The blaze rose against the backdrop of the ocean. Alice watched the flowers catch alight and burn; the corners of Dylan’s emails blacken and char; all her notebooks turn incandescent. She watched the words she’d written on the covers until they were no longer legible.
After a while she went to the garden chair and sat, cradling the Thornfield Dictionary in her arms. Pip lolled against her legs. Alice took a deep breath full of salt, smoke and flowers, gazing at the flames. Their changing colours. Their transformations. Her beautiful mother, forever in her garden. Alice pressed a hand over her desert pea locket and ininti seed necklace. Trust your story. All you can do is tell it true.
The memory came clear and unfettered: in the weatherboard house at the end of the lane, she sat at her desk by the window, dreaming of ways to set her father on fire.
Her heart beat slow.
I’m — here.
I’m — here.
I’m — here.
Author’s Note
There are stories and characters from varying cultures in this novel. I’d like to acknowledge the generous friends, experiences, and resources I consulted, drew from and used to write them.
In the opening chapter the line, life is lived forward, but only understood backward, was inspired by the work of Danish philosopher, Søren Kierkegaard.
Candy’s favourite fairytale, about a queen who waits for so long for her lover to return to her that she turns into the orchid on her gown, was inspired by the Filipino fairytale, The Legend of Waling-Waling.
The Indian stories of Sita and Draupadi that one of the Flowers shares with Alice were shared with me by Tanmay Barhale.
The story of the king’s daughter who always wore the same shade of blue was inspired by Alice Roosevelt Longworth, daughter of Theodore Roosevelt, who always wore the same pale tint of azure, and was known for never abiding by the rules of her society.
The Bulgarian fairytale Oggi refers to in his letter to Alice, about the wolf and fox, was inspired by a version of the Bulgarian folktale, The Sick and the Healthy, which was translated and shared with me by Iva Boneva.
Lulu’s stories of monarch butterflies, fire warriors and daughters of the sun were inspired by Mexican tales shared with me by Viridiana Alfonso-Lara.
It was important to me that I fictionalised the central Australian settings Alice visits, lives and works in because to set those parts of this novel in existing places would be telling stories that aren’t mine to tell. I consulted Ali Cobby Eckermann, Yankunytjatjara woman and internationally acclaimed poet, about creating such settings. She agreed that it was a wise thing to do.
Kililpitjara, or Earnshaw Crater, and everything to do with it — its name, its story, its landscape — is fictional. The place name Kililpitjara is fictional in the sense that I made it up, but the Pitjantjatjara I used to create it, and that is used throughout the novel, is the language spoken by Anangu. Kililpi (noun), means star. Tjara (noun), means some or part of a larger group or thing. Basic translation of the combination in English is belonging to stars. The main reference text I used was the IAD Press Pitjantjatjara/Yankunytjatjara to English Dictionary.
To create a sense of Kililpitjara’s geological structure I was inspired by images of Kandimalal (Wolfe Creek Crater) and Tnorala (Gosse Bluff) but its enormity, energy, and presence has been informed by my experience living in the central desert.
In 2016 I met with Dr John Goldsmith in Perth, who talked me through his first-hand experiences of Kandimalal and photographing western desert stars. Dr Goldsmith was also a great help in enlightening me to the concentric circles of stars and craters, and the very likelihood of a patch of desert peas growing in the formation I have described.
Kililpitjara’s creation story was inspired by the public Arrernte creation story of Tnorala, the crater where a baby fell from its wooden carrier in the stars to the earth, and its parents in the sky who search for it eternally.
The returned sorry flowers and accompanying letters from tourists that Ruby shows Alice are inspired by the ‘sorry rocks’ received by park staff every day at Uluru, sent by guilty tourists around the world.
Ruby’s poem, Seeds, is written by Ali Cobby Eckermann, who gave me full permission to use it in this context. While I lived in the desert I had the pleasure of meeting and knowing many women like Ruby. They shared their stories and their spirits with me, which taught me lessons I hadn’t learned anywhere else. Australia has a black history. It always was and always will be Aboriginal land.
In Gratitude
As a reader, I love reading the acknowledgements section of novels. It’s always felt a little like being able to slip into an after party while it’s in full swing and see the people in the wings of an author’s story step into light. It is an immeasurable thrill to be able to now write my own for my first novel.
My respect and gratitude to Yugambeh people on whose land many drafts of this novel were crafted; to Bundjalung people on whose saltwater country I grew up; to Butchulla people on whose land my grandmother lives, where the sugar cane fields grow that have long enchanted my mind. My respect and gratitude to Arrernte people, and Anangu on whose Ngaanyatjarra Pitjantjatjara Yankunytjatjara (NPY) Lands I worked and travelled through during the time I lived in the Northern Territory. I would especially like to acknowledge with gratitude the NPY women who shared culture and stories from their ancestors with me.
To my extraordinary team at HarperCollins Publishers Australia, thank you for completely exceeding my wildest childhood dreams. Alice ‘Whizzy’ Wood and Sarah Barrett, thank you for your tireless energy, hard work, and our out-of-hours chats and giggles. Hazel Lam, thank you for creating one of the most beautiful book covers I have ever seen for Alice Hart’s story. Mark Campbell, Tom Wilson, Karen-Maree Griffiths, Erin Dunk, Essie Orchard and Andrea Johnson, thank you for your passion and belief in this novel, and me. Nicola Robinson, thank you for your deft and intuitive edits, knowing where I could be and do better, and seeing me through. Catherine Milne, story sister, you have made me and Alice the best we can be. Thank you for imploring and teaching me to trust in the novel I had written, to trust in myself. I am indebted to you.
To Zeitgeist Agency: Benython Oldfield, Sharon Galant, and Thomasin Chinnery, my agents, thank you for believing in me, and Alice, and being the dream team of near-mythical wonders you are. There is no one else I would rather be in a war room with than you three.