The novel is set in Tasmania, and centers around a young woman named Sonja Buloh, focusing on three periods of her life -- as a very young child living in the company of both her parents; as a slightly older child living with her father, after her mother walks out on them both during a fierce snowstorm; and as an adult, returned to Tasmania from Sydney, pregnant and filled with questions about her relationship with her difficult father, Bojan Buloh, an immigrant from Slovenia.
Much of the difficulty in their relationship stems from the intense pain and suffering experienced and witnessed by her father (and her mother, Maria) in their homeland, Slovenia, during World War II. The atrocities they have witnessed have scarred their psyches forever, like white-hot wires laid across their memories. Maria basically shuts down at long last, giving up on the dreams she has entertained about a 'new life' in Australia, seeing her husband slaving away on a hydro dam project -- work that seems to be reserved for 'wogs' like themselves.
Bojan has no idea of how to deal with the pain inside him. He feels inadequately eqipped to speak of it -- words mystify and then anger him in his inability to weild them to his satisfaction. After his wife disappears, he attempts to care for his young daughter as best as his abilities, finances and emotions will allow -- but his frustrations with his 'new land', his backbreaking work, and the horrors he has witnessed drive him to find a way to bury them all. He finds a way to do this by drinking himself into a stupor as often as he is able -- and when he gets drunk, the anger and pain find their way to little Sonja, who suffers terrible beatings at his hands. She resolves that when she can, she will leave and never return.
Sonja herself finds little to satisfy her emotionally in Sydney, where she settles as an adult. She has a relatively good job, working in a TV studio -- nothing glamorous, but steady -- but she feels that her life is empty, without direction. She returns to Tasmania, to visit her childhood home -- and Bojan, her 'artie' (in the old tongue) -- in an attempt to find herself, to answer some deep questions about her life.
The novel is mesmerizing, taking the reader on a journey both by Sonja and Bojan -- told in the present tense as well as in a series of flashback chapters, filling in the gaps, letting us in on the story of their lives, the whys and wherefores, the pain, and even a little joy. Working through their old memories and old issues -- and the disappearance of Maria, Sonja's mother -- is a painful process for them. Sonja almost gives up, then, almost on a whim -- or perhaps by instinct -- she decides to keep the baby she had previously decided to abort, and to stay in Tasmania.
The journey through all of this pain is a hard one to watch -- and it is a life-changing one for both Sonja and Bojan -- but it is a beautiful one, and inspiring. On p.358, it occurs to Sonja that perhaps she has misunderstood the concept of lost innocence: 'There was about Bojan Buloh that strange evening something that approached the most curious innocence. As if innocence, thought Sonja, were not something one had before it was lost, a natural state into which one was born before life sullied it forever, but rather something that could only be arrived at after one had journeyed through all the evil life could manifest. He was lost and condemned to loss, he was damned and lived with the damned, but somehow, somehow because of what he had lived through he had acquired an innocence.'
Finding innocence at the end of a road built almost exclusively on pain -- this is a blessing to discover.
This book is entertaining and well-written -- and well worth the time it deserves to experience fully.
Bojan's grief at the loss of Maria is compounded by memories of his early years. As a young Yugoslav partisan messenger, he witnessed war in all its viciousness. These aren't the fond childhood recollections of most of us. In Tasmania, he confronts the realities of immigrant life - exploitation, scornful neighbours, reduced status and few opportunities. A lesser man might cave in under such pressures, but Bojan is a tough bloke. Being tough, however, makes him neither happy nor successful. He survives with the help of the bottle, all the while expressing his resentment at the vagaries of his life. Some of that resentment falls, as it must, on Sonja. She represents the missing Maria.
Maria Bull's fading into a snowy Tasmanian night triggered dark guilt in Sonja - which she carries through her life. Their shared grief doesn't bring Sonja and Bojan closer. His drinking and violence only compounds Song's sense of detachment. She withdraws, although the spark of affection for Bojan never quite expires. Fleeing to Sydney, Sonja tries to shed the past, living the present intensely. Her grief is little assuaged as she uses a succession of men to compensate for, in effect, the loss of both parents. The ember of regard for Bojan dims feelings she might hold for another man. Cruel, drunken, cynical as he is, Bojan remains the one solid aspect of her life. It is to this lodestone she returns at last, in an attempt to take charge of her life. If "it is written," she determines at last to do her own writing.
Reviewing Flanagan inevitably evokes the tired clichés - "powerful" or "intense." While both terms apply, neither sufficiently addresses the quality of Flanagan's writing. One phrase, rarely applied to today's writers is "clarity." Although the story of Sonja and Bojan Buloh is told through broken chronology, Flanagan is able to hold the reader's attention throughout the tale. Skipping from present to past in a narrative is too often a distraction, but Flanagan manages the feat with unusal precision. Given the depth of feeling presented, he deserves high praise for his accomplishment. His story disturbs, sometimes repels, the reader, but the tale is never false nor the events contrived. His writing contains no cliches, nor is it tired. Only the reviewer is guilty of those sins.