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A review by steph_84
Echolalia by Briohny Doyle
5.0
If I remember correctly from her previous work, Briohny Doyle has a PhD in dystopian fiction. This is evident in the dystopia explored in Echolalia but it isn’t futuristic science fiction, it’s the horror of reality in Australian suburbia. There’s an eerie sense of disorientation in this book, as with Doyle’s previous novel, making it difficult to even tell where and when the story is set until about halfway through when we get enough cultural references to ground it in about 2013, in a fictional town in the goldfields region 2 hours northwest of Melbourne. Even then, I don’t think Melbourne is named, suggesting that the story is meant to be somewhat ungrounded, and Emma could be anyone.
It’s a domestic thriller and scarily realistic. Even if we don’t have a Robert or Shane in our own families, every young woman in the western world would know men like them as a sleazy guy from a bar or a friend’s macho boyfriend. The kids are skilfully written and individual characters in their own right, where in other books they’d just be a plot device. I would have liked to better understand Emma, but perhaps what we saw was that she didn’t understand herself. Similarly I would have liked more clarity around the fire but it’s not Doyle’s style to overburden a point.
This is the fourth Australian book I’ve read in the last year with a focus on postnatal mental health (the others being Into the Fire by Sonia Orchid, The Last Anniversary by Lianne Moriarty and Sad Mum Lady by Ashe Davenport) and perhaps I’ve just shifted into the demographic but I’m glad to see the stories told in a nuanced non-sensationalist way, confronting though they may be.
It’s a domestic thriller and scarily realistic. Even if we don’t have a Robert or Shane in our own families, every young woman in the western world would know men like them as a sleazy guy from a bar or a friend’s macho boyfriend. The kids are skilfully written and individual characters in their own right, where in other books they’d just be a plot device. I would have liked to better understand Emma, but perhaps what we saw was that she didn’t understand herself. Similarly I would have liked more clarity around the fire but it’s not Doyle’s style to overburden a point.
This is the fourth Australian book I’ve read in the last year with a focus on postnatal mental health (the others being Into the Fire by Sonia Orchid, The Last Anniversary by Lianne Moriarty and Sad Mum Lady by Ashe Davenport) and perhaps I’ve just shifted into the demographic but I’m glad to see the stories told in a nuanced non-sensationalist way, confronting though they may be.