few words and yet somehow I found myself wanting there to be more. And that’s just on me, personally. Although this wasn’t for me, I honestly won’t be surprised if it makes the shortlist.
Stella is nine when there’s an ‘accident’ and after that her father goes away. Leon is treated for his condition, often with electroconvulsive therapy and when he returns, Stella is 14 and a typical teenager, at odds with her mother and in trouble for things like not going to school and smoking. Leon has trouble with this new Stella, who isn’t the child he remembers. It seems that while he was away, although his wife visited him, Stella did not. The two of them are almost like strangers when he returns and they have to reestablish their relationship, which is full of bumps in the road. There’s a scene that made me quite uncomfortable to read because I honestly thought it was going in a much more sinister direction than it did…..and I think that perhaps Stella was quite unnerved by it also.
Leon’s a character that’s hard to get a read on because of his illness. His actions are frequently frustrating and also sometimes, quite scary. His wife, Stella’s mother seems long resigned to managing this (and him) the best way she can and she soldiers on through her years of single parenting, after Leon is hospitalised and treated for his condition. When he’s ready for release, she takes him back, for where else does he have to go? Even though after five years of separation, it must feel like they’re not even really married anymore. It seems a sad and unfulfilling life for everyone at times and yet they are all trapped in it.
There were times when I really struggled through some parts of this book. The writing is very good but it’s not really my sort of style and sometimes the way in which the story was being told, things washed over me without me really absorbing them. I found myself having to go back and reread passages to make sure that I was actually taking in what was happening (going to be honest, sometimes that didn’t necessarily help!). It’s a very multi-layered read which drifts in and out of different time frames at different points and often we are presented with just a character’s viewpoint of what’s happening which doesn’t give the entire picture. Some character’s thoughts remain a mystery to the reader – I think I would’ve liked to know a lot more about Frances, Leon’s wife and Stella’s mother.
This is one of those books where I can see why it’s made the list – it’s tackling a very difficult topic and I think it addresses it in a unique and compassionate way and also a way that leaves much room for interpretation. But I didn’t love it, I found that my attention drifted a lot while reading it and it’s one of those books that kind of made me feel like I was missing things when I was reading it. It’s one of those things that’s hard to put a finger on but the story just didn’t touch me personally or affect me in the ways that it probably should have. The way it was told wasn’t particularly a way I enjoyed, even though I can see how beautiful the writing is in many places. Stephanie Bishop says a lot with few words and yet somehow I found myself wanting there to be more. And that’s just on me, personally. Although this wasn’t for me, I honestly won’t be surprised if it makes the shortlist.
September 22, 2018
http://jessjustreads.com
Man Out of Time is Stephanie Bishop’s third novel, a moving tale of inheritance and self-destruction.
The ‘man out of time’ is Stella’s father. He’s mentally unstable and his health deteriorates as Stella grows older. He is sectioned in a psychiatric hospital, and Stephanie uses flashbacks to show the reader how Leon’s battles with mental illness effect not only him but Stella and his wife Frances. In present-day, Frances and Stella work to locate Leon. He’s been missing for a fortnight.
This novel feels very literary — mature even. The themes of family, love, legacy and relationships are complex, and Stephanie tackles the story with a very topsy-turvy kind of storytelling structure. From reading the blurb, you think this will be a very linear type of book, but it’s rather scattered. And intentionally so.
“When Leon came home, Frances was waiting for him, the dress in a crumpled heap on the table. Where have you been? she asked. He tipped his hat in mockery of the question and replied: Why, I’ve been to London to visit the queen. Then he said, Busking. In the subway.”
Leon and Stella share a complex relationship — she loves him and he loves her, but his mental health threatens his ability to make wise choices and as Stella grows older, she witnesses Leon’s deteriorated mind and she grows very self-aware.
Stephanie Bishop has captured mental illness sympathetically and realistically. She illustrates all the complexities of mental illness, and the ripple effect it has on surrounding loved ones.
The strength of this novel lies within the writing — the poetic sentences and flowing prose and the brilliant use of vocabulary and subsequent sentence structure. Stephanie has a real way with words.
“Once there, she swung a leg over and spread out along the branch, her belly and face pressed to the smooth bark, her legs hanging down on either side, kicking the late summery air that smelled of decaying fruit — the dark and soggy worm-eaten plums lying on the grass below, a haze of fruit flies hovering over the rot.”
I wanted to like this novel more than I did. I wanted to read it and be inspired by Stephanie’s manipulation of time and story-telling, but more often than not, I was left confused and I felt like I’d missed something in the preceding pages. Whilst I admire the grand story within the pages, I couldn’t help but feel disappointed with its execution.
This is an emotional novel about the bond between a father and son, and the plot is in constant motion, flicking back and forth between different periods and time. This novel isn’t my favourite, but readers who love a complex family story will find comfort in Man Out Of Time.
Thank you to the publisher for mailing me a review copy in exchange for an honest review.
Man Out of Time is Stephanie Bishop’s third novel, a moving tale of inheritance and self-destruction.
The ‘man out of time’ is Stella’s father. He’s mentally unstable and his health deteriorates as Stella grows older. He is sectioned in a psychiatric hospital, and Stephanie uses flashbacks to show the reader how Leon’s battles with mental illness effect not only him but Stella and his wife Frances. In present-day, Frances and Stella work to locate Leon. He’s been missing for a fortnight.
This novel feels very literary — mature even. The themes of family, love, legacy and relationships are complex, and Stephanie tackles the story with a very topsy-turvy kind of storytelling structure. From reading the blurb, you think this will be a very linear type of book, but it’s rather scattered. And intentionally so.
“When Leon came home, Frances was waiting for him, the dress in a crumpled heap on the table. Where have you been? she asked. He tipped his hat in mockery of the question and replied: Why, I’ve been to London to visit the queen. Then he said, Busking. In the subway.”
Leon and Stella share a complex relationship — she loves him and he loves her, but his mental health threatens his ability to make wise choices and as Stella grows older, she witnesses Leon’s deteriorated mind and she grows very self-aware.
Stephanie Bishop has captured mental illness sympathetically and realistically. She illustrates all the complexities of mental illness, and the ripple effect it has on surrounding loved ones.
The strength of this novel lies within the writing — the poetic sentences and flowing prose and the brilliant use of vocabulary and subsequent sentence structure. Stephanie has a real way with words.
“Once there, she swung a leg over and spread out along the branch, her belly and face pressed to the smooth bark, her legs hanging down on either side, kicking the late summery air that smelled of decaying fruit — the dark and soggy worm-eaten plums lying on the grass below, a haze of fruit flies hovering over the rot.”
I wanted to like this novel more than I did. I wanted to read it and be inspired by Stephanie’s manipulation of time and story-telling, but more often than not, I was left confused and I felt like I’d missed something in the preceding pages. Whilst I admire the grand story within the pages, I couldn’t help but feel disappointed with its execution.
This is an emotional novel about the bond between a father and son, and the plot is in constant motion, flicking back and forth between different periods and time. This novel isn’t my favourite, but readers who love a complex family story will find comfort in Man Out Of Time.
Thank you to the publisher for mailing me a review copy in exchange for an honest review.
October 22, 2018
It was reasonable but not that easy to read.
March 23, 2024
At times reminiscent of Rachel Cusk, Sheila Heti, and, most obviously, Virginia Woolf, Man Out of Time is a masterfully written and ambitious portrayal of mental illness, grief, and the complex bond between a father and daughter.
And yet, despite this, I found myself oscillating between extremes while reading. At times, I was wholly captivated by the narrative, drawn in by Bishop's portrayal of consciousness and the way she constructed scenes (the final few chapters focusing solely on Stella's perspective were an undeniable highlight). And then, at other points, I found my interest waning, as indicated in a now-deleted status update where I wrote: "Not really vibing with this one." Why was this? I asked myself. Was it my lack of sleep that made it hard to concentrate and submerse myself in the handful of passages that demand one's full attention? Maybe this was one of those instances where I should have put the book down and come back to it at a later date. Or was it, as I am leaning towards, that these passages, for me, didn't work within the context of the novel?
Look, I have nothing against stylistic experimentation, and some of my favourite books contain long, rambling sentences (I'm an avid defender of Tao Lin's Taipei. However, within this narrative, I found they detracted from the underlying tension and emotional punch. In other words, sometimes relative simplicity is more evocative. But in writing this, I don't want to downplay the parts of the narrative that work because, on the whole, Man Out of Time is an effective novel filled with countless perfectly rendered scenes - a misguided vacation that reads like a horror story and seems to pre-empt Brandon Cronenberg's Infinity Pool ; a tense conversation between a cab driver and female writer; a young girl's belief that garden fairies are granting her wishes; I could go on . . .
My only other complaint is that, towards the end, there is a significant narrative jump that occurs after a moment of upheaval, and Bishop barely touches on the events that comprise the ensuing interim. I'm all for ambiguity, but given how the novel concludes and its underlying conceit (a daughter who's learned of her father's disappearance), I would have appreciated slightly more context on how the central relationships evolved and certain conflicts resolved themselves.
Despite some minor gripes, Man Out of Time is still a tense, heartbreaking, surreal, at times disturbing, and ultimately compelling narrative that hints at the style that would come to define Bishop's following novel, The Anniversary (one of my favourites of 2023! Read it!). Having now read three of her works, I can safely say Stephanie Bishop is one of the most compelling Australian writers I've read and someone to keep on your radar.
And yet, despite this, I found myself oscillating between extremes while reading. At times, I was wholly captivated by the narrative, drawn in by Bishop's portrayal of consciousness and the way she constructed scenes (the final few chapters focusing solely on Stella's perspective were an undeniable highlight). And then, at other points, I found my interest waning, as indicated in a now-deleted status update where I wrote: "Not really vibing with this one." Why was this? I asked myself. Was it my lack of sleep that made it hard to concentrate and submerse myself in the handful of passages that demand one's full attention? Maybe this was one of those instances where I should have put the book down and come back to it at a later date. Or was it, as I am leaning towards, that these passages, for me, didn't work within the context of the novel?
Look, I have nothing against stylistic experimentation, and some of my favourite books contain long, rambling sentences (I'm an avid defender of Tao Lin's Taipei. However, within this narrative, I found they detracted from the underlying tension and emotional punch. In other words, sometimes relative simplicity is more evocative. But in writing this, I don't want to downplay the parts of the narrative that work because, on the whole, Man Out of Time is an effective novel filled with countless perfectly rendered scenes - a misguided vacation that reads like a horror story and seems to pre-empt Brandon Cronenberg's Infinity Pool ; a tense conversation between a cab driver and female writer; a young girl's belief that garden fairies are granting her wishes; I could go on . . .
My only other complaint is that, towards the end, there is a significant narrative jump that occurs after a moment of upheaval, and Bishop barely touches on the events that comprise the ensuing interim. I'm all for ambiguity, but given how the novel concludes and its underlying conceit (a daughter who's learned of her father's disappearance), I would have appreciated slightly more context on how the central relationships evolved and certain conflicts resolved themselves.
Despite some minor gripes, Man Out of Time is still a tense, heartbreaking, surreal, at times disturbing, and ultimately compelling narrative that hints at the style that would come to define Bishop's following novel, The Anniversary (one of my favourites of 2023! Read it!). Having now read three of her works, I can safely say Stephanie Bishop is one of the most compelling Australian writers I've read and someone to keep on your radar.
April 9, 2019
This is a beautifully written story and so thought provoking. It is the second book that I have read by Stephanie Bishop and once again I am impressed by her ability to create an atmosphere and feelings of despair through simplistic but detailed descriptions. Comparable to The Other Side of the World, Man out of Time is a story about the intense relationships within a family. In this book, however it is the triangular relationship between a man Leon, his wife Frances and their only child Stella. The story is not revealed succinctly as different parts are retold through the minds each of the family members so the reality is blended with the actual, the perceived and the desired belief. Similarly, the apparent suicide of the man’s brother remains unclear because of the questions within the man’s mind.
Man out of Time is not an easy or uplifting read. It is disturbing but significant in scrutinising the relationship between a father and his daughter and the mother and her daughter whilst the father/husband Leon is losing his ability to handle being an employee, husband and father and his reality disengages from the world around him. Leon’s period of incarceration and treatment for his mental condition is upsetting but hazy as it is as perceived by Leon under medication, or described by Frances in a brief chapter of introspection, “She did not tell Stella about these visits…She did not want to answer Stella’s questions.”
His return to his family after such a long time – four years when Stella is almost fourteen - is also retold from different points of view as his presence affects each person separately. Subsequently it seems that Leon and Stella establish a bizarre co-dependent relationship whereby Leon has relinquished any parental role and supports Stella’s smoking and drug use further confusing parental love with his viewpoint and behaviour. Apart from this consideration of the disastrous effects of mental health on a family, Man out of Time is an amazing scrutiny of a child’s adjustment to a dysfunctional household and her attempts initially to remain loyal to both of her parents.
Man out of Time is not an easy or uplifting read. It is disturbing but significant in scrutinising the relationship between a father and his daughter and the mother and her daughter whilst the father/husband Leon is losing his ability to handle being an employee, husband and father and his reality disengages from the world around him. Leon’s period of incarceration and treatment for his mental condition is upsetting but hazy as it is as perceived by Leon under medication, or described by Frances in a brief chapter of introspection, “She did not tell Stella about these visits…She did not want to answer Stella’s questions.”
His return to his family after such a long time – four years when Stella is almost fourteen - is also retold from different points of view as his presence affects each person separately. Subsequently it seems that Leon and Stella establish a bizarre co-dependent relationship whereby Leon has relinquished any parental role and supports Stella’s smoking and drug use further confusing parental love with his viewpoint and behaviour. Apart from this consideration of the disastrous effects of mental health on a family, Man out of Time is an amazing scrutiny of a child’s adjustment to a dysfunctional household and her attempts initially to remain loyal to both of her parents.
June 20, 2019
"One summer, a long time ago, her father said to her, You know that I will always be at the centre of everything you write. She laughed at him and dropped her cigarette on the ground, putting it out with the heel of her shoe. He was waiting, he said, for her to write something about him. You know what, she told him blowing smoke out over his head, I'll write about you when you're dead."
This brilliant novel is indeed based on Stephanie Bishop's father, who had a mental illness and is dead. From this emotionally raw fact - and all the cycles of happiness and depression, the joys and the pain of that father-daughter relationship - comes a profoundly moving work. Bishop employs all her skills as a writer in structuring the novel to constantly shift between present to past so that current loss and grief is informed by memories of times that were both headily wonderful and bitterly difficult.
Some readers might find the opening section strange as it includes a number of photographs of cliffs and ramshackle houses that we assume have been taken by an as yet unnamed man who we understand is suicidal. However, I had heard the story of how Bishop found a set of photographs after her father's death and used them to help her through the challenging and emotionally draining writing task she had set herself. If the reader gives herself over to the mood of that prologue, she will have already been captured by this remarkable book.
The daughter Stella knows from an early age that her father Leon is unreliable, disappearing at certain times, not conforming to what she might expect of a father. But she is more than compensated by a particular closeness, a tender understanding between them and the excitement of the unexpected - for example when he takes her driving for hours into the countryside. Leon is a constant presence in Stella's emotional life from her childhood, through her truculent teenage years to adulthood, even when Leon is confined for long periods in a mental institution.
The mother, Frances, hovers in the background but she too has a voice in this narrative. As Bishop expertly shifts from one point of view to another, we come to understand the complexity of these characters and their relationships with one another. Bishop's language shifts in tone with the characters' moods and experiences. It is a tribute to survival, expertly done.
I have just read the 2019 winner of the Stella Prize for Women's Writing - The Erratics - and even though I admired that book, I felt it didn't hold a candle to Man Out of Time, which didn't even make the shortlist. There you go, the judges were obviously looking for something other than I was. Both The Erratics and Man Out of Time dealt with the fraught relationship with a parent who was mentally unbalanced. The latter's nuanced and lyrical approach worked better for me. A book that will stay with me.
This brilliant novel is indeed based on Stephanie Bishop's father, who had a mental illness and is dead. From this emotionally raw fact - and all the cycles of happiness and depression, the joys and the pain of that father-daughter relationship - comes a profoundly moving work. Bishop employs all her skills as a writer in structuring the novel to constantly shift between present to past so that current loss and grief is informed by memories of times that were both headily wonderful and bitterly difficult.
Some readers might find the opening section strange as it includes a number of photographs of cliffs and ramshackle houses that we assume have been taken by an as yet unnamed man who we understand is suicidal. However, I had heard the story of how Bishop found a set of photographs after her father's death and used them to help her through the challenging and emotionally draining writing task she had set herself. If the reader gives herself over to the mood of that prologue, she will have already been captured by this remarkable book.
The daughter Stella knows from an early age that her father Leon is unreliable, disappearing at certain times, not conforming to what she might expect of a father. But she is more than compensated by a particular closeness, a tender understanding between them and the excitement of the unexpected - for example when he takes her driving for hours into the countryside. Leon is a constant presence in Stella's emotional life from her childhood, through her truculent teenage years to adulthood, even when Leon is confined for long periods in a mental institution.
The mother, Frances, hovers in the background but she too has a voice in this narrative. As Bishop expertly shifts from one point of view to another, we come to understand the complexity of these characters and their relationships with one another. Bishop's language shifts in tone with the characters' moods and experiences. It is a tribute to survival, expertly done.
I have just read the 2019 winner of the Stella Prize for Women's Writing - The Erratics - and even though I admired that book, I felt it didn't hold a candle to Man Out of Time, which didn't even make the shortlist. There you go, the judges were obviously looking for something other than I was. Both The Erratics and Man Out of Time dealt with the fraught relationship with a parent who was mentally unbalanced. The latter's nuanced and lyrical approach worked better for me. A book that will stay with me.
September 1, 2018
I finished this novel breathless, aware that I'd read something brilliant but needing to reread it so as to make more sense and order out of the controlled disorder that Bishop created. The reader enters into the minds of each member of this damaged family - particularly of Leon, the depressed and often unhinged father, and Stella, his melancholy daughter. Their relationship is the prime focus of the text. Having read an interview with Bishop just minutes after I'd finished the novel, it's clear that her writing was the result of her own personal distress in working through her responses to her father's death. I was overwhelmed by the beauty and rhythm of her prose, used to recreate moments of madness and memory as they played through the minds of both Leon and of Stella - two skilful narrations and perspectives. Even though the novel is split into three sections, we are not tied to place and, sometimes, even to time, as the snippets of memory and focus on images (some of them included as photos in the text) often seem to defy chronology and geography. Bishop writes that "the novel is a thing that dallies in both truth and falsity...giving wayward experience the causative structure that one craves, precisely because this feature is generally absent in day-to-day life." I believe she has captured this craving with mastery.
March 5, 2019
Neaaaarly DNF, but pulled through the last 50 pages.
Sometimes there were pockets of brilliance, but so much of it was vague and dreadfully dull. It's a polite no from me.
Sometimes there were pockets of brilliance, but so much of it was vague and dreadfully dull. It's a polite no from me.
April 18, 2020
A masterpiece!
The transitions between the three characters' point of view, time and place were seamless.
There was a ghostly greyness (especially at the start of the story) like a mist. It was frustrating; I felt as if I didn't understand something and I was missing the point. But as the story progressed, that misty greyness lifted and what I had suspected, became true.
I loved the understatement, the doubts created in my mind, the pace, the characters' flaws, human qualities and their anxieties, and the ending. Story endings are frequently a let-down for me. This, though, was perfection.
If you're the type of reader that gauges a book by the first few pages/chapters, then please take note that the style of the first and second chapters (parts) do not represent that of the rest of the book.
I'll be looking to read more by Stephanie Bishop. She is hugely talented.
The transitions between the three characters' point of view, time and place were seamless.
There was a ghostly greyness (especially at the start of the story) like a mist. It was frustrating; I felt as if I didn't understand something and I was missing the point. But as the story progressed, that misty greyness lifted and what I had suspected, became true.
I loved the understatement, the doubts created in my mind, the pace, the characters' flaws, human qualities and their anxieties, and the ending. Story endings are frequently a let-down for me. This, though, was perfection.
If you're the type of reader that gauges a book by the first few pages/chapters, then please take note that the style of the first and second chapters (parts) do not represent that of the rest of the book.
I'll be looking to read more by Stephanie Bishop. She is hugely talented.
February 1, 2019
After reading Other Side of the World I eagerly started to read this but gave up after a disappointing 100 pages
I found it difficult to engage with the characters and the almost emotionally flattened writing style which I guess reflects on the subject matter
September 15, 2018
Apologies to the author but I hated this book. Hated the characters, felt uncomfortable throughout the majority of the story. Thought it was going to be a thriller and was disappointed.
April 23, 2020
If I could have given this book no stars, I would have.
September 20, 2018
Stephanie Bishop's long-awaited third novel, Man Out of Time, is ambitious and possibly brilliant but it may also frustrate many readers. All his life, Leon has struggled with mental illness. His wife Frances and daughter Stella know too well the nature and seriousness of his condition, so it comes as no surprise when they are informed by the police that he is missing. Set in the early days of September 2001, there is an eerie sense of impending doom that pervades the novel. Leon's voice is complex and distant, told in second- and third-person narration, which can confuse the narrative a little at times and forms a barrier to the reader's understanding at times. The narrative also jumps backwards and forwards in time, adding to the sense of confusion. We follow the small family as they struggle to cope with Leon's breakdowns, treatments and hospitalisations, drifting in out of his delusions and Stella's reality. Bishop is an elegant writer. She has a talent for minute observations and beautiful description. Her way of telling this complex story (which includes a visual element through a selection of snapshots taken by Leon in his lost days) is both unique and original, but at times she misses the heights for which she strives so hard.
March 1, 2020
Stella has known from when she was quite young, that something was not quite right with her father Leon. Father and daughter have a close bond, at times too close. And Leon is often "not quite there". And then he is physically "not there" as he is institutionalised for a time and subjected to electric shock treatment. When he returns he is never the same.
I found difficulty grappling with this book and actually understanding what was happening. Bishop is a great writer and I enjoyed her prose - "Outside, small animals can be heard scuffling in the bushes like thoughts on the edge of the mind." (p234) or this wonderful description:
"Darkness fell and he continued to drink. He walked through the black street in a city of blackness: the long black night filled with gritty black air and black rain, black clouds drifting, the black tarmac shining with slick black puddles, the branches of the trees blackened by water …" (p242).
But I found the plot difficult to follow - perhaps it was deliberate.
I found difficulty grappling with this book and actually understanding what was happening. Bishop is a great writer and I enjoyed her prose - "Outside, small animals can be heard scuffling in the bushes like thoughts on the edge of the mind." (p234) or this wonderful description:
"Darkness fell and he continued to drink. He walked through the black street in a city of blackness: the long black night filled with gritty black air and black rain, black clouds drifting, the black tarmac shining with slick black puddles, the branches of the trees blackened by water …" (p242).
But I found the plot difficult to follow - perhaps it was deliberate.
March 13, 2023
The worst book I have ever read, by a considerable margin. The author is trying to be deep and intellectual, but in doing so will leave 80% of readers behind. This book is 291 pages of pretentiousness such as this:
“There is but one small aspect of the absurd condition that Stella felt herself to be born into. Later, one must choose whether or not this is a condition to which one is willing to admit - that enduring state, according to Camus, that emerges from the conflict between the inmate irrationality of the world and the human desire for the world to be otherwise, to be logical, to possess a meaningful outcome. Can one live with this mismatch, or must one die as a result of being unable to bear it? To die from it would mean being crushed by the weight of irresolution - this being, according to Camus, the stark logic behind suicide. But the discovery of the absurd is not, as Camus argues, the real point of interest- the question is what one does with this knowledge: what are the consequences of this discovery, how does it change the way one lives, or indeed fails to live?”
“There is but one small aspect of the absurd condition that Stella felt herself to be born into. Later, one must choose whether or not this is a condition to which one is willing to admit - that enduring state, according to Camus, that emerges from the conflict between the inmate irrationality of the world and the human desire for the world to be otherwise, to be logical, to possess a meaningful outcome. Can one live with this mismatch, or must one die as a result of being unable to bear it? To die from it would mean being crushed by the weight of irresolution - this being, according to Camus, the stark logic behind suicide. But the discovery of the absurd is not, as Camus argues, the real point of interest- the question is what one does with this knowledge: what are the consequences of this discovery, how does it change the way one lives, or indeed fails to live?”
November 6, 2019
This book follows Leon, his wife Frances and their daughter Stella as they deal with Leon’s mental illness from the time of Stella’s ninth birthday to adulthood (presumably.....timelines are vague).
The synopsis for this book sounds intriguing, however in reality the book fell flat for me. The writing style is very vague and dreamy, which held me at a distance from the characters and did not allow me to really make any connection with them.
The use of random photos thrown in was unique, but didn’t add anything of value to the story and if anything, detracted from it for me.
The parts where Leon descends into madness are long, rambly and frankly, boring. Whilst there were many snippets of beautiful emotive writing, on the whole I found this book disappointing. While the writing style was unique, it just didn’t work for me and I was not at all moved by it, although I feel that I should have been. ⭐️⭐️
The synopsis for this book sounds intriguing, however in reality the book fell flat for me. The writing style is very vague and dreamy, which held me at a distance from the characters and did not allow me to really make any connection with them.
The use of random photos thrown in was unique, but didn’t add anything of value to the story and if anything, detracted from it for me.
The parts where Leon descends into madness are long, rambly and frankly, boring. Whilst there were many snippets of beautiful emotive writing, on the whole I found this book disappointing. While the writing style was unique, it just didn’t work for me and I was not at all moved by it, although I feel that I should have been. ⭐️⭐️
February 22, 2019
This is the second of the twelve books I’m reading from the Stella longlist. Intellectually, I understand why this book is there. It will probably win. It takes risks and plays with form. But personally, it didn’t work for me at all. The plot revolves around the relationship between Stella and her father, Leon. He is mentally unstable and in different parts of the book, she is an adult trying to find him, a child experiencing his disrupted reality, or a teenager experiencing ugly and confronting moments in his company that brought me close to a DNF. I think the author’s aim was a post modern, raw exploration of the ways in which we are all emotionally complex creatures capable of anything. But the reality was an arrogant, self-indulgent wankfest of grossness.
April 23, 2023
Kinda hated it, especially the first half, it made me question my sanity and like my vision was closing into a pinpoint. Overwhelmingly frustrating and at points, revolting but I did admire her ability to connect seemingly discrete ideas and to articulate such private sensations usually only inside someone's head.
This snippet is brilliant:
'Now, now, the judge said - Enough of this. Let us be reasonable.
But where had reason ever got him? One could reasonably convince oneself of all manner of illogical things. While to be reasonable, at someone else's insistence, was simply to make oneself subservient to another's argument, which may in turn lack any rational core - it was to five oneself over to, to lay down, to desist.'
This snippet is brilliant:
'Now, now, the judge said - Enough of this. Let us be reasonable.
But where had reason ever got him? One could reasonably convince oneself of all manner of illogical things. While to be reasonable, at someone else's insistence, was simply to make oneself subservient to another's argument, which may in turn lack any rational core - it was to five oneself over to, to lay down, to desist.'
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