What a polished gem of a book! Lindelauf’s book was first published in 2004 in The Netherlands and Australian John Nieuwenhuizen succeeds as the invisible translator who brings this classic to us. It resonates with classic childrens fiction features such as the old, mystery house without a porch so that the children have to almost climb into the front door: or is it the back door? As a surprise for Australian readers expecting green fields, lots of water and windmills, the isolated house is set far away from the town along the dusty dirt road known as the Sjlammbams Sahara, opposite the cemetery and leading to the German border. It’s 1937 but the stories move back and forth to 1863 and not into World War II. There appears to be a tomb in the cellar, the roof leaks and, as there is no running water in the house, three children have to cart water from the well in the cemetery where they find a gravestone with no names. To this setting, the writer brings us a large family who are always on the move and this is obviously a house of last resort. However, for the girls, the major compensation is that the house is large, ‘nine open arms’ wide’ and they have the luxury of a bedroom to themselves.
There are seven children, the three youngest are girls while the four much older boys and their dreamer father, seeking work in the Great Depression, mostly fail to raise the rent and end up in the delusion that they will become successful cigar makers. The focus is on the three girls known by their nicknames: the narrator Fing, the oldest, aged eleven, then Muulke (little mouth/big mouth) and Jess who was only three months old when their mother died. Muulke has already declared that, of the five previous houses that they had lived in during the last four years, three had been cursed and at least two, like this one, ‘contained traces of a tragical tragedy’. Jess suffers from ‘wreckbone’ and is forced to wear a corrective corset that creaks as she walks and she sleeps between her sisters, in the middle of the bed without a mattress on the flat board. She complains that she is not allowed to do anything, ever.
The grandmother, Omar Mei, is in charge and the girls know all the key words in her ‘sermons’. ‘Someone has to be hard in this world’. Their dead ‘mam’ had ‘the heart as soft as a rag doll’. ‘It isn’t for nothing that heart and hard sound so similar’. Little wonder that Omar, with ‘one and a half feet in my grave’ and her ‘swivel eye’, occasionally wonders why she ‘has to be the ogre’ as the father is ‘the opposite of worrying’ with a Micawber-like optimism, ‘believing first, then seeing’. Clearly, Omar has seen all his misadventures before because her ancient crocodile skin suitcase, sits ominously in sight as a warning that so long as it remains unstowed, she may leave them to their own hopeless incompetence. There is an intriguing tension between the girls’ curiosity about the family photographs and stories that the case contains and the threat that its positioning implies. Similarly, when the girls fight, ‘I’ll tell Omar’ has a powerful effect. And fight and squabble they do with Dutch gusto. The translator maintains the earthiness of the characters lives and language by sometimes keeping the Dutch expletive untranslated so that the Glossary lists words for ‘shrew, fishwife, nonsense, blast, damn, coward’ and best of all, ‘owl’s pee – for something insignificant, a trivial matter.’ Jess’s favourite defence response is ‘Get lost’ and Muulke the ‘blabbermouth’, delights when telling of her own fear that her sisters would have ‘pissed your pants three times over.’ There is a wonderful fight at school over who should play the Virgin Mary in the annual parade.
However, the stories are extracted from the suitcase, despite Omar’s protestations that ‘It’s no story for children’ and the intriguing mysteries of the house are revealed. Complicating the family history are the stories of the town cabinet maker’s son, Charlie Bottletop and Nienevee a girl from the despised Traveller family that came from across the German border. The current adventure with Oompah Hatsi, the elective mute ‘button chewer’ dressed in ‘a brass band uniform jacket with dented buttons and sleeves that were too short… and a battered straw hat’ and who communicates with scissor snips, unites past and present. This fantastic character and his history combines magic realism and comedy, suggesting Fellini, Hans Christian Anderson and Dickens and is used brilliantly by the writer to control the tone of his book when a lesser writer would have settled for realism where impoverished, motherless children of a marginalised family with a good for nothing father and a bullying grandmother identify with Travellers and rejects until they finally find the truth about their situation. Instead, Lindelauf constructs a beautiful patchwork quilt that combines earthy reality with tolerance, security, compassion and humour. Like all great childrens literature, this is a book for independent readers of all ages.