book review: flyaway
Image: cover of Flyaway
In a small Western Queensland town, a reserved young woman receives a note from one of her vanished brothers—a note that makes question her memories of their disappearance and her father’s departure.
A beguiling story that proves that gothic delights and uncanny family horror can live—and even thrive—under a burning sun, Flyaway introduces readers to Bettina Scott, whose search for the truth throws her into tales of eerie dogs, vanished schools, cursed monsters, and enchanted bottles.
In these pages Jennings assures you that gothic delights, uncanny family horror, and strange, unsettling prose can live—and even thrive—under a burning sun.
Holly Black describes as “half mystery, half fairy tale, all exquisitely rendered and full of teeth.” Flyaway enchants you with the sly, beautiful darkness of Karen Russell and a world utterly its own.
‘These stories … like the tellers, are hybrids of tales from distant woods and forests. I cannot believe our silky oaks, our ironbarks, the shimmering brigalow are less handsome than those fabled groves, but the stories (even those, like us, half-made here) fit them uneasily.’ - Flyaway
Flyaway is Australian author Kathleen Jenning’s debut, and it is extraordinary. I have to begin this by saying that I’m not sure this would speak so strongly to non-Australians, or to people who aren’t well acquainted with rural living: I loved this for many reasons, but one of the strongest was that I could see it and feel it, intimately knowing its setting - or a version of it, anyway.
Flyaway is set in a small town in rural Queensland, called Runagate. Its strange, reserved heroine, Bettina (Tink), was born and grew up there; she lives an insular, sheltered life with her mother, existing both within and apart from the small town, until one day she recieves a note which becomes the catalyst for her to delve into the mysteries of her past and the gaps in her memory. Her quest puts her back in touch with forgotten friends, and her journey is one to forge independence and rediscover autonomy by taking her history - and the history of the town she lives in - out of the shadows.
This novel is gorgeously written and beautifully woven; it is unnerving and claustrophobic and soaring all at once. It reminded me strongly of the film Picnic at Hanging Rock; Peter Weir is famed for using an almost-undetectable white noise in the soundtrack of the film, which sets watchers on edge (though they don’t realise why), even when they’re viewing scenes that are relatively innocuous. Jennings manages a similiar feat with her usettling whimsy, and the uneasy contrast of colonial and Indigenous histories occupying the same physicality; she captures the in-between places, the feeling of not-quite-belonging, and the mish-mash of imported mythos transplanted into a place that resists it with enviable skill.
Flyaway reveals its secrets slowly; as a reader, you must be patient and trust that Jennings is standing behind you (as it were), ready to steady you if you stumble. (She’s there, I promise; stop resisting and let the story take you.) I honestly enjoyed every part of this, from the flawed heroine to the gorgeous prose to the beautifully evocative imagery. If this is Australian Gothic, then sign me up.
Strengths:
A complex, beautifully woven narrative, linking multiple voices and stories;
Poetic, accomplished prose;
A flawed female protagonist with undiscovered strength and intriguing side characters;
An atmospheric, particularly Australian setting, with a skillful interplay of the mythological with contemporary issues and concerns.
One sentence summary:
Part Australian Gothic, part faery tale, part magical realism, and wholly excellent.