This intriguing farce – or (extremely dark) social satire – has a structure based on Jane Austen’s dictum on the scope of her novels. Her “small piece of ivory” quip, contained in a letter sent to a correspondent, has now become legendary though, at the time it was written, it was reserved for the consumption of an individual. In Perlman’s novel people are either stupid or bad, and they are all connected in one way or another despite the grades that separate them in terms of social class and occupation.
This is a very Melbourne book. Sydney, the northern capital, has the harbour and so you only need money to secure a position in the upper echelons of society, whereas Melbourne doesn’t so, it seems to me, indicators of class are more important, especially ones that cannot be displayed (though football is a great leveller down south). It seems that the barriers to entry to the ranks of the privileged are higher in the southern capital, but this is just my opinion.
I have no way to prove what I only feel to be true but Perlman went to a private secondary school in Melbourne’s east before graduating twice from Melbourne University. You would assume that what he writes about Australian society especially as it relates to children must have some basis in fact, but it is a fact that most of Australia’s managerial class lives in Sydney, as do most people involved in finance (the stock market is located in Sydney).
This is the second book from its time I’ve read recently that has crimes committed against children at its centre. The other was Bret Easton Ellis’ 2005 novel ‘Lunar Park’ (review published this month). Perlman’s book is also the second book I’ve read in recent times written by a barrister that takes a dim view of Capital and its workings. The other was by Sydney barrister Richard Beasley. Both men belong to an elite but disapprove of its ethos. An informed critic can be lethal.
Which brings me back to reflecting on how greed impacts the lives of individuals. This is the subject of Perlman’s book. This is what it is “about”. How does money change a person’s destiny? What forces are at play that go to make people happy or unhappy? What about pleasure and the ways that it is exploited in order to organise society?
Anthony Macris’ 2012 novel ‘Great Western Highway’ examines these ideas as well but where Perlman differs is that at the core of his novel is a crime. In order to help us fathom it the author takes us into the lives and into the very consciousnesses of a number of imagined individuals. The narrative is focalised through several characters in different ways. In one case a section of the book recounts a conversation between a psychiatrist and his patient, a man who is linked to the father of a child. The child is linked to another man by way of a crime and in another way as well (but I won’t spoil the book for those who have not read it). The father is linked to this man in a number of ways as well, notably through the man’s girlfriend.
The intricacy of the plot makes the book resemble an antique miniature, with poor perspective doing nothing to spoil the beauty of the artwork in the viewer’s eyes. In fact, strangeness in the work’s conception enhances its beauty. A flaw endows it with charm. The flaw in the novel being, of course, the proximity to one another, for the purposes of the plot, of the seven major characters that function within its mechanism.
The work reads like a who-done-it but the elaborate secondary elements it uses are where the real action happens. The tight plot is just the architecture upon which the poetics are suspended. The author is ambitious but he understands how compelling crime novels are for the average reader and, ironically considering the subject of the book, in response to market forces he has devised a hybrid that might have been better if it had read a bit faster. I got through over half the book but then felt swamped by the minutiae Perlman serves up, and stopped reading.
One major shortcoming is how Simon lacks appeal for the reader. His explanation for why he committed the crime he completed is not credible and the half-baked explanation he provides to justify his actions is all of a piece with a general dissoluteness. Despite the mental health issue in his life, I didn’t really see why he is supposed to be an interesting character.
The book would also have been better with more thorough proofing; there are some errors in here that are unfortunate but overall the quality of the copy is serviceable. I bought this book at the Duporth Book Exchange on the Sunshine Coast, probably in 2006 or in a year soon afterward. I hadn’t read it until now.
This is a very Melbourne book. Sydney, the northern capital, has the harbour and so you only need money to secure a position in the upper echelons of society, whereas Melbourne doesn’t so, it seems to me, indicators of class are more important, especially ones that cannot be displayed (though football is a great leveller down south). It seems that the barriers to entry to the ranks of the privileged are higher in the southern capital, but this is just my opinion.
I have no way to prove what I only feel to be true but Perlman went to a private secondary school in Melbourne’s east before graduating twice from Melbourne University. You would assume that what he writes about Australian society especially as it relates to children must have some basis in fact, but it is a fact that most of Australia’s managerial class lives in Sydney, as do most people involved in finance (the stock market is located in Sydney).
This is the second book from its time I’ve read recently that has crimes committed against children at its centre. The other was Bret Easton Ellis’ 2005 novel ‘Lunar Park’ (review published this month). Perlman’s book is also the second book I’ve read in recent times written by a barrister that takes a dim view of Capital and its workings. The other was by Sydney barrister Richard Beasley. Both men belong to an elite but disapprove of its ethos. An informed critic can be lethal.
Which brings me back to reflecting on how greed impacts the lives of individuals. This is the subject of Perlman’s book. This is what it is “about”. How does money change a person’s destiny? What forces are at play that go to make people happy or unhappy? What about pleasure and the ways that it is exploited in order to organise society?
Anthony Macris’ 2012 novel ‘Great Western Highway’ examines these ideas as well but where Perlman differs is that at the core of his novel is a crime. In order to help us fathom it the author takes us into the lives and into the very consciousnesses of a number of imagined individuals. The narrative is focalised through several characters in different ways. In one case a section of the book recounts a conversation between a psychiatrist and his patient, a man who is linked to the father of a child. The child is linked to another man by way of a crime and in another way as well (but I won’t spoil the book for those who have not read it). The father is linked to this man in a number of ways as well, notably through the man’s girlfriend.
The intricacy of the plot makes the book resemble an antique miniature, with poor perspective doing nothing to spoil the beauty of the artwork in the viewer’s eyes. In fact, strangeness in the work’s conception enhances its beauty. A flaw endows it with charm. The flaw in the novel being, of course, the proximity to one another, for the purposes of the plot, of the seven major characters that function within its mechanism.
The work reads like a who-done-it but the elaborate secondary elements it uses are where the real action happens. The tight plot is just the architecture upon which the poetics are suspended. The author is ambitious but he understands how compelling crime novels are for the average reader and, ironically considering the subject of the book, in response to market forces he has devised a hybrid that might have been better if it had read a bit faster. I got through over half the book but then felt swamped by the minutiae Perlman serves up, and stopped reading.
One major shortcoming is how Simon lacks appeal for the reader. His explanation for why he committed the crime he completed is not credible and the half-baked explanation he provides to justify his actions is all of a piece with a general dissoluteness. Despite the mental health issue in his life, I didn’t really see why he is supposed to be an interesting character.
The book would also have been better with more thorough proofing; there are some errors in here that are unfortunate but overall the quality of the copy is serviceable. I bought this book at the Duporth Book Exchange on the Sunshine Coast, probably in 2006 or in a year soon afterward. I hadn’t read it until now.
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