Style and Angle

The award-winning English Passengers by Matthew Kneale was published in 2000, and received exceptionally good reviews: “A fascinating story, richly told – a major work by a major talent”, “Fantastic, it’s an absolute cracker”, “Extraordinary – it has moral purpose and the power to change”. It certainly is a book well worth reading, for its action-filled plot, its dramatic and tragic story, and its humour.
However, in this article we will look at the writer’s original approach to the style of his narrative; the story is told in retrospect in a 1st person voice by all the characters, who relate many of the same events seen from their individual points of view. With a cast of more than twenty characters it is a bold literary quest that brilliantly demonstrates how the characterization of a narrative inseparably depends on its style and language.

“Total charge: Three passengers. Worse, Englishmen all of them. I can’t say I was happy about the arrangement. I dare say I’d expected the Sincerity to wee a few humiliations in her time – to be nibbled by barnacles, shat on by gulls, and poked and prodded by Customs men – but never, not once did I think she’d be reduced to the shame of passengers.
Strange articles of passengers they were, too. Truly, you never did see such a clever and pestful trio as these, all disagreeing with themselves, and taking their great clever brains for a little stroll on the deck. I dare say it was hardly a surprise they were odds, mind, seeing as their quest was to discover themselves the Garden of Eden. The Garden of Eden! As if it couldn’t just been left in the Bible where it belonged. They weren’t even looking to find it in any sensible spot, but on some rotten island at the very ends of the earth, called Van Diemen’s Land, or Tasmania, as it couldn’t make up its mind. This was a mad fool of a place, by the sounds of it, all gaols and bluemen and worse, being nowhere any sensible fellow would venture near. It was there, and all the way back, too, that we were supposed to be carrying the three snots. A whole year of Englishmen. What a thought that was. It was bad enough just taking them along the coast to Maldon.”

“A matter on which I was less inclined to show leniency was that of our devotions. Ours being a Christian expedition, it was essential that it should be conducted in a properly Christian spirit, and yet, to my distress, I found that the others showed a lamentable reluctance in this respect. As we proceeded I would often break into a rousing hymn, both to voice my faith and also to speed us upon our way, only to find myself answered with a most ragged and dismal reply from the others.

“My belief soon won through. After only a few moments of careful thought there occurred to me an explanation as simple as it was true. It is well known that our Lord God will sometimes impose little tests upon His children, so He may be sure of their devotion. Thus it was now: our worthiness was being sought. Why, I even considered that we had been given a kind of blessing. Was this not a wondrous opportunity to demonstrate my own unswerving reverence; to prove my faith was solid as a mighty rock?”

“Morning’s progress slow + tiring. Day v. humid + mud = worst till now (last night’s rain”). Mules slipping, selves likewise, till all = greatly begrimed, boots heavy with dirt. Only one little affected = half caste (no shoes) who = scampering though oblivious. This = further instance of his speedy reversion to aboriginal savagery. Other instances: return to near nakedness, sleeping outside, eating vilest raw food etc. etc. All = v. useful re. notions. Definitive proof that when two Types = naturally mixed characteristics of lowest Type shall always prevail. Intend to call this axiom Potter’s Law.”

“One day it was warm and there was rain but no wind, so drops fell straight like stones. We were in the bush, sitting quiet and watching meat cooking in the fire, and the smoke smelled good as this was the first game we caught for days and we were hungry after eating just roots. Then Gonar, who went off to the edge of that clearing to do shittings, came running back and shouted in a whispering way: Something’s coming.
Now if something’s coming and you don’t know what it is there’s no prudence just waiting for it to walk on you. (…) Then twigs were breaking, telling us that this something coming was clumsy. In fact it was three somethings. No, I had never seen creatures so strange, I do recollect. They were the shape of men but only this. Their skin was not like skin at all but was the colour of stone, and loose, so it flapped. Even their feet were ugly, too big and with no toes. Worst, though, were their faces. These were coloured like raw meat, with no alive look in them.”