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A review by archytas
Praiseworthy by Alexis Wright
challenging
funny
reflective
sad
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
5.0
"Planet scowled. He hated that skulk walk. He had a gutful of seeing kids walking their own country like black fugitives, but knew these were the ones who had travelled far in the country of nightmares, and as he intuitively picked all truths from his walk, he knew that this son had slipped beyond his reach."
"They asked him if he knew what this felt like, of how the have-nots dotted all around the planet experienced loss of destiny and their Aboriginal Sovereignty. Could he imagine the unimaginable scale of loss as they did and he thought he had, did he know the loss of all the millions of children enduring endless wars, forced migration, homelessness, famine, drought, greenhouse gas emissions, firestorms and rising seas, their future robbed? Did he know how to stop these things happening, because this was what a government employee should know how to stop, otherwise he was just swindling poor people like them by being paid on false pretences to drive that flash Avis rent-a-car around their community for nothing."
"In a world that does not change, the stories of all times continued to be told, and were serenading though the winds, and in the stillness across country, their fulness in truthfulness, never forgotten. "
This may not be the apocalyptic novel we deserve, but it is certainly the one we need. Praiseworthy is a triumph - an epic of breathtaking scope, packed tight with riches - satire, allegory, slapstick, wordplay, allegory and poetry - with characters larger than life and yet perfectly human-sized. It is belly-laugh funny, can't stop giggling funny, and yet so heartbreakingly sad at its heart, a book saturated with grief. That's not to mention the awe and the majesty. It is a lot, and the book feels like a lot. It is best savoured, and Wright rewards trust from the reader.
Some of it is so clever, it makes me want to write about it even at the risk of reduction. Wright eases you in with a hilarious first hundred pages or so, largely concerned with donkeys before the story moves to its more difficult themes. Some spoilers for the first 20% of the book follow.
The novel centres around one family in the homelands town of Praiseworthy. Each of the four central figures functions symbolically and as a character, often at the same time. One, Aboriginal Sovereignty, a 17-year-old boy accused of sex crimes for loving a 15-year-old, walks into the ocean to commit suicide, egged on by his 8-year-old brother Tommyhawk. Wright uses this event to explore, play with, satirise and critique contemporary politics/society, but also never loses sight that these are children and the tragedy of their loss (in different ways) for the whole community. She makes us feel this grief, eschewing ex machina solutions. There is a weariness almost beyond anger at the outrageous pile of crap Praiseworthy's residents must navigate, the demonisation of Aboriginal men, the bind of Basics Cards, work for the dole and other measures imposed through the Intervention and similar. Her people, even Dance, who focuses on joy through moths, are far too humanly flawed to neatly resolve the stupidly high number of challenges they live with (Wright gives her characters dignity not because they are heroic, but because they are human, demanding we want better for them without needing them to be superhuman). Ancestral spirits are arcane and unpredictable.
Similarly, Wright has just great fun with climate change, and the haze that blankets the town (I particularly enjoyed the cultural tourism bit) but never lets the reader lose sight of the reality that the characters can't breathe, of the stench and decay. This is a book about living in our times - the kind of living done by those who don't often get their stories told - and the absurdity, the beauty, the inexplicability of it all. And it really is magnificent.
"They asked him if he knew what this felt like, of how the have-nots dotted all around the planet experienced loss of destiny and their Aboriginal Sovereignty. Could he imagine the unimaginable scale of loss as they did and he thought he had, did he know the loss of all the millions of children enduring endless wars, forced migration, homelessness, famine, drought, greenhouse gas emissions, firestorms and rising seas, their future robbed? Did he know how to stop these things happening, because this was what a government employee should know how to stop, otherwise he was just swindling poor people like them by being paid on false pretences to drive that flash Avis rent-a-car around their community for nothing."
"In a world that does not change, the stories of all times continued to be told, and were serenading though the winds, and in the stillness across country, their fulness in truthfulness, never forgotten. "
This may not be the apocalyptic novel we deserve, but it is certainly the one we need. Praiseworthy is a triumph - an epic of breathtaking scope, packed tight with riches - satire, allegory, slapstick, wordplay, allegory and poetry - with characters larger than life and yet perfectly human-sized. It is belly-laugh funny, can't stop giggling funny, and yet so heartbreakingly sad at its heart, a book saturated with grief. That's not to mention the awe and the majesty. It is a lot, and the book feels like a lot. It is best savoured, and Wright rewards trust from the reader.
Some of it is so clever, it makes me want to write about it even at the risk of reduction. Wright eases you in with a hilarious first hundred pages or so, largely concerned with donkeys before the story moves to its more difficult themes. Some spoilers for the first 20% of the book follow.
The novel centres around one family in the homelands town of Praiseworthy. Each of the four central figures functions symbolically and as a character, often at the same time. One, Aboriginal Sovereignty, a 17-year-old boy accused of sex crimes for loving a 15-year-old, walks into the ocean to commit suicide, egged on by his 8-year-old brother Tommyhawk. Wright uses this event to explore, play with, satirise and critique contemporary politics/society, but also never loses sight that these are children and the tragedy of their loss (in different ways) for the whole community. She makes us feel this grief, eschewing ex machina solutions. There is a weariness almost beyond anger at the outrageous pile of crap Praiseworthy's residents must navigate, the demonisation of Aboriginal men, the bind of Basics Cards, work for the dole and other measures imposed through the Intervention and similar. Her people, even Dance, who focuses on joy through moths, are far too humanly flawed to neatly resolve the stupidly high number of challenges they live with (Wright gives her characters dignity not because they are heroic, but because they are human, demanding we want better for them without needing them to be superhuman). Ancestral spirits are arcane and unpredictable.
Similarly, Wright has just great fun with climate change, and the haze that blankets the town (I particularly enjoyed the cultural tourism bit) but never lets the reader lose sight of the reality that the characters can't breathe, of the stench and decay. This is a book about living in our times - the kind of living done by those who don't often get their stories told - and the absurdity, the beauty, the inexplicability of it all. And it really is magnificent.