A Fringe of Leaves

by Patrick White

On a beautiful April day in 1836 Mrs. Ellen Roxburgh boarded the Bristol Maid, bound for England from Australia. She and her fellow passengers are embarking on a far more perilous journey, however. The Bristol Maid is shipwrecked, and, taken prisoner by a tribe of aborigines, Mrs. Roxburgh journeys back to man's savage past. In order to survive, she redevelops her most basic strengths; shorn of every vestige of civilization, she rediscovers her native sensuality and passion.

Genres: Fiction, Australia, Literature, Historical Fiction, Classics, 20th Century, Novels

368 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1976

About the author

There is more than one author by this name on Goodreads. For the Canadian Poet Laureate see "Patrick^^^^^White".

Patrick Victor Martindale White was an Australian author widely regarded as one of the major English-language novelists of the 20th century, and winner of the 1973 Nobel Prize for Literature.

Born in England while his Australian parents were visiting family, White grew up in Sydney before studying at Cambridge. Publishing his first two novels to critical acclaim in the UK, White then enlisted to serve in World War II, where he met his lifelong partner, the Greek Manoly Lascaris. The pair returned to Australia after the war.

Home again, White published a total of twelve novels, two short story collections, eight plays, as well as a miscellany of non-fiction. His fiction freely employs shifting narrative vantages and the stream of consciousness technique. In 1973, he was awarded the Nobel Prize "for an epic and psychological narrative art which has introduced a new continent into literature."

From 1947 to 1964, White and Lascaris lived a retired life on the outer fringes of Sydney. However after their subsequent move to the inner suburb of Centennial Park, White experienced an increased passion for activism. He became known as an outspoken champion for the disadvantaged, for Indigenous rights, and for the teaching and promotion of art, in a culture he deemed often backward and conservative. In their personal life, White and Lascaris' home became a regular haunt for noted figures from all levels of society.

Although he achieved a great deal of critical applause, and was hailed as a national hero after his Nobel win, White retained a challenged relationship with the Australian public and ordinary readers. In his final decades the books sold well in paperback, but he retained a reputation as difficult, dense, and sometimes inscrutable.

Following White's death in 1990, his reputation was briefly buoyed by David Marr's well-received biography, although he disappeared off most university and school syllabuses, with his novels mostly out of print, by the end of the century. Interest in White's books was revived around 2012, the year of his centenary, with all now available again.

Sources: Wikipedia, David Marr's biography, The Patrick White Catalogue

Reviews

[Vit Babenco · Rating 5 out of 5]

“And the eyes of them both were opened, and they knew that they were naked; and they sewed fig leaves together, and made themselves aprons.” Genesis 3:7
Thus a fringe of leaves was the first artificial product of civilization. When God saw Adam and Eve wearing loincloths, he understood that they were ashamed now of their natural nakedness and in this way the human beings have become hypocritical and this hypocrisy was a real downfall of the mankind in the eyes of God…
A Fringe of Leaves is a gradual and excruciating voyage of the heroine downstream to her naturalness – to the state man was in before the fall.

While they were lying on the bank resting, happily she would have said, her restlessness took her again as her eyes started roving over the branches of a tree a short distance from this sheet of provident water. She remembered how the blacks had fired her to climb a tree, to drag a possum out of a hole, and how, as she grew hardened, she swarmed up trees regularly in search of birds’ nests and wild honey.

The way back to the beginning and simplicity is never easy if possible at all…

[Julie]

10/10

10/10

It's been a week since I finished this book, and I still feel somewhat bloated: my mind, and not my innards, still distended by almost countless images that haunt me. I imagine my mind looks something like this right now:



I wonder if this particular (mental) cobra will ever be able to digest all that Patrick White packs in this novel. (I started by giving him a mere 8.5 -- but who am I kidding?)

It's an historical novel, on the surface of it, about a 19th century shipwreck (fact) and what happens to the crew and passengers after the ship runs aground on a coral reef of what is now Fraser Island, off the coast of Queensland. Based on the experiences of Eliza Fraser, who is the real-life model for the protagonist, Patrick White spins a tale of such overwhelming complexity that it will ever be impossible to separate fact from fiction after this.

After running aground on the isle that now bears her name, Eliza Fraser was "kidnapped" by an aboriginal tribe who, according to her narrative, tortured her, savaged her, almost beyond human endurance. She (again according to her testimony) only escaped with her life by the grace of an escaped convict who had been living on the island for some years, took pity on her, and led her to a white settlement. Her testimony led to the near-extermination of the tribe which had "captured" her, despite ample documentation by other wayfarers that this was a peaceable tribe which welcomed all who crossed their paths. The historical facts are so convoluted, and so sullied by multiple layers of liars that it will forever be impossible to know for certain what happened on the island. Still, what remains with a haunting vengeance is that Eliza Fraser knew how to land on her feet every step of the way, so it is more than likely that history will eventually speak against her.

While White takes us around and around the facts of Fraser's life, sometimes dancing very near to the facts, sometimes straying into wildest fiction, the story reveals itself to be even more complex than the historical figure upon whom the novel is based -- for this is not an exploration of Fraser's temporal existence, but an examination of her soul. Or, at least "a" soul of a gentlewoman -- any gentlewoman -- of the 19th century, who is asked to leave all her trappings at the shore, as it were, and step naked into her other self.

Stripped to her (literal) naked self, Ellen Roxburgh, the protagonist gentlewoman, reaches immediately for cover -- the proverbial fig leaf, as she stands, for the first time in her life, truly naked, in thought and in deed. She will be (re)shaped and (re)formed as she steps face-to-face with her primal self.

While she fashions a covering for her body, it is interesting and noteworthy that she hides her wedding ring among the fringe of leaves around her waist, the one element of civilization that she still retains. Holding it as a talisman, perhaps, but still holding it hidden.

On one level, it is a fine re-imagining of Genesis; on another, it is an equally provocative journey into a heart of darkness. Is the woman merely hiding, and ashamed of her nakedness -- of the self that is stripped of all accoutrement and pretension? Or is she afraid of her more repellent self -- the self that will stoop to any level, to survive? Is she simply mimicking primal behaviour in order to "get along" and survive -- or is she succumbing fully to her worst instincts and in so doing, becoming more savage than the "savages"?

White offers a provocative premise: it is exactly the cloak of civilization which elicits her worst possible instincts: those whose pretensions are well polished fall far lower, and degrade themselves more than those who have lived in rhythm with nature all their lives.



Painting by Sidney Nolan, "Mrs. Fraser"

Ellen Roxburgh is eventually "rescued" by a convict and returned to a white settlement, much in the manner that Eliza Fraser was; but unlike Fraser, Ellen seems to have grown spiritually -- for the official records show that Fraser's insistent complaints eventually led to the massacre of the aboriginal tribe. (She also returned to England, remarried and proceeded to extort funds from the government for her suffering, despite questionable proof whether she had indeed suffered at all.)

And that's what makes this novel especially difficult to digest properly: while encountering Ellen's transformative experiences on every page, it was difficult to forget Eliza Fraser, who was juxtaposed at an oblique angle, as a constant arbiter between truth and fiction, for Fraser's own story is as much fiction as is White's -- which leads to the ultimate circular argument that perhaps White got it right after all, and was somehow channelling Fraser's real story. What a conundrum!

This is a story that must be read a few times to bleed out all the nuances.

I leave this review half finished for now.

A Warning Buoy To All Gardeners

[In a rather sardonic tone, I note with some revulsion that there is an immense similarity between an opossum's tail and a dandelion root. I may never be able to look at a dandelion root again without feeling the urge to retch.]

[Will · Rating 5 out of 5]

I hate-read this for a 100 pages before being won over by (in order of appearance) a rich lady screaming "A watercolor!", an amateur horticulturist law student, a dead pug dog at sea, and finally this:

After enjoying the luxury of a postponed, ungainly, and not unexpectedly, painful stool, Austin Roxburgh was wandering with little regard for purpose or direction, kicking at the solid though harsh ground for the simple pleasure of renewing acquaintance with primordial substance.

So he took a shit and kicked around a rock. Or consider White's description of Mrs. Roxburgh on a bad hair day: she looks like "some matted retriever or a cocker-spaniel." What a flirt Patrick White must have been! And what about the titular "fringe of leaves"? Well, after Mrs. Roxburgh is stranded at sea, that "fringe of leaves" is the DIY panties she makes from island foliage. You just can't make this up.

[Roger Norman · Rating 4 out of 5]

A Fringe of Leaves must be one of the more accessible of Patrick's White's novels, easier to read, certainly, than Voss, which I read as an A level set text, fifty years ago and which nearly put me off this writer for good. Visits to Oz and a secondhand copy of David Marr's biography put me back on the track, and A Fringe of Leaves was what I picked up. It started off by reminding me of Virginia Woolf, with a touch of Henry James - Woolf because of the depth and sensitivity of the characterisation (I'm thinking of Mrs Dalloway, especially) and James because of the care taken over the encounters and dialogues - the care to place someone exactly in a room, to describe a simple gesture at length, to catch the subtlety and complexity of people's exchanges. But I soon forgot James and Woolf and thought only of White - partly because of the exotic setting (Australia in the early nineteenth century) and then because of the story, which starts at a leisurely, civilized pace and then suddenly speeds up and becomes strange, then stranger, and then for thirty or forty pages very strange indeed - I refer to the capture of Mrs Roxburgh by an aboriginal tribe from Fraser Island - scenes which are the heart of the book, the point and purpose of it - scenes of marvellous invention. I checked Marr's biography and found, as I had thought, that nothing is known of these people, their rıtuals, beliefs, manner of life. White made it all up, in daring, unguessable detail. Then Ellen Roxburgh's escape, her return to civilization, which she now sees is no civilization at all ... then a lovely, surprising, sensual end. Marvellous.

[Alec Johnsson · Rating 5 out of 5]

The title, A Fringe of Leaves, refers—we learn over halfway through the book—to the vine-like cord that Ellen Roxburgh ties around herself to keep hold of the one piece of “civilization” (in the narrow sense that she would likely use that broad word) that she has left—her wedding ring. This scene of despondence comes around the time when the novel transitions, abruptly yet smoothly, from what is essentially an old-fashioned post-Regency tale moved to penal-colonial Australia to a white-knuckle survival tale full of murder, rape and cannibalism. It is the novel’s strength that this transition is not so much one between genres (the prose style remains consistent) as it is simply one between places. The British decorum of the mansions and ships dotting the edges of Australia and Van Diemen’s Land (Tasmania today) collapses rapidly in the interior, from where the Aborigines brood at the white marauders who will soon take over the continent and subject their persons and cultures to genocide. Roxburgh’s fringe of leaves is of course a symbol of the tenuous border between these two spheres, at once linking and dividing them. It is nature dwarfing the Western ideals of “order” and “progress” while the British and the first white Australians struggle to contort it so as to shelter and uphold them. But were the British ever truly distinct from the Aborigines?—by which I ask, are we ever much more than reflections of the primal, the instinctive, the animal? So much of us remains governed by biological principles—the need for sex from our beloveds and from others, the need to propagate the human race and feed (perhaps breastfeed) our offspring, the ridiculous need for power and hierarchy. These impulses fuel and underscore the British characters just as much as they do the Aboriginal tribes who rival them. They are different civilizations with identical skeletons.

Inspired by the true story of Eliza Fraser—the namesake of Fraser Island—A Fringe of Leaves was Patrick White’s first novel after his Nobel triumph, and it is astonishing for displaying both honesty and respect in its treatment of Australian Aborigines. The novel’s first half is a patient, almost plot-less account of the visit that Roxburgh and her husband Austin pay to her brother-in-law Garnet in Tasmania. The thematic concerns seem typically domestic for a novel of the period: Ellen’s previous life as a rustic Cornishwoman, the shift her personality took when she married Austin and moved up a class, her multiple stillbirths, Austin’s poor health, Ellen’s curious relation with Garnet, etc. Aware that the narrative would not remain in this register forever (the genre switch is foreshadowed, rather too neatly, in the first chapter), I was anxious about whether the portrayal of the Aborigines would be archaic in the worst possible sense, even while I was admiring White’s prose—which can seem florid and austere at first, but which I adapted to as I went along. This story is a slow, slow burn. White makes the reader spend time in this world and learn about it. Then, out of nowhere, he hurls a shipwreck at us, and from that point forward—well, all I really have to say is: whoa. The body count ramps up, and the author gutsily explodes the entire literary world he put so much effort into constructing. That takes Nobel-caliber talent to pull off, and White pulls it off. The tension arises not from the Aborigines themselves, but from the animosity between the whites and the natives, which is stewed in imperialism and the language barrier. The indigenous tribe here is brutal and ruthless, but it is not a racist caricature; one gets the sense that White did his homework and studied the culture. Critically, the Aborigines make an effort to integrate Roxburgh into their culture and push her to forfeit her class privilege, challenging and changing her in the process.

I could gripe about some wheel spinning in the first half, the implausibility of Ellen’s schizophrenic code switches between her contemporary RP self and her Cornish adolescent self, the cramming of a few too many new characters into the denouement, and the handful of blunt, cruddy character names (Miss Scrimshaw, Jack Chance, et al). Screw all that. This is the first novel I read this year that I can recommend with any degree of enthusiasm. (Last Words with Montmartre, I recommend with caution and measurement. Don’t read it if you’re depressed.) The prose and the shift into high-gear survival mode make the slow burn more than worth it. Ellen’s odyssey with the Aborigines and her escape from them—which is not without assistance, from a surprising ally—is in itself a tour de force, a single hundred-page chapter, perfectly paced and sustained, never once plodding nor moving in haste. I kept on wondering whether I as an author would have Ellen stay with the tribe even longer, or if I would increase the tempo and skip over some of the more extraneous details. I then realized that my uneasy alternating between those two opposites meant that the narrative’s timing was solid and benefited the book. Patrick White is widely considered the greatest Australian author. I used to approach his dense, viscous texts with trepidation, but now that I’ve pushed myself through and been rewarded by A Fringe of Leaves, I am eager to dig into the rest of his oeuvre.

[George · Rating 4 out of 5]

A character based historical fiction novel about Mrs. Roxborough, (née Ellen Gluyas), who is shipwrecked off the coast of Queensland in the 1840s. She is a farm girl from Cornwall who married a rich husband. Austin Roxborough believed he needed a wife to look after him and he thought he could make a lady out of Ellen. Austin is a frail, fussy, dull, insensitive, demanding husband.

The Roxborough’s travel from England to Hobart, Tasmania, to visit Austin Roxborough’s brother, Garnet Roxborough.

Ellen Roxborough is tested by her marriage, the disparity of their age, social class and education. Austin is obsessively devoted to the book ‘Virgil’, and tries to read the book to Ellen in the original Latin. Ellen struggles to understand the book in English! Ellen learns to talk ‘properly’, though preferring to remain silent.

Ellen’s marriage is tested by the advances made by Garnet Roxborough.

The second half of the novel describes Ellen’s experiences as a survivor of a shipwreck. She finds herself living with Australian aborigines.

Ellen is a strong character who refuses to be shaped into any form chosen by others.

A compassionate, well told, eventful story. Patrick White fans should find this book a satisfying reading experience.

This book was first published in 1976. It is the first novel published after Patrick White had won the 1973 Nobel Prize for literature.

[Bryn Hammond]

DNF 65%.
I am not continuing past the cannibal scenes. It's my first Patrick White and I am an instant convert to his writing. But I won't read his lurid inventions about Australia's First Nations. See this article:
https://www.killyourdarlings.com.au/2...

'We certainly cannot accept the licence White takes with Indigenous Australia when we remember that this book was published one year after Gough Whitlam, of whom the author was a public champion, famously poured earth into the hands of Vincent Lingiari.'

From 5* to 1* as soon as she was 'captured by savages'. I was liking the adventure plot done in White's highly-styled language, and the shipwreck (about 50 pages of it) was tremendous fun: 'literary' sensibility meets the excitement often abandoned to genre. However, he failed to extend his literary imagination to his Indigenous people, and resorted to the worse part of sensation fiction. It sounds as if White should have known better.

[Kristin Winkler · Rating 1 out of 5]

Some of the most overwrought writing I've read in a long time. It's almost as if the author sat with a Thesaurus and picked a random replacement word for every appropriate word. Often I was just scratching my head wondering what he was trying to say. While the story is naturally compelling, he veils the truth in so much sludge that it loses its drama.

White might have won the Nobel Prize, but certainly not for this book.

[Katie · Rating 2 out of 5]

Thank God I am finally done with this book. The only reason I did not DNF this is that I had to read it for uni and felt obligated to finish it. But, tbh, I need to read a total of six novels for that particular class and I've disliked all three (and a half) that I have read so far.
This particular book was just incredibly boring. I am not generally a big fan of historical fiction and often find it tiresome, even though the actual events taking place are anything but. I am truly baffled by the fact that I found A Fringe of Leaves as tedious as I did. After all, Ellen is a mostly likable character with an interesting story. She is born into a lower class Cornish family and marries rich, then goes on a journey to Australia, but shipwrecks on the way back. She's taken prisoner by Aboriginals and has to find her way back to the civilisation she knows. The book's cental themes are survival, morality, adaptability, and cultural awareness, all of which usually interest me. And yet, I had to force myself to turn the pages and even found myself skimming a great deal of paragraphs (which I never do).
As for the books cultural themes... I am not sure what to think about them. While I am glad that White did not attempt to write from an Aboriginal PoV, the white PoV (aka Ellen being the protagonist) does not paint the Aboriginal peoples in a great light. I am aware that this book is not at all considered problematic among scholars, but personally, I do not feel entirely comfortable with the representation in this.
Lastly, I am happy that Ellen, although she is somewhat meant to resemble Eliza Fraser, is such a nice person. While I often enjoy unlikable protagonists, I would not have been able to stand one in A Fringe of Leaves on top of all other things I disliked. Sadly, Ellen is the only character with any actual depth. There are a few more distinct characters, but all of them serve a particular purpose and barely have any independet agency.
All in all, I somewhat see why I had to read this book for that particular class. Moreover, it did not make the list of my most hated books of all time. Nevertheless, I did not enjoy it at all, hence I am giving it two stars.

[Richard Seltzer · Rating 5 out of 5]

Simply excellent. The characters and the settings are three dimensional. The action, though unpredictable, feels inevitable as it unfolds.

[WndyJW · Rating 4 out of 5]

I finished reading this book almost two weeks ago and have been trying to form a review in my head that will do this story justice. There is too much to this story to try to convey in a paragraph or two. First and most important for me is the language, Patrick White is a superb writer. He does not waste words, there are no clever similies, his writing is rich, but not so dense as to be difficult. The story is compelling, a young country girl, Ellen Gluyas marries Austin Roxburgh, a sickly, frail man from the upper classes and is taught by him and his grateful mother to be a lady. Ellen loves her husband and tries to be who they want her to be, but when they are shipwrecked and she has to find the will and skills to survive in an aboriginal clan she becomes the sensual woman she has fought so hard to repress.
This is based on a real event and is considered one of Australia's founding stories. A reviewer of this story could write whole papers about class, love, sensuality, race, the history of Australia, the convict experience, or about White's writing.

[Grant]

I remember hating this book with a passion when I was reading it for a Year 10 English Literature review. But I also remember the satisfaction of completing it and being impressed how the book put me into the shoes of the heroine of the story. Even today I can remember her thoughts of the smells and dirt of early Australia. I also remember complaining to my friends that it took her 100 pages to get from the deck of the boat to the landing on the jetty; such was the detail of Patrick White's style. I really should read this again, as at the time all I had really wanted to read was windsurfing magazines and probably didn't appreciate the intricacies of this novel!
I have started thinking of this book only this week, as last weekend I discovered that my fabulous teacher Jean Bamford, who influenced me more than any other teacher has died.

[Denise Waggoner · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a hard, but brilliant read. At first you think you've mistakenly picked up a male version of a Jane Austen novel about manners, slights, and an English class system colonizing Australia. However, you soon recognize an underlying tension and have to stop yourself from rushing through because you know something horrific will take place, and that his use of language will be so beautiful and painful that you can't look away.

[Erin · Rating 5 out of 5]

I really enjoyed this book! The writing style was a little hard for me to get used to at first, but mid-way through the book I couldn't put it down. The author deals with issues of class and race very interestingly, and the story itself was enthralling. Also, the fact that I've been interested in Australian Aborigine culture since I was a kid helps.

[Lexi · Rating 1 out of 5]

oh dear lord. i had a dismal time reading this for a book report in high school. I was greatly puzzled by the line "He took her, and used her as a wheelbarrow". Yet somehow it's never left me...

[Andre Pawney · Rating 5 out of 5]

A perfectly crafted novel!

[Starless One · Rating 2 out of 5]

Warning: mild spoilers, racist language in a quote

This is a difficult book to review. I can’t say I enjoyed it but it’s definitely a case of YMMV.

The writing is probably the most divisive point here. In times when the omniscient narrator seems to be on the verge of extinction, Patrick White embraces the past. True to the period in which the novel is set, he sometimes goes into full Austen-mode although he reminded me more often of D.H. Lawrence with his raw, earthy take on human passions. Channelling nineteenth-century realism, he conveys meaning through detailed descriptions while offering very little interpretation. This means the reader has to put in a lot of work reading between the lines. (At one point, it took me a couple of sentences to realise that a very convoluted metaphor about plants and dead bodies was actually a sex scene.)

White doesn’t shy away from lengthy descriptions of filth, bodily fluids, human digestion, and other things most authors would probably emit. From (implied) incest to cannibalism to necrophilia, he doesn’t leave out any taboos, but he also doesn’t judge. While his writing can be very obscure, he is almost painfully direct at other times. It sometimes made me uncomfortable but I don’t doubt that’s intentional.

Since people seem to read and analyse this novel predominantly in a postcolonial context, I feel like I should add a quick word on the description of Aboriginal Australians in this book.

Ellen Roxburgh’s stay with the indigenous inhabitants of Fraser Island is only a small part of this novel and not at all the main plot as it’s marketed to be. The novel is predominantly about Ellen herself, her emancipation and transformation, and the encounter with the tribe is only one stage of that journey. As if the fact that Aboriginal Australians are treated like props in the story of a white woman wasn't bad enough, the portrayal in itself isn't particularly flattering either. And since it’s completely fictional, I wonder why White chose such a problematic depiction. (As far as I know, White made it all up because there is hardly any information about the Butchalla people the tribe is based on.) Sure, he needed Ellen to have her transformative experience with cannibalism as well as for her to be abused and neglected for the sake of her character arc, but from a twenty-first century perspective, this strikes one as very insensitive. The descriptions of black people in this novel are also frequently racist. Even in 1976, a white writer should have known better than to refer to black women as ‘monkey-women’.

This book can and should be read critically from a postcolonial point of view (critically in both senses of the word). But I think it also lends itself well to an analysis from a gender studies or even queer studies perspective. It strikes me as rather odd that no critic has picked up on the homoerotic subtext so far, given that Patrick White himself was queer. I’m talking of course about Austin Roxburgh, his difficult relationship with masculinity and his frequent fantasies about other men (including his own brother). Patrick White’s particular style of writing means that there is a lot of subtext of any kind that would be interesting to unpack.

To sum things up, this is an interesting novel to analyse but not a very enjoyable read. It’s frequently disturbing, gross and, maybe worst of all, boring. (The first 150 pages are just flashbacks onboard the Bristol Maid and it takes another 50 for the ship to sink. Not what I’d call a fast-paced read.) Nevertheless, people who read a lot of highbrow literary fiction and are more at ease with the writing might like it. There’s a lid for every pot, as they say.

1.5/5

[Diana · Rating 3 out of 5]

Taken from my original post on my blog 'Bookish Fragments' at: https://bookishfragments.wordpress.co...

3/5 stars ⋆⋆⋆

I really should have read ‘A Fringe of Leaves’ last year. It was one of the assigned books for a study unit called The Postcolonial Australian Novel. However, due to time constraints I never read past page 70. In fact, when I picked up this book again last week, my bookmark was still patiently saving the page. I have a personal rule with myself that once I start a book I do all I can to finish it, and this was to be no exception. Obviously, I restarted the book as I had forgotten some parts of the plot and my mind needed a little bit of refreshing so I could appreciate the story more.

A bit of context will be useful before approaching an analysis/review of this book. The novel is set in 1800s postcolonial Australia, a time when the island-continent was populated by British and Irish prisoners, outlaws and the lowest of the low. To put it plainly and simply, the colony was used as a dumpster where to chuck away any miscreants who do not comply with the law of the time. ‘A Fringe of Leaves’ brings forth to the reader such a context, where Mr. Roxburgh and his wife Ellen Roxburgh travel all the way from England to Tasmania and Australia in order to visit Garnet Roxburgh, Mr. Roxburgh’s brother. Unlike Mr. Roxburgh, who is a fragile valetudinarian, Garnet is quite the troublemaker and causes Ellen a lot of discomfort during their stay. The Roxburgh’s trip back from the Land Down Under back home is far from uneventful and the reader follows Ellen in a trip back to the dawn of civilisation where she learns about human culture through contact with the Australian primates, and also more about herself.

The theme of self-knowledge, identity and developing a sense of belonging is somew
hat overstated in the novel in fact. It is not just Ellen who has trouble fitting in the society she lives in. Ellen will be referred to in the novel as both Gluyas, Roxburgh and even as an invented self, showing how her attempts at adapting to the different modes of living created a broken, multifaceted self. Her disunited self causes her anxiety and even instances of madness. The natural, country girl Ellen Gluyas keeps resisting the constraints of genteel society imposed upon the married, ladylike Ellen Roxburgh. Her speech is sometimes broken up by instances of the Cornish dialect, and the way how she sews without passion, stares at books instead of reading them and hides her hardened hands, make it obvious that the woman has something to hide. Or told she must hide. Later on in the novel, Mrs. Scrimshaw announces she wants to be an eagle so she can sour up high and free. Mrs. Scrimshaw is likened to an eagle from the very first few pages until the end. Her very appearance due to an aquiline beak-like nose and constant brown clothes, remind the reader somewhat of a bird. The eagle is a symbol of America, and America is known for democratic freedom, thus enhancing the theme of belonging in society no matter what. However, everyone knows that the American freedom is a myth, and that no matter what you do within a society, you will never fully be accepted by everyone and a complete sense of belonging is hard – if not impossible- to achieve.

‘A Fringe of Leaves’ is a story with potential. Patrick White has all the ingredients in hand for a brilliant novel. The novel is based on true historical events whose effects still resonate today since there are people whose ancestors were part of the populating of Australia with Europeans. It also provides the reader with educational insight on Australia, its climate and its people, the Aboriginal culture and how primitive humans live to survive. The book also gives multiple insightful comments regarding how society functions in our time, how it creates norms and expects everyone to abandon his or her own personality and individuality to fit in. The plot is also constituted with the elements of a page turner – adventure, love and lust are intertwined in this story of self-realisation and introspection.

However, I felt myself skimming through the pages most of the time.

I questioned this feeling three-quarters of the time while I was reading. Why am i not enjoying myself? There is absolutely no reason why I should be feeling bored, checking how many pages left until the next chapter and exclaiming at how little I’ve read in one day. And it was towards the very last few pages that I finally understood the problem, at least in my case. Mr. Roxburgh is constantly worried about his little, irrelevant ailments. Garnet is a nasty man who can’t keep himself away from the ladies. Scrimshaw and Merivale are the ultimate gossipmongers. The crew on the Bristol Maid are all a sad gloomy lot, and their presence adds more glumness to the book. The priest at Moreton Bay is particularly pushy, and oppressive. As a Catholic myself, I obviously find nothing wrong with having Jesus in your life, but not to the point of shoving the faith down others’ throats. And Mrs. Roxburgh is increasingly pessimistic and cynical as the pages flip by. Not a single character to relate with or to like. I did not feel sorry to any of the characters who ended up experiencing some form of misfortune. I felt nothing at all towards them. In my opinion, the characters were purposefully developed so the reader finds them distasting, so one understands how the invaders of Australia made themselves equally as annoying to the natives. Possibly.

Overall, I was not a big fan of ‘A Fringe of Leaves’. It was not a bad book. I have already stated that it has a lot of potential. I just found the characterisation ruins the execution of the plot. Others might find it meaningful in someway or other, or they might relate to one of the characters. Who knows, no reader interprets the same text in the same way as another reader. But quite honestly, I was not impressed by the book.

[Lewis Woolston · Rating 3 out of 5]

My first attempt at reading Patrick White. I admit i was put off reading him before because i'd heard he was a "difficult" read.
This was okay but became a bit of trudge. White certainly has a knack for the subtle phrase that brilliantly illuminates something but does it so smoothly you don't notice until halfway down the page.
Based on this first attempt i'm open to reading more of Patrick White.

[Gregory · Rating 4 out of 5]

I recently picked up a first edition of this book in a second hand bookshop. I have for some time been considering that I must give Patrick White another go. Years ago I read The Aunt's Story and the only thing I can recall about it was that it contained lots of untranslated French passages which at the time I found tiring and elitist. Now that I have read A Fringe of Leaves I would even be willing to return to The Aunt's Story to give it a second chance! White's style of writing put me in mind of Thomas Hardy and his detailed descriptions of scene and setting, an embroidery serving to enrich the overall tapestry(I know this kind of writing is not for everyone). At the same time Fringe of Leaves is propelled by real action and adventure without negating it's moral and psychological proportions. I loved it.

[George Ilsley · Rating 4 out of 5]

A historical novel set in Australia by the masterful writer Patrick White. The presence of the past always bubbles just under the surface in every White novel. Here there is also a culture clash, and one culture looks ridiculous. Naturally the ridiculous culture dominates, and that is where we are today.

[Rusty Wright]

Very wordy without much to say. Lots of work to read, like wading through treacle. But I'm at an age where I read for pleasure, not for expanding my intellect; perhaps if I were younger I might have flogged myself to finish it but I've done that often enough in the past to know that it's rarely if ever worth it.

[Velvetink · Rating 4 out of 5]

bought today 1 of 12 books for $10 the lot.
have this edition also-----Paperback, 368 pages
Published 1983 by Penguin Books (first published 1976) for daughter - today 5/12/2012

[Heather · Rating 1 out of 5]

Don't waste your time.

[Joshua Line · Rating 1 out of 5]

Horribly racist trash that has a lot to answer for.

[Tom Bensley · Rating 3 out of 5]

Boy, that took forever.

In my quest to understand what, in fact, the hell I had just read, I read an interesting essay over at Kill Your Darlings by Megan Clement:

https://www.killyourdarlings.com.au/2...

She posits the question, why do we read Patrick White? Particularly, why do the few of us left reading him, still read him?

While the answer is probably 'because he won the Nobel Prize', Clement also suggests that curious readers pick up Tree of Man instead of this one.

This was my first Patrick White. Probably my last, but if I see Tree of Man in a second hand bookshop the way I did this one, I might pick it up. I read my first White because my Dad has always said he is is his favourite author. My dad, who hasn't read a book in over two decades, probably stopped reading around the time everyone stopped reading Patrick White.

Having read this, which doesn't appear to be one of White's most beloved, I'm rather conflicted.

What excited me to read the novel was its historical influence, the story of Eliza Fraser who lied about the treatment she received by the Aborignal tribe who took her in when the ship she was travelling on was shipwrecked. She became a celebrity telling stories of cannibalism and torture, stories that led to the near eradication of the tribe who took her in. A tribe who marked her as a woman not to be harmed by the men, in order to keep her safe.

I thought wow, what a thrilling story for one of Australia's foremost authors to tackle!

Although, Patrick White is hardly interested in early Australia's relationship to and treatment of its native peoples. In his somewhat bloated novel, they are a mere contributor to Ellen Roxburgh's story story of class transformation.

Described as 'monkey women' and depicted indulging in cannibalism (as far as i know there is no record of Australian Aboriginal tribes engaging in such practices), White dehumanises them and gives none of them individual characteristics. His concern is with Roxburgh, Englishness, and how the australian landscape is transformative to those who traverse it.

I give the book a wobbly 3 stars because it has beautiful writing and some compelling passages. Roxburgh's journey home with the convict is some of the most beautiful landscape writing i have ever read, and the convict appears to be the only character White himself actually likes and enjoys depicting. His interactions with Ellen are touching.

I made it all the way through and I'm not sorry i did. I'm just sorry Patrick White told the wrong story, even though he did it fairly well.

[Rose · Rating 2 out of 5]

Weirdly unenjoyable given that the basic plot line is pretty exciting. Writing was so overdone and I’m also suspicious of its characterisation of Aboriginal culture/customs even though a lot of it is based on the true story of Eliza Fraser (of Fraser Island!). From the reviews I think I might have enjoyed it more if I was more familiar with the Bible because of the fall of man theme.

[Paris H · Rating 4 out of 5]

I drudged the first half of the book which is very like what a lady’s and her man’s life must have been like in the time… awful and boring… but after the ship wreck The book is amazing

[Sarah Bath · Rating 5 out of 5]

Australia’s forgotten Nobel Laureate, Patrick White, wrote this book late in his career, and his understanding of his adopted country lets its hardship and beauty shine through every page. A fascinating and disturbing book set in 1840s Australia which makes us look at ourselves and ask just how thin is the veneer on our “civilised” character?

[Luke West · Rating 5 out of 5]

The density of White’s prose contains multitudes. Deliberately anti-sensationalising this ostensibly lurid tale, his immense attention to detail – be it with regard to the niceties of Victorian ladies’ fashion, nautical terminology, or the mores of an Aboriginal community – leads less to imagery (as might be expected) than to a psychological and symbolic depth in his characters’ world. Ellen Gluyas’s Galatean transformation into Mrs. Roxburgh is not undone by the disaster she faces (again, as might be expected). No Pygmalion can undo his predecessor’s sculpting; Ellen is continually reshaped by outside forces while retaining all her former selves… daughter, wife, lady, mother manqué, widow, captive, woman, lover… all the while longing, only semi-consciously, to be allowed to shape herself. A protagonist as layered as the novel she inhabits.