It was pure coincidence that I’ve read two books in a row that deal with aspects of the British colonisation of Australia, lent to me by two different friends. Both books are written by noted Australian authors and deal brilliantly with their subject matter. It would be true to say that my reading of the second book, the novel Preservation was informed by the content of the earlier book The Good Country, an historical account of the invasion of white settlers in the territory of the Djadja Wurrung people.
Preservation is a brilliant novel, beautifully crafted and expertly told by award-winning writer Jock Serong. The book is a fictionalised account of the true story of a heroic journey through unknown territory by survivors of a shipwreck in 1797, at the dawn of European settlement of Australia. The merchant ship Sydney Cove ran aground during a storm on a rocky islet in the Furneaux Islands off the northeast coast of Tasmania. A group of survivors took the longboat to sail north to the fledgling colony of Sydney to mount a rescue and salvage mission, but were shipwrecked on the mainland coast at Ninety Mile beach in East Gippsland. The Sydney Cove was laden with valuable cargo, much needed for re-supply of the small settlement at Port Jackson. The group of seventeen survivors, comprising four British and thirteen Indian sailors, decided to walk north along the coast to Sydney, a journey of some 600 miles. Only three made it, and the story told by their leader, William Clark, merchant, is the official record of the episode, which is a little-known tale of adventure and misfortune in the earliest period of Australian colonisation.
Jock Serong has taken that official version and re-worked it, providing different perspectives and filling in the gaps with well-constructed and highly believable fictional narratives. Apart from Clark’s version, we get the perspectives of John Figge, tea merchant, and Srinivas, Clark’s Bengali valet. The stories are told to the aide to Governor John Hunter, Lieutenant Joshua Grayling and his high-spirited wife Charlotte.
From the opening chapter the reader is informed that almost nobody is telling the real truth, and nobody is who they seem to be. Indeed, the Figge character tells us very early that he is impersonating the real Mr Figge, now deceased. It is Figge’s frankness about his ideas and actions that contributes a sense of menace to the narrative. We become aware that the “heroic” tale of survival against overwhelming odds has an evil and vicious underbelly. This dark side unfolds in a series of conversations between Srinivas and Charlotte, in which the “true” fate of the 14 who did not make it to Sydney is revealed. (The official account of the real William Clark is silent on most of these matters.)
I must confess that I had to stop reading on occasions, because some of the episodes during the long walk caused me considerable distress. The character of Mr Figge was so malevolent, and the graphic descriptions of his cruelty and violence were quite shocking. He is a remarkable creation, this Mr Figge. Clearly a brutal, bestial man, he laces the narrative with a palpable sense of menace, which adds a Gothic flavour to the novel. On the other hand he is highly intelligent and acutely perceptive, and through his eyes the reader sees the journey from a profoundly different perspective from that of the weak, unpleasant William Clark. For example, Figge understood the way of the aborigines in surviving in the landscape, and had rare insights into many things that escaped the other dullard British men.
I was frequently appalled by the utterings of William Clark, a deeply unsympathetic character in the novel. We get the sense that he is lying from the start to protect his reputation and his commercial interests. The author has excelled in the creation of this character as a way of conveying the reality of many ambitious free settlers who emigrated to Australia to find their fortunes. He carried with him all the way a deeply nasty sense of white superiority, which reflected badly on his insensitive dealings with the dark-skinned people he encountered on the journey, both indigenous peoples in their territories, and the Indian sailors who set out with him. The same can be said for the other British characters, Kennedy and Thompson, whose craven urges and behaviours illustrated the ignoble side of the white colonists. We get a strong sense of the beliefs and thought processes of the real invaders who treated the indigenous inhabitants with such arrogance and brutality.
Preservation is also a delightful book on many levels. Some of the writing about the Australian bush and the Aborigines was quite lyrical and greatly enjoyable. For example there is a delicious passage in which Srinivas describes the behaviour of a bowerbird in its bower, which engaged me and lifted the mood of the narrative. Also, Charlotte Grayling's walks around the settlement at Port Jackson convey a love for the light and fresh air of the harbour location. Serong’s efforts to immerse the indigenous people in their country is admirable, and affords the reader small insights into the way of life before the invasion. I loved the idea of Srinivas staying absolutely mute to avoid the attention of his British masters, while seeing and hearing everything. His unbiassed account of the journey speaks to the importance of other versions of history, in which the voices of the oppressed and unseen need to be heard.
This novel is not one for the faint-hearted, particularly not for those who prefer their Australian stories in the armchair comfort of ‘rural lit’. It is a tough, confrontational read, but written with great skill, beautiful language and heart-stopping tensions. For me it was a 5 star read.