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A review by krasf
One Hundred Years of Dirt by Rick Morton
5.0
"As a nation, we have convinced ourselves that all of us has the same standing start, but this is neither true for the working-class whites from broken families nor for those with black or brown skin."
Morton covers so much that it's tough to know where to start. At times I felt like a voyeur peering in at a family that was broken generations ago, and was still struggling with a small semblance of recovery a century later.
There's no denying that this is a harrowing book about Morton's life and that of his forebears. But he doesn't approach it from a "woe is us" perspective. I read it as more of an explanation of what life is like for millions of Australians who live on the breadline, and for whom a $7 increase in outgoing can be the difference between staying afloat and going under.
But it's not just financial stress that he touches on. Morton delves into serious mental health and relationship issues, feeling like a total outsider in a family, a country town, in cities, and in the gay community.
He pinpoints the journalistic profession for taking recruits from middle and privileged classes, which affects the stories that are given prominence and the perspectives they are written from. Having been a middle-classer myself, albiet going into journalism with the chip of 'growing up on a farm' on my shoulder, I never saw it that way. And it pains me to say that, because I am stupid for not seeing it like that.
I felt that I was less visible because I came from Sydney's western suburbs, from a family where neither of my parents finished high school. But we were never on the precipice of going under financially. I was "lucky" enough to do an unpaid internship at Holt Street, fresh out of uni. Where I also noticed the distinct majority of North Shore, Manly, and inner-west dwellers. It shouldn't have bothered me as much as it did. I felt like a kid in an adult's world, where everyone had tonnes more life experience than I had.
TLDR: If you're Australian (and even if you're not) you should read this book.
Morton covers so much that it's tough to know where to start. At times I felt like a voyeur peering in at a family that was broken generations ago, and was still struggling with a small semblance of recovery a century later.
There's no denying that this is a harrowing book about Morton's life and that of his forebears. But he doesn't approach it from a "woe is us" perspective. I read it as more of an explanation of what life is like for millions of Australians who live on the breadline, and for whom a $7 increase in outgoing can be the difference between staying afloat and going under.
But it's not just financial stress that he touches on. Morton delves into serious mental health and relationship issues, feeling like a total outsider in a family, a country town, in cities, and in the gay community.
He pinpoints the journalistic profession for taking recruits from middle and privileged classes, which affects the stories that are given prominence and the perspectives they are written from. Having been a middle-classer myself, albiet going into journalism with the chip of 'growing up on a farm' on my shoulder, I never saw it that way. And it pains me to say that, because I am stupid for not seeing it like that.
I felt that I was less visible because I came from Sydney's western suburbs, from a family where neither of my parents finished high school. But we were never on the precipice of going under financially. I was "lucky" enough to do an unpaid internship at Holt Street, fresh out of uni. Where I also noticed the distinct majority of North Shore, Manly, and inner-west dwellers. It shouldn't have bothered me as much as it did. I felt like a kid in an adult's world, where everyone had tonnes more life experience than I had.
TLDR: If you're Australian (and even if you're not) you should read this book.