Alison Croggon’s Monsters: A reckoning is a demanding but exhilarating read, demanding because it expresses some tough feelings, and exhilarating because of the mind behind it, the connections it makes and the questions it asks. Coincidentally, it has some synchronicities with my recent read, Sarah Krasnostein’s The believer. Both talk about “uncertainty”, and both conclude by talking about “love”, but beyond these two ideas are very different books.
Monsters is categorised on its back-cover as narrative nonfiction/memoir. However, it could also be described as an essay collection, albeit a linked-essay collection, because each individually-titled chapter seems to take up an issue – or return to an earlier issue – and riff on it, though riff is too frivolous a word for what Croggon does.
The book has an interesting trigger and an even more interesting trajectory. The trigger is the final breakdown in what had been a very difficult relationship with her sister. The trajectory is to explore this through the lens of colonialism, the “colonial project”. It’s audacious, really, and yet it makes a lot of sense. It certainly adopts the idea that the personal is the political with a vice-grip that doesn’t let go.
I’ll start with the memoir part. Threading through the essays are references to her white middle-class family. She starts, in the first two chapters – “The curse” and “Ancestors” – with a quick expose of the family tree. It goes back to the 1100s, but she focuses mostly on the 19th century’s Great Uncle Bee who was heavily implicated in “the colonial project”. Her thesis is that “colonisation is, necessarily, a process of traumatisation for everyone who is born in the system”. Croggon does not wish to diminish its greatest impact on the colonised but her point is that the “system” damages everyone. She argues, albeit using “a small, wonky, uncertain line”, that the attitudes and values inherent in the system can (even, perhaps, must) poison personal relationships. She writes, two-thirds through the book:
I was born as part of a monstrous structure – the grotesque, hideous, ugly, ghastly, gruesome, horrible – relations of power that constituted colonial Britain. A structure that shaped me, that shapes the very language that I speak and use and love. I am the daughter of an empire declared itself the natural order of the world.
The memoir part, the family part, particularly regarding her sister, is tough and hard – and I admit that I would not want to be her sister reading this book. However, although Croggon has the pen in her hand, so of course we feel her pain at “the fracture”, she does not absolve herself of her role. Indeed, at the end – and she means personally and politically, I believe – she talks of “attempting to understand my own complicities”.
“Are we irrevocably broken by our histories?”
Here is where the essay aspect of this intriguing work illuminates, because, in different but sometimes overlapping essays/chapters, she explores issues like patriarchy, whiteness, feminism, primarily as they play out through “the colonial project”. Take, for example, her analysis of patriarchy and its impact on the relationship between women: “how it distorts and destroys relationships between women: how it creates this deadly competition…” Competiton being, of course, fundamental to colonialism.
Now, I wanted to reject this because I do not feel in competition with women – I have always loved the sisterhood – but, I can’t ignore the overarching point she is making, one that’s bigger than my little world. She continues:
For centuries, our foundational cultural texts have said, over and over again, that women are without worth.
I could easily (but naively) dispute this by pointing to my life, but I have to admit to my privilege and, whether conscious or not, to the entitlement under which I live. I am therefore willing to accept Croggon’s thesis regarding colonialism – and its impact on the personal as well as the political:
We are both [she and her sister] the product of a machine that has spent centuries concealing its violence, that pours countless resources into disguising its greed for resources and power as an exercise in human progress.
This machine is fed, as Croggon sees it, by a faith in binaries: “good/bad, men/women, white/black, right/wrong, guilty/innocent”. These binaries “profoundly infected” her relationship with her sister but, as she explores through her essays, they also underpin the colonial view of the world that permeates so much of our thinking and behaviour still today. We have not, as we know, shaken off the bonds of our colonial past, and if there’s one thing Croggon rams home, with erudition and sophistication, it’s how deeply ingrained colonial thinking is in everything we do. To put it simply, colonialist cultures are racist, sexist, hierarchical, and rely on “conquest, erasure, entitlement” to survive.
One of my favourite, one of the most clarifying essays/chapters, is “The whiteness”. In one chapter she pulls apart denotation, connotation, implication, and more. She says that “whiteness isn’t really about skin colour. Like blackness, it’s a category”. She writes that “the savagery of whiteness, its pettiness, its hypocrisy, its dishonesty, its murderousness: these are hard things to understand about oneself.” She writes of the whiteness that is able to argue its own victimhood. And, she admits to discomfort with prodding the traumas of her white family in the face of Black anguish.
It is uncomfortable being white today, with all our privileges – and it is even more uncomfortable that such a weak word as “uncomfortable” probably adequately describes our feelings and uncertainties.
You can probably see by now that this is not a simple read. It’s certainly not one you can dip into and read an “essay” at random, because the argument is entwined through memoir. It’s fragmented, and draws on a seemingly random group of thinkers and writers against which she bounces her own ideas. It requires concentration to follow the links and connections, the slipping back-and-forth between the personal and the political, but, as I flip through the book to write this post, what I see are a lot of “Yes” marks in the margin.
Some of these “yeses” relate to sharing some experiences, such as a childhood love of reading, or to seeing the world similarly, but others relate to the questions she leaves us with, because there are no answers here.
Towards the end comes the admission that “I can’t see what I can’t see”. Of course! But this is also the cry of someone who wants to see more. Also near the end, she returns to her relationship with her sister, and the role of patriarchal norms and colonialism’s assumptions in its collapse. She says “I can’t see how it can be undone”. This is the biggest – and, to be honest, most confronting – question Croggon leaves us with. Can it be done? Can we unlearn colonialism’s cruel premises and heritage, so that we can undo what we have done?
Monsters: A reckoning
Melbourne: Scribe, 2021
(Review copy courtesy Scribe)
25 thoughts on “Alison Croggon, Monsters (#BookReview)”
Good on you for tackling this one, Sue.
I bet you feel a bit like I did after I’d tackled that confronting novel about the Armenian Genocide and the trauma of the Middle East… sometimes our reading takes us to very difficult places.
Yes, it does, doesn’t it, Lisa. But thoughtful places too that are worth being taken to?
It certainly wasn’t a quick read.
Oh definitely yes, just not too solid a diet of them!
No, they need to be spaced a bit don’t they.
Exactly, M-R! Thanks.
Goodness, that sounds like a complex read that one really has to concentrate on. Thank you for reading it for us!
Haha Liz… my pleasure. It was, though , you’re right – and needed much thought as I read.
This sounds intense Sue! Our library has it but has closed for Christmas – and I’m not sure this sounds quite like Christmas reading – but I’ll give it a go in the New Year!
No, probably not Christmas reading Sue, but my sense is that you would find it interesting. I’d love to hear what you thought if you did decide to read it.
I have reserved it for next year Sue! I will let you know what I think.
BTW was just chatting to a friend in Sydney who is a GP in the northern suburbs – he said the biggest problem at the moment is nursing staff in hospitals and vaccination centres becoming sick with covid as they are exposed to it constantly – and have to take time off to recover and isolate of course (and can’t risk exposing vulnerable people to it). He is run off his feet as three colleagues are off work as close contacts and are isolating. He has mixed thoughts about bringing boosters forward as this may mean exposure during winter months here. He said double vaccinated people are very unlucky if they need hospitalization when infected with Omicron. Just thought I’d pass on his information for what it’s worth. Have a good Chrismtas, Sue!
I feel so much for health workers. They must be just exhausted. You can’t keep this intensity of work, worry and planning forever.
Good point re winter but I wouldn’t be surprised if by then we are on our fourth shot as I believe Israel is doing. Anyhow, all we can do is follow advice and hope for the best, eh?
I hope your Christmas brings you rest and peace Sue.
Stopping by to wish you a Merry Christmas, WG! You must be enjoying a warm and hot Christmas, as for me, if I’d stayed home in my city I’d be experiencing -20C temp. Now I’m sending Christmas greetings from Toronto, which is snowy too, and rainy, and feels colder than the temp. which is hovering around 0C. All the best for a happy holiday Season and into the New Year.
Oh so nice to hear from you Arti. It’s going to be a cool +21°C here today!! So, nice actually. Not too hot.
Anyhow, wishing you a lovely Christmas too, Arti. Look forward to more film talk in 2022. Meanwhile keep well and safe.
Wow, this sounds really good. What an interesting and different approach to memoir. It hasn’t;t been published in the US, but I put it on my list so I won’t forget about it and can maybe get me hands on it one of these days. Really enjoyed your thoughtful review!
Thanks very much Stefanie. It has sync interesting thinking in it – and I barely touched the surface. Have a lovely holiday season – you and Bookman- and keep safe!
I’m certainly not in the mood to tackle this right now, but it sounds like it digs into lots of topics that I enjoy digging into too. Thanks for another erudite and thought-provoking review.
It does Brona -it’s mind-bending, in a good way.
I like that in a book.
Yes, me too.
I like the complexity you’ve described here. It reminds of the essay collection I read by Tressie McMillan Cottom recently (Thick). In theory, you can read the pieces separately. But the collection reveals/develops her thought process too. These are the kinds of book that remind me why I read.
Yes, Marcie … although I say I prefer fiction and mostly I do, I also agree with what you say here.
WG, this was not a review for 23 Dec!
It’s very easy to go from Slavery damages owners as well as slaves, to white victimhood. Though less easy in Australia where our complete blindness to the effects of white ‘settlement’ on the Indigenous population makes it harder to claim we are also victims. Though there’s always some idiot claiming Native Title will take away his house.
No I know, Bill. The timing was less than stellar but that’s the way the cookie crumbles. I find the jump from damages us all to white victimhood hard to keep in my head … it doesn’t compute, does it?