This is the story of Palm Island, the tropical paradise where one morning Cameron Doomadgee swore at a policeman and forty minutes later lay dead in a watch-house.
This is the story of that policeman, the tall, enigmatic Chris Hurley who chose to work in some of the toughest and wildest places in Australia, and of the struggle to bring him to trial.
Above all, The Tall Man is a story in luminous detail of two worlds clashing - and a haunting moral puzzle that no reader will forget.
Chloe Hooper is an Australian author. Her first novel, A Child’s Book of True Crime (2002), was short-listed for the Orange Prize for Literature and was a New York Times Notable Book. In 2005, she turned to reportage and the next year won a Walkley Award for her writing on the death in custody of Cameron Doomadgee on Palm Island, an Aboriginal community off the north-east coast of Australia. The Tall Man: Death and Life on Palm Island (2008) is a non-fiction account of the 2004 Palm Island death in custody case.
This book captures the true story of a police officer who arrested an Indigenous man on Palm Island in Queensland in 2004. Within a few hours the arrestee passed away on his cell floor from horrific internal injuries. The book follows the coronial inquest and the subsequent trial of the arresting officer.
Chloe Hooper writes with clarity and objectivity. Although she leans to one side and subtly expresses her view in parts, I wouldn't go as far as calling her biased. What she communicates with certainty is just what a difficult case this is to make unequivocal judgements on due to lack of evidence and unreliable witnesses.
This book just left me feeling sad. It touches deeply on the tensions of remote Australia across its central and northern spaces. Law and order is necessary to keep everyone safe, but ensuring that those who apply the law are just and in-touch with their context is the crucial precursor to effective law and order. Since this book was published in 2008 we have all seen similar stories play out again and again. The pessimist in me expects to continue seeing them.
In 2004, on Palm Island off the coast of Australia, Cameron Doomadgee was arrested. Palm Island is a settlement and home to many indigenous persons, and it is under the "protection" of the police. The police there are not Aboriginal people, they are regular, white Australians. Doomadgee was arrested by Sr. Sgt. Chris Hurley, ostensibly for swearing at the cops; it may well have been for singing "Who Let the Dogs Out." Either way, Doomadgee was arrested, then pushed into the police van, taken to the station, then later found dead in his cell. The question at the root of the story is what happened? Depending on who was telling the story, either Doomadgee died due to injuries sustained during a fall with Sgt. Hurley, or Sgt. Hurley brutally beat him prior to tossing him into the cell. If the latter was true, then Hurley committed murder. And if this were the sole focus of this book, you could label it a true-crime story. However, this event is just the focal point and a starting place for examining more underlying issues between Aboriginal peoples and whites, especially in the north of Australia. It's also a look at how the people of Palm Island took a stand and refused to let the whole matter get whitewashed in terms of the police & other officials closing ranks around Sgt. Hurley.
In trying to better understand the indigenous peoples, Hooper examines their mythologies & history as well as issues of race relations beginning with the first white settlers there. She interacts with members of the community on Palm Island, and also, in an attempt to better understand Chris Hurley (who never would agree to an interview with her), she travels to other places where he worked with indigenous peoples to get their stories. Hurley, it seemed, was well liked by these people, considering that he was a white man -- he was active in the local community, developing programs and overseeing their welfare in many cases, and was the only policeman that even the most vocal activist for Aboriginal peoples' rights would let into his home. So what happened? Hooper rightly wonders if Hurley is doing a Colonel Kurtz (Heart of Darkness) here -- in staving off "savagery," does he become a "savage" himself? At the same time, Hooper does understand that the police are often fighting an uphill battle, not only on Palm Island, but in other indigenous settlements against alcoholism, beatings, sex crimes, and other crimes.
Tall Man is a phenomenal book, very well written. It's not just cold, standoffish journalism, but a more personal story of two worlds, both of which she works hard to make the reader aware. Ultimately, the reader has to make up his or her mind as to what really happened, but you will not be able to stop reading once you start.
I can very highly recommend this book, especially to people who are interested in Australian indigenous peoples and their myths and history. It's also a very excellent look at the sad and tragic history of race relations between the indigenous people who've lived there for thousands of years and the white people who came after. Excellent book.
I’ve had this book on my shelf for quite some time so about time I read it and what a compelling and compulsive read. It was always going to be a difficult read, the case itself, from the violence to the living conditions but the author includes a lot of the tragic history of Palm Island, the community and the families involved.
This book broke my heart. Incredible writing and such an insight into the continued failings of our legal and political system for Indigenous Australians. To read this during the current debate surrounding changing the date further highlights how far we have to go towards any sort of reconciliation or healing as a nation. I highly recommend reading this book.
This book is a necessary read !!!! This book made me cry multiple times, and when I finished it, I cried again because nothing has changed in this country.
It has lost a star, because I believe that some of the language used has not aged very well.
Palm Island is located 60km north of Townsville, Queensland. Early in the twentieth century, it was designated an Aboriginal Settlement. Indigenous people were punitively sent there for various infringements, or as part of broader Australia-wide Stolen Generation policies. Such policies proceeded the 'wild times' of frontier warfare as the British Empire colonised Queensland in the nineteenth century. The effects of such policies endure today. Intergenerational trauma underpins alcohol-fuelled violence and general destitution across the island. Many white people still perceive Palm Island as part of the frontier.
In 2004, Chris Hurley was a white senior sergeant stationed on Palm Island. Hurley had worked in primarily Indigenous populated townships throughout his career. He purportedly had good rapport with the locals, and had risen quickly through the ranks. He appeared to revel in the frontier aspect of his job. In November 2004, however, Hurley arrested Cameron Doomadgee--an Indigenous man--for being a 'public nuisance'. Hurley and Doomadgee 'fell' into the police cell without surveillance cameras and within half an hour, Doomadgee was dead. An autopsy reported that he had died from a severely ruptured liver.
In Tall Man, Chloe Hooper deftly outlines the shocking aftermath of this event, including riots, police retribution, investigations and trials, and, ultimately, a probable miscarriage of justice. Hooper provides sociological insight into Palm Island's residents, and exposes white Australia's apparent incapacity for racial reconciliation with Indigenous Australians. However, the book would have benefitted from greater detail, particularly in areas related to legal judgments. Additionally, although subtle, the author's biases to one side were pervasive throughout the book. Nonetheless, it is a useful text to understand Australian race relations.
The themes presented in Hooper's book persist. Having lived in the Kimberley for a period, Indigenous socioeconomic privations and its criminological consequences remain immense. Policing is a necessary and often a thankless task in such regions. However, unequivocal support for the police needs to change. For instance, Zachary Rolfe was unsurprisingly found not guilty of murdering an Indigenous man in a bungled arrest in the Northern Territory. What is surprising, however, is his ongoing public support despite investigations unveiling his racist attitudes. More needs to be done to ensure people like Rolfe are not stationed on the frontier or elsewhere.
Trigger warnings: death in custody, racism, alcohol abuse, police brutality towards First Nations populations, Stolen Generations, racial profiling, racial stereotypes, suicide, mentions of child sexual abuse.
This is not an easy book to read as it deals so heavily with the death of First Nations Australians in police custody, as well as the reasons WHY First Nations Australians end up in police custody in the first place. It's a strange mix of true crime and first person journalism that didn't always work for me, and I think at the end of the day I was left with more questions than answers. But it was very well written, and often very telling of Australian society in general and police culture specifically.
The copy of this book that I have has the original blue cover with a red palm leaf on it and it is called The Tall Man: Death and Life on Palm Island. I prefer that title to the other edition’s – which was called Tall Man: the Death of Doomadgee – because it broadened the scope, which I believe matters: the death of Cameron Doomadgee, tragic as it was, is also not an isolated case. There have been several such incidents of death in custody of an Aboriginal person since I have lived here in Australia. I think that the original title alluded to Palm Island’s representing a microcosm of the Indigenous experience. That being said …
Chloe Hooper possesses rare skills in a writer commenting on such recent and horrific circumstances as the death of Doomadgee: she maintains enough necessary aesthetic distance to stay calm, focused and clear, yet sensitively negotiates a close-enough engagement for us to feel deeply and compassionately about the people of Palm Island. This is an excellent book which describes a complex and disturbing set of social relationships and series of events, culminating in an Aboriginal death in custody. The after-effects are still being felt today, legally and otherwise. The Tall Man does not achieve its impact by use of graphic exploitation, melodrama or grotesqueness, as we are so used to seeing today. I thought it eloquent and subtle in its execution.
I did not find the book one-sided or feel that Hooper was demonising Hurley, but I can understand that others may have experienced it that way, especially if they are closer to the people involved. I am an American ex-pat, having lived in Australia for seven years, and I am still trying to understand the subtleties of race relations and socio-political power structures between the descendants of the original, indigenous peoples of this land and the white descendants of the colonials. Many things are, of course, similar to every other country that has been colonised, including my own; but each country and its people are also unique and it is these layers of difference that I am still working my way through. I found Hooper’s book to be helpful, informative and highly readable and it has helped me to come a bit closer to my goal of understanding.
‘Until I met Boe, I’d never even heard of Palm Island.’
Palm Island lies off the coast of Queensland, Australia. The Island is roughly half way between Brisbane and the tip of Cape York. Palm Island, home to many Indigenous people, is a settlement with a troubled history.
On 19 November 2004, Cameron Domadgee was arrested on Palm Island by Senior Sergeant Chris Hurley. He may have been arrested for swearing at the police, he may have been arrested for singing ‘Who Let the Dogs Out’ (a one-hit wonder by the Baha Men). Bundled into a police van, taken to the police station, Cameron Doomadgee is found dead in his cell just over an hour after his arrest.
What happened? Did Cameron Doomadgee die as a consequence of injuries sustained during a fall with Senior Sergeant Hurley, or did Senior Sergeant Hurley brutally beat him before he was put in the cell?
Chloe Hooper became involved when Andrew Boe, a lawyer, became interested in the case and wanted someone to write about it. The inquest, Boe told Ms Hooper, would take a week or two. This was the starting point for an investigation which took months. And while the book is about Cameron Doomadgee’s death in custody, it is also about some of the issues that permeate relationships between Indigenous and European Australians.
This book was first published in 2008. In 2011 a documentary was made.
I found this a confronting and uncomfortable read. What really happened to Cameron Doomadgee? What are we doing to improve the sad and tragic history of race relations between Indigenous and more recently arrived Australians? How can despair be replaced by hope? And the ‘tall man’ of the title? Somehow it seems appropriate that the ‘tall man’ represents both Senior Sergeant Chris Hurley (2 metres tall) as well as a malignant spirit in Indigenous culture, capable of moving unseen in the night to do evil.
I read this book a few years ago, not too long after I first moved to Australia, but was only reminded of it recently when a documentary was played on SBS of the same name (which included an interview with the author). This is a moving and relatively unbiased account of the actions leading to Doomadgee's death and what happened soon thereafter. It also gives you a taste of the career and character of Chris Hurley and of what life is like in remote communities such as Palm Island. To be honest, I was still rather conflicted about the whole thing (in the sense that I don't think we'll ever know exactly what happened) after reading it, which I think is a testament to Hooper's handling of the story. One thing I did feel pretty strongly after reading it was a sense of despair, as there is a big part of me that suspects this was a breakdown of an officer who spent too long in these remote communities. Not many officers would want to dedicate two decades of their life to working in remote Aboriginal communities, and I do think that his heart was in the right place. But what if he had a breakdown? What if that could happen again, to another officer? Reading this book, one gets the sense that many people do not believe this was an overt act of racism, even if Hurley did cause Doomadgee's death. Rather, given his dedication to these communities, and the heartbreak he inevitably experienced over the years, it's quite possible that he just snapped. What can we do to stop this happening in the future? This story is tragic, and it would be even more tragic if we let it happen again. At any rate, I highly recommend this book - just don't expect to leave it feeling like you've got it all figured out.
Note: I read an earlier version of this book. The more recent version may be worth getting, as it might have the most recent developments in the legal cases.
This is essential reading for anyone interested in race relations in Australia, or police manipulation of power and civil rights anywhere. Hooper works with material from documents, court hearing and interviews with community members and others in her efforts to reconstruct and analyse what happened on the night that Cameron Doomadgee died in the Palm Island Police Station - and in the long and desperate series of events that have happened since, and which continue to have ripples as I write in 2012, years after Doomadgee's questionable arrest and tragic death. Memorable reading.
I found this book to be compelling reading and a "must read" for anyone who wants a deeper understanding of our Indigenous peoples and how European settlement has impacted on their culture and lifestyle. Answers - maybe not. Understanding of the problems - helpful.
A revealing and disturbing look at the difficult challenges facing indigenous communities in out of the way places of regional Australia. Largely hidden from the view of mainstream Australia our indigenous brothers and sisters have a dreadful existence. I could easily blame 'them' and dismiss the issue (as many of 'us' do) but that achieves nothing. Peter Davis, one of the legal representatives of the aboriginal community on Palm Island said towards the end of the book: "(I) knew that a blackfella just needed to half look at a copper and he'd get arrested..." Asked by one of the 'black fellas' how they could possibly live their lives like that Davis responded by saying, sorry, but that was just too big an issue for him to solve. We need to keep asking the questions. I for one have plenty of the questions but I have none of the answers. Alcoholism, domestic violence, rapes, paedophilia and drug usage are 'normal' accepted problems within the aboriginal communities. And it appears as though much of it is largely unreported. This book, which has won so many fine literature prizes, is a haunting look at the brutal history of Palm Island and in the end while it offers no answers it causes us to take a deep breath, wipe away our tears of frustration and sadness and beg for solutions and justice. ( Just a warning: if you don't want to be confronted by the worst possible language then choose another book)
The tall Man tore the rose-coloured glasses I like to wear, right off my nose! I am normally such a proud Australian, buying into that long-standing belief of living in “the lucky country”. But this story evoked such strong feelings of sadness and anger (and even shame) that I began to consider…. Lucky for who exactly???
While Chloe Hooper writes so well, presenting two sides of this tragic case in an unusually (I’m more familiar with the journalistic tendencies of the 60 minutes/ACA reporters) unbiased fashion, I’m sure it must be human nature to take sides. So, drawing my own conclusions, I feel sickened by the corruption that continues to exist inside a system designed to protect and provide justice for all Australian citizens equally.
This is the kind of book that needs to be on every high school reading list if change is ever genuinely going to reach maturity in Australia. True and well-informed awareness must be made of life being lived just on the other side of our own backyard fences, by our own fellow citizens…. Not simply over the seas in the good ol’ US of A where it is frequently headline news that the colour of human skin affects the judgement of so many holding positions of authority.
White supremacy has been cancelled! Make it happen!!!!
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
In 2004 an Aboriginal man, known as Cameron Doomadgee, died in police cells on Palm Island, off Townsville. Chris Hurley was the first police officer to be charged for manslaughter for an Aboriginal death in custody. He was eventually acquitted.
As a journalist, Chloe Hooper won a Walkley award for her reportage of the train of events, including riots on Palm Island and later wrote this non-fiction account. In Doomadgee's culture, a Tall Man was a threat of evil to the community. Chris Hurley was a tall man who epitomised violence to the local community despite him being previously held in high regard in the Indigenous communities where he had served.
Hooper's account is fastidiously researched and tries to be fair to all parties but it is clear where her sympathies lie. She exposes the double standards that operate when it comes to crime and punishment for Indigenous people. It is a deeply disturbing, indeed often harrowing account. I fear that little has changed since the death of Cameron Doomadgee despite improved monitoring and police education.
I remember the buzz around Tall Man: The Death of Doomadgee when it was published but haven’t managed to read it until now. This book has given me a new appreciation for investigative journalism and I am convinced that Hooper’s book showcases very high quality of this form of writing.
The number of deaths of indigenous Australians in custody has been a prominent issue and in 2004, on Palm Island, an Aboriginal man, Cameron Doomadgee, known as Mulrunji, was arrested for verbally abusing a police officer. Mulrunji was found dead 40 minutes later in his cell with injuries, later disclosed as injuries equating to those of a car crash victim. The arresting police officer, Senior Sargent Chris Hurley, was subsequently charged with Mulrunji’s manslaughter, the first time a police officer had been charged in relation to an Aboriginal death in custody. The trial went ahead in 2007.
Hooper followed this story for three years, delving into the lives of the indigenous community in Palm Island, the police force within Queensland as well as the inquest, findings and the trial. Clearly, she got in close. And it is clear which ‘side’ she was on.
During the inquest into Mulrunji’s death, before the charge and subsequent trial, another complainant spoke of her own ‘meeting’ with Hurley. By this time, the stories of life on Palm Island for law enforcement were confronting. Hooper reflects “sometimes Hurley can seem like Everyman walking through a landscape where the characters are Death, Drunkenness, Violence and Despair.“
It seems appropriate to question whether the police on Palm Island were enforcing the law or being the law:
“Were these cops also caught between feeling contempt for their countrymen who didn’t know the realities of life in these places, and a feeling that it would be, as Orwell put it, the ‘greatest joy in the world’ to do violence to those who laughed at them, those useless, abusive men throwing rocks while their children didn’t have enough to eat?”
One chapter, simply titled The Rally, is a short but intense account of Queensland police rallying behind Senior Sargent Hurley when he is charged with manslaughter. When a motion is put forward for a vote, Hooper observes “when the crowd voted they didn’t put their arms straight up, but held them out at a 45-degree angle. It was surreal.“
Several issues bubble to the surface; not only racial issues but socioeconomic issues, political issues and issues of societal status. I felt that Hurley was dedicated and proud of his work in a remote community but did he lose a sense of reality being so disconnected from a larger community?
Questions were raised, and rightly so, about the age-old belief that police should ‘stick up’ for their own, regardless.
Tall Man stands out as not just an account but a reflection of what happened that day and its consequences, even though we will never know what truly happened the day Mulrunji died in custody. Writing about Hurley’s examination and cross-examination during the trial, Hooper describes the accused:
“He was like an evasive spirit, hiding in the legal cracks. The law pretended it could pin him down, cut him to size. Each new proceeding claimed to be the place where the truth would be known, the shadows cast out, the bright light of justice triumph.”
As an Australian, it's impossible to recommend this book highly enough. It speaks powerfully and unflinchingly to the grave racial injustice ongoing in this beautiful but deeply flawed nation. Chloe Hooper is a stunningly gifted writer and a brilliant journalist, who poured her heart and mind into this moving novel. The incredible amount of research that went into the reporting is matched by the care Hooper has for the family of Cameron Domadgee and the Aboriginal people of Palm Island. Her rare heart is complemented by her ferocious passion for justice. What this book illuminates is not simply the injustice of the trial, but the injustice of life for people cast aside by colonialism. And Hooper doesn't just understand that as a sympathetic outsider: she takes the time and care to understand the dreaming and see life in Australia from an Aboriginal perspective. A truly essential read.
Starting with a positive: I enjoyed that the title ‘The Tall Man’ referred directly to the policeman under investigation (with a height of 2 m), and also to the tall spirit man in aboriginal dreamtime stories. Now into the review. I found the book hard to get into, and am attributing this to the writing style; it often felt like I was reading a fictional story rather than a recounting of factual events. Her descriptions of people focussed unnecessarily on physical characteristics (things along the lines of ‘he was a well built man with a pointed chin’). I share her view that the police officer is guilty of manslaughter, and think the death of an innocent man is tragic and unacceptable, so this 2 star rating is entirely attributed to the way the book was written.
I had high hopes for this book, however it did not match my expectations. Chloe hooper’s writing failed to captivate me; for example when she was describing the riot, an intense event, I struggled to visualise the scene or even maintain interest. Most pages I needed to read more than once due to my focus drifting elsewhere. I also didn’t like how emotive her language was and how she would insert herself into the story, considering it was meant to read like “investigative journalism”. For such an interesting topic, I came away with very little from this book.
I was really interested to get into this book when Louise announced it as her selection. I don't remember this specific incident occurring but I do remember a number of government forced initiatives introduced that were mentioned toward the end of the book. I was hoping to get a deep insight into the troubled relationship between our peoples, especially of that in the top end of Australia but I was left slightly disappointed.
It is essentially a report and it definitely read as one. The structure of the prose was bland and slightly monotonous which may have been intentional, but left me wanting to feel a deeper connection and understanding to the case. It read very victim-centric but I attain that to Hooper being unable to access Hurley hence limiting her interpretation of him and his view of the incident.
Reading it I struggled to believe that this only occurred in 2004 and found the racism and lack of understanding toward the Indigenous People of Palm Island confronting and upsetting. Furthermore to read of all the promotions offered to so many of the Public Servants involved after the completion of this case that made such incredibly blind and self-serving decisions was mind blowing. Definitely showcasing white privilege at its finest. What rattles me even more is that I struggle to see a different outcome if a similar incident were to occur in 2019. As a country we have much still to learn and unfortunately a large proportion of our people continue to display a strong lack of interest to better our relationship with our Indigenous Communities.
“The 1997 ‘Report of the National Inquiry into the Separation of Aboriginal and Torres Straight Islander Children from Their Families,’ known as ‘Bringing Them Home: The Stolen Generation Report’, found that many Indigenous children who were taken enter adulthood in a ‘cycle of damage from which it is difficult to escape’. Often they had only the most basic education, an ingrained sense of inferiority, feelings of numbness, and trouble developing relationships and parenting their own children…there are reasons for complete social breakdown, and one of them must be people being forcibly taken from their parents, who had in turn been taken from their parents, who’d been taken from theirs.”
It’s hard to capture the multitude of issues faced in a community like the people living on Palm Island, so I decided to quote directly from the book. This is a community that is being punished and treated in a militant way by white australia because of an inter-generational trauma…caused by white australia. And they’re not alone. Lack of respect and protection can only lead to more tragedy, regardless of intent. Nothing speaks louder than the “us and them” nature of this country that still exists today like this book. It shocked me but also it didn’t, that this was less than 20 years ago. I don’t know the solution to reconciliation, but continue to learn and support a community that is still recovering, and hope one day we will get somewhere better.
I don't usually read non-fiction, so when I saw this book on my school reading list I anticipated a long, monotonous read. However, this could not be further from the truth. Though I did initially find the simultaneous introduction of numerous people early on in the book confusing, I was quickly swept up in the writer's beautiful depictions of their lives, personalities and Aboriginal culture on Palm Island. These would range from describing seemingly mundane tasks such as fishing to recounting the tales of the Rainbow Serpent, Lizzy Daylight and the Dreamtime. However, The Tall Man also laid bare the darker side of Palm island and the racism that Aboriginal people continue to encounter in Australia. Hooper illustrates the deep distrust and conflict between Aboriginal people and white Australians, stemming from centuries of mass genocides, slavery, police brutality, the destruction of aboriginal culture and families through the stolen generation...etc. It was an emotional read that I am unlikely to get over anytime soon.
On page 3 of The Tall Man Hooper writes that she knows very little about Indigenous Australia and like 'most' middle class suburbanites grew up without ever meeting a black person. This statement renders itself redundant as one makes their way through this text. From descriptions of smoking ceremonies as 'Aboriginal exorcisms' and harvesting food for dinner alongside First Nations women as 'a job that was ridiculously primal' Hooper's descriptions of Aboriginal Australians are at best paternalistic and at worst dehumanising. It was a constant reminder of her bias as a white journalist in reporting the story of Cameron Doomadgee's death in custody. The book was worse for having multiple descriptions of the charged officer as 'Handsome like an old screen idol' and of Doomadgees family and supporters as 'filthy' and 'double chinned'. The Tall Man falls far short of the hyperbolic claims on the cover of being "The country's finest work of literature so far this century" leaving the bitter taste of white supremacy lingering in its wake.
This is a heartaching read around the injustices Aboriginal Australian's experience in life, but certainly when interacting with the law and it's representatives. The case of the death of Cameron Doomadgee on Palm Island in November 2004, the unrest that occurred afterwards which put the case into national awareness, and the resulting Coronial and criminal trial. Chloe Hooper follows the case, and gains insight into the stories of the 2 men, and the Palm Island community.
The examination of police conduct and their closing ranks around each other to protect one of theirs. The lack of adherence to protocols recommended in the 1991 Royal Commission into Aboriginal Deaths In Custody. The political undertones and pressures.
But this is also a lens into the life of people living on, or connected to, Palm Island. The history of the island, and how it's people were sent there. The vicious treatment then, the brutally and enslavement, the displacement. The separation of children from families, then placed on the island.
So much injustice, pain, and cyclical intergenerational trauma, here. The cycle of abuse from colonialism, the stolen generation, to the segregation and lack of opportunities for Aboriginal people today in these cycles are also examined. The electric tension of Palm Island is palpable within these pages. The resulting hopelessness, unemployment, alcohol and substance abuse, domestic violence, is a suffocating presence.
Hooper shares these stories and insights as she gets to know the case, and the Doomadgee family, with her awareness of being a privileged outsider - a white person who can return to her live of hope. "I had wanted to know more about my country and now I knew more than I wanted to." As the reader, these insights and experiences are shared, and so much learnt about the lives and factors impacting the lives of Aboriginal Australians on Palm Island, and across the nation.
This read was all too real, as this week we had the news of another Aboriginal young man who died at the hands of a police officer.
I thoroughly enjoyed this book, both because the actual case was interesting and because of Chloe Hooper’s writing.
While clearly leaning to one side, I found Hooper’s writing mostly unbiased, which would be hard to achieve in such a divisive case. In addition to presenting the facts of the case and the surrounding context she did give her own opinions. However, this was done in a way that (similar to Helen Garner) was not trying to convince the reader one way or another but simply sharing her own honest musings and wonderings about the issues.
Another aspect of her writing I enjoyed was the fact that she was to the point and didn’t go off on unrelated or boring tangents.
The extraordinary story of a death, a policeman, an island and a country. After following the case and its main characters for over two and a half years, Chloe Hooper does a remarkable job of writing this story with devoted observation; prepared to pursue the story to its bitter (and it really is a quite bitter, albeit predictable) end.
There's a line towards the end of the book where Hooper, almost in a state of hopelessness, states: “I had wanted to know more about my country and now I knew more than I wanted to.” Reading this book will leave you with a feeling of hopelessness, but it will also open your eyes in more ways than one. I couldn't recommend it highly enough, and I will definitely be reading more of Chloe Hooper's works.
Mam wrażenie, że poruszane w książce kwestie społeczne momentami umykały wśród długich, ciągnących się stron poświęconych opisowi procesu sądowego. Niestety, sam proces nie był zbyt intrygujący, przez co po przeczytaniu książki czuję się zmęczony. Warto jednak wskazać, że autorce udało się ciekawie przeplatywać kwestie tej konkretnej sprawy morderstwa z kontekstem społecznym. Niemniej, chciałbym jeszcze więcej tego drugiego. Czuję niedosyt, chciałbym aby wątek kulturowy był bardziej pogłębiony