A drizzly, chill morning. Sun will likely return by Sunday, with temperatures rising into the 60’s F! There is a hint of spring in the air, and smiles on many faces.
I’m reading Australian writer, Joan London’s, marvelous novel, The Golden Age. The book, which takes place in a children’s polio rehab facility in about 1954, garnered several literary awards. In the novel we meet a diverse group of people who are impacted by the virus; we are also informed of the myriad ways polio, the war, and the Depression intertwine to change the lives of everyday Australians.
I read for a while this morning, while waiting for a meeting with my physiatrist. As I sat in the large waiting room, I found myself transported by the riveting narrative that includes numerous polio stories, an early teen romance, the complexities of being an adult in post war Australia, and the challenges of parenting in a an epidemic.
The story takes place in an epoch not unlike our own, a time of great change and imminent peril. Desperation runs just below the surface of the characters’ lives as each attempts to adjust to both everyday events and the grand background narrative of turmoil and recovery. As has again become the case in our much U.S. culture, the novel’s world, at least thus far, is a distinctly European one: the main characters are a young boy and his parents, all Holocaust survivors, whose world seems devoid of Aboriginal Australians and the racism that seethes in Australian society.
Still, prejudice is always present, whether against persons with disability, the individuals and families touched by polio, or those of lower socioeconomic status. Also present are the hopes and dreams of those represented, and the fears they harbor for futures shaped by prejudice, trauma, and disability, even within a culture committed to seeing to the rehabilitation, as much as could be accomplished, of those who had fallen victim to the virus. The children, and their families, are not left to their own devices, nor do the children abandon one another, even as each must make their own way in a new and challenging world.
The story world of the book is, for me, both familiar and not. Even though I was struck down by the virus in the time frame of the book, my story branched out in its own inevitably unique trajectory. Still, the similarities outweigh the differences and the tastes, smells, and textures of post polio recovery fill my awareness as I read. I’m about 2/3 of the way through the book, and am curious to see what happens next.
6 thoughts on “Australia, 1954”
And now, I am curious too. Would like to hear your summation. Wishing you a great week.
I can’t say much about the remainder of the book without giving away the story. Suffice to say I am not certain about the ending, but it is growing on me as I have time to sit with it. I do think the author has a firm grasp on the difference a second major trauma can have in one’s life. Anyway, I found the book to be a remarkable read and recommend it highly.
Oh, the ending left me unsure of the book until someone pointed out to me that the ending of the book was about the inevitability of returns, both that of love and of polio, the later in the form of post polio syndrome. Oddly, I developed PPS while in high school, a rarity as usually folks have about thirty years before the viral rebound. I wonder whether that led me to miss the turnings that ended the story. I still think it the best polio novel I have read.
Some books are talking to us and others not. Great that you found one, as do talk to you, Michael 🙂
Irene, I often give away books. I try to remind myself that not all books speak to all people. Giving away books then becomes something of an adventure, a leap into the unknown.
I like that idea, Michael 🙂