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A review by desterman
The Shepherd's Hut by Tim Winton
4.0
I’ve always loved Tim Winton’s writing – fiction and non-fiction. His novels aren’t always perfect, but they are always beautiful, complex and thought provoking. The Shepherd’s Hut is no exception and is probably one of Winton’s most faced paced novels yet. The story opens at the end, with teenage protagonist Jaxie Clackton driving a stolen car towards freedom and love. Needless to say, the journey to get there is fraught. He tells it to us in an extended flashback, reflecting powerfully on the brutal path through fire he has walked in the hope of something better, something more.
In true Winton style, Jaxie is an outsider. Having lost his mother to cancer, he lives in a small town with his brutally violent father. He is troubled at school and ignored by the community, despite their knowledge that his father beats him regularly. A terrible twist of fate offers Jaxie the opportunity to leave it all behind. He heads to the salt flats and the wilderness to hide out before making his escape. It is in the midst of this sparse, unforgiving landscape that Jaxie comes across disgraced priest Fintan MacGillis. Fintan has been defrocked and banished by the Church, not for what you would think, but essentially to keep him quiet and under control. He’s visited every six to twelve months and given supplies, but there is no guarantee how long this arrangement will last. It’s obvious that Fintan has experienced great grief and trauma, and sees his isolationism as some sort of penance or teaching moment from God. Despite all of this he nevertheless welcomes Jaxie into his small patch of earth. They are both wary of one another at first, particularly Jaxie who has only ever been damaged by adults he’s encountered. Their stay together initially focuses on the day to day activities of hunting, cooking, looking after the property, but soon they begin to confide in one another. Both realise they are each looking for the same things – a sense of purpose, hope and redemption. The tension and intrigue build to a thrilling crescendo with a final act that sees both men achieving that for which they yearn.
The book explores a wide range of interesting ideas mostly related to faith and salvation, both common Winton subjects. It specifically examines whether faith is a part of our humanity – not necessarily faith in a god or god figure, but in the greater good or the belief that one can become better. It also examines the role of toxic masculinity in shaping young men. Jaxie is not just bruised by his father’s beatings, but also by the message that sensitivity, emotional vulnerability and deep thinking is weak. Jaxie’s only example of manhood is silence and rejection. Part of the deliverance offered to him by Fintan is a strong example of the opposite of this – the benefits of talk, the strength to be gained from self-reflection, the permission to be emotionally honest. Fintan gifts Jaxie with an alternate understanding of what being a man, and a good man, is about and convinces Jaxie that this is still possible for him.
The qualities that makes Winton’s writing so good is both his visceral evocation of place and, in the words of critic Rachel Seiffert, “his gift for making the vernacular lyrical”. The landscape is presented as both awe inspiring and terrifying. At once threatening and unforgiving, and then loving and supportive. Similarly, despite Jaxie’s uneducated laconic reflections and observations, there is exquisite poetry in how Winton presents his world view.
With this novel, Winton achieves well what he does so often – making the uniquely Australian seem universal. He’s a beautiful story teller.
In true Winton style, Jaxie is an outsider. Having lost his mother to cancer, he lives in a small town with his brutally violent father. He is troubled at school and ignored by the community, despite their knowledge that his father beats him regularly. A terrible twist of fate offers Jaxie the opportunity to leave it all behind. He heads to the salt flats and the wilderness to hide out before making his escape. It is in the midst of this sparse, unforgiving landscape that Jaxie comes across disgraced priest Fintan MacGillis. Fintan has been defrocked and banished by the Church, not for what you would think, but essentially to keep him quiet and under control. He’s visited every six to twelve months and given supplies, but there is no guarantee how long this arrangement will last. It’s obvious that Fintan has experienced great grief and trauma, and sees his isolationism as some sort of penance or teaching moment from God. Despite all of this he nevertheless welcomes Jaxie into his small patch of earth. They are both wary of one another at first, particularly Jaxie who has only ever been damaged by adults he’s encountered. Their stay together initially focuses on the day to day activities of hunting, cooking, looking after the property, but soon they begin to confide in one another. Both realise they are each looking for the same things – a sense of purpose, hope and redemption. The tension and intrigue build to a thrilling crescendo with a final act that sees both men achieving that for which they yearn.
The book explores a wide range of interesting ideas mostly related to faith and salvation, both common Winton subjects. It specifically examines whether faith is a part of our humanity – not necessarily faith in a god or god figure, but in the greater good or the belief that one can become better. It also examines the role of toxic masculinity in shaping young men. Jaxie is not just bruised by his father’s beatings, but also by the message that sensitivity, emotional vulnerability and deep thinking is weak. Jaxie’s only example of manhood is silence and rejection. Part of the deliverance offered to him by Fintan is a strong example of the opposite of this – the benefits of talk, the strength to be gained from self-reflection, the permission to be emotionally honest. Fintan gifts Jaxie with an alternate understanding of what being a man, and a good man, is about and convinces Jaxie that this is still possible for him.
The qualities that makes Winton’s writing so good is both his visceral evocation of place and, in the words of critic Rachel Seiffert, “his gift for making the vernacular lyrical”. The landscape is presented as both awe inspiring and terrifying. At once threatening and unforgiving, and then loving and supportive. Similarly, despite Jaxie’s uneducated laconic reflections and observations, there is exquisite poetry in how Winton presents his world view.
With this novel, Winton achieves well what he does so often – making the uniquely Australian seem universal. He’s a beautiful story teller.