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Small Wrongs
A sincere and delicate inquiry that moves with grace between public and private pain.' Helen Garner 'Brave and brilliant... this book will change your life.' Ceridwen Dovey Kate Rossmanith studied people for a living, and thought she understood human nature well. But in the wake of her daughter's birth, the vulnerability and intensity of parenthood took her completely by surprise. Faced with a debilitating insomnia, she spent hours awake reflecting on her own upbringing and the unwelcome role remorse can play in even the most devoted parents' lives. Increasingly fascinated with the concept of remorse, she was drawn to the criminal courts, observing case after case. She talked to criminals, lawyers and judges alike, trying to answer the fundamental how can you know whether a person is ever truly sorry? But it soon became clear the project was creating seismic shifts in Kate's own life. The more she learnt, the more she saw how her relationship with her father, who for many years was a distant and often angry man, was steeped in remorse. The more she learnt, the more she saw the faultlines in her marriage, widening under the strains of parenthood. And ever present was a family history sketched across war-torn Europe, with the seeds of heartache taking root in Australia.
- GenresCulturalNonfiction
240 pages, Paperback
Published June 1, 2018
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Displaying 1 - 24 of 24 reviews
June 19, 2018
I found this a deeply satisfying read on many counts. Most impressive, I think, is the poise of Rossmanith's writing, the elegant structural proportions of Small Wrongs. Central to the book is the idea of remorse which Rossmanith explores in the public domain focussing on the provision for factoring any expression thereof into sentencing. This investigation has as its counterweight the very personal examination of the author's relationships with her own father, and her husband, a soul-searching that is presented with elegance and a sure hand in the dosage of sentiment, fact, and musing. There is no detour into the sensational which, given that wrongdoing and remorse lend themselves so perfectly to exaggeration and tragic gesture, testifies to the restraint Rossmanith imposes on her writing. As a result the reader is permitted to concentrate as much on the acknowledgment and dissection of shared, often mundane, emotional behaviour as on the philosophical questions thrown up in the navigation of the notion of wrongdoing, of causing harm—voluntarily or otherwise—and its attendant regret. Rossmanith's writing is incisive, sensitive, supremely elegant and reflective, and all the while infused with warm intelligence. I greatly admire this gentle yet probing examination of the heart.
March 10, 2019
When an author gets the balance between memoir and journalism* just right, it makes for brilliant reading. Kate Rossmanith has done it with
Small Wrongs
, a book that explores how we say 'sorry'.
Rossmanith looks at what constitutes remorse from many angles - the 'theatre' of courtroom appearances; how judges make their decisions; prison, parole and rehabilitation and how these systems create opportunities for offenders to show remorse; and retribution for victims of crime.
Although the book is structured around remorse in a legal sense, Rossmanith adds threads of her own story, examining the parts of her life where the word 'sorry' would be significant - her shaky marriage; her 'lost' time as a parent while she battled post-natal depression; and most notably, her efforts to understand her father, whose childhood in Vienna during WWII had left scars.
It was her father's story and his remorse that I found the most fascinating part of this book.
Last night, I was at dinner with friends, and one asked why I had visited Germany so many times. I explained that I was fascinated by the emotional aftermath of WWII, how the Germans have not hidden their shame but instead laid it out for people to witness; how this national 'remorse' is part of their identity, and how it has its own language. Rossmanith makes reference to this, noting the differences between Germany and Austria -
and of Austria -
Rossmanith considers how her father performed a personal 'amnesia', albeit unsuccessfully - her childhood memories are dominated by her father being emotionally distant and unaffectionate -
Rossmanith manages to pull the separate parts of her thesis and personal story together by asking how we reconcile and forgive both violent crimes and the horrors of war. She doesn't come to hard conclusions (I guess the memoir-element gives her some wiggle-room?) but she does pose some tough questions -
Rossmanith's procedural examination of remorse is accompanied by fine and perceptive writing - '...our lives unfold in the mysterious space between ourselves and other people....' and '...outside to the loitering news crews. A bouquet of microphones was held out towards them'. Alongside straightforward descriptions of the parole system and victim impact statements, she gives ample attention to the emotional aspects of her topic -
These things added to the pleasure of this book and, by the time I had finished, I had dozens of thought-provoking passages marked.
I read this book around the same time as I read The Arsonist by Chloe Hooper and In the Garden of the Fugitives by Ceridwen Dovey - it's a bit cheeky to suggest you read all three books together but the parallels - reconciling past events, and the social expectation for remorse and how that looks - leave a strong message.
4/5 One that I'll be going back to.
*similar examples include Wasted by Elspeth Muir, Avalanche by Julia Leigh and Woman of Substances by Jenny Valentish
Rossmanith looks at what constitutes remorse from many angles - the 'theatre' of courtroom appearances; how judges make their decisions; prison, parole and rehabilitation and how these systems create opportunities for offenders to show remorse; and retribution for victims of crime.
In the justice system...the act of forgiveness was unrelated to the duty of punishment; it was not the role of the courts to forgive a person...only the victims can forgive.
Although the book is structured around remorse in a legal sense, Rossmanith adds threads of her own story, examining the parts of her life where the word 'sorry' would be significant - her shaky marriage; her 'lost' time as a parent while she battled post-natal depression; and most notably, her efforts to understand her father, whose childhood in Vienna during WWII had left scars.
When you grow up sensing pain in a parent, you don't ask to see the wounds; you try to heal them. You believe you can save your father from what has already happened.
It was her father's story and his remorse that I found the most fascinating part of this book.
Last night, I was at dinner with friends, and one asked why I had visited Germany so many times. I explained that I was fascinated by the emotional aftermath of WWII, how the Germans have not hidden their shame but instead laid it out for people to witness; how this national 'remorse' is part of their identity, and how it has its own language. Rossmanith makes reference to this, noting the differences between Germany and Austria -
Whereas Germany developed the practice of Vergangenheitsbewältigung, the process of overcoming the past, Austria suppressed any examination of the subject.
and of Austria -
The country began performing a sort of amnesia. It made a point of celebrating its anti-German history...
Rossmanith considers how her father performed a personal 'amnesia', albeit unsuccessfully - her childhood memories are dominated by her father being emotionally distant and unaffectionate -
As my father brooded and raged about ghosts, he was crippling the possibility of being close to his children, because children never forget.
Rossmanith manages to pull the separate parts of her thesis and personal story together by asking how we reconcile and forgive both violent crimes and the horrors of war. She doesn't come to hard conclusions (I guess the memoir-element gives her some wiggle-room?) but she does pose some tough questions -
The moral question was not what I would do if someone I loved fell victim to a horrible crime. The moral question was what I'd do if they committed one.
Rossmanith's procedural examination of remorse is accompanied by fine and perceptive writing - '...our lives unfold in the mysterious space between ourselves and other people....' and '...outside to the loitering news crews. A bouquet of microphones was held out towards them'. Alongside straightforward descriptions of the parole system and victim impact statements, she gives ample attention to the emotional aspects of her topic -
I wondered if this was an effect of grief's uselessness. You can do nothing with grief but wait it out, let it do its slow work. If, on the other hand, you convince yourself you are feeling 'remorse' not 'grief', you claw back agency.
These things added to the pleasure of this book and, by the time I had finished, I had dozens of thought-provoking passages marked.
I read this book around the same time as I read The Arsonist by Chloe Hooper and In the Garden of the Fugitives by Ceridwen Dovey - it's a bit cheeky to suggest you read all three books together but the parallels - reconciling past events, and the social expectation for remorse and how that looks - leave a strong message.
4/5 One that I'll be going back to.
*similar examples include Wasted by Elspeth Muir, Avalanche by Julia Leigh and Woman of Substances by Jenny Valentish
February 2, 2019
There is some interesting thinking about remorse and forgiveness in this, but the memoir and research pieces of the book felt like a slightly awkward fit - the connections between the author's family issues and the broader questions were not always obvious to me.
April 4, 2021
One of the book chains I deal with from time to time sends me a notice in the month of my birthday, wishing me all the best and offering me a particular discount, to be used within a time limit. I chose this book.
I did so because I was interested in the topic of saying sorry, particularly whether it was meant or not and for what reason. Too often such declarations are perfunctory and meaningless, a kind of rote statement that has to be delivered for one reason or another.
Part of the context was also a recent family event which involved a number of emotions, including anger, forgiveness, sorrow and so on, even a desire for revenge or retribution, on both sides of the argument. Families can be like that.
Kate Rossmanith is an ethnographer. Here she recounts her research into remorse and the legal system, from judges to the judged, perpetrators to victims (or their families). Woven into this is a discourse on relationships and how one lives.
It's also a memoir, an approach probably suited to her specialty. Her language is accessible, natural, and personal. There are interesting observations made and questions asked. The chapters are short and so the book can be picked up and put down at any time. On reflection, though, it might be better to read in one sitting. It depends, perhaps, on what's going on in your life.
My interest was initially in the legal aspects of the topic, and initially the personal aspects were a small distraction to me, perhaps because I've never been a parent and relationships have not been a strong suit in my life, although there have been some excellent moments.
However, when the author writes about her father, at first intermittently and then with a kind of denoument near the end, where she manages to get him to say something about himself, I realise that I never had that kind of conversation with my father, who died 23 years ago, and who in some aspects remains a mystery to me, even though there were some stories told and repeated, as well as various experiences.
Well worth reading, for many reasons
I did so because I was interested in the topic of saying sorry, particularly whether it was meant or not and for what reason. Too often such declarations are perfunctory and meaningless, a kind of rote statement that has to be delivered for one reason or another.
Part of the context was also a recent family event which involved a number of emotions, including anger, forgiveness, sorrow and so on, even a desire for revenge or retribution, on both sides of the argument. Families can be like that.
Kate Rossmanith is an ethnographer. Here she recounts her research into remorse and the legal system, from judges to the judged, perpetrators to victims (or their families). Woven into this is a discourse on relationships and how one lives.
It's also a memoir, an approach probably suited to her specialty. Her language is accessible, natural, and personal. There are interesting observations made and questions asked. The chapters are short and so the book can be picked up and put down at any time. On reflection, though, it might be better to read in one sitting. It depends, perhaps, on what's going on in your life.
My interest was initially in the legal aspects of the topic, and initially the personal aspects were a small distraction to me, perhaps because I've never been a parent and relationships have not been a strong suit in my life, although there have been some excellent moments.
However, when the author writes about her father, at first intermittently and then with a kind of denoument near the end, where she manages to get him to say something about himself, I realise that I never had that kind of conversation with my father, who died 23 years ago, and who in some aspects remains a mystery to me, even though there were some stories told and repeated, as well as various experiences.
Well worth reading, for many reasons
February 4, 2019
Loved this book! It was truly fascinating. The author perfectly merges her research of remorse in the criminal justice system with her own personal experiences. I couldn't put it down. Honest and beautifully written.
July 11, 2018
There’s a lot going on in this book, and all the questions with which the author grapples are big questions.
By reason of my profession, much of what (I suspect) will make this book interesting to most readers was not news to me. I mention that because it’s perhaps that prior knowledge which means I did not find this as interesting as I note others have done.
However, I did find it interesting to consider some of the legal questions through the lens of an external viewer and (indeed) especially a qualified ethnographic researcher.
Ultimately, I had hoped for conclusions and recommendations, rather than mere observations and expressions of personal experience, but I accept that’s a different task from that which the author had set herself.
The writing is engaging and honest.
Worth reading.
By reason of my profession, much of what (I suspect) will make this book interesting to most readers was not news to me. I mention that because it’s perhaps that prior knowledge which means I did not find this as interesting as I note others have done.
However, I did find it interesting to consider some of the legal questions through the lens of an external viewer and (indeed) especially a qualified ethnographic researcher.
Ultimately, I had hoped for conclusions and recommendations, rather than mere observations and expressions of personal experience, but I accept that’s a different task from that which the author had set herself.
The writing is engaging and honest.
Worth reading.
February 15, 2019
Propelled by the highly interesting question of how we evaluate remorse in the justice system, this book faltered underneath the disconnect between Kate Rossmanith's personal anecdotes and the material she was dissecting.
May 13, 2018
It's a brave author who combines a discussion of her academic research on the concept of remorse in the law with that of her personal life (her marriage going downhill and her frosty relationship with her father). She is examining how the concept of remorse, regret and reparations work in the law, as well as in everyday life. I had my doubts as to how successful this part memoir approach would be. There's certainly a lot to take in, but the structure of the chapters and the book itself is incredibly clever, the linking is good (and also exciting) that it keeps you reading. The book is underpinned by a deep sense of humanity and empathy. Rosmanith is a highly accomplished writer. This book is about being human and being flawed and how despite it all, we strive to make connections.
June 1, 2018
I loved this book - there was something so satisfying about the way the author wove her own story of remorse into her study of the legal use of the word. I felt that the themes written about are ones that many of us will relate to. A very honest and personal insight into a family.
February 11, 2019
A compelling and cleverly told book on remorse.
November 13, 2024
An interesting read, combining an exploration of the legal concept of remorse, and how it can be measured, displayed and rewarded, with a more personal exploration of the author's troubled relationship with her father, and her disintegrating marriage.
I am generally all for authors in non-fiction situating themselves in their writing, and doing away with any illusion of 'objectivity' - I find this both courageous and interesting. However, int his book I could probably have used a little more focus on the former, fascinated as I am by the legal and ethical difficulties of assessing what is essentially a subjective thing, and a little less focus on the personal. Nevertheless Rossmanith writes very well and there are moments of insight and beauty even in the personal thread.
Not world-shattering nor even necessarily hugely memorable, but well worth the read. This book raises some interesting ideas, and explores them in elegant writing.
I am generally all for authors in non-fiction situating themselves in their writing, and doing away with any illusion of 'objectivity' - I find this both courageous and interesting. However, int his book I could probably have used a little more focus on the former, fascinated as I am by the legal and ethical difficulties of assessing what is essentially a subjective thing, and a little less focus on the personal. Nevertheless Rossmanith writes very well and there are moments of insight and beauty even in the personal thread.
Not world-shattering nor even necessarily hugely memorable, but well worth the read. This book raises some interesting ideas, and explores them in elegant writing.
January 26, 2020
An excellent read from someone who combines her personal enquiry about how empathy is dealt with in the criminal justice system and in our own lives. Saying sorry is part of the story, understanding another.
As a criminal defence barrister and environmentalist, I see our views on empathy and what we do with them as one of the most important filters we view the world. Kate Rossmanith's writing is direct, engaging and unguarded in a way that allows her words and ideas to permeate what otherwise might be closed gates in some of our minds. Good on you Kate. I'm sure Jemima will be fun. Spending more time on the trampoline is a good idea!
I highly recommend reading Small Wrongs. It may help some of us understand some of our own.
As a criminal defence barrister and environmentalist, I see our views on empathy and what we do with them as one of the most important filters we view the world. Kate Rossmanith's writing is direct, engaging and unguarded in a way that allows her words and ideas to permeate what otherwise might be closed gates in some of our minds. Good on you Kate. I'm sure Jemima will be fun. Spending more time on the trampoline is a good idea!
I highly recommend reading Small Wrongs. It may help some of us understand some of our own.
July 15, 2021
An interesting blend of an intimate personal memoir and an academic study of remorse in the justice system. Some very sad stories of crime and misfortune are described. Morality and religion are also part of the discussion here too.
Not surprisingly Helen Garner is quoted on the cover as her non-fiction studies of crime are often so powerful and compelling. Her search for understanding of what justice looks like has obvious overlap with this work.
Not surprisingly Helen Garner is quoted on the cover as her non-fiction studies of crime are often so powerful and compelling. Her search for understanding of what justice looks like has obvious overlap with this work.
January 10, 2024
This book reached and reached for something and never quite got there, but its failing was an interesting journey. Perhaps the missing element is that remorse is empty and still somewhat self-absorbed when it is untethered from repentance.
Also interesting was those families of victims who cling desperately to their anger and grief - for them their is no sufficient atonement or penalty and no forgiveness. How truly awful to stay trapped in such a place.
Also interesting was those families of victims who cling desperately to their anger and grief - for them their is no sufficient atonement or penalty and no forgiveness. How truly awful to stay trapped in such a place.
February 17, 2019
I really loved this memoir. Raw, honest and brave, it is written beautifully, with the author’s personal story and research on remorse interwoven seamlessly throughout. I found this book deeply moving and thought-provoking. Would highly recommend.
June 13, 2019
This book was deeply moving for me. The author wrote with great honesty and compassion, her own personal story woven through to illustrate that any one of us can be hobbled by remorse because of our actions. But what fuels our actions? So much food for thought and reflection here!
July 30, 2018
I thought it was OK but would have preferred more on remorse and a little less autobiographical material...
August 18, 2018
Thought provoking and thoughtful memoir. I found her writing style so enjoyable to read.
June 13, 2019
Very good book. Reading it for the second time. Writing style is great, fresh, and exploration of remorse in many settings is compelling. Just bought two more copies for friends. Highly recommend.
July 11, 2019
I am completely captivated by how brave the author is. I wish one day I can be as brave and open-minded as her.
November 18, 2019
Different book than what I usually read, but I enjoyed it
April 10, 2020
Fascinating memoir for all of us whose work informs our lives and whose lives inform our work.
December 21, 2021
I expected interesting reflections on the justice system and rejoice, but instead I feel it was much more an elegantly-written and moving memoir, with vivid touches of Sydney color.
September 20, 2023
found my eyes glazing over at the memoir sections of the text. not the author's fault i didn't warm to the genre!
Displaying 1 - 24 of 24 reviews