Wings of the Kite-Hawk
Nicolas Rothwell gave me an autographed copy of his Wings of the Kite-Hawk: A journey into the heart of Australia because he enjoys my book reviews on this LJ. It has been sitting, accusingly, among the to-be-read books at the foot of my bed.
I had very much enjoyed Nicolas’s later book on Australia Another Country. Coming to the end of my burst of reading on Islam, I dived into Wings of the Kite-Hawk and discovered an almost surreal mixing of journeys in space, across time, journeys as much within the human mind as physical.
The book is in five parts, four of which are named after noted geographical or anthropological explorers of Australia, Ludwig Leichhardt, Charles Sturt, Carl Strehlow, Ernest Giles-all of whom left journals that guide Nicolas’s own travels and which are quoted in the text-and one (the second) is simply called The Promised Land.
We start with Leichhardt’s life and explorations, punctuated with quotes from his Journal. Like many explorers and traveller in Central Australia, he was struck by the kite-hawks which weave in and out of the narrative. The introduction of the kite-hawk is followed by the explanation for the journeys behind the book. Nicolas-who had formerly reported on Central Europe, including covering the revolutions than overthrew Leninism-tells us that after a long absence from Australia, I began a journey of my own … acting on the idea that prolonged immersion in the country might make it seem less foreign to my eyes (p.15). We move between Leichhardt’s journey, the traces of it, Nicolas’s own experience of country and the conversations with the folk he meets.
The second part, The Promised Land, extends another theme of the book that Leichhardt already exemplifies-Central Europeans who are drawn to and into Central Australia. It is a very different place, a very harsh place. The tales of attraction are not always restful ones. Unquiet spirits in a harsh country is a mix prone to sorrow and tragedy-such as Leichhardt’s own mysterious disappearance.
The central figure in the second Part is George Chaloupka a Czech émigré who heads the rock art project at the Museum of the Northern Territory, and who was chiefly responsible for revealing to western eyes the painting tradition of Arnhem Land (p.68). George was born in Bohemia in 1932, not an auspicious time and place. He and is brother escaping after the Leninist coup ruined his parents.
In Central Europe, the landscape is relatively kind, but the history has been fraught. In Central Australia, the landscape is harsh and dangerous, the history far less fraught. George sees the Outback as a place to escape from yourself, to lose yourself in the arms of time.
Of course, it is not only the desolate grand history of Central Europe one might want to escape from to the grand and timeless desolation of the Outback. There is also desolate personal history such as the caretaker who reported his Dad as telling him Danny, when every policeman in Parramatta calls you by your first name and you’re only fourteen, it’s time to move on (p.201).
Carl Strehlow was another Central European who was consumed by the Outback, eventually dying on route to medical assistance from his mission. A Lutheran missionary and anthropologist, he became the repository of much of the hidden knowledge of the dying Aboriginal cultures of Central Australia. There was a scandal, eventually, when he sold some ceremonial photos to Der Stern in order to fund his Foundation to preserve what could be preserved. A man born in the time of C19th confidence to lived to see such confidence shattered in two World Wars. As Nicolas suggests, a sense of destruction and loss was something he understood intimately.
The last Part, Giles is marked by death. The disappearance of Giles's exploration companion Gibson (who had lost a brother on Franklin’s expedition), after whom the Gibson Desert is named. And death among those Nicolas meets. Ray Erickson, who Nicolas had talked to Giles about and had written a book about Giles, a book that Nicolas finds a second-hand copy of only to read Erickson’s obituary in the newspaper that afternoon (p.266). Nicolas travels with prospector David Esterline. They discuss Giles.
Several months later, Nicolas returns to the Gibson. He buys a painted panel and meets the woman who painted it. They talk and he learns that David Esterline too had gone into the Desert and died, his burnt-out Land Rover being found but not him. No longer would he be with me, as a guardian shadow - he had gone into the silence of the sky (p.327).
Is a landscape just a place, just a collection of things, or is it full of meanings? To past explorers, present inhabitants and travellers of Central Australia, it is full of meanings. It is because Nicolas is so interested in what people find, what they are searching for, and is very much a searcher himself, that he brings places and people so much alive in Wings of the Kite-Hawk.
I had very much enjoyed Nicolas’s later book on Australia Another Country. Coming to the end of my burst of reading on Islam, I dived into Wings of the Kite-Hawk and discovered an almost surreal mixing of journeys in space, across time, journeys as much within the human mind as physical.
The book is in five parts, four of which are named after noted geographical or anthropological explorers of Australia, Ludwig Leichhardt, Charles Sturt, Carl Strehlow, Ernest Giles-all of whom left journals that guide Nicolas’s own travels and which are quoted in the text-and one (the second) is simply called The Promised Land.
We start with Leichhardt’s life and explorations, punctuated with quotes from his Journal. Like many explorers and traveller in Central Australia, he was struck by the kite-hawks which weave in and out of the narrative. The introduction of the kite-hawk is followed by the explanation for the journeys behind the book. Nicolas-who had formerly reported on Central Europe, including covering the revolutions than overthrew Leninism-tells us that after a long absence from Australia, I began a journey of my own … acting on the idea that prolonged immersion in the country might make it seem less foreign to my eyes (p.15). We move between Leichhardt’s journey, the traces of it, Nicolas’s own experience of country and the conversations with the folk he meets.
The second part, The Promised Land, extends another theme of the book that Leichhardt already exemplifies-Central Europeans who are drawn to and into Central Australia. It is a very different place, a very harsh place. The tales of attraction are not always restful ones. Unquiet spirits in a harsh country is a mix prone to sorrow and tragedy-such as Leichhardt’s own mysterious disappearance.
The central figure in the second Part is George Chaloupka a Czech émigré who heads the rock art project at the Museum of the Northern Territory, and who was chiefly responsible for revealing to western eyes the painting tradition of Arnhem Land (p.68). George was born in Bohemia in 1932, not an auspicious time and place. He and is brother escaping after the Leninist coup ruined his parents.
In Central Europe, the landscape is relatively kind, but the history has been fraught. In Central Australia, the landscape is harsh and dangerous, the history far less fraught. George sees the Outback as a place to escape from yourself, to lose yourself in the arms of time.
Of course, it is not only the desolate grand history of Central Europe one might want to escape from to the grand and timeless desolation of the Outback. There is also desolate personal history such as the caretaker who reported his Dad as telling him Danny, when every policeman in Parramatta calls you by your first name and you’re only fourteen, it’s time to move on (p.201).
Carl Strehlow was another Central European who was consumed by the Outback, eventually dying on route to medical assistance from his mission. A Lutheran missionary and anthropologist, he became the repository of much of the hidden knowledge of the dying Aboriginal cultures of Central Australia. There was a scandal, eventually, when he sold some ceremonial photos to Der Stern in order to fund his Foundation to preserve what could be preserved. A man born in the time of C19th confidence to lived to see such confidence shattered in two World Wars. As Nicolas suggests, a sense of destruction and loss was something he understood intimately.
The last Part, Giles is marked by death. The disappearance of Giles's exploration companion Gibson (who had lost a brother on Franklin’s expedition), after whom the Gibson Desert is named. And death among those Nicolas meets. Ray Erickson, who Nicolas had talked to Giles about and had written a book about Giles, a book that Nicolas finds a second-hand copy of only to read Erickson’s obituary in the newspaper that afternoon (p.266). Nicolas travels with prospector David Esterline. They discuss Giles.
Several months later, Nicolas returns to the Gibson. He buys a painted panel and meets the woman who painted it. They talk and he learns that David Esterline too had gone into the Desert and died, his burnt-out Land Rover being found but not him. No longer would he be with me, as a guardian shadow - he had gone into the silence of the sky (p.327).
Is a landscape just a place, just a collection of things, or is it full of meanings? To past explorers, present inhabitants and travellers of Central Australia, it is full of meanings. It is because Nicolas is so interested in what people find, what they are searching for, and is very much a searcher himself, that he brings places and people so much alive in Wings of the Kite-Hawk.