Although Sonya Hartnett has written a large number of books, for children, young adults and adults, I’ve never read her, which is something I’ve been wanting to rectify. My opportunity came in May when my reading group scheduled her latest novel, Golden boys, for discussion. It was shortlisted for several awards last year, including the Miles Franklin Award – and has by now, I expect, been reviewed to within an inch of its life, but that’s not going to deter me!
You can tell, with Golden boys, that Hartnett is an experienced writer for young people. The book’s protagonists, the perspectives through whom the story is told, are all pre-teen. The three main voices are 12-year-old Colt, eldest son of the well-to-do Jensons, and almost 13-year-old Freya and 10-year-old Syd, children of the working class Kileys. The set up is that the Jensons have moved into a working class suburb for a reason that starts to become clear as the book progresses.
The novel opens with Colt:
With their father, there’s always a catch: the truth is enough to make Colt take a step back. There’s always some small cruelty, an unpleasant little hoop to be crawled through before what’s good may begin: here is a gift, but first you must guess its colour.
It’s a powerful beginning, and we’re right there. The scene is played out through Colt’s eyes. He’s been through these games before and he doesn’t want to play. He’s starting to realise there’s something darker behind his father’s generosity: “His father spends money not merely on making his sons envied, but on making them – and the word seems to tip the floor – enticing. His father buys bait.”
The second (unnumbered) chapter starts with Freya:
Freya Kiley has started to see things she hasn’t before. Until recently she has lived as every child must: as someone dropped on a strangers’ planet, forced to accept that these are the ways of this world.
But, on the next page we read
Now she’s older and smarter, and she’s starting to see that the world is a castle, and that a child lives in just one room of it. It’s only as you grow up that you realise the castle is vast and has countless false floors and hidden doors and underground tunnels … And as you get older, you’re forced out of the room, whether you want to go or not. Freya wants, with urgency, to go.
This lovely castle motif recurs through the novel. Anyhow, here we have two young people on the cusp of adolescence living in families which are headed (because this is the late 1970s when men still tended to “head” the family) by two problematical fathers – the superficially charming, generous but creepy Rex Jenson, and the detached, sometimes violent Joe Kiley. You have probably guessed what some of the themes are … but they are tied up with the plot, and …
I’m not going to talk about the plot because I have other issues to explore. I’ll just say that it builds slowly, inexorably, as the neighbourhood children gravitate to the well-endowed Jenson home, until we reach the climax . It’s expected – has been cleverly foreshadowed – and yet is surprising in exactly how it plays out. It’s painful, but clever too in resolving little while exposing a lot.
Adult? Young Adult?
Rather, I want to talk about voice and audience. When writers write in the voice of young people, or through the eyes of young people, there’s an immediate assumption, fear even, that the work is for young adults, but this isn’t necessarily so, though it can probably make such books cross more easily between adult and young adult readers. This is where Hartnett’s adult-marketed Golden boys sits. Its subject matter extends beyond a narrow focus on teenage experience, like first romantic relationship, first sexual experience, feelings of alienation or otherness, conflict with parents, and so on, to exploring the experience of awakening awareness to the reality of adult life. Here – this awakening – is the focus of Colt and Freya’s consciousness. How are they going to make sense of the flawed adult world they are now seeing? How are they to move through it? Will they survive their loss of innocence (and we are not talking sexuality here, but that deep shock when your view of the world, your sense of safety, is shaken to the core.) I should reiterate here that there are other youthful perspectives, including that of 10-year-old Syd who provides a neat counterbalance to Colt and Freya. At 10 he still has the self-focus of a child, not yet aware of “adult” life. What he wants for Christmas, whether he can still swim in the Jensens’ pool, and whether being a gangster would be a good career are what occupy his mind!
Hmmm, I’m not sure still that I’ve explained why this is a book that should interest adults – those adults who think, perhaps, “been there, done that”. It’s relatively easy to argue that the book, meaty though it is, would appeal to young adults, but why would a book in which all the perspectives are those of young people appeal to adults? Well, first there’s the subject matter, which addresses pedophilia and domestic violence. Just because we see these events through a young perspective doesn’t mean the exploration is superficial or irrelevant to an adult reader. Indeed, this perspective adds weight, because we see what the children see and the impact on them, how they try to process what they actually see, and how they comprehend the behaviour and responses of the various adults. When traumatic things happen in “real” life, it’s the adults we see and hear – the adults who are interviewed on the radio or television, the adults who write the memoirs or exposés. Hartnett presents the other side, the missing voices of the young – and I found her young people to be psychologically convincing. They are aware, perceptive and curious – but their understanding has limits, such as Freya’s taking the full blame for her parent’s situation because she was the reason they married. Hartnett, though, never sells them short, and neither I think should we.
And then there’s the writing. The imagery fits beautifully. There’s the castle motif for Freya, and a subtle but ominous repetition of the colour “black” from that bike in the opening scene to local bully Garrick’s fringe being described in the last scene as “blown back from his forehead like black grass on a sandy dune”. Descriptions tend to be physical. When Colt is confronted by the boys “the sun becomes an inferno, claws tigerishly at his neck”. On another occasion, one of Freya’s little sisters “skitters off like something twanged from a catapult”. The novel, in other words, is a joy to read – despite the unpleasant subject matter – for the imagery, careful plotting, characterisation, and that ending which manages to surprise despite our basic expectations being met.
Earlier, I quoted Freya as seeing the world or life as a castle. Towards the end, as things become more and more clear, she considers:
If she has spent her life rummaging through a castle of countless rooms, she thinks she must have found the vault at the castle’s core, because inside it there is nothing but her wits.
And that is the lesson, in the end, that both Freya and Colt learn. They will have to make their own decisions, rely on their wits, if they are going to survive this flawed, not always safe, world.
Hamish Hamilton, 2014
18 thoughts on “Sonya Hartnett, Golden boys (Review)”
So glad you got around to this one, Sue. It’s great to remember it and revisit it through your eyes.
Thanks Elizabeth. After posting I checked out the AWW reviews. Loved yours – succinct and so to the point. But I couldn’t make a comment. Have you closed them?
Thanks, Sue. I think my WordPress settings automatically close posts after a month or two.
Ah, I guessed it might have been something like that, Elizabeth. I don’t close mine at all.
Great review, rumination on The Golden Boys, Sue. Thankyou.
Just wanted to add that something I especially liked about it was The Street, the world of the kids, the place where they meet and interact, negotiate their relationships. I felt it could have been the street I grew up in, a universal Australian suburban street for the whole post-war period. I loved the feel of it, the extensions into the tunnels and bush. A place of not-knowing for the adults. I thought she did it brilliantly.
Thanks Biff. Yes, I agree that was another great aspect of the book. I was debriefing with a bookgroup friend today and we were discussing the 1970s setting and felt that one of the reasons for choosing that time period was that it was a time when kids did tend to be out and about like these kids were (unlike now where they’d be on the screens at home, being ferried to classes or sport, or their parents would be keeping them away from the drain!) I think most of us at our group could identify with the life. But, of course, in a review you can’t cover everything so I’m really glad you’ve described it.
BTW I was thinking of you today because my friend and I were lunching at Muse (do you know it?) They have a bookshop attached with bookshelves but also books laid out on two tables. Among the piles on the tables – all neat and easy to read – was a little pile of your book. Lovely to see it out and about, being displayed.
Yes, Sue, I know Muse well. In fact, was part of a launch there last week, Breaking the Boundaries, an anthology of writings by activists. For events like that, they move all the books off those knee high shelves and people can sit! Over 30 stayed on for dinner at our event, so Inthink Muse was pretty happy!
I bet they were. They’re nice fellows aren’t they? I go there quite a bit – great for supper after concerts that finish around 8.30 or so. Nice for lunch. But, I haven’t managed to get to a literary event yet, been away, or not got organised in advance. I plan to go to one in July though!
Young Adult fiction is a category that hardly existed before….I wonder when? The thing certainly existed (the fantasy novels of Alan Garner as an example) but probably a less powerful presence. I would be surprised if some of the best fiction around might be in this category- it has a receptive and highly critical audience.
Good question Ian. I think it’s been slowly growing, probably since the 1950s or at least the 1960s? Alan Garner would date back to then I think? (I could check of course but am being lazy). I agree that there is some excellent YA fiction. I read some with my kids in the 1990s, including by Aussie John Marsden. Some impressive writing, and he didn’t pull any punches in some of his one-off YA books.
Enjoyed your review, it sounds like a lovely book. I also enjoyed your discussion about why adults should care about reading a book written from the perspective of young adults. We were all young once and it is good to be reminded what that is like. Plus, the choices we make when young affect who we are as adults so I always enjoy a good coming-of-age story especially when it focuses on making choices and navigating the world.
Yes, I do too Stefanie – it’s a critical time in our lives as you say. It’s when we really start to make conscious choices about who we are, and I enjoy writing that reflects on that.
Young Adult fiction certainly wasn’t around in my early teen age years (the mid to late -40s) – it was straight from schoolgirl ‘adventure’ stories into adult fiction for my cohort. (But Jane Austen filled the bill quite nicely thank you). I often felt that some of what was written in my grandchildren’s YA years were too ‘sophisticated’ and even depressing – nothing happy seemed to happen. Does anyone agree?
YA has certainly become big since the 1960s and 1970s LL. But I think as times change so do YA needs. Young adults these days need more sophisticated books I think because of the world they are being confronted with. Media, social media etc mean they “know” so much more than I did, let alone you, don’t you think? Those YA books help them understand better, hopefully, some of those things they “know”.
Sonya Hartnett ‘s Young Adults books I always love. Her writing is not judgemental, and makes you think from the young adult perspective. She always leave me wondering, and I do like the dark side of her books.
Thanks Meg. I can handle the dark side too, and am glad to have finally read Hartnett. I do need to read more of her.
Thank you for this review, Sue. This question has been on my mind for a very long while: Despite being 30, why am I inclined toward Children’s Literature and Young Adult Fiction? Sometimes, I think that I started reading just a couple of years ago. So, maybe, I am making up for all that I lost during my teens. I am still wondering. But till I pin down the answer, I think I will stay with these narrators who are children. 🙂
PS: I just thought I could let you know that I don’t use my old link anymore. I am not ‘Worn Corners’ anymore. My new website is https://newfracturedlight.wordpress.com/. I hope you will send me some love there. Thank you, Sue.
Oh yes, of course I will, Deepika. I love reading you. I’ll go now and subscribe.
I’m intrigued by your reflections on your reading preferences. I do think child narrators can offer us a lot, when in the hands of great writers.