Sarah is the youngest child of William Thornhill, the figure at the centre of `The Secret River'. William was a transported convict, now `an old colonist' who has a family, land along the magnificent Hawkesbury River, and money. No-one had settled this land before William, but even so, when he surveys his estate (on the last page of `The Secret River'): `He would not understand why it did not feel like triumph.' Readers of `The Secret River', knowing of the `affray' at Blackwood's will understand. But for much of Sarah's story, this event is an unknown part of the past.
Born in 1816, Sarah - called Dolly by her family - has played no part in the events of the past. Sarah's story is told in the first person. We learn of her life and her loves, and her illiteracy shapes the narrative in particular ways. New South Wales is home for Sarah and her generation: they cannot share their parent's nostalgia for Britain.
Sarah's first love is Jack Langland. Jack is the eldest son of Jack Langland, another settler, but not of Jack's wife: `Jack's mother was not Mrs Langland. She was a darkie, long dead.' Jack is the best mate of Will, William's son, and is a well-known to, and liked by most members of, the Thornhill family. But events, assisted by Sarah's stepmother, conspire to separate Jack and Sarah.
After Sarah's brother, Will, drowns on a sealing expedition to New Zealand, Jack brings Will's half-Maori daughter to her grandfather. This is a pivotal and ultimately very unhappy event in Sarah's story and has echoes from William Thornhill's past.
Sarah marries an Irish settler, John Daunt, and moves with him to the edge of European settlement. This is the part of the story I enjoyed most: the growing bond between John and Sarah. Here Sarah's voice is strongest and her world comes to life.
`That was what it was to belong to a place. To be brought undone by the music of the land where you'd been born.'
I didn't care for the end of the novel: while Sarah's journey to New Zealand makes its own form of sense for the story, it didn't work well for me in terms of the character. And it's hard for me to reconcile the following passage (beautiful as it is) with Sarah's illiteracy:
`How will I ever find a way to tell everything that brought me here? How I found myself in that place where the winter never stops blowing and nothing lies between the land and the ice at the bottom of the world but an ocean full of dark water? How tell the story of me and Jack Langland and a girl who only ever had someone else's name? Of those things left undone that we ought to have done, and those things done that we ought not to have done?
Rippling away into all those lives, down along the fathers and daughters and granddaughters. Generation after generation, the things joining us and the things cutting between us. All made by something done so long ago.'
This as a story about love, about family secrets, and about the hidden aspects of Australia's past. But I found that I did not care as much for Sarah's story as I did for William's. There are a few reasons for this, one of which is the unevenness of Sarah's voice, and another is the way the story ends. Although the three books are loosely linked as a trilogy, it isn't necessary to read `The Secret River' and `The Lieutenant' first.
I'd rate this book somewhere between 3 and 4 stars.
Jennifer Cameron-Smith