A Heavily Parenthesised Ramble about Some Books

Hello precious poppets.

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I recently embarked on a re-read of my favourite book series of all time. If you are a long-time follower (or if you have recently tried to talk to me about books - which, if you have, makes you my favourite person! Always talk to me about books!) you might know that this series is not anything written by Tolkien or L. M. Montgomery (although it could easily be - those guys wrote great stuff that I love). My favourite book series is this one.

Mary Grant Bruce's Billabong books.

In this post I'm going to just waffle on for a bit and try to explain why I love them so, because it is a bit of a mystery, I guess. They're not particularly beautifully written - there aren't many writerly passages I could pull out of context and show people, if you know what I mean. The philosophy in them is either so inherently built into the characterisation/the narrative voice or so bluntly and baldly stated that saying it profoundly affects my life sounds silly or naive.

But they have affected my life profoundly.

Every time I read these books I finish wanting to be a braver, better, more cheerful person. I want to be humbler and - and... usefuller and happier. And trying becomes easier. I don't know.

Let's talk about the characters a little bit, because really it's the characters that are most important. The stories don't matter an awful lot and the writing is pretty ordinary - it's the characters.

Firstly, Norah Linton

Norah Linton is, I guess, the protagonist of the Billabong series - at least the first nine books. She is the daughter of a wealthy cattle farmer in Victoria in the early 1900s. 

Norah's got her problems as a character, of course. She suffers a bit from Exceptional Woman Syndrome. Which is weird, because the books definitely aren't particularly feminist at all. In fact, despite Norah's awesomeness and skillz, a big part of the stories is devoted to the men around her falling over themselves to shield her from danger or discomfort. Which is definitely part of the characterisation of the men (and more than somewhat endearing, despite the inherent sexism... which was standard for its time, so let's not get crazy upset, guys). Example:

"Norah, dear, we can't have you in it," O'Neill said. "I know it's hard: far harder than anything we have to do. But you have too much sense not to know that this isn't woman's work."
Norah choked back a sob.
"I know you couldn't have me where there's shooting," she said. "But I can do something, if you'll let me: and in Australia women always did help men when there was need, and they didn't talk about things being 'women's work' in pioneer days."
"Norah, we can't let you fight," Jim said. "Be sensible, old kiddie."
"I don't want to fight," said poor Norah. "At least, I do, but I know that's out of the question. But why on earth shouldn't I light the beacon?"
"Because there would be risk," O'Neill said roughly. "Norah, I hate hurting you. Don't make it harder for us."
"I don't want to, indeed I don't," Norah faltered. "But..." There was a lump in her throat, and she turned away, fighting for her voice. Jim's arm round her shoulders steadied her.
"You know you'll be outnumbered," she said. "you can't tell any of these people, and there are only the three of you until Daddy brings help. And one of you is going to light the beacon! If you let me do it, it leaves you all free to fight; and there's no risk for me. No one will be on the point. I'd only have to light a match and get out of the way."
"No," said Wally, his young voice strained. "You aren't going to do it."
"I know what it will be," Norah said. "The one of you who lights the beacon will come tearing down the rocks to help the others and the Germans will just shoot him easily. I needn't do that; I can hide up on the point. There isn't any risk - not a bit."
"Oh, Norah, Norah, I wish you'd gone to bed! uttered Jim. "Don't you see we can't let you?"
"No, I don't," said his sister. "You haven't any right to stop me..."
- Jim and Wally, book 5 of the Billabong series by Mary Grant Bruce

But Norah's own self, besides her relation to the reader and the men in her life, is just, well... I love her. She's confident and happy in herself, though has moments of insecurity and doubt (somebody horsewhip Cecil, please), but her humility and patience mean that she's never self-absorbed either way. She always finds the person who needs to be drawn in and befriended - and then she draws them in and befriends them, with compassion and sensitivity and just, wow. Dude, I want to be Norah Linton. Not just because she's as capable and calm as any stockman on the place - but because she's this pillar of warm, strong humanity. She makes an honest effort with her stuck-up, patronising cousin - she searches out the neglected kids and lonely immigrants and wins over stiff old English servants and homeless hermits and maimed soldiers. She won't see class or age or race and doesn't mind hard work and self sacrifice and EVERYBODY GO AND LOVE HER NOW PLEASE.

Jim Linton

Now that I think of it, the reasons I love Jim and Norah are practically the same. Good job, David Linton, not every single father manages to raise the MOST COMPASSIONATE people in the world, like you really did something right there, dang. Jim pretty much adopts lonely people and makes them part of the family, sometimes literally (wink wink nudge nudge WALLY). And he's so quiet and unassuming that I only realised that this is his defining trait just now. But he's forever doing it; bringing home boys from school for the holidays, turning into the loveable giant babysitter at a moment's notice, bloomin' BILL, like, cripes, Jim's gentleness and fatherliness towards Bill (and Rob) makes me want to cry. Not to mention this little scene in which our jolly crew are visiting a children's hospital:

Tommy alone declined to make friends. He burrowed into his pillow when they came to him, and refused to show so much as the tip of his nose. The sound of his sorry little wail followed them over the ward. Jim turned back presently. He sat down near Tommy's cot and took out a toy watch that had beautiful qualities in the way of winding. But he did not offer it to Tommy. Instead he sat still, dangling it from his fingers.

"Had a sick leg myself, once," he remarked, causally, apparently to the watch. As might be expected, the watch made no response; neither did the black head burrowed in the pillow turn at all.

"Hurt it falling off a horse," Jim went on. "At least, the horse fell too. Tried to jump a log on him - and he shied at a snake lying on top of the log."

The boy in the next cot was listening with all his might.Tommy's low crying had stopped.

"Big black snake," said Jim. "Must have scared him a bit when he saw the horse rising. Any rate, he slid off like fun - and my old horse shied badly, and went over the log in a somersault. Landed on his head and pitched me about fifteen yards away."

"Was you much hurt?" The boy in the next cot shot out an irrepressible question.

Jim was not in a hurry to answer. The black head was turning ever so little towards him, but he did not seem to see. He played with the watch in an absent-minded fashion.

"Hurt my leg," he said at length. "I managed to catch the old horse, because he put his foot through the bridle, and hobbled himself; and I got on by a log and rode home. Didn't jump any more fences though. And when I got home I couldn't stand on that leg. Had to be lifted off. Makes you feel like an ass, doesn't it?"

The question was for the now visible Tommy, but Jim did not wait for an answer.

"Then I had to lie still for days," he said. "My word, did I hate it! I feel sorry for any chap with a sick leg. It's so jolly hard to keep still when you don't feel like it."

Something in the low, deep voice helped the little lad in the cot, with sore mind and body.

The scene goes on for a few more pages and ends with Jim getting Tommy to show him how to wind the toy watch - which of course, he gives the kid to keep - and the nurse marveling at her little patient laughing for the first time in that ward. And of course, he uses the same, empathetic technique when another Tommy is ashamed of her claustrophobia and when Bill is struggling with controlling his temper, and oh! I love Jim.

Ehehehehe, now we come to my favourite

Wally Meadows

Come to think of it, I probably can't tell you exactly why I love this character so much without sounding like a lovestruck fangirl.
Wally is a school friend of Jim's - who spends the holidays with the Lintons because he's an orphan and his much older siblings don't take much interest in him. Where Norah and Jim are solid and (mostly) calm, Wally is the 'restless flycatcher' - never still, always full of energy and enthusiasm for any job of work or entertainment. Wally's infectious cheerfulness and eagerness. On hearing any news that he's been hoping for (like, yay! You aren't going to be taken hostage on a German submarine!) he'll grab the nearest girl (Norah, always, natch) and madly waltz her into the middle of next week.

Now, if you haven't already read this GLORIOUSLY DARLING book series and you plan to (OF COURSE YOU PLAN TO. I COMMAND YOU TO.) and you don't like spoilers, then stop reading now. Go, read and be merry. The rest of you (hey guys! I hope you're in the already-read-it category and not the never-gonna-read-it category, coz, come on) read on:

(If this were tumblr I could put a readmore here)

I hate to tell you this, guys, but Wally ruined Laurie for me. You know, Laurie, Theodore Laurence, that guy? Also any dude who has ever whinged about the friendzone.