"This outstanding novel is set in a remote British penal colony, late in the 1790s. Thomas Keneally's evocative writing gives us searing insight into the sun-parched settlements of hungry transports and corruptive soldiers. But this is not an 'historical' novel in the usual sense. It is the story of a man, Corporal Phelim Halloran, and of the demands made on him - by his girl, his Irish comrades, his superior officers, and, most often, by his conscience. Innocent and lover, poet, soldier-by-accident, scholar by the standards of his day, Halloran attempts to make a world unto himself. through his pity and love for Ann Rush, his 'secret bride'; but many seem pledged to complicate these simple desires. There is the convict-artist, Thomas Ewers, persecuted and compelled to illustrate the officers' journals. There is Halloran's feckless colleague, Terry Byrne. The convict, Quinn, whose term of imprisonment should have been nearly over. Robert Hearne, political prisoner, government clerk and traitor. Halloran comes to disbelieve in any other existence except his own and God's, until, shockingly and irrevocably, he is reunited with Ann."
Thomas Michael Keneally, AO (born 7 October 1935) is an Australian novelist, playwright and author of non-fiction. He is best known for writing Schindler's Ark, the Booker Prize-winning novel of 1982, which was inspired by the efforts of Poldek Pfefferberg, a Holocaust survivor. The book would later be adapted to Steven Spielberg's Schindler's List (1993), which won the Academy Award for Best Picture.
Often published under the name Tom Keneally in Australia.
Life and Career:
Born in Sydney, Keneally was educated at St Patrick's College, Strathfield, where a writing prize was named after him. He entered St Patrick's Seminary, Manly to train as a Catholic priest but left before his ordination. He worked as a Sydney schoolteacher before his success as a novelist, and he was a lecturer at the University of New England (1968–70). He has also written screenplays, memoirs and non-fiction books.
Keneally was known as "Mick" until 1964 but began using the name Thomas when he started publishing, after advice from his publisher to use what was really his first name. He is most famous for his Schindler's Ark (1982) (later republished as Schindler's List), which won the Booker Prize and is the basis of the film Schindler's List (1993). Many of his novels are reworkings of historical material, although modern in their psychology and style.
Keneally has also acted in a handful of films. He had a small role in The Chant of Jimmie Blacksmith (based on his novel) and played Father Marshall in the Fred Schepisi movie, The Devil's Playground (1976) (not to be confused with a similarly-titled documentary by Lucy Walker about the Amish rite of passage called rumspringa).
In 1983, he was made an Officer of the Order of Australia (AO). He is an Australian Living Treasure.
He is a strong advocate of the Australian republic, meaning the severing of all ties with the British monarchy, and published a book on the subject in Our Republic (1993). Several of his Republican essays appear on the web site of the Australian Republican Movement.
Keneally is a keen supporter of rugby league football, in particular the Manly-Warringah Sea Eagles club of the NRL. He made an appearance in the rugby league drama film The Final Winter (2007).
In March 2009, the Prime Minister of Australia, Kevin Rudd, gave an autographed copy of Keneally's Lincoln biography to President Barack Obama as a state gift.
Most recently Thomas Keneally featured as a writer in the critically acclaimed Australian drama, Our Sunburnt Country.
Thomas Keneally's nephew Ben is married to the former NSW Premier, Kristina Keneally.
The differences being that the story itself was stronger, the occasional stream of consciousness delivery at least made sense and I found the characters believable. Voss I detested for confusing me. Bring Larks and Heroes on the other hand never once made me feel like I was missing something.
As far as the story goes it was grim reading. The brutality of a convict settlement, in what I presumed was present day Sydney, made harsh reading. There was a foreboding sense of danger throughout the book that culminated in an ending that was sadly gripping. The main protagonist, Halloran, was a character I could relate to. He was not saccharine sweet by any stretch of the imagination but had a humane touch and was consciously thoughtful in a manner that made him compelling.
Only my 2nd Keneally, I read the more well-known Schindler’s Ark many years back, but I may read him some more. Very good.
I haven’t read a lot of Keneally (Schindler’s Ark and Gossip in the Forest being the other two), and this book is a good reason to further chastise myself for that fact. It’s a ripper! Stylistically, it’s worlds apart from my assumption of his approach. It brings to mind a more accessible Patrick White, with a keen sense of tragedy without ever weighing down the who enterprise.
In it Keneally probably helped kick of an entire re-interpretation of Australian history: that of our past as a penal colony. It’s a brutal but beautiful book. Rich in history and imagery, the tensions in those first few years of colonisation at the remote ends of the Earth resonate with tension. Men vastly outnumber women. The Irish – both convicts and those press-ganged into the Royal Marines ¬- outnumber the English. The oppressed Catholics outnumber the Protestants. The natives are relegated to a harsh existence on the periphery. The alien land and climate test everybody. Suffice to say, things are tough.
This is the canvas that the author masterfully invokes an understanding of our past that was quite different to our self-perception up to that point; more The Gulag Archipelago than Gilligan’s Island.
The religious allusions are many, and when coupled with the brutal natural imagery the seeming futility of life in the late 18th century is stark. It’s a cruel lot for the masters of the colony, and only gets worse the farther down the tree you are: administrators, officers, wives of the elite, soldiers, convicts, female convicts, natives. The novel is unsparing in its depiction of the horrors of convict life, and is dismissive of the vain hope that redemption is possible in such circumstances. Brutal times are brutal times, and there are no happy endings here.
I loved this book. Some people have found the intense Catholic strain of belief and guilt in Keneally’s early work hard going, but in the tale of a young Catholic servant of an Empire and a system who represses his people. This is a top read. Very highly recommended.
I was truly nonplussed by this book by the well-regarded Thomas Keneally. An early work, true, and just may not be my style. Very spare writing. I probably would not have finished it if it was not part of a reading challenge.
Set in Australia during the 18th C as the penal colony was getting its footing and there was hope for the felons to eke out a new life. But the life is harsh and unforgiving and so are the people that populated this novel. Ostensibly, the novel is about the daily life and times of Corporal Halloran, Royal Marine. I'm not sure where the title comes from.
Bring Larks and Heroes won the Miles Franklin in 1967, the third novel in Thomas Keneally’s long and impressive career as an Australian novelist. Reading it is a little bit like finding an undiscovered Patrick White, because its style, to my surprise, is modernist – utterly unlike Keneally’s later novels that I’ve read: Schindler’s Ark a.k.a. Schindler’s List (which won the Booker in 1982); The Chant of Jimmie Blacksmith, (see my review); and The Widow and Her Hero (see my review). I think it would be most interesting to trace Keneally’s development as a writer through his entire oeuvre – but he’s such a prolific author, there’s a PhD in it, I am sure.
It was the religious allusions, the brutal imagery and that sharp adjective ‘futile‘ on the very first page that made me think of Patrick White:
The afternoon is hot in this alien forest. The sunlight burrows like a worm in both eye-balls. His jacket looks pallid, the arms are rotted out of his yellowing shirt, and, under the gaiters, worn for the occasion, the canvas shoes are too light for this knobbly land. Yet, as already seen, he takes long strides, he moves with vigour. He’s on his way to Mr Commissary Blythe’s place, where his secret bride, Ann Rush, runs the kitchen and the house. When he arrives in the Blythe’s futile vegetable garden, and comes mooning up to the kitchen door, he will, in fact, call Ann my secret bride, my bride in Christ. She is his secret bride. If Mrs Blythe knew, she would do her best to crucify him., though that he is a spouse in secret today comes largely as the result of a summons from Mrs Blythe six weeks ago. (p1)
Bring Larks and Heroes (Miles Franklin Award 1967) by Thomas Keneally is set in a fictitious penal colony in the South Pacific (but modelled on the convict settlement at Sydney) in the late 18th century.
The title of the novel comes from a line in a crude poem written by one of the characters.
The story focuses on two principal characters - Phelim Halloran, a soldier, and Ann, a servant, who Halloran deems to be his secret bride.
Justice, such as it is in the colony, is rough and arbitrary, and conditions are harsh and cruel. Indiscretions are punishable by the ultimate penalty, death, and the means are usually brutal.
Halloran and Ann become involved in a plot initiated by some local rogues to steal food from the colony store. Unfortunately, they are betrayed by an informer.
At heart, Halloran and his 'bride' are relatively decent people, but there is to be no moderation of forgiveness for their sins.
Keneally has written a brief but tough tale of a time and place with an elegance and visceral imagery that can be both beautiful and disturbing.
The supporting characters are all deeply flawed and desperate with few redeeming features, with a primary focus on survival and the exercise of authority that comes with any form of power.
Let the sun cope golden With the shoulders of my eaves May the hale throats of Beauty sons Shake old eardrums and the summer leaves
And when Beauty nods silver- Kine cropping the lushness of my edge May the smiles of our shy grand-daughters Bring larks and heroes to our hedge Extraordinary and moving, if your Irish born then your bear the pain and anguish of Halloran and Ann as well as the thousands of other men and women treated in that manner.
‘The long-sought Great Australian novel.’ Australian
‘Bring Larks and Heroes is…an early peak in a career whose Updikean longevity and range has few parallels in Australian letters. Keneally’s story of an Irish marine and his love for a servant girl is told with passion, intelligence, empathy and gallows humour.’ Geordie Williamson
I am breathless as I finish this book. Breathless with the brilliance of the writing and the cruelty of our ancestors. Such vivid description of life in a cruel colony where people are crushed and made cruel by an uncaring empire. Keneally is a brilliant writer and he manages to bring characters to life in a way where you hold your breath with hope that their lives could go well while knowing that isn’t possible. A beautiful and horrible book.
Unfortunately I was only able to read this in short stints which likely didn't do it justice. A book steeped in centuries-past English etiquette and religious belief, fears and servitude, and much occasional text lost on me, but this sure is a horrific account of a brutal penal colony setting. Underlying questions about conscience and what people say to themselves to keep theirs feeling clean.
It’s an early Keneally piece- not as great as his later pieces. Often disjointed and lacked his later finesse of language. It plods along rather than gallops.
This story was set in the 1790's but the writing was also antiquated. The style of writing slowed down the narrative and made it difficult to read. DNF. 3/10
Many authors have aped Dickens, often as pale imitations. 'Bring Larks and Heroes' is good enough to rate with the minor works, with the cantankerous ailment-ridden Mrs Blythe among the near-grotesques that wouldn't have looked out of place in, say, 'Barnaby Rudge'. Keneally plays for the back of the room in some cases, to the point that could feel overdone, but becomes welcome after a string of solid but forgettable novels where carefully shaded delineation would have benefitted from at least some technicolour moments.
This is not to say that Keneally (or of course Dickens) lack subtly where needed. The moral dilemmas of Halloran, in fulfilling duty to post and conscience in a deeply devout age, are carefully handled. The corporeal gore of whippings, hangings and even lf everyday subsistence in the penal colony (assumed but not declared as Australia), are boldly but believable drawn.
Keneally won the Miles Franklin Award for this (his third) novel. Having read several now throughout his career, I was surprised how well this stands up. It seems a jump from his second and of a piece with 'The Chant of Jimmy Blacksmith' and 'Confederates' in particular. The latter shows greater development still, but 'Bring Larks and Heroes' already offers well-developed shoulders to stand this later Keneally gem.
Took me a bit to get into the language and to make sense of the religious and bibical references. Quite a grim book - you can't expect it to end well - it takes place in a corrupt and brutal penal colony and nobody expects to leave alive, but you can't help but become engaged with Phelim - the main character. Enjoyable mainly because I had no idea what to expect.
Bring Larks and Heroes was the first of Thomas Keneally's novelo win the Miles Franklin Literary Award. As can be expected, it's a very fine novel, and its prose is surprisingly lush and beautiful, quite unalike Keneally's later journalistic style. It's rather reminiscent of Patrick White, except Keneally is more readable and a better dialogue writer.
A good novel that can be challenging to read at times both because of the brutal content and the difficult language. Keneally is a wonderful story teller and reminds us of how our past was not at all easy. A good parable.
Keneally's account of an unnamed penal colony in the early 1800s isn't among the author's most compelling narratives, but worthwhile for the sheer skill of his writing and insight into the curiosities of the human soul.