Alex Miller: Journey to the Stone Country

Reviewed by David Larsen

Welcome to The Bridges of Madison County, Aussie-style. Page 1: Annabelle's husband dumps her. Page 22: she meets Bo Rennie, and the story's all over, apart from small matters like racial politics and genocide.

Bo, besides being a real man's man, is also the embodiment of all that's best in Aborigine culture. While his relatives sue the government for lost land and nurse their hatred of the invading Europeans, he quietly waits for the right moment to get his family land back and make something positive of his life.

The right moment being whenever Annabelle turns up. Bo grew up next door to her, though she never really noticed him. "I knew you was gonna come back one day." Now she has, all he needs to do is wait for her to fall for him. Then they can head off into the heartland together and rebuild the future.

So far, so ghastly. Annabelle is a non-person, lobbed into position to give the slightly more substantial Bo a European love-interest, so we can see how non-judgmental and accepting he is.

The harsh beauty of the Australian landscapes against which the story plays out is referred to, but rarely evoked: if you don't have prior knowledge of the country, this book won't come alive for you. Likewise, Annabelle is constantly spotting mystic Aboriginal wisdom in this character's glance or that one's walk, but somehow we never get a glimpse of it ourselves.

So why did this overwrought bit of pseudo-romantic bluster win Australia's prestigious Miles Franklin award? Because, I'd guess, of its one truly powerful scene, in which Bo's embittered relatives let Annabelle in on the truth about her family's acquisition of their land. You won't need to be a guilty white liberal to find this a bravura piece of writing.

You pretty much would need to be one to think it makes up for the rest of the book.

Allen and Unwin, $27.95