The Echoes is the fifth novel by award-winning Australian author, Evie Wyld. Max, the less-favoured son of James and Emily, teaches writing at a London university. He has never believed in ghosts, but now he is one. Stuck in the flat he shared with his girlfriend, Hannah, ignorant of how he died and, mystified as to what is keeping him there, he tries, with mixed success, to make his presence felt.
Hannah escaped her life in rural Western Australia to live in a flat in London, in view of the place she has felt homesick for, ever since she first saw a photograph of her maternal grandmother, Natalia, standing in front of Natalia’s grandfather’s Barcombe Avenue house. In London, she can become someone else. Questions from Max about her family are evaded; letters from her mother are ignored; secrets and lies cover things she doesn’t want to remember.
Kerry and Piers bring up their daughters Rach and Hannah on their goat farm, a corner of a place called The Echoes, near Wilma, WA, where once stolen children were trained in the schoolhouse by Francis Manningtree’s mother. Uncle Tone and his girlfriend Melissa are there too. Piers might be the only one who doesn’t have a past he wants to forget, the only one who doesn’t have memories and bad feelings he buries in the dirt.
Mrs Manningtree would say “Yes it was, of course, hard for a child to be taken from its family, but it was all for the good. Imagine not having a roof, a bed, canned food to eat, a lavatory to sit on. They were different, the Blacks, they didn’t feel the same about their families, they got over things quicker, were used to it. Often when they arrived they didn’t even know how to wash themselves, poor things, basic hygiene escaped them” but Francis is no longer convinced. His second son acts to effect a rescue.
Why Hannah meticulously makes multiple cups of coffee but never drinks them, why she paints their flat in dark colours, why she keeps a small cube of broken green glass, mysteries to which Max may never learn the answer, even if the patient reader eventually does.
Why Kerry bakes inedible cakes and jam tarts, why Anthony eats them, why Kerry downplays her cleverness, her sharpness, her seriousness, with silliness, are things that Piers doesn’t understand. Anthony does, though: “She is hiding herself for safety. Rach, a carbon copy of how Kerry used to be. She’s funny and sharp and tough.”
Melissa does, too: “they are both pretending at something – just like a child’s tea party. They’ve both reached for something beyond them and in order to keep up the pretence they have to be different people, so that when truth comes looking it won’t recognise them.”
Multiple narrative voices, two in the first person, relate a story over three timelines that are clearly delineated. The title could apply to the place where Hannah and her sister grew up, but there are lots of echoes within the story, and repetitions. The reader might wonder if victimhood of child sexual abuse is inherited, not through the genes, but an echo of lived experience. Might there be an identifiable traumatic cause up the ancestral line?
Wyld sets her scenes with evocative descriptive prose; her characters, multi-faceted and complex, can’t help drawing the reader’s empathy. Moving and powerful.
This unbiased review is from an uncorrected proof copy provided by NetGalley and Random House UK/Vintage.