A Rose for the ANZAC Boys by Jackie French (HarperCollins, 2010)
PB RRP $15.99
ISBN: 9780733331787
Reviewed by Elaine Harris This
month we commemorate the centenary of the fateful landing at ANZAC Cove: a
campaign made up of political and military blunders, bureaucratic bungling and
months of wasted lives and needless tragedy. No-one doubts the horrors of those
unimaginable months with little water and less organization. Yet however odious
comparisons may be, historians past and present (including many who were there)
insist that although Gallipoli was horrendous, the Western Front was so very
much worse.
Millions
of lives lost, millions more ruined, damaged or altered beyond all
comprehension. It is impossible for any
of us to know how we would react in those circumstances, only hoping such
tragedy would bring out the best in us.
Five
years ago, in preparation for a radio interview, I dipped into the
award-winning YA novel, A Rose for the
ANZAC Boys by Australian Children’s Laureate Jackie French, covering as
much as I could in the time allowed, (conducing several interviews each day
sometimes leaves little time for a full read) and devoured all the notes at the
back of the book.
The
author and I both shed tears during the interview and the book has been on my
Must Read list since that date. We also corresponded during Jackie’s writing of
the book and on one memorable occasion she mentioned almost casually in an
email, “I’ve just blown up a hospital tent.” When she submitted the manuscript
to the publisher, the initial reaction was, “Don’t let Jackie change a word.”
Last
month I did it -- read the entire book in less than 24 hours, sobbing
unashamedly throughout. Don’t be fooled, though. This is no sentimentalised,
girlie weepy. A teacher colleague of my husband’s read it to her year 5-6 class
in 2010 and for the first time held her
reluctant reader boys spellbound.
This
book tells it all without jingoism or bitterness against any enemy; without an
examining of rights and wrongs - except the smugness of the hierarchy who gave
the orders while living the high life behind the lines. (It happened.) We meet
soldiers, nurses, ambulance drivers, orderlies, a chaplain, Turks and Germans,
and many, many people who just wanted to do their bit, including our three
female protagonists: Midge, Anne and Ethel. It takes you to railway station
canteens dispensing sandwiches and cocoa, casualty clearing stations, ambulance
runs and the fear, mud, Blood and gas of the trenches.
Through
the story and without any sense of being taught anything, we also learn
something of the class system and attitudes of the day, roles and perceptions
of women and the determination of those kicking against the traces, often
against all odds.
Yet,
like the best books worth remembering, while plumbing the depths of tragedy,
the book ends on hope: leaves you not only with a sense of the future but also
a view of it decades later from the perspective of the descendants of those
involved. It sheds a light on the annual ANZAC Day parades and services and why
these ceremonies still hold meaning which ought never to be de-valued,
sensationalised or forgotten.
As for historical accuracy, Jackie French wept
her way through many letters and diaries of the day, living as closely as
anyone ever can the experiences of those who were there.
This is not a new book but a timeless one worth
reading or re-reading this year.