London: Angus & Robertson, 1979 (first published 1930) ISBN 0207142416
Redheap is a novel I've been meaning to read for quite some time. A product of Creswick's most famous son (although the point is arguable, given the town also claims an Australian Prime Minister, Victorian Premier and the founders of the Australian Shearer's Union, as well as the rest of the prolific Lindsay family. It also claimed my great-grandmother, who remembered John Curtin as a baby), Redheap was the first novel to be banned in Australia, for pornographic and blasphemous content, and wasn't available here until 1958, 28 years after publication.
If this book is anything, it's a comedy of manners, and perhaps a satire on the middle-class novels of the 1890s. It's certainly a satire on small-town morals, and a piercing expose of middle-class family politics. And in typical Norman Lindsay style, there are plump legs, pert breasts and lots of sex. The language he uses is of the era in which the book is set - the 1890s. There is much declaiming, and moralising to go along with the lying, affairs, and betrayals.
The novel revolves around the Piper family, especially the children, Robert, Hetty and Ethel, and their adventures in love and sex. Robert is the model of a disaffected youth, reading Byron, feeling hard done by: "the Misanthrope". His desires however, don't so much run to literature as to the pursuit of two things, beer and women. His claim to be a student is revealed as more a way to stay out of the family's drapery business, run by his older brother Henry and his father, who is completely ineffectual, a cypher in the family, and in the book. Robert seduces Millie, the Parson's daughter, only to get her pregnant. His tutor, the delightfully named Mr. Bandparts, helps Robert out of his pickle and on to University.
Hetty is the "conventional" figure in the book, in her austere courting of Dr. Niven, observing all the decorum of the age. She is frequently and publicly appalled at the doings of the other members of the household, not for their sakes, but for how it reflects on her. By the end of the book, she is the one loser, having lost Niven to her sister, and her authority in the house.
Ethel is seen as a shadow in the first sections of the book, appearing in the corner of scenes and not saying a word. However, she takes over the second part of the book, and we see her in her true light. She is having an affair with Arnold, the married owner of the bicycle shop, and one of the town's rowdies, who gets up to all sorts of japes with Robert and their other cronies. Arnold ends up falling completely under Ethel's spell, planning to leave his wife, burning down his bicycle shop to claim the insurance and flee to Sydney with her. In the meantime Ethel has gained the love of Dr. Niven, and has torn him away from Hetty.
Ethel is only interested in herself, and in enjoying the physicality of her life. "I love you....but I'll do what I please with my own life." This is Ethel's attitude, and she gets berated by Hetty and Arnold for it, but I think Lindsay treats her desire to have this attitude with respect; after all, for the men in the novel that is their normal way of life, so why not for the women?
There are some fine comic characters in the novel as well. Grandpa Piper, the old dodderer who absconds with the maid to Melbourne and spends most of the capital of the store. Uncle Jobson, another moraliser sponging on the family, and Reverend Kneebone, Millie's father: the very image of a fire and brimstone preacher who can't manage his own family.
The town of Creswick is also a wonderful feature of this book for me. There are several thinly disguised places (hotels) that are still there today, and the description of the Town Hall is spot on - as a member of the Creswick Brass Band, I've been in the very dressing rooms that Lindsay mentions in the novel.
What to make of this as literature? It's very much Lindsay expressing how he feels about small-town life (he didn't like Creswick at all), small-town people, and small-town morals. In the figure of Mr. Bandparts he pokes fun at the self-consciously literary, but it's clear that Lindsay wants for his characters to be free of the stultifying dullness of the non-literary life.
All-in-all, Redheap is a rollicking, funny and eye-opening book. An amusing way to spend a few hours.
Cheers for now, from
A View Over the Bell
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