NIGEL FEATHERSTONE My Heart is a Little Wild Thing. Reviewed by Michael Jongen

Nigel Featherstone’s second novel is a story of masculinity and modern Australia.

Throwing a clock at his mother in frustration is, for Patrick in Nigel Featherstone’s latest novel, a realisation and a release. Conscious that if his mother hadn’t moved aside, he may have caused her an injury, Patrick decides that he needs a break from his duties as her carer. On a whim he returns to the Monaro region, the scene of happy family holidays, for a break.

I loved this delightful novel and the journey it took me on. There is much going on in this simple story of one gay man’s unshackling from the ties that bind.

The youngest son, Patrick has taken on the task of caring for his mother. He is a good son but his sense of loyalty to his mother and his family has stood in the way of him realising his own aspirations; he is mildly repressed and it begins to corrode his relationship with his mother.

In the Monaro he seeks out the property where his family had often stayed in the days before his parents divorced, his brother moved to America and his sister began farming in Western Australia. While it no longer offers holiday accommodation, Alice, the owner, agrees to let him stay in the converted barn. Here he reminisces about his family, wonders if he is being observed by a quoll (an animal no longer seen in these parts), and he meets a man, Lewis. After extending his stay to spend more time with Lewis, Patrick returns to the Southern Highlands and his mother. He goes on to make a second visit to the Monaro:

During those days after I returned to Jimenbuen the second time, Lewis and I fell into a pattern: we planted trees in the morning and then ate lunch beside the paddock shed – ham, cheese and tomato sandwiches, made by Lewis. Afterwards we walked up to the lookout, and then we refreshed ourselves in the cool, dark water of the waterhole, before lazing about on the rocks. It was uncomplicated, and it reminded me of how friendships were formed at school …

The second part of the novel is sublime. Patrick’s life has been disrupted by Lewis, but he does not know what to do about it. HIs inner monologue and his actions change. His psyche slowly unleashes and we learn more about this moderately unhappy man in his fifth decade.

Even as he needs to become a fulltime carer to his mother, living in her spare room and forced to rent his own home out for income, Patrick ventures back to Sydney and a gay nude beach for the occasional weekend. His pleasure is passive and voyeuristic.

As a closeted teenager he developed a quirky habit that I found quite endearing:

I decided to tell him how, as a schoolkid, I liked to go into the toilets and remove my clothes. I especially loved doing it after playing school rugby on Saturdays and was waiting to be picked up by one of my parents – maybe the game had finished early. So, I would go into a toilet cubicle and remove my jersey and shorts and underwear. I was not waiting for anything to happen, and I certainly was not hoping to be found. I just stood naked in the cubicle, the door latched properly.

He finally begins to follow Lewis and his musical career on social media, which leads them to connect again in Sydney, where Lewis is to perform at the Opera House. This forms the third part of the novel.

There is much joy to be had in deconstructing this fine novel. Patrick’s character is finely observed, and his growth, sexual liberation and preparedness to come out as he hits 50 are beautifully scrutinised. I found this a remarkable look at Australian masculinity and its meaning.

As I pondered the novel, Patrick brought to mind the brash young protagonists of Holden Sheppard’s Invisible Boys; the loving description of the landscape, Michael Trant’s Wild Dogs; and Patrick’s meditative quest, that of Erica Marsden in Amanda Lohrey’s The Labyrinth. The novel also has echoes of JL Carr’s A Month in the Country from 1980. Its main reference, however, is Paul Gallico’s The Snow Goose, a novella about the power of love and friendship that Patrick finds on the bookshelves of the converted barn.

Featherstone paints a picture of a semi-closeted passive man who gradually and almost imperceptibly breaks out of his self-imposed cocoon. Lewis, and the idea of him, transform Patrick. He may not turn wild, but he does become a little less tame.

I began walking, not because I was ready for the ocean, but because I felt the urge to move, to feel the blood coursing through my body.

This is a beautiful, rich story, elegantly written in a style I mostly associate with Edmund White and David Leavitt. At its heart it is a story of family, friends and relationships and how they inform and constrict us. It is also a reflection of modern Australia and how we can remake ourselves.

Nigel Featherstone My Heart is a Little Wild Thing Ultimo Press 2022 PB 288pp $32.99

Michael Jongen is a librarian who tweets as @michael_jongen

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Tags: Australian fiction, Australian writers, David Leavitt, Edmund White, gay fiction, Nigel | Featherstone, the Monaro