The Dog Rock By Miriel Lenore, Kent Town: Wakefield Press, 2005, 116 pages, paperback, $19.95. Reviewed by Tony Smith in the June 2005 issue. Help more readers find out about this article
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The production of history is no straightforward matter. At every stage, from research to interpretation to communicating findings, there are historiographical debates. Some scholars admit artefacts and physical evidence while others are sticklers for footnotes and documentation. Some insist that the appropriate term is 'histories', because divergent viewpoints are valid. In any case, the popularity of historical fiction and romance certainly suggests that many readers long to be immersed in a past era and happily embrace characters created for that specific purpose.
Miriel Lenore does not pretend to write in the way that professional historians do. Indeed, many readers would probably prefer to categorise The Dog Rock some other way. As her themes are highly personal, she takes what others might consider to be poetic licence, and communicates her findings in verse form. This inside-out writing style reverses the usual order whereby the scholar strives to remove himself or herself from the process and to produce disembodied reports in which the 'facts' speak for themselves.
Occasionally scholars acknowledge that there are circumstances in which some subjectivity is appropriate. In postmodern times, the use of narrative devices has become more accceptable in scholarly discourse. This is not just a matter of personal preference because it achieves specific purposes. Kate Grenville's Joan Makes History for example, broke several conventions in order to avoid the 'great man' straitjacket restricting the work of what feminist critics dubbed 'malestream' historians.
Lenore is justified in writing a creative history for Sarah Turk in that The Dog Rock is the story of her own genes. In other words, she is engaging partly in autobiography of a kind, and admits at several points that she preferred some discoveries to others. I want her to come from Hartfield
it's pretty, it's on the edge of the primeval wildwood
it's Christopher Robin's place
and I found her there Much of Sarah's history (1811-1902) is assumed or imagined. Lenore works like an archaeologist, constructing a dinosaur from one tooth or a village from a shard. She actively wills her ancestor to appear in places where she should have been, or might have been, or even could have been, thus creating contexts for the shaping of the character. I have spent hours
bent over old records
to find whether my ancestors
worked on the properties
of Matavai or Denbigh
wanting it to be Matavai
a link to my South Pacific past Most readers will recognise in their own experiences, Lenore's thrill in discovering something from the past that helps explain her existence.
Lenore has greater sympathy with her great-great-grandmother than with Sarah's husband Tom Brown, and in expressing her support for the woman in her special circumstances and hardships, produces what are perhaps the best poems of the sixty-nine that constitute the book. 'The photos', 'proper wives', 'Midnight storm', 'history', 'the honey tree', 'the Dalton fossils', 'six Kentish cherry trees' and 'very boring' could all stand independently as strong works. Brown brought Sarah to Australia chiefly so that he could spread the Methodist word, and Lenore is aware of the difficulty of living with a dogmatist. I like to think she and Tom discussed the move
I fear it was
wife, tomorrow, New South Wales Lenore seeks to feel the presence of the tiny Sarah who survived thirteen childbirths. Visiting the farm that has been in the family since the 1840s, she noted that the door of the cottage is all that remains. But still she goes, hoping to catch the shadow
of the woman who
for more than fifty years
opened this door to cross
between
garden and house
light and shade
summer heat and coolness under thatch
winter winds and fireside warmth
solitude and crowding
-- the woman who
was finally carried through Lenore is conscious of the way that she must work from sparse evidence. Returning to Australia from research around Sarah's birthplace in Sussex, friends observe that she seemed to take a lot of photos of churches and baptismal fonts -- a word which they think must have some connection with computers. I try to explain my selection:
where others see
churches and fonts
I see my grandmothers
baptised
married
bringing their children
only here could I find them
my friends still haven't seen the photos Besides challenging the gender discrimination of historical records, Lenore notes the problems of class as well. The Lord of the manor ensured that the village
was moved
downhill
to improve
the view
from Buxted Park History resides in stones only when you can afford a mason. Lenore notes also that part of the frustration in seeking ancestors lies in the common plight of illiteracy. tears outdid the rain
as we left our Sussex family
they couldn't write to me
nor I to them Despite these difficulties, Lenore reaffirms the importance of seeking one's roots. She envisions her ancestor and herself in a stream of continuity as Sarah sails from England on board a tough little Sussex woman
sails past me towards my future The Dog Rock might seem initially to be so highly personal that it will interest only the author's family. Indeed, the mode of narration makes the information seem almost narrower, suitable just to the writer. Nor will the free verse suit the ear of every reader. This means that while the expression is sometimes oblique to the head, it speaks strongly to the heart. The Dog Rock is a rewarding read, especially if absorbed in a single session. The themes Miriel Lenore raises are universal, and many readers will be encouraged to think about their forebears and about how imagining them more clearly could enrich their own lives. That is no small achievement. Citation - Tony Smith. 'Review: The Dog Rock by Miriel Lenore' [online]. Network Review of Books (Perth, Australian Public Intellectual Network), June 2005. Availability: <please cite the web address here> ISSN 1833-0932. [accessed 06 September 2010].
Back Cover Blurb - Miriel Lenore takes us on a new poetic journey to find her great-great-grandmother, Sarah.
In the Dog Rock Sarah escapes with husband and children from the rural poverty and riots of the 1830s in Sussex to settle on the western slopes of the Dividing Range in New South Wales.
In this compelling volume, Lenore threads past with present, the social and political with the personal. Tragedy and quiet achievement underscore the complex effects of religion in the life of this first settler at Dog Rock where her family still live and farm.
Once again, Lenore's sensitive vision, economy and strength of narrative continue to delight.
Have You Also Read? Fatal Collisions: The South Australian Frontier and the Violence of Memory
 Robert Foster Rick Hosking and Amanda Nettelbeck, Kent Town: Wakefield Press, 2001, 168 Pages, Paperback, $24.95Reviewed by Strephyn Mappin in the August 2002 issue.In an age when spin doctoring has become a matter of course and truth is as malleable as plasticine, it is interesting to read a work that investigates the way certain truths have been mythologised in South Australian history. Concerning the treatment of the indigenous population during colonial times, Fatal Collisions demonstrates how fact and fiction can become inexorably intertwined over time, creating lasting impressions that are not just wrong but intentionally biased. The work is as much about how white 'culture' liked to (and in some cases still does) view itself, as it is about the truths of the incidents themselves. Impeccably researched and referenced, Fatal Collisions takes six ... read more.
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