This mesmerising novel draws us in to a life that none of us would choose. Uncompromising in confronting our assumptions about choice and responsibility, it takes us deep into the psyche of a young woman unable to escape domestic abuse - first from her loving father, then from a partner who oscillates between protection and vicious physical abuse. Germaine grows in strength and maturity but is in the end powerless to save her infant daughter. This subtle, intelligent novel soothes as well as disturbs, like the undulating music of the flute that flows through it.
God. I love this book so much. I fell into it and drowned (which very rarely happens for me these days). Stunning writing, beautiful story, my favourite kind of prose. I very tentatively say that this is perhaps my favourite book.
The writing was beautiful (with the exception of a few bizarre sentences here and there). If someone else was trying to write in the same way, I think it would come off as too flowery, but here it was handled so gently that everything flowed together.
The story was heavy and uncomfortable, but again handled softly enough that it was obvious but without being too in-your-face. While with some books, misfortune after misfortune can seem fake and out there for the sake of the story, this book (for the most part) felt natural. It felt like life, as disappointing and harsh as it can be.
It did loose a bit if it’s charm towards the end — I’m going to warn that there might be some slight spoilers. The brief love triangle that came through in one of the chapters seemed highly unlikely due to the circumstances and frame of mind the characters were in. I guess I can see where it was coming from, but it’s a pretty thin stretch. Finally, the end (from the end of the third to last chapter) was… a bit like a Trent Dalton book ending, and I found it a bit hard to appreciate.
Overall, I enjoyed the majority of this (as much as you can ‘enjoy’ something like this), with the writing creating a beautiful flow to bring it all together. I thought it fell apart a bit at the end in some places, which was the main thing brining my rating down.
Bourke’s writing hovers between beautifully lyrical and overbearingly excessive, sadly more often the latter. The story itself is horrendous from beginning to end, and not in a truth-echoing way, mixed in with a gratuity that confirms my belief that stories of sexual abuse are typically best left to the realm of non-fiction.
Got this at an op shop in Beechworth - another good XPT read. Has so much flowery prose you can skim it paragraph by paragraph (as opposed to line by line). Quite a haunting plot if rather predictable - you know what's going to happen and can guess at how it does - you are stranded there, helpless, wading knee-deep in metaphors, left with no choice but to watch.