Book Review - The Kelly Outbreak by John McQuilton

 The Kelly Outbreak 1878-1880: the Geographical Dimension of Social Banditry by John McQuilton

Melbourne: Melbourne University Press, 1979          ISBN 0522841805

After recently reading Peter Carey's True History of the Kelly Gang I thought I would temper fiction with fact, and pulled out the book under review to get closer to the truth not only of Ned Kelly and his adventures, but also to the situation he found himself in, which led to many of the choices he made during his life.

As the title suggests, McQuilton has gone much further than a re-hash of Kellys life and crimes. He firstly sets the scene by discussing the history of settlement in North Eastern Victoria, describing the interaction between squatters, selectors and miners, particularly the failure of the laws around land selection to either provide the selectors with enough land for survival or enough freedom to create a prosperous life for them and their families. Meanwhile the squatters actively tried to discourage selection, and often gamed the rules for their own benefit.

This antagonism played out in various ways, from selectors duffing squatter's cattle for food and profit, and squatters (who were often also councillors and magistrates or justices of the peace) using the heavy hand of the law to get their way and intimidate any who opposed them. While McQuilton downplays ethnic and religious differences, these also fed into an "us against them" feeling from the selector class, with "them" including the police, who became very unpopular with many selector families.

The police themselves were a distinct group in the North East. Many were not from the area (due to a policy decision made in Melbourne), and most were not trained properly for the tasks they were required to do (McQuilton describes a lack of ability in the bush, and to use their firearms). Their strategies to control those they perceived to be behind much of the illegal activity in the area was one of continual harassment, which fell on some families more than others.

One family/clan that garnered particular attention from the police were the Quinn family, of which Kelly was a part (his mother was a Quinn). They were seen by the police as both cattle and horse thieves, and members of the family were constantly being hauled before the courts. In an appendix McQuilton lays out every instance where members of the Quinn clan were arrested between 1856 and 1880 for charges such as stealing, assault and abusive language. The thirteen people listed were arrested 73 times for various offences. Forty one times (56%) the arrested person was discharged. This fact goes not only to the incompetence of the police, but also to a definite perception, if not a reality, of persecution of the family.

The police were also not above framing the Quinns as well. It seems clear that Alexander Fitzpatrick created or at least massively exaggerated an incident at the home of the Kellys during which he was shot. What Fitzpatrick claimed was attempted murder Kelly always claimed was an act of self-defence on his part. It seems Kelly's version of events is probably closer to the truth than Fitzpatrick's.

This incident was the beginning of the two years when Ned and his brother Dan went bush to evade capture. Soon afterwards were the Stringybark Creek murders. That Ned shot and killed three police is not under any doubt. The full circumstances of the incident will never be known, but once done there was only ever going to be one ending for the members of the Kelly gang.

McQuilton well describes the shambolic police response to the Kelly outbreak - a mix of incompetence, petty jealousies between officers and heavy-handed actions that antagonized the public - the beginning of the divide between those who praised Kelly as some kind of Robin Hood, and those who demonized him as a psychopathic killer. He was neither.

The mystery surrounding why Kelly donned armour and faced the police at Glenrowan occupies McQuilton, because he subscribes to (and tries to fit the Kelly outbreak into) Eric Hobsbawm's theory of social banditry. It does seem that Kelly might have intended the Glenrowan affair to be the start of some sort of uprising in the region, given McQuilton's evidence of other armed men gathered around the Glenrowan Inn during the siege. It could also be that Kelly was staging this event to try and bargain for his mother's release from prison, which is a theory that has some support.

For a person and events that are so deeply ingrained into Australian culture, it can be surprising to a neophyte just how much of the Kelly story is unknown, or contested. I thought I knew a fair bit about the story, but I have certainly learned some new things reading this book. Some of the things I learnt from the excellent apparatus that comes with this book: the appendices have already been mentioned, one of which is a wonderful bibliographic essay which gives much insight into where Peter Carey gained a lot of his inspiration for his fiction - in fact fictional works have formed an integral part of the legend, and trying to separate the real from the imagined in this story is an ongoing effort.

There is no doubt that Ned Kelly is one of the more interesting figures of white Australian history. The Kelly Outbreak is a comprehensive look at not only Kelly's life and crimes, but an excellent piece of social history. Highly recommended.

Cheers for now, from

A View Over the Bell

Book Review - City of Women by David Ireland

 City of Women a Novel by David Ireland

Ringwood, Vic: Penguin Books Australia. 1981       ISBN 0140058214

I think I might have tackled David Ireland's works the wrong way around. Not long ago I read A Woman of the Future, (review here) the first Ireland novel I had read, and have now just finished the book under review, and both books have been strange experiences.

City of Women is a short novel of episodes, possibly written in the form of letters by Billie Shockley to her lover Bobbie, who has left Billie to advance her career as a water engineer. Disturbingly, as the novel moves on, the reader is brought to the realisation that Bobbie is also Billie's daughter. This trope continues an undertone of incest that occurred in A Woman of the Future, and seems, to me at least, to be there perhaps for shock value, as it adds little to the story. Another trope that carries from book to book is that of the leopard - after Bobbie leaves, a leopard turns up at Billie's doorstep and moves in... she calls the leopard Bobbie as well, which leads to (intended) reader confusion as to whether Billie is addressing human Bobbie in a letter or leopard Bobbie as she walks the city.

Confusion and skewed horizons are definitely one of the things Ireland is trying to achieve in City of Women. The title alludes to the fact that in the novel the centre of Sydney is a female-only zone - men have been excluded. Men are seen both as threats (they come into the city to attack women, and the women routinely talk of wiping them out), and also as sexual toys (women routinely kidnap men and rape them). As is the case in A Woman of the Future, this strange sci-fi situation is not clearly explained - it is up to the reader to fill in the many gaps as to why and how this situation has come about, how it is enforced and the relationship between the city of women and the suburbs, where marriage, kids and "normal" life seem to continue (in fact we learn of several women that have gone out to the suburbs to live that life, as well as women including Billie who have come the other way).

The novels structure consists of short chapters, which are each about a different woman, although they always loop back to the pain Billie feels at losing Bobbie. The women who Billie describes in her letters are all strange characters in their own ways; many of them have come to Billie because she is some sort of healer - the strange maladies of the city of women such as tooth abatement or vaginal stirring are another trope throughout the book. Much of the action of the novel occurs in pubs, particularly the "Lover's Arms". Interestingly, although all the characters are women, they act out in seemingly male ways, drinking, fighting and treating lovers more casually than they should. I can't decide whether Ireland is deliberate in this or not.

In fact that is the problem I have had with both A Woman of the Future and this novel. I personally can't believe in the female-ness of his female characters. To me, he has turned them into men, they just don't ring true as women in their attitudes, the way they live or indeed the way they love - Billie's longing for Bobbie to me seems a male rather than a female desire.

While A Woman of the Future won a Miles Franklin award, it seems that City of Women (which was his next novel after A Woman of the Future) had a more mixed reception. After reading it, I can understand why. Whereas A Woman of the Future, despite it's quirks, was breathtakingly adventurous, City of Women lacks a narrative thread, and lacks any sense of a developing story. The unfilled gaps in the situation become frustrating rather than intriguing, and I was left unfulfilled at the end.

That stated, the writing is good and at times striking, and some of the individual vignettes are wonderful little set pieces.

I'm not sure that David Ireland can be classed as a great Australian writer, but he is certainly a significant one. His experimental fiction might seem a little dated now, and I think that if you choose to try him out, I wouldn't start with City of Women. I will give him another run though at some stage.

Cheers for now, from

A View Over the Bell