September 2015

Noted
by Helen Elliott

‘The Other Side of the World’ by Stephanie Bishop
Hachette; $29.99

Charlotte, the central character in Stephanie Bishop’s second novel, is young, beautiful and has a gift for painting. She also has two tiny girls, no gift for domesticity and a husband who is at a loss to understand her. It is the early 1960s, before second-wave feminism, before medication for depression. Depression was not a recognised fact. You just coped. Or didn’t.

The Other Side of the World covers three critical years in the life of Charlotte and her husband, Henry. The prologue, ‘1966’, takes us momentarily to the end of the story: Charlotte is in Cambridge on a snowy winter’s day, deciding her future. Self or family?

The story begins in October 1963. Henry, Anglo-Indian, kind, bookish, a lost boy in many ways, is an academic. He and Charlotte have a seven-month-old baby, Lucie. Charlotte, attending to Lucie and the house, wonders if she will ever paint again. They live in a damp cottage deep in the countryside and Charlotte’s release is walking through a gloomy landscape that reflects her malaise. Henry hates the climate and applies for a job in Australia. Charlotte is aghast at having to pull up her deep English roots, but too defeated to argue. She is also, most devastatingly, pregnant again.

In Perth it isn’t wet, they are not cold, but the sun and the heat are relentless. The garden Henry assiduously cultivates shrivels. When Henry has to return to India, Charlotte, predictably, falls in love with a neighbour. If you are uncertain who you are, it doesn’t matter where you are; the problems remain. And love? Where does it go?

A lecturer in creative writing at the University of New South Wales, Bishop has a doctorate in poetry, and this informs her thoughtful, intense prose. Her protagonist is impossible to like, but Bishop writes with such confidence that Charlotte’s choices are always interesting.

Bishop also writes with clarity about the competing demands in life. She questions ideas, and ideals, of motherhood that historically made it almost impossible for a woman to be creative without the world collapsing about her, or on her. Those postwar years can look glamorous and innocent, but glamour and innocence were dependent upon monstrous inequalities. Elizabeth Harrower, who was there, has written about similar distress. Perhaps her work influenced Bishop, although Bishop has none of the particular Harrower steel forged by malice and distress. Bishop has written a confronting novel, addressing issues from those seemingly faraway times that can still resonate today.

Helen Elliott
Helen Elliott is a literary journalist and writer.

Cover

September 2015

In This Issue

Labor’s new game

Kevin Rudd gave the ALP its best chance for stable leadership

‘A Guide to Berlin’ by Gail Jones

Random House; $32.99

The rag trade

How charities transform the clothes we throw away

Another speaker

A dinner date with Billy Snedden


Read on

Image from ‘House of Cards’

The magnificently messy ‘House of Cards’

The show that made Netflix a major player comes to a satisfying and ludicrous end

Image of Scott Morrison and the ScoMo Express

The ScoMo Express backfires

The PM’s farcical bus tour cements spin over substance as his brand

Image from ‘Suspiria’

Twisted sisters: Luca Guadagnino’s ‘Suspiria’

Sentimentality ruins the magic of this otherwise unsettling and actively cruel film

Image from ‘The Other Side of the Wind’

Orson Welles’s ‘The Other Side of the Wind’ and Morgan Neville’s ‘They’ll Love Me When I’m Dead’

The auteur’s messy mockumentary and the documentary that seeks to explain it are imperfect but better together


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