TEST
Christina Baker Kline, a usually fine fiction writer, gives us a story that’s well-sketched but only marginally gripping with The Exiles, a novel about women convicts living in an Australian penal colony, and the aboriginal teenager struggling against white oppression who becomes a friend.
Evangeline Stokes, a governess who is sentenced to jail for larceny and the attempted murder of a fellow servant, is sent to Newgate Prison with little hope of reprieve or escape. The reasons for her crimes are (naturally) understandable – the servant she pushed had lied to her employer about why a valuable heirloom was on Evangeline’s dresser. The ring found in her possession was the property of her employer, but it had been given to her by the woman’s stepson, Cecil, who had impregnated Evangeline before absconding abroad.. It’s soon clear that Van Dieman’s Land, Australia, where female convicts have been sent to help tame this new world, will be her only chance to escape a much harsher fate.
In jail, Evangeline makes friends with the fiery and also-pregnant Olive, as well as the cynical pickpocket Hazel Ferguson, who has healing and midwifery skills that will make her valuable in their new home. Both women soon take the vulnerable Evangeline under their wings, and when cruel fate sweeps her overboard, they take charge of her infant. Soon Hazel alone is in charge of the girl they name Ruby, and must use her wits and her skills to keep her alive.
Mathinna, an aboriginal teenager christened Mary by the missionaries who are decimating her people, meets Hazel and Olive when they land in Hobart Town, Hazel becoming her nursemaid and teacher. Mathinna has been adopted to the custody of a noblewoman who treats aboriginal children like toys to be abused and then murdered and thrown away, by Sir John, a man who sees Mathinna’s ‘civilization’ as a point of pride. But her cleverness and her inability to blend into their way of life mark her out as someone different. All the while Mathinna never forgets her true family, her true way of life.
The Exiles suffers from one simple, spoiler-rich fact – we spend an awful lot of time with someone who ends up dying well before the half-way point, making her struggles feel both unimportant and, to a degree, for naught. Life may be simply Like That – unresolved, with ends dangling – but fiction abhors a vacuum. In fact, aside from Hazel and Olive, it doesn’t feel as if any of the characters actually get to do much evolving.
The worst of the lot happens to Mathinna, who feels less like a full character with a purpose, and more like a neon arrow pointing out the abuses that befall her. Those abuses need to be discussed, pointed out and examined in detail – but perhaps not in a fictional format such as this one. For this is one of those books where suffering builds character for a chosen few, and the rest must suffer until they die or become somewhat uncreative ghosts. And suffer. And suffer some more. Of course this was the lot in life of the women who came over on the boats, and by the last half of the book the plot picks up beautifully, but the endless drubbing isn’t exactly exciting, and it’s hard to invest in such a misery show. Life was shit for people who suffered this way – but to what end?
There are a grand total of three kind supporting characters – the rest are abusers, unfeeling parts of the system, or both. Again: life for a convict was hard. No one expects a picnic. But one is left feeling cheated because we’re so robbed of proper endings for multiple characters.
Overall, the book doesn’t reach Baker Kline’s normal heights, and instead falls just short of her usual watermark. But those who don’t mind a little misery business might like The Exiles better than I did.
Buy it at: Amazon, Audible, or your local independent bookstore
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Grade: C-
Book Type: Historical Fiction
Sensuality: Kisses
Review Date: 19/09/20
Publication Date: 09/2020
Recent Comments …
Yep
This sounds delightful! I’m grabbing it, thanks
excellent book: interesting, funny dialogs, deep understanding of each character, interesting secondary characters, and also sexy.
I don’t think anyone expects you to post UK prices – it’s just a shame that such a great sale…
I’m sorry about that. We don’t have any way to post British prices as an American based site.
I have several of her books on my TBR and after reading this am moving them up the pile.
Lisa Fernandes is a writer, reviewer and recapper who lives somewhere on the East Coast. Formerly employed by Firefox.org and Next Projection, she also currently contributes to Women Write About Comics. Read her blog at http://thatbouviergirl.blogspot.com/, follow her on Twitter at http://twitter.com/thatbouviergirl or contribute to her Patreon at https://www.patreon.com/MissyvsEvilDead or her Ko-Fi at ko-fi.com/missmelbouvier
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This sounds like a pass for me too, even though the setting and circumstances sound fascinating.
“The worst of the lot happens to Mathinna, who feels less like a full character with a purpose, and more like a neon arrow pointing out the abuses that befall her.”
This is exactly what I was trying to convey when I made those controversial remarks about diversity in historical fiction that got lambasted on Twitter. I want characters, regardless of their background, race, ethnic group, etc. to feel like fully fleshed out people- not dropped into the story as a plot point, which sounds like what happened in this story.
Thanks for the review, Lisa.
That’s not what my remark denotes at all; my intent was to point out that I don’t like it when white authors use the suffering of people of other races – in this case, Aboriginal people – to create an endless vacuum of masturbatory misery without making their characters full-blooded people with goals and feelings. I have no idea what sort of controversial remarks you made on Twitter, but whatever they were they do not align with what I said.
“I have no idea what sort of remarks you made on Twitter…”
Sorry if I wasn’t clear. I meant that I commented on the ASK at AAR about the topic of “Does historical romance have a quality problem,” and that my comments about diversity were subsequently screen captured (incompletely, I might add) and lambasted on Twitter- which I didn’t find out about until a few days later since I don’t use Twitter.
“I don’t like it when white authors use the suffering of people of other races – in this case, Aboriginal people – to create an endless vacuum of masturbatory misery without making their characters full-blooded people with goals and feelings.”
Ah. I see what you’re saying (I hope I got it right this time!) And I think our concerns about the appearance of diverse characters in literature are loosely related, though somewhat different. My concern, which was grossly misinterpreted as bald-faced racism, is when authors put a diverse character into a book not to treat that fictional person as a well-rounded individual with a strong character arc, but to pat themselves on the back for being so inclusive- or to posture to cultural critics who obsess over fictional characters’ identity politics and intersectionality rather than their individuality.
“…but whatever they [your comments] were they do not align with what I said.” They probably didn’t, but how do you know if you haven’t read them. :)
Because I took into account both the way you phrased that comment and your behavior on last week’s thread, and was fairly certain that my intent and yours were not going to align on the subject. Your complaints about intersectionality and identity politics confirmed my initial reaction.
But I’ve looked up your comments anyway, and my original instinct was correct. Having gone back to read the post, I definitely disagree with what you had to say there and my review does not align with that stance. The notion of authors including characters of color for so-called social strata is not what I’ve complained Kline is doing here. It’s not just Mathinna who’s underwritten here, some of the white characters are as well, but it’s twice as bad because it’s clear Kline did the research but didn’t use it to its full potential. Mathinna’s story deserves to be explored fully because we desperately need to have a conversation about the violence, murder, genocide, generational trauma and abuse that Aboriginal people suffered from colonizers, but Kline treats her instead as a sort of Australian Eponine.
To avoid having another discussion like the one we had last weekend, I will leave it at that.
And because I’m not logged in to edit this in – I do not think that Kline included the struggles of Aboriginal people in her book for critical praise or whatever NDP is suggesting above, but I also think that she may have been blinded to the fact that she’d failed to use Matthina properly – she pointed out the disgusting behavior of those who abused her, researched it well, made us feel pity for her, but did not provide us with the catharsis Matthina so richly deserved.
Thus my comment about being tired of brown and Black people’s misery being written through a white author’s lens. I’m not saying Kline didn’t try (he research and expose of real evils here are, again, commendable), but I’m also saying Matthina needed to be more than her misery.
…I really ought to have logged in before I commented, but yes.
“Because I took into account both the way you phrased that comment and your behavior on last week’s thread, and was fairly certain that my intent and yours were not going to align on the subject. Your complaints about intersectionality and identity politics confirmed my initial reaction.”
That’s fair enough. I know my “behavior” can be far from exemplary. :)
“Having gone back to read the post, I definitely disagree with what you had to say there and my review does not align with that stance. The notion of authors including characters of color for so-called social strata is not what I’ve complained Kline is doing here. “
I see. I think I understand your views a lot better now. Thank you. It sounds like we’ll have to agree to disagree then, which I hope you don’t consider a personal attack in any way.
I’ve been fascinated by Aboriginal Australian culture ever since I read Rabbit Proof Fence, but this sounds disappointing. Thanks for the review!
I didn’t realize Rabbit Proof Fence was a book. I know it was a movie that I ran across on TV years ago. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen it, but I remember the harsh landscape the children had to endure when escaping from the boarding school. Very depressing…
Definitely try to pick up some ownvoices titles on the subject if you can.