Gail Jones

"Sorry"

(Reviewed by Mary Whipple JUN 2, 2008)

“This is a story that can only be told in a whisper.  There is a hush to difficult forms of knowing, an abashment, a sorrow, an inclination towards silence.  My throat is misshapen with all it now carries.  My heart is a sour, indolent fruit.  I think the muzzle of time has made me thus, has deformed my mouth…At first there was just this single image: her dress, the particular blue of hydrangeas, spattered with the purple of my father’s blood.”

Australian author Gail Jones, who has won major recognition and prizes in Australia for every book she has written over the past seventeen years, has achieved another notable milestone with Sorry, which has been nominated for the Miles Franklin Award for Best Novel of 2008.  Set in remote and sparsely populated Western Australia in the early 1940s, the novel recreates the life of Perdita Keene, a ten-year-old child not wanted by her British expatriate parents, who had hoped she would die at birth.  Perdita, whose childhood is formed by the aborigine women who nursed her in infancy, develops a strong friendship with Mary, an aborigine girl five years older, and Billy, the deaf-mute son of the Trevors, who run a local cattle station.  All three children are outcasts, and their bonds with each other are total and life-affirming.

The murder of Perdita’s father, described in the opening pages, is at the core of the novel, and the circumstances surrounding the case are not clear.  All three children witness the crime, but Perdita, the narrator for most of the novel, is so traumatized that she cannot remember any of the details except a blood-spattered blue dress, made from a fabric used to make several dresses for several different wearers.

If there is such a genre as “Australian Gothic,” this novel would be one of its best-written examples.   The sights, sounds, and smells of the bush, filled with storms, heat, dust, and exotic birds and animals, vibrate with life—and death—both physical and spiritual.  Perdita’s father has long lost his academic interest in research on aborigine myths and leads a mean-spirited and abusive life.   He compulsively maps the progress of World War II battles, posting photographs of gory battle scenes, which he cuts from the newspaper.

Her mother, who seeks life lessons and values in the plays and sonnets of Shakespeare, which she has memorized almost in their entirety, is hospitalized periodically because she loses touch with reality.  She scorns her husband, hates motherhood, and despises her life in their tiny, shack, crowded with pillars of books and papers, and invaded by mice and snakes. 

Perdita, “the lost one,” appropriately named for a character in Shakespeare’s The Tempest, finds a sense of self with the aborigines, who value the continuum of life, not merely a set of static principles, like the whites who have driven them from their ancestral lands and forcibly removed their children.  These children, warehoused  in dormitories and schooled to remove all traces of their own culture, learn trades so that they can wait on those “civilized” inhabitants who have taken their lands.  Perdita is, on some level, aware of the injustices, having observed the rape of young aborigine girls (which she does not understand), and she finds solace and a sense of order in aborigine culture which she does not see in her own.  She understands and loves the sense of kinship and sharing which govern their lives, as opposed to the cult of the individual which she sees in her own society.

As Jones develops her story, she uses the battles of World War II, studied by Perdita’s father, to parallel Perdita’s own troubles and to illuminate the contrasts within Perdita’s life, emphasizing the novel’s major themes of war and peace, oppression and liberation, and order and chaos, both in society and within the individual.   Entitled “Sorry” to honor the abused aborigine population, Jones notes that the federal policy of “removing” children continued until 1977, and that as recently as 1997, Prime Minister John Howard refused to acknowledge that the nation was “sorry,” despite popular sentiment.  This refusal resulted in the establishment of the first “National Sorry Day” in 1998, and initiated attempts at reconciliation with the indigenous community. 

Jones’s novel is not a political screed, nor is it a story about a national shame, except peripherally.   It is a story about a child, Perdita, who finds herself caught between two worlds—and learns the worst and the best about both.  Lyrical, sensual, and full of passion, Sorry is a novel that makes no apologies for its emotion or its dramatic intensity.  For the author, they are all part of being “sorry.”

  • Amazon readers rating: from 1 reviews

Read a chapter excerpt from Sorry at Open Democracy



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About the Author:

Gail JonesGail Jones was born in 1955 in Harvey, Western Australia. She was educated at the University of Western Australia.

Jones has written two collections of short stories, and two other novels before Sorry. Her second novel, Sixty Lights, was longlisted for the Man Booker Prize in 2004, shortlisted for the 2005 Miles Franklin Award, and won several other Australian book awards. Dreams of Speaking was shortlisted for the 2007 Miles Franklin Award and Sorry is shortlisted for the 2008 Miles Franklin Award.

She has traveled extensively and is currently an Associate Professor in the English Department of the University of Western Australia. She teaches literature, cinema and cultural studies.

She lives in Perth, Australia.

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