This is a book that I have had my eye on for some time, so I was pleased when I received this as a Valentine’s Day gift. Upfield is not an author I have read much by, only four of his mysteries: Wings Above Diamantina (1936), Murder Down Under (1937), The Bachelors of Broken Hill (1950) and Man of Two Tribes (1956). I’ve not mined his work too deeply, so I was hopeful that this book might help me decide on some good ones to try next. Moreover, I was particularly curious to see what was said about The Sands of Windee, as the body disposal method outlined in this book was copied by a real-life killer. I go into more details about this in my Agatha’s Ark: Animals in Crime Fiction post.
Browne’s preface indicates that at the time of his book being published, Arthur Upfield’s biographical data was somewhat sketchy. However, the author goes on to mention that Joe Kovess ‘is in the final process of gathering information for a biography’ of Upfield. I decided to search online for this book’s title, as I thought it would be helpful for those interested in Upfield. However, intriguingly I cannot find this biography. Did it ever happen?
In brief, Upfield (1888-1964) was dispatched as a young man to Australia by his father, who had deemed him a ‘troublemaker’. He took on a wide range of jobs including ‘boundary rider, cattle-drover, sheep-herder, rabbit-tracker, opal-gouger, grape-picker, cook and station manager’. Only in 1924 did he pursue writing as a career in earnest, due to the encouragement of two friends, cattle station owners Mary and Angus. In total he wrote 36 books, 29 of which were Inspector Napoleon Bonaparte mysteries. The Lake Frome Monster (1966) was published posthumously, and had to completed by two of Upfield’s friends, J. L. Price and Dorothy Strange. Browne refers to an unpublished Upfield novel, which had ‘lately’ been ‘found among Upfield’s papers.’ He says it was due to be published in 1987. Once again, I jumped onto Google to uncover the title, and once again I seemed to be drawing a blank. However, I am wondering if this unpublished work, was in fact Breakaway House, which was serialised in 1932, according to Wikipedia, in the Perth Daily News, but was published in book form in 1987.
Browne explains that the purpose of his book is to:
‘[…] explicate and comment on some aspects of Upfield’s books that make him and them so important. The comments trace major themes in Upfield’s life and philosophy, major attitudes he expressed and developed and the mental and physical setting in which he developed them. Finally, each book is evaluated in light of Upfield’s other works, and in light of other, mainly non-Australian, authors.’
The first chapter is concerned with Upfield’s life and philosophy, with the former dominating initially, before the latter topic becomes more central. Arthur Upfield was the oldest of five boys, and his childhood, perhaps to modern readers, was a bit unusual. Due to overcrowding in his home, and his status as a ‘troublemaker’, ‘Arthur was sent to live with his grandparents, on both sides, most of his childhood, returning to his parents’ home for brief spells […]’. Regarding Upfield’s expulsion to Australia, Browne informs us that:
‘His father’s words to his son as explanation of the final separation were that Arthur would never amount to any good, Australia was so far away that once there Arthur could not cause the family trouble, and perhaps, best of all, he could never save enough money to get back to England.’
This definitely raises some questions, as to what Upfield got up to as a child and young adult, that his parent would take this attitude. Upon the score of hoping his son would never return to England, Upfield’s father was to be disappointed, as Arthur did make it back. He also married and had a child, but over time this relationship disintegrated, and the desire to return to Australia was unignorable. Back in Australia, Arthur would become separated from his wife (she refused a divorce).
Browne draws upon anecdotal evidence from those who knew Upfield, to help paint a picture of him as a person. He further argues that some aspects of Upfield can be seen in Clarence B. Bagshott, one of Arthur’s characters, who is also an author and appears in The Devil’s Steps (1946) and The Author Bites the Dust (1948).
For me, the first chapter of The Spirit of Australia, is one of the weakest of the book. In terms Upfield’s “philosophy” this chapter briefly touches on several topics, which are explored more fully in later sections. I can see why a writer might adopt this approach, to signpost what lies ahead, but unfortunately, I felt the themes were addressed in too generalised terms. Moreover, anecdotes or examples mentioned in this opening chapter are then frequently repeated later in the book. In addition, I felt some of the author’s statements were running the risk of becoming OTT. For instance, Browne opines:
‘He may have been the first to write crime fiction as a genre larger than detective fiction, a tradition that is growing steadily as authors have gone beyond mere detective fiction to work in crime and suspense fiction and to bring to their work the tools of psychology and culture in general. Upfield’s books are works in cultural and philosophical anthropology, which merely use as their modus operandi crime fiction worked around a heroic’ multiracial person ‘who dearly loves to solve crimes because they afford his talent, that of tracking criminals and putting together scattered pieces of human action, its fullest play and development. Upfield’s works are of heroic forces shaking the world, and they developed on a plane far above the level of mere detective fiction.’
Just a mere touch of literary snobbery there, perhaps? I dislike the way detective fiction is seen as something inferior here, nor see why Upfield needs any defending for having chosen the genre. To be honest, if I had not read any Bonaparte mysteries, but had read that final sentence, I wouldn’t be keen to try any. Praise, written this way, without any backing or evidence, just weakens the writer’s argument, in my opinion. As does repetition of certain words. In the passage above the word ‘mere’ increases the sense of snobbery, whilst the repetition of the word ‘strongest’, in the sentence below makes the writer sound vague and little unprofessional:
‘At his strongest, moreover, Upfield in his concept of his detective and the challenge of detective against nature and man, and the power of his accomplishment in working the story can be compared only with the absolute strongest of other authors.’
Whilst enthusiasm can be infectious at times, in excess and when lacking in substantiation, it can become off-putting. Literary snobbishness rears its head on several occasions in the first chapter, with another significant example occurring when the author presents very stereotypical descriptions of UK and USA detective novels and characters, and there is a definite hard-boil bias:
‘American detective heroes are generally more than their British counterparts, and they are obviously marked as extraordinary. Rex Stout’s Nero Wolfe, for example, in addition to his gargantuan size and excessive sloth is obsessed with his love for orchids. Ross Macdonald’s Lew Archer is melancholy person concerned with searching for his father. John D. Macdonald’s Travis McGee lives on his houseboat The Busted Flush and fights for the common man.’
Since when did living on a houseboat make you extraordinary? How does being ‘melancholy’ make you ‘generally more than’ British fictional sleuths? Someone should give Eeyore a call, he’s clearly missed his calling!
All in all, the first chapter really struggles to maintain a sense of direction after the first few pages, and it begins to feel random and at times circular. I would also argue that there are moments when the writer contradicts himself. For example, Browne states that:
‘Nearly all detective fiction develops through heroes and heroines as protagonists. Generally these heroes combat crime to protect society, to set society aright after the intrusion of a convulsion of law-breaking that has knocked it askew. Such a people are social heroes. Heroes of the so-called Golden Age of British Detective stories are concerned almost exclusively with putting back together the pieces of society that have been dislocated by the crime, in other words, solving the puzzle. Upfield’s heroes are much more like those of the American so-called hard-boiled variety, when the hero, no matter how hard-boiled he seems in action and talk, is really soft-hearted and humanitarian at his core. He is more determined with doing good, though often acting as his own judge and jury in evaluating the crime and punishment needed, than in merely solving the crime.’
However, 13 or so pages later Browne writes:
‘Like Sherlock Holmes before him, Bony likes to solve crimes because they provide mental exercise. But he differs from Sherlock Holmes in the degree that he takes the disposition of justice into his own hands. Holmes frequently acts as jury and judge; only once does Bony act as judge and dismiss the criminal, wishing her a happy future.’
I think a more organised chapter would have avoided this kind of discrepancy.
Chapter 2 is concerned with the physical settings and plots of each of Upfield’s mysteries. Browne works chronologically, exploring each book. I felt this was a helpful approach and useful for the reader who has not read many or any of the novels. Consequently, for me this was a much stronger chapter, with a clear sense of structure and direction. Browne begins by writing that:
‘Upfield’s books, although ostensibly crime fiction, are really about mankind on the land, about strife between individuals and the battle between mankind – both white and’ indigenous Australians, ‘male and female – and nature. They are crime novels in settings of violence. They describe tension that results from the imposition of mankind on the land, and they include graphic descriptions of the flora and fauna, the landscapes and geology, the metrology, the symbols of nature and the people and the way they live, talk, eat and act in the presence of a strong nature.’
Browne’s systematic approach really brings out how much effect the weather has on the plots in Upfield’s mysteries. Fire, flood, sandstorms, rainstorms and drought all make an appearance in Arthur Upfield’s oeuvre. Moreover, the writer’s exploration of the books brings out various experiences Arthur had, which helped to shape his mysteries. The author is able to highlight weaknesses as well as strengths in their stories, such as with Arthur’s first published (although not first written) mystery, The House of Cain (1926):
‘[…] the character development of this first novel is weaker than it will be subsequently. The lead characters are too much of themselves. Martin Sherwood is unlike any person who has ever lived. Austilene floats through the air at least six inches above ground. Monty, Martin’s rescuing brother, is a caricature of the hero […] He is too jaunty, too happy, too resourceful – too everything. The reader comes to hope that he will be punched in the face. But he isn’t.’
However, Wings Above Diamantina (1936) gets a more favourable report, with Browne considering it a ‘tour de force’. The author further adds that:
‘In this closely-knit novel that wanders very little from the compression of a relentless search for the criminal, Nature appears to be more than indifferent to man’s action. It seems more to be positively hostile, and on the side of the evil that men do […] Upfield’s use of the weather as a formidable antagonist is especially impressive.’
It was interesting to learn about some of the unusual details that can be found in the Bonaparte mysteries. For example, in Winds of Evil (1937):
‘[…] Bony meets a bus which stops because it is generating so much electricity in the storm the driver is afraid the bus will explode. Bony touches the radiator, and blue flames streak from his hand to the ground. Other people tell about how the electricity created in these wind-created hells cure rheumatism but cause headaches and all kinds of erratic mental behaviour. The murderer in the story is an otherwise fine individual but one whose behaviour is influenced by the electricity in the air [… They] are literally controlled by the electrical sparks in the atmosphere.’
Meanwhile in An Author Bites a Dust (1948), which is meant to be ‘a locked-door type British detective novel’, the murder method involves coffin dust, which is used to poison someone. Browne’s book delves into the real history behind this idea and the research which people have conducted to see if coffin dust could kill someone.
Chapter three moves on to Arthur Upfield’s engagement with other books, in terms of what he read and what he alluded to in his own writing. In addition, it also discusses the way Upfield felt rejected by the Australian literary establishment. Arthur once said:
‘To be a success in Australia, you must work somewhere else, for Australians are constitutionally unable to appreciate their own creative works unless the authors are living or dead. At present, I’m not interested in the former condition and I’m not really in a hurry to achieve the latter one.’
One of the themes which interested me in this chapter was how “literary” vs. “popular” fiction is a debate which is played out in the Bonaparte mysteries, as according to Browne:
‘Bony thinks that popular fiction is the backbone of culture, especially Australian culture, because it has no pretensions. He recognises popular entertainment, fiction as well as the movies, as a way to keep people out of crime.’
Furthermore, Browne includes examples of Upfield’s villains, who lack knowledge or appreciation of popular fiction. For instance, in The Widows of Broome (1950), the culprit is someone ‘who had never wasted his time at the cinema and never read fiction less than a century old’. Meanwhile the library in the central home of Venom House (1952) has ‘many English classics on the shelves’ but ‘there is not a mystery book there.’ Browne remarks that: ‘Again, Upfield is giving a clear indication that where there is no popular fiction there is likely to be ignorance and evil.’
The next chapter is concerned with Arthur Upfield’s writing style. We receive more information on the couple who encouraged Upfield to become a writer, but we also get quite a bit of repeated materials on books such as The House of Cain and The Barrakee Mystery. Browne comments on what he thinks are Arthur’s strengths as a writer and how he edited some of his stories for American publication, in particular his removal of socially inappropriate terms (which were common at the time in Australia).
Chapter 5 explores the characters in Upfield’s novels with multiethnic backgrounds. I think this section will come across as a bit awkward for modern readers, but it is useful in seeing how interracial relationships were viewed at the time when Upfield was writing and how Upfield depicts them in his books. I would not say the Arthur definitively disapproved of them, but such relationships can end rather tragically in his stories.
Clothes and nakedness as a metaphor is the topic of the next chapter. I think Browne’s idea was that in Upfield’s novels clothing linked a character to “western” or “Caucasian” ways, whilst a lack of clothing linked a character to indigenous Australian communities. The amount of clothing or even the type of clothing could also be used by Upfield to indicate a character’s level of cultural assimilation. This premise seems to have built upon the understanding that indigenous Australian communities did not wear clothes, however looking online, more recent research suggests that clothing did sometimes play a part in such groups, particularly if a tribe lived in a colder part of the country.
The seventh chapter looks at the role of alcohol and pubs for the people who lived on the frontiers. Browne provides many examples from the books and touches upon the idea that going on a “bender” was a way of combating mental instability due to loneliness.
Caves and caverns are the next theme to be considered and how their symbolic meaning varies between the Bonaparte mysteries that they appear in. Browne argues that they go beyond just being prisons or hiding places and instead they could sometimes have sexual connotations or be representative of rebirth or a loss of innocence. This chapter contains a lot of repeated information and anecdotes, and I think better organisation of the book’s overall material would have helped to reduce this issue.
Chapter 9 is concerned with the role of women on the frontier. Again, more rigorous organisation within the chapter would have improved the level of Browne’s argument, as throughout the book he has mentioned how Upfield did not understand women and that he was not good at portraying them as characters. The start of chapter 9 continues in this vein, showing how strong women were not always depicted positively in Arthur’s mysteries and that female characters tended to be romanticised or sentimentalised. However, part way through the chapter Browne then charts all the women who do not meet this criteria. If Upfield is able to offer strong and poor depictions of female characters, then a better starting point for the chapter would be mentioning this duality. Otherwise, it means the chapter goes in one direction for half the page count and then goes in the opposite direction for the second half. In addition, the chapter is heavy on describing the female characters and listing them. I feel this is more accessible for those well read in the Bonaparte books.
The next chapter talks about how the supernatural, lore and superstitions are incorporated into Upfield’s novels. Two of the main books considered as Bushranger of the Skies (1940) and The Bone is Pointed (1938). However, this is another chapter which contains more repeated material.
Chapter 11 explores Upfield’s attitudes towards non-Australians. Browne notes that:
‘Not all foreigners were viewed with the same attitude by Upfield. At times he praised the civilisation brought to Australia by his countrymen, the English. At other times he thought it was the beginning of a continuing curse, which would end only with the total destruction of the’ indigenous Australians.
It seems that Arthur Upfield was more positive about the presence of Americans in Australia, not seeing them as ‘detrimental’ to indigenous communities. This is a very short chapter, only four pages long and it felt like a collection of random examples had been stitched together. I am also a little baffled by one section which discusses The Mountains Have Secrets (1948). Initially the author writes: ‘In The Mountains Have Secrets, the assistant is an American from Texas. In developing this character Upfield pretty much sticks to the stereotype of Texans […]’. However, a paragraph later, we are told that in this story Bony has to go looking for some missing hikers, and during this process he ‘discovers the Texas sweetheart of one of the hikers, Glen Shannon, who it turns out is something quite different from the stereotype Upfield assumed as a working principle.’ It just doesn’t quite sound right, this last sentence, as it almost gives the impression that Glen Shannon is able to defy the characterising intentions of his author.
After this chapter we have a section which looks at Breakaway House, which at the time of Browne’s book was the recently discovered manuscript of a non-series mystery which had not been published as a novel. (Google seemed to suggest it had previously been published as a newspaper serialisation in 1932 though.)
Chapter 13 brings us to the conclusion. Upfield was a man who valued the way of life held by the indigenous Australian communities and he did not want their traditions to be erased. But at the end of the day, his use of language is not going to match the language we consider appropriate now. He was depicting life as it was then, warts and all, on the Australian frontiers and in the Outback, not creating a world he might have wanted to exist. Browne does note that Upfield does not offer as much criticism of social or racial stereotypes as he could have done, but Browne maintains that there is much to be learnt about that time period from these stories, emphasising the importance of understanding how things were in the past. However, I am less convinced by one of Browne’s justifications for Upfield including stereotypes:
‘At times Upfield presented’ indigenous Australians ‘in the shorthand of stereotype and cliché. But it should be remembered that Upfield was writing for a literate – that is largely’ non-indigenous Australian ‘– audience. He wanted to write the “great Australian” novel. That means he was writing for literate Australians, and for other English-speaking peoples around the world. That does not mean that he had license to falsify the’ indigenous Australians, ‘but it does mean that perhaps he can be excused for having used the stereotype and cliché in his effort to get along and tell the story. He was, as he repeatedly said, primarily a storyteller.’
It just feels a little bit of a self-contradicting passage and as though the writer wants to have his cake and eat it. The conclusion also seemed a bit contradictory in other ways. For example, Browne says:
‘Did Upfield present Australian Outback life and culture comprehensively and fairly? The answer has to be in the affirmative […] Of the British, nobody has ever accused Upfield of not presenting them fairly and objectively. He, being one of them, could read them and report his findings.’
However, a few paragraphs later, Browne closes with the lines:
‘Upfield stands as a gem in the Australian crown. If he failed to be utterly and completely objective at all times, perhaps he was victim of his own upbringing. He was never quite able to cast aside his British blood and British point of view. Perhaps that was his weakness as his strength.’
This is an example of how I feel like this book does not always know what it wants to argue. It is like the book wants to stand on both sides of the fence at once, rather than really mining the ambiguity of Upfield’s work and life.
The book ends with a glossary of terms used by Upfield, whose meaning might not be familiar to non-Australian audiences, a reference list, and a list of the settings for each of Upfield’s mysteries, with an accompanying map.
Overall, I would say that the second chapter was the most useful for me, and I do have a sense now of which titles I might like to try and which ones I might want to avoid. I can see this being a book I might dip back into in the future, but I don’t feel it is one I would read from cover to cover again. It needed a wider variety of textual examples to reduce material repetition, and a revision of its arguments would have greatly improved it.
Rating: 3.5/5