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A beguiling celebration of the extraordinary in ordinary people's lives, this gently moving and beautifully written novel tells the stories of the people of Currawalli Street across the generations. It's a modern classic in the making that will stay with you long after the last page is turned.
We all have secret lives. And we are all pretty good at keeping them secret.
With simplicity and great beauty,
Currawalli Street reveals the echoes between past and present through the story of one ordinary street and its families, from the pre-war innocence of early 1914 to the painful and grim consequences of the Vietnam War.
In 1914, Thomas, the young rector, questions his faith and falls in love; his sister Janet, a dutiful spinster, hides a surprising secret; and their neighbour, Rose, is burdened with visions of the coming hell. In 1972, Jim, a soldier fresh from Vietnam, returns home to Currawalli Street to find that death has a way of seeping in everywhere; Patrick, looked after by his elderly wife, Mary, can't relinquish his former identity; and always there is the boy up in the tree, watching them all and keeping note.
In only three short generations, working horses and wagons are lost to cars, wood-fired ovens are replaced with electric stoves, and the lessons learned at such cost in the Great War seem forgotten. But despite all the changes, the essential human things remain: there will always be families and friends reaching out for connection; people will always have secrets to keep hidden from view; and desire and love are as inevitable as war and violence.
Deep, rich and satisfying,
Currawalli Street links families and neighbours, their lovers and friends, in a powerful and moving dance through time.
About The Author
Christopher Morgan has been a singer in a French restaurant, an artificial tree builder, a kitchen hand, a fire brigade roster clerk and a printing factory storeroom worker. In 1996 Christopher was diagnosed with a brain tumour and found that the only thing that was improved by the tumour was his imagination and decided to put it to good use. His first novel for adults, The Island of Four Rivers, was published in 2006 after which Christopher wrote two children's stories, Pirates Eat Porridge (2006) and Pirates Drive Buses (2007). Currawalli Street is his second novel for adults.
Reviewed By Toni Whitmont, Booktopia Buzz Editor
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Currawalli Street is a very special book indeed, and undeniably the house favourite for its publisher, Allen & Unwin. Currawalli Street is in some respects a celebration of all that's good
about small communities, and the strength we get from our neighbours
when we most need it. Though nothing like it in style or substance, there are undeniably strong echoes of Jasper Jones - an Australian classic of the future perhaps.
The story moves between 1914, when the street was new and residents were trying to settle just as the war to end all wars was starting, and 1972 as a former resident and Vietnam vet tries to fit back into his former life. The two generations have connections that they are not aware of. Of course, they smell some of the same smells, touch the same dirt, look at the same views and feel some of the same feelings, but they are also connected by threads that weave back to the first decade of the century.
Morgan writes this about its origin:
I was pulling off the palings off a side fence at my home which was built in 1910. I exposed the neighbour's house wall and was surprised to see a man wearing clothes suitable to the early 20th century, standing there, just as surprised to see me. Without a word, he pulled his cigarette from his lips and disappeared around the corner of the house. Shaken, I replaced the palings and then walked inside to tell my partner that I may have just seen a ghost. It occurred to me then, that he may have done the same thing; gone
around the corner to his partner and told her that he had just seen a ghost.
Wearing strange clothes. Maybe from the future.
That's one way the story started.
But most importantly there is a deep story behind every name that we read on those World War One remembrance plinths and those tiny names carved into the stone don't even begin to tell those stories. Ordinary people who did something extraordinary. Without paying it too much attention.
