Hurdy Gurdy

Jenny Ackland’s new book unfolds in a world that has already lived through a series of endings; a near-future version of Australia where climate-stricken shanty towns litter the earth and ill-fated space missions dart across the sky. Out of the desert, she weaves a powerful narrative that ponders and reckons with our nation’s past, present and future.

The novel is mostly plotted through the eyes of two ideologically opposed groups: an ageing preacher and his companion, and a small, enigmatic circus troupe – matriarch Queenie, high-diver Win, enigmatic clown Valentina, and a roadside adoptee known as Girl. As both parties make their way through the world, they ponder, intersect and collide, revealing secrets and changing the people they meet. Over the course of that journey, the novel’s tone shifts and balances, meeting itself somewhere at a midpoint between feminine revenge narrative, political fable and philosophical debate, but it never loses its focus.

Fans of her previous novels, The Secret Son and Little Gods (the latter of which made the shortlist for the Stella Prize in 2019) who do not normally read speculative fiction may feel trepidation about this more fable-like setting, but shouldn’t hesitate to pick up a copy: Ackland’s prowess with character and eye for the stranger parts of Australiana are stronger than ever. More practiced speculative genre fans will find much to enjoy as well. Similarly to The Handmaid’s Tale, the world-building is intricate and expertly crafted, but not immediately laid out, offering some room for reader interpretation, and the visions it presents are reminiscent of the stylings of Terra Nullius and Station Eleven while maintaining an undeniable originality of Ackland’s own.

Hurdy Gurdy is relevant to us all, and I wouldn’t be surprised to see it on shortlists in the coming months – it’s the most unique novel I’ve read all year.