Welou, My Brother by Faith Bandler (1984)

This one shares the quiet spirit of its predecessor, Wacvie, but has considerably less dramatic arc. Bandler delights in coolly celebrating domestic detail, in a straightforward way, emphasizing whatever is uppermost in her characters' minds and most important to them. It is fictionalised in a specific sense, that of being formed to read like a novel. My feeling is that it is not fictionalised in the sense of being an invention of facts. It is the story of Bandler's brother over a few years of his childhood in country northern New South Wales, living with his Islander father, Wacvie, his mixed race mother, Ivy, several brothers and his new little sister Lefan - I'm wondering if she may be the author. Bandler speaks lovingly of the family and their community and their interactions, helping each other, lending each other horses and workers so as to keep their farms running; children staying with other families to pursue education or work, or to provide the childless with company and assistance. There is a feeling to this one that it may have originally been intended to be part of something longer; it ends oddly and unimpactfully at a point where so much more could have continued happening. Perhaps Bandler tired of it, and it was seen to be complete enough as it stood to publish? And there is the issue of the lack of dramatic arc - really the small domestic details are all there is of this - but I would contend they are all there needs to be, they are strangely satisfying in themselves. My criticism of Wacvie stands for this one too, though - there is an emphasis on dignity in these characters which means that the salty bloodrush of life, our human equivocation, is not deeply pictured, though some small nips of it are there.

Wacvie by Faith Bandler (1977)

This is a novel of quiet spirit. It impresses with its simple strength. It also has less compulsive elements where simplicity and quietness don't adequately serve the material. This fictionalisation of the story of Bandler's father begins on Ambrym, an island now in Vanuatu, then the New Hebrides, in the late Victorian or very early 20th century period. Its illustration of the civilisation of the island, its main points of reference and cultural beliefs, is intensely felt, with colour and moods and tastes well depicted. Then, puzzlingly, white men come to the island and its neighbours. They steal people, taking them off on their huge white-sailed ships, never to be seen again. Wacvie is one of these. His time in Queensland as a labourer on a sugar plantation, a virtual slave, forms the main part of the narrative. His growing awareness of the injustice of his position, and his retention of his simple outlook, are the main grace-points. We also meet Weloa, his friend, and Weloa's wife Emcon, who provide a picture of domestic life and privations in these harsh circumstances. There are also the white plantation managers and owners, who are perhaps less well-depicted. There are unbelievable angles in the life of Maggie, the manager's wife, and small errors of historical detail and minor anachronisms which mar their story a little. Eventually Wacvie, Weloa and Emcon run away from the plantation to New South Wales, and start again with their own small farms among other Islander people. There is warmth in their freedom, and a sense of somewhat restored plenty. I think what this story lacks most is a sense of the rush of life, its pulse beating through its veins - almost as though, in searching for dignity for these characters, Bandler has disallowed them some level of reality. Very forgivable when the main character is your father, in one sense, but tale-telling not well served in another.