Cirrus@Austlit

'In 1954, aged three, Rhonda Spratt was taken from her Aboriginal mother and placed on Carnarvon Native Mission in remote Western Australia. Growing up in the white world of chores and aprons, religious teachings and cruel beatings, Rhonda drew strength and healing from her mission brothers and sisters, her art, music and poetry, and her unbreakable bond with the Dreaming. In Rhonda’s own words: I lived my early years on a native mission in Western Australia – growing up without a mother’s love. I was always searching for my people’s language, dance, songs and stories. I went on to find some family, my culture, my identity and ultimately myself. In writing this book, I wanted to speak about what happened to us as a people, on a human level, through the eyes of a child (Collard-Spratt & Ferro 2017: xi).' (Introduction)

'In Disgrace, David Lurie finds preposterous the proposition that “Human society has created language in order that we may communicate our thoughts, feelings and intentions to each other”, privately believing that, on the contrary, “the origins of speech lie in song” (Coetzee 2000: 3-4). In my 2010 book J. M. Coetzee and the Power of Narrative, I included a brief survey of references to music as a type of language in Coetzee’s work. In this paper I will examine my claim in greater depth, seeking musical resonances in his novel Age of Iron, both in his prose and in the form and structure of the novel. I will attempt to account for my impression that despite his reputation for spare, academic prose, Coetzee is a lyrical and impassioned writer, and that musical rhythms and structures are an essential element in his work.' (Publication abstract)