Burnt out and in need of retreat, a middle-aged woman leaves Sydney to return to the place she grew up, taking refuge in a small religious community hidden away on the stark plains of rural Australia. She doesn't believe in God, or know what prayer is, and finds herself living this strange, reclusive existence almost by accident. But disquiet interrupts this secluded life with three visitations. First comes a terrible mouse plague, each day signaling a new battle against the rising infestation. Second is the return of the skeletal remains of a sister who disappeared decades before, presumed murdered. And finally, a troubling visitor plunges the narrator further back into her past.
Somber, exquisite ... The novel is, in many ways, an extended meditative vigil ... The wrestling in this novel is with the nature and meaning of penance, atonement ... Activism, abdication, atonement, grace: In this novel no one of these paths is holier than another.
It’s just as extraordinary as the whispers from abroad suggested ... Wood has developed a style that relies on dislocation, juxtaposition and elision to suggest the currents of spiritual turmoil and resolution ... A strange sense of engagement with these pages gives way to sheer gratitude for the chance to be in the presence of such restraint and wisdom.
Poses as a daybook. And though the chronology eases up, it remains intimate and first-hand ... The mode is concentratedly self-searching: a woman without hope, disaffected with work and the world, has withdrawn to live in a different way and perhaps to find herself. Yet the novel isn’t secluded. The world keeps breaking in ... It’s unsure, or won’t flag up, what it’s about. For Wood, being in charge means going where she doesn’t expect to go, away from the surtext. The novel has a kind of homely mystery.
