The latest book in my journey through Australian Classics was Eucalyptus by Murray Bail. It presented a challenge when it came to determining whether or not it was a Classic or simply a good story. It was definitely the latter but it might be a bit too unique for me to call it a Classic. If something is too unique then it can be more easily misunderstood and may not be able to transcend time as easily as more mainstream Classic novels. This one read more like a fairytale for adults than a literary work, but the language used was no less beautiful than other novels I regard as Classics.
Murray Bail was born in Adelaide in 1941 and is well known within the writing industry. Eucalyptus was his third novel and won the Miles Franklin award when it was first published in 1999. It is a story about a young girl living in rural New South Wales whose father announces that anyone who can correctly name all the Eucalypts on his property – over 500 in total – will win her hand in marriage. The only problem is that the daughter, and wife-to-be, doesn’t want to win like this. Too wrapped up in his impressive collection of trees and a man who has nearly completed the challenge, the father is blind to his daughters’ objections.
What follows is a well-paced story about the challenge that spread across Australia and had competitors arriving and failing day after day. Ellen, the daughter, wanders amongst the trees that she grows to hate without really feeling that anyone would win; surely nobody could be as interested and devoted to Eucalypts as her father. Of course, this isn’t true and when Ellen is forced to face the consequences of her fathers’ decision she is led to despair. The ending is nothing short of shocking but is instantly satisfying to say the least.
Not only sophisticated wording, but scientifically accurate and botanically interesting facts about Australia’s greatest trees are cleverly interwoven to create an informative story that is simply captivating. Each chapter is named after a variety of Eucalypt and there is almost always a small informative passage within the chapter about that tree. People who love small chapters will enjoy this book, as each chapter is only a few pages in length. Fans of Eucalypts will also, no doubt, be enchanted with the analysis and comparisons made between similar varieties. For readers like me, with no botanical background or particular interest in this area, it isn’t full of jargon and Bail does well to make it interesting to all.
As well as having a great storyline, Eucalyptus is perhaps the only ‘love story’ that I have experienced that has not read like one. There is barely any hint of romance; no secret rendezvous emerge and triangles are decidedly absent. The only romance it yields is woven so lightly into the story that it is just evident enough to compel you to read on. As such, it is a great book for any female who knows what is it is to be confused by the ways of men. Also for any girl who has hoped for one man – dreamt of him, even – only to have no idea what he thinks of her, or if he even cares at all.
Eucalyptus was a great story that really roped me in. I simply had to race towards the last pages to find out what would happen to Ellen. Would she be forced to marry a man she doesn’t know, or could she escape? The book built up suspense not by dramatic plot points but by making me so attached to Ellen as a character that not finding out what happened to her simply wasn’t an option.
It was most definitely Australian in its telling – all the books I’ve read so far have fit quite easily into that category. Though, while the language was stunning and the telling was deceptively simple and expertly done, I still cannot call it a Classic. The more so-called Classics I read, the more confused I am getting over what exactly that is. So far it seems like the identifying of a Classic is a purely subjective decision and it is enormously frustrating. What does it take to become qualified to nominate something as a Classic? Who gets to make that decision? I do not feel qualified at all.