Searing: ‘Not Quite White in the Head’ by Melissa Lucashenko
Award-winning Aboriginal author Melissa Lucashenko has chosen a brilliant title for her latest book, which is a collection of her essays and journalism, collected over twenty years.
Full of her trademark wry humour, searing analysis and depictions of ordinary Australians of all kinds, there are many moments that made me stop. Sometimes that was to admire her incisive and lyrical prose. At others, I paused to absorb a point or idea that was new, or presented in a new way.
It’s a book that left me with much to think about.
There is a scathing analysis of nineteenth and twentieth century settler writings about Aboriginal people. It is absolutely horrifying to read of the attitudes and casual cruelties that persevered right up to the modern era and can still be found today. Pieces about police brutality, Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander deaths in custody, prison conditions, child removals: these paint an all-too-vivid picture of how bigotry and cruelty continue.
In ‘Sinking Below Sight’, Lucashenko writes about poverty, and how the poor are quickly demoted to that faceless population which Australia…finds easy to sterotype, and convenient to demonise…(pp56-57)
There are some uplifting pieces about First Nations knowledge, cosmology, law and traditions, and how the Australian continent could be said to have developed the first democratic systems in the world – well before James Cook landed here.
I enjoyed learning about her reasons for, and process of creating her first historical novel, Edenglassie. She writes:
The basic idea was a novel that tried to undo some of the racist myths that had painted us mob as simpletons and nomads, wandering aimlessly from campsite to campsite enjoying a ‘natural’ life without philosphy, government or ethics, until the arrival of the British plunged us into chaos and then quickly near extinction…’Edenglassie’ had to do many things. It intended to portray the governance, stability and sophistication of sovereign Aboriginal nations…from quite early in the colonial era. It had to give humanity and beauty to Aboriginal characters…It had to show the cruelty of the British invasion without repelling readers or causing me to lose the will to live in the writing of it. And it had to be a love story, because we are human beings who love fiercely, and because blackfellas deserve joy and romance on the page, too.
‘The True Hero Stuff’ in Not Quite White in the Head, p154There is a thoughtful, and very thought-provoking piece, ‘Staying White’, which explores the complexities and controversies for people who have more recently discovered, or acknowledged, their Indigeneity. I wish that people who criticise or reject those who the author dubs ‘New Aborigines’, would read this one and learn about the many complications and the emotional journeys involved in this decision, which every individual must make for themselves.
For me the most hopeful of the pieces in this collection is ‘What Has Changed?’ in which Lucashenko reflects both on the work that must still be done, and on the ways in which the growing cohorts of First Nations film makers, authors, musicians, educators, activists, politicians, health professionals, lawyers and advocates, are doing the work of growing up the nation. (p239)
If non-indigenous Australians could just listen a bit more, open our hearts a bit more, and be ready to hear new ideas about our country, this would indeed help Australia to mature as a nation.
I thank Melissa Lucashenko for this collection of her work, which speaks to all Australians.
Not Quite White in the Head was published by UQP in 2025.
A different kind of odyssey: ‘Blood’ by Tony Birch
Tony Birch is a multi-award winning First Nations author, poet and artist. Blood was his debut novel, first published in 2011, and shortlisted for the 2012 Miles Franklin Literary Prize. I read the newer edition, re-published in 2023 as part of UQP’s First Nations Classic series. This volume has a thoughtful introduction by Larissa Behrendt, another Australian author whose work I admire.
Blood is part coming-of-age story, part ‘road trip’ novel, if a journey undertaken mostly on foot can be considered a road trip.
It’s told from the perspective of thirteen-year-old Jesse, who together with his eight-year-old sister Rachel, must endure the stresses that come with the haphazard parenting of their mother, a deeply flawed and damaged alcoholic who makes a series of disastrous relationship and life choices. The problem for the children is that Gwen is damaging as well as damaged.
Their lives together make for an almost complete train wreck of an existence, with some moments of respite provided by a couple of well-meaning characters: Jon (an ex-prisoner who, during his time with the family makes an effort to provide some care and attention for the kids) and Pop (their grandfather, who has fought his own demons but now seeks some redemption by being a better grandfather than he was a father).
Jesse has made a promise – a blood promise – to his sister, to always take care of her. While there are moments where he dreams of escaping on his own to make his own, better, life away from their mother, deep down he knows that the bond between him and Rachel cannot ever be broken.
When the pair end up facing real danger as a result of their mother’s terrible choices, their ‘road trip’ begins, as they set off on foot to find their grandfather again. There are many hazards along the way and the two kids have to rely on their wits, courage and fortitude to survive.
The characters are brilliantly drawn, the children especially so, but all of the people with whom they come in contact feel realistic, people we might encounter should we be in similar circumstances. Gwen is a difficult figure to relate to or feel warmly towards, as we witness the disruptive effects of her chaotic mind and emotions on her youngsters. Yet I’m sure many readers will have known someone like Gwen.
Larissa Behrendt points out in her introduction that one of the great strengths of Tony Birch’s writing is the way he manages to portray First Nations characters without any of the stereotypes so often seen in such stories. Jesse and Rachel have Aboriginal heritage but it is referred to briefly, almost downplayed – yet there is an undercurrent of strength that the children draw on unconsciously that is part of their shared heritage. The children’s development as the novel progresses is beautifully portrayed – Rachel, especially, turns up quite a surprise at the story’s end.
At its heart, Blood is about kinship and the bonds – both constructive and destructive – that exist even in the most difficult of family circumstances. It’s the kind of book that, were it a movie, you might watch through parted fingers, especially the harder bits, but I felt drawn to the story and its people and was propelled through the pages. I really cared what happened to those two kids on their odyssey through the Australian countryside and through life.
I was fortunate to attend a Sydney Writers Festival ‘Homegrown’ event at the State Library in Sydney recently, where Tony Birch was interviewed by podcasters Sophie Gee and Jonty Claypole from the podcast ‘The Secret Life of Books’. (If you love hearing about the context in which classic books and poems were written, the history of their creation and the writers’ lives, this is a wonderful podcast to subscribe to.) The discussion was engrossing and wide ranging and confirmed my impression that Blood should indeed be regarded as a modern Australian classic.
Blood, First Nations Classics Edition, was published by UQP in 2023.
At the State Library of NSW ‘Homegrown’ event on 19th Sept 2026. Photo by author.
