I didn't exactly grow up on a farm, and certainly not with horses
(always been a bit scared of them to be honest, even in the compulsory
tweeny horsey period), nor in the 1930s and 1940s. But my grandparents
were dairy farmers, and we spent plenty of our early years on the farm
doing farm stuff, town and city kids of school teacher parents that we
were. And my Nana had a stroke while she was hosing out the cow shed
after milking, at 72, and never recovered. A life of hard work on the
farm. My Grandad stuck on for a few more years, grubbing thistles,
milking, bailing and things, until another stroke left him writing notes
on a pad to communicate with us. A farming life is and always has been
tough. This is part of what came back and resonated with me reading
Foal's Bread, a marvellous, inspired and tragic novel about our farming
heritage.
The horses and the jumping are everything in the book, beautifully portrayed but I kept thinking about three things. The brutal, relentless life on the land. The tough life for girls growing up in these times, with tragic consequences lasting a lifetime and beyond. And the terrible blows that life can deal people, but leave them, somehow, grand and glorious. I don't want to give too much away but (as per my previous tweet) the opening chapter is stark, stunning and devastating and it's sadness runs all the way through the book, not in a sentimental way, but in a terrible tough way. The relationship between Roley and Noah is glorious and unbearable -such pain. And the sadness of the mother, so tough, so beaten down by the relentless blows of life, so awful but glorious in the way she hits out in response, and so ultimately terribly triumphant stays with me. But also, so do the cats, the wonderful mostly warm aunties and the tough judgmental Nin.
Truly I think Gillian Mears has written a great Australian novel that captures a time and a piece of history that is gone, but a part of our culture that is still there, with all its awful and its wonderful bits. And, as this is my first attempt at #tbkclub, at blogging and at any sort of book group, please forgive the over-use of adjectives.
@roseofhurlo (and @roseofadjectives as it turns out)
The horses and the jumping are everything in the book, beautifully portrayed but I kept thinking about three things. The brutal, relentless life on the land. The tough life for girls growing up in these times, with tragic consequences lasting a lifetime and beyond. And the terrible blows that life can deal people, but leave them, somehow, grand and glorious. I don't want to give too much away but (as per my previous tweet) the opening chapter is stark, stunning and devastating and it's sadness runs all the way through the book, not in a sentimental way, but in a terrible tough way. The relationship between Roley and Noah is glorious and unbearable -such pain. And the sadness of the mother, so tough, so beaten down by the relentless blows of life, so awful but glorious in the way she hits out in response, and so ultimately terribly triumphant stays with me. But also, so do the cats, the wonderful mostly warm aunties and the tough judgmental Nin.
Truly I think Gillian Mears has written a great Australian novel that captures a time and a piece of history that is gone, but a part of our culture that is still there, with all its awful and its wonderful bits. And, as this is my first attempt at #tbkclub, at blogging and at any sort of book group, please forgive the over-use of adjectives.
@roseofhurlo (and @roseofadjectives as it turns out)
I love the adjectives and you've got me in. Shall get Foal's Bread forthwith. Thanks for posting
ReplyDeleteMy whole childhood was spent on a dairy farm, so this resonates with me – maybe too vividly? I can't say because I haven't read it, but I have mixed memories of and feelings about farm life.
DeleteMy blog is littered with childhood stories of horses and me. But it's a mistake to imagine a dairy farm is only about milking cows, because in order to survive, it is really a mixed farm – cattle, horses, pigs, chooks, vegetables, grain-growing… any life form pretty much – and the romance of farming is only for visiting city dwellers, I'm afraid.
It was no picnic for me and sent my father to an early grave. For girls, it would have been equally hard.
Seems I better add this to my remarkably small bucket list.
Denis Wright
@deniswright
http://deniswright.blogspot.com.au/p/stories-from-my-early-life-chapters.html
Sorry - that wasn't really a response to Maz's comment so much as to the review itself. Never mind. I'm pretty sure @roseofhurlo will forgive me.
ReplyDeleteTo buy Foal's Bread online for $9.99:
ReplyDeletehttp://www.amazon.com/Foals-Bread-ebook/dp/B005X3W93A
Foal's Bread by Gillian Meares is certainly a compulsive read. After I started the book I found it impossible to put it down. Thank you @roseofhurlo for the recommendation.
ReplyDeleteThe language was, at times, beautiful. I, too, was moved by the reminder of the difficulties faced by those on the land in the rugged and remote Australian bush and, in particular, women. I was touched by the relationship between our heroine Noah and Roley
It was a tightly organized book and in this, I think, lay both its very strength and its few weaknesses. It was, and would always have been, very difficult to continue all through the book as meaningfully and as beautifully as Ms Meares began, the very precise parallel that she drew between the physical courage of Noah, with the emotional strength she displayed during her very difficult life. It was possibly what I felt to be the occasionally unbelievable overload of these difficulties, both during her outstanding horse riding triumphs and disapointments and issues in every other part of her life, that made this so hard to do. The characterisation of her emotional strengths and weaknesses became a little bit forced as the realities became less acceptable to me.
Nevertheless I empathised with her journey, ached for her much of the time, rejoiced with her sometimes but always admired her as an outstanding symbol of country people of the time, their flexibility, ingenuity and stoicism.
When authors suggest endings during a book and the tension in the book is therefore partly the distress the reader feels in the irresolvable journey to an end that is not wanted, this tension should be very strong. I did not think Ms Meares quite managed this, particularly in relation to an issue raised in the very first chapter.
I have bought a copy of this book as a gift for a friend. I feel confident that she will enjoy it as much as I did.
Anne Powles @Qyntara