There was an old man who lived on the edge of the world and he had a horse called Sydney Bridge Upside Down. He was a scar-faced old man and his horse was a slow-moving bag of bones, and I start with this man and his horse because of they were there for all the terrible happenings up the coast that summer, always somewhere around.
A great, untamed story about childhood, a summer holiday and a sinister tragedy that looms over everything.
Sydney Bridge Upside Down is the great unread New Zealand novel—a gothic thriller, a coming-of-age story and a sinister family tragedy.
This unsettling book is referred to as The great unread NZ novel. It is also labeled as a gothic anti-romance, a ruined pastoral thriller AND the pre-eminent example of slaughterhouse fiction that’s quite a lot to be going on with. First published in 1968 it seems to have long fallen by the wayside and I had never heard of it until a copy began circulation in my local book club. I have mixed feelings on this book and it does feel dated in style. But if you enjoy unreliable child narrators and odd horses this might be the book for you ;)
Harry Baird and his younger brother Cal were let run wild through the summer holidays. Their dad would be at work; their mum had gone away to the city for a few weeks. So Harry and his mates had free reign � their little town of Calliope Bay had caves and cliffs, the wharf and the killing rooms of the old works � a veritable playground for young boys looking at creating mischief. And create it they did; especially Harry!
Sam Phelps, scarred and silent, owns Sydney Bridge Upside Down; a horse of indeterminate age. They seem to be everywhere, looking on impassively at what was happening in and around the town. The day Harry and Cal’s cousin Caroline arrived to visit for the holidays, there was a subtle shift in the way everyone reacted � especially around Caroline. A lovely girl, she had both men and women ogling her; the men for obvious reasons, the women with dislike and jealousy. But Caroline was only a young girl � Harry’s feelings were confused.
This is a strange book � dark and weird - I found it difficult to follow at times. Harry was not a nice character � in fact there wasn’t much to like about any of them. The horse maybe! But I will say it was definitely gothic; also atmospheric; but rather disturbing. This classic by New Zealand author David Ballantyne has both high and low ratings; I’m afraid mine is on the low end of the scale.
One of my reading highlights of the year. This novel completely transported me to a tiny New Zealand township on the edge of the world. The voice of young Harry Baird, trying to make sense of the world around him, is incredibly convincing. But is he telling us everything he knows and is he as innocent as he seems?
Essentially the unpredictable monologue of an adolescent boy in a remote NZ town, half understanding the dodgy adult goings-on around him, this is often funny in a ghastly black comic way. The narrative is very cunning as the story grows progressively more sinister. Ballantyne neatly avoids the pitfalls of over-psychologising the main character, conveying the mysterious perceptions of a youthful troubled mind a certain insight. Imagine 'The God Boy' rewritten by Ronald Hugh Morrison. Or a decidedly creepy Holden Caulfield from 'Catcher in the Rye'. Yep, this is a good one.
Such a strange, strange, book, a haunting story of life in a fictional Hicks Bay on the east coast of NZ. Written from the viewpoint of the young boy as his parent’s marriage crumbles, Small town intrigue, secret liaisons, a narrative from the deep, deep, past, evocative and tragic
David Ballantyne’s haunting novel Sydney Bridge Upside Down was originally published in 1968 and it is a fascinating read. It is a neglected New Zealand classic that has been rediscovered for a new audience. The book is a coming of age story with gothic elements and a young adult classic.
I have read it twice now and I know that I will read it again as there is so much to absorb in it. It is unsettling, it is odd and it is unforgettable.
The narrator of Sydney Bridge Upside Down Harry Baird lives in tiny, isolated Calliope Bay on “the edge of the world� with his mother, father and younger brother Cal. Summer has come, and those who can have left the bay for the attractions of the distant and unnamed city. Among them is Harry’s mother, who has left behind a case of homemade ginger beer and a vague promise of return. Harry and Cal are too busy enjoying their holidays, playing in the caves and the old abandoned slaughterhouse, to be too concerned with her absence. When their older cousin, the alluring Caroline comes from the city to stay with the Bairds, Harry is infatuated. Caroline and the boys spend the long summer days exploring the bay and playing games. However, Harry is very protective of Caroline and jealous of the attention she receives from men (which is a lot). The idea of a great summer holiday is overshadowed by certain “accidents� in the old slaughterhouse and a general air of suspicion and distrust pervades.
Once we realise that Harry is an unreliable narrator the story shifts a gear and we start to view his account with some suspicion. The mysterious and dark atmosphere is further developed and you just know things aren’t going to end well as Harry’s paranoia builds and we begin to understand about “all the terrible happenings�.
Sydney Bridge Upside Down isn’t a light read but it is a most fulfilling one. Grab it if you can.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
‘What begins as the story of an ordinary country boy quickly turns strange and unpredictable indeed…Funny, inventively written, and more than slightly odd, Sydney Bridge Upside Down makes a long-awaited and welcome return.� Sonya Hartnett
‘It holds in heartbreaking tension that point between innocence and experience, sanity and disarray that we recognize in works as disparate as Iain Banks’s The Wasp Factory and Hal Porter’s The Watcher on the Cast-Iron Balcony, in which the private catechisms of childhood and adolescence are translated into an adult tongue.� Weekend Australian
‘How did we fail to give this gripping, funny, desperately sad, great New Zealand novel, set “on the edge of the world�, its due when it was first published in 1968?…Not until last year when l was urged to read it again did l fully understand what a masterpiece Ballantyne had pulled off.� NZ Herald
‘Sydney Bridge Upside Down is a gothic masterpiece that subverts many of the norms of realist fiction in a way that justifies its reputation as not only one of the most important local novels of the 1960s, but one whose terms seem clearer with the benefit of hindsight and thus resonate even more insistently today.� Read review in full. Listener
The characters here are very believable, even the incredible ones, and the transactions that the children have with the adults (and young adults) around them ring very true. Some of the shenanigans that the kids get up to with each other seem a little far-fetched, and the girl cousin could probably do with some counselling, but without that sort of thing it wouldn't be a story would it? It'd be... just people doing stuff.
I tend to see gothic themes everywhere, but I'm still pretty sure that this has some definite gothic features to it. So that's good. Can't ever have too much gothic in my mind. The abattoir is the haunted mansion, pretty much, and, well, there are monsters, aren't there?
I was a bit disappointed and even a little alarmed that it took me so long to realise (SPOILER ALERT) that Harry was a dangerous psychopath, and not just one of those rough boys who likes to push. Maybe I need counselling, too.
An Adelaide (Australia) radio announcer was "raving" about this book, otherwise I'd never have heard of it. It's a rather strange story about the events of a summer in an isolated town in New Zealand. It's told from the perspective of a pre-adolescent boy, whose dysfunction is central to the story. The characters were weird, mysterious and menacing, with a constant undercurrent of deviance and dysfunction. The narrative is gripping and engaging, but it's far from an uplifting read. It's said to be New Zealand's greatest novel. I can see why, even though its tone and subject is far from mainstream.
Strange, disturbing cross between NZ Gothic and a depression era coming of age story which unfolds over one summer. The narrator is Harry-of unknown age but probably about 12-14-somewhere between child and adult-and his dreamy, unreliable, fairy tale telling of events is both sinister and innocent (remember those high sweet children's voices that sing nursery rhymes in the background of horror movies? This is the literary equivalent). Dark, unhinged, sad and evocative, it conjured up the kind of summer we almost had as children of the last generation that had the freedom to roam-but with a darker heart- and higher body count.
Just gorgeous � atmospheric, gothic, nostalgic, disturbing, enthralling, well-written. It has a creeping, seeping feel to it. Well deserving of a re-release.
A very peculiar book that starts out as something out of Tom Sawyer and evolves towards something more sinister. At its heart, it is a tale of abandonment and what kids left alone do when also falling prey to the dark undercurrents of their human nature.
I will not go into spoilers, but I will add that the epilogue part of the book has an almost fairytale-like quality, even if the rest of the book is disturbingly realistic. In this fairytale ending, a grown-up Harry is something of a wanderer, with his mind slightly altered, forever looking for his mother in almost all middle-aged women he encounters. While I don't like the age-old tendency of both literature and psychology to blame the faults of deviants on their mothers, I found this ending pretty touching.
Dieser völlig zu Recht als „einer der größten neuseeländischen Romane� und „einzigartiger Klassiker der Weltliteratur� bezeichnete Roman von David Ballantyne erschien bereits im Jahr 1968, der Autor selbst verstarb im Jahr 1986. Erstmals in Deutsch erschien das Buch 2012 bei Hoffmann und Campe. Ich habe mich eingangs auch für den dazugehörigen Klappentext entschieden, der meiner Meinung nach perfekt zum Buch passt, anders als die wesentlich kürzere Beschreibung der Taschenbuchausgabe von dtv.
Aufmerksam auf den Roman wurde ich durch den ungewöhnlichen Titel. Wer nennt sein Pferd „Sydney Bridge Upside Down�? Und wieso? Darüber gibt das Buch keine Auskunft und hat man sich einmal in die Geschichte vertieft, stehen völlig andere Dinge im Vordergrund. Der alte Mann und sein Pferd sind die einzige verlässliche Konstante in einer Handlung, die vom Ferienidyll in den Ernst des Lebens abdriftet. Der alte Mann und das Pferd sind da � wie sie schon immer dagewesen sind und auch da bleiben werden.
Der Ich-Erzähler Harry nimmt den Leser mit in einen Feriensommer im neuseeländischen Calliope Bay, der zunächst in bester Tom-Sawyer-und-Huckleberry-Finn-Manier beginnt, was den Leser an eigene Ferien in der Kindheit erinnern mag und einen einzigartigen Sog in die Geschichte hinein entwickelt. Da ist viel freie Zeit, in der Harry und sein Freund -verfolgt vom nervenden kleinen Bruder- über die Insel ziehen und die typischen Dummheiten 13-Jähriger veranstalten: heimlich rauchen, herum klettern in der alten und maroden Fleischfabrik. All die Dinge, die Erwachsene verbieten, die man aber trotzdem tut, weil man die unendliche Freiheit des Lebens und natürlich der Ferien auskosten will.
Harry erzählt nicht chronologisch, er springt munter in der Zeit hin und her und langsam mischen sich all die Dinge in seine Ferienidyll-Erzählungen, die er wohl gar nicht erzählen wollte und die ihn spürbar psychisch belasten, denn des Öfteren überkommt ihn eine „große Wut und Unbeherrschtheit�. Die Mutter, die die Familie „über die Ferien� in die ferne Stadt verlassen hat, der Vater, der ihr verzweifelt täglich schreibt, weil er die Hoffnung nicht aufgibt, dass sie zurückkehrt. Er ist eigentlich ein guter Vater: er liebt seine Söhne, spickt seine Erziehung aber aus Überforderung mit dem Weggehen der Frau und vielleicht auch, weil er es selber nie anders kannte, desöfteren mit einer kräftigen Tracht Prügel. Falls er die Jungen erwischt: er ist ein Krüppel und kann ihnen nur nachhinken.
Das weiß auch Susan Prosser: die kleine Streberin aus der Nachbarschaft, die keiner mag, die den Jungen bei ihren Abenteuerausflügen gelegentlich hinterherspioniert und Harry damit erpresst, seiner Mutter zu schreiben, um ihr zu sagen, dass er seinen kleinen Bruder verprügelt hat. Oder vielleicht dem Vater für eine weitere Tracht Prügel für Harry. Die Ankunft des neuen Lehrers, den auf Anhieb keiner leiden mag und der die Kinder im nächsten Schuljahr unterrichten wird, erinnert Harry daran, dass der alte Lehrer der war, mit dem seine Mutter fortging. Der über die Ferien zu ihnen aufs Land verschickten Cousine Catherine ist er in unschuldiger, kindlicher Leidenschaft zugetan, bis er mitansehen muss, dass die Spiele, die Catherine mit Mr. Wiggs, einem unsympathischen Weiberheld, spielt, so gar nicht kindlich sind und weit, weit über das hinausgehen, was sie mit Harry und seinem Bruder morgens zu Hause spielt: nackt durch die Wohnung hüpfen und Blödsinn machen.
Und während der alte Mann und Sdyney Bridge Upside Down immer unbeteiligt am Ort der Ereignisse zu sein scheinen, passieren die „schrecklichen Dinge�. Mit Susan Prosser und Mr. Wiggs. Harrys Erzählungen werden düsterer, abgründiger, der Leser wird genarrt: was erzählt der Junge? Die Wahrheit? Das, was er glaubt, es sei die Wahrheit? Oder doch nur handfeste Lügen? Erzählt er ALLES oder verschweigt er Dinge? Die Mutter schreibt einen letzten Brief, in dem sie ankündigt, nicht zurück zu kehren, was Harrys Seelenzustand nur noch mehr verschlimmert.
David Ballantyne spielt grandios mit der Fantasie des Lesers, stürzt ihn in den Zwiespalt, in Harry nur ein harmloses Kind oder einen ausgemachten kleinen Halunken zu sehen. Der Autor tut dem Leser auch nicht den Gefallen, diesen Zwiespalt am Ende aufzulösen. Wie im Klappentext bereits angedeutet, ist „Sydney Bridge Upside Down� ein „Märchen ohne Erlösung�. Dass der Leser sich von einem derartigen Ende nicht hilflos und veralbert zurück gelassen fühlt, sondern noch lange seinen Empfindungen nachspürt, unterscheidet in diesem Fall Weltliteratur von beliebiger Unterhaltungsliteratur. Dieser Roman ist ganz große Erzählkunst, denn was auch immer in diesem Sommer auf Calliope Bay gewesen sein mag: dem Leser ist klar, dass das wohl nur der alte Mann und sein Pferd wissen. Und vielleicht ist er sogar froh darüber und findet, dass die Wahrheit genau dort gut aufgehoben ist.
Fazit: Coming-of-Age auf hohem literarischem Niveau, ein Roman der auf immer im Gedächtnis bleibt. Kann man nur weiter empfehlen.
It is considered an 'unread New Zealand classic, and I think is currently out of print.
It begins as a typical 'coming of age story'. Harry is living with his brother and father (His mother is away in the city), and his sexy older cousin Caroline comes to stay. About half way through the tone of the book flips, and it becomes a gothic thriller. Nothing is as it seems, and Harry is a VERY unreliable narrator, and in the final pages I think I was actually holding my breath. This a wonderful book, twisty and very exciting. Deserves to be much more widely known.
Harry Baird lives in Calliope Bay, five houses and a shack, and the ruins of the old meat works. As Harry and his young mates play in the cave, on the wharf and in the works, scar faced old man Sam Phelps looks on, impassive, opinion unknown except perhaps to his perennial companion Sydney Bridge Upside Down, the horse. Harry's mother has gone to the city for an undetermined period, and Harry's beautiful older cousin Catherine arrives in the bay. Harry is young and confused and sees Catherine as part sister, part replacement mother, part object of sexual awakening.
Ballantyne throws an array of themes at the reader - the terror of the killing rooms of the defunct works, the joy of boyhood, the ubiquity of domestic violence. While the children are unrestrained, enjoying fresh air, adventure, fun - the adults are mostly overwhelmed by isolation, which promulgates the tiny settlement like salt soaks the air.
Through this the plot is mysterious, and sudden. With the scarred hairy and shady characters, this is a twentieth century country Dickens. Events are not clearly explained.
Although it is now considered a New Zealand classic, if you did not know it was a New Zealand writer, it is not clear that it is even set in New Zealand - all of the place names are invented (I think) and there is not a single Maori word. Interesting.
One of those books expertly written from the perspective of a likeable, horrible character. There are some fantastically fluid dream sequences in this book, but other moments where the writing seems rushed (particularly at the end). Some things I loved about the book: the use of the abandoned meatworks to give the setting & psychology of the protagonist a sense that they are both crumbling, dangerous, but fun places to get lost in; the way cousin Caroline's hormones seem to sweat all over the book, making characters act in ways they wouldn't if she wasn't around; Sam Phelps and his horse, who are always in the background, suggesting something - but you're never sure what. The last chapter seemed written just before the book was posted to the publisher though, or as an afterthought at least. Not sure what it adds to the whole.
I so wish I had a little more background on this book before I tackled it in my series of NZ writers. I wish I was looking for the dark clues and undertones before they emerged. It can be read I imagine on many levels. I will be going back and re-reading it in the next few months for sure. The main characters are so layered and real to life, the lesser ones summed up in a few sentences. You can't help but have strong opinions of these people that may change through the book just as in life.
This rivals for me books such as Catcher in the Rye and the like. Put it on your book club's Must Reads
I really struggled with this book. I put it down several times and almost gave up completely until some drama was hinted at around page 90, then it was back to droll again until past the halfway mark. The plot is stilted with huge, unexplained events that barely raise an eyebrow in the small rural setting. The timeline of events jumps around and the narrative just rambles at times. (Chapter 13 is one long paragraph and still fails to build the desired tension.) I don't understand why this novel is considered a NZ classic.
Such a dark and thoughtful book. Doesn't attempt to answer the unanswerable nature of our youthfulness. A book that comprehensively explores the confusion, desperation and dysphoria of growing up. The use of the 'works' in this book was powerful. Amazing book and I can't believe it isn't more popular. I would rank it above Catcher in the Rye for coming of age stories. Leaves you with all the right questions and no clear answers- just like life.
Absorbing - you don't really want to be interrupted after the first half of the book. I sat glued to it until I finished. It's disturbing and unsettling. It reminds me somewhat of Ian McEwan's writing (The Cement Garden? Briony in Atonement?) The final albeit expected few lines of the book make you shudder.
This is a book that should be re-read a couple of time to really get it. It seems quite short on detail sometimes, as if it's up to the reader to decipher. The protagonist is an extremely troubled young lad, with whom the reader alternates between sympathy and annoyance. A brooding, mysterious story.
What a great discovery, another gem from my bds bookgroup. Disturbing, brooding, tragic. I couldn't put it down a) because I felt I needed to carefully concentrate on the characters and what was happening and b) because I was feeling too anxious about where it was all heading and needed to finish it asap! This feels like a classic nz novel, glad its been re-released into the world
A reissue of a 1968 NZ coming of age novel. I can see why it went out of print: it's bleak and strange - Freudian. But it's very compelling when you get into it and is a devastating child's eye view of the adult world. The 'reveal' at the end is powerful.
Wow, this NZ book has definitely sneaked under the radar - the introduction by Kate de Goldi said it all - a great read and re-read book which fits right in with our literature of unease. very similar to RH Morrieson and I love his books. So much sub-textual and so much recognisable.