In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

  • Cultural revitalization, trauma, and healing
  • Chelsey Zibell
Kim Scott. Taboo. Sydney: Picador, 2017. 287 pp. A$33.00. ISBN: 9781925483741

Land theft, language suppression, cultural genocide. These forms of abuse are the historical background that feature in the story of Taboo, the latest work of fiction by the writer Kim Scott. Taboo is a story of trauma, decolonization, and healing. The main character, Tilly Coolman, must reconcile her recent discovery about her Noongar Aboriginal roots as she meets her biological father and his family, along with healing from horrific abuse from the people closest to her. Additionally, the novel draws attention to the descendants of white settlers who attempt to address their own culpability. The novel centers around the creation of a "Peace Park" being set up near the site of a massacre in order to bring reconciliation between the Wirlomin Noongar and the white population of the area. The story of Tilly, whose heritage is of mixed Wirlomin Noongar heritage, reflects a long history of abuse suffered by the Aboriginal peoples of Australia and by many indigenous groups from colonized countries worldwide.

Interwoven into this text are elements of cultural revitalization and colonial perspectives and ways that those two often clash in any colonized country. This book asks the important questions not just of issues of cultural revitalization but also of identity from a character whose mixed white and Noongar identity makes her challenge how a person is defined as Aboriginal: "A Noongar, they said. Tilly's first thought was it made her really Australian, but of course it was more than that. Then she realised she knew nothing, not even herself. She hadn't met many Aboriginal people. But then again, it seemed you couldn't necessarily tell, not by looking at them. Herself, for instance? Was she?" (150). This theme of identity and blood quantum is a thread throughout other works of Scott's, including the novel True Country, in which a rural schoolteacher learns of his Aboriginal background, and the nonfiction Kayang and Me, in which Scott and his aunt Hazel tell of their Wirlomin Noongar ancestry.

Taboo, however, is not without humor. There is comedic relief through scenes such as when the person hired as Aboriginal support officer at Tilly's college not only is not Aboriginal but also insistently "teaches" [End Page 317] Tilly and other Aboriginal residents about their own cultures with such bromides as "Didgeridoo means Aborigine to everyone, surely!" (192). The ridiculousness of Maureen the Aboriginal support officer is laughable and maddening at the same time, as she attempts a white savior role by misguidedly teaching her students cultural elements: "Still making didgeridoo sounds, and nodding encouragement, Maureen began imitating Sue-Ellen's dance" (195). Scott's writing is a reminder of the generalizations and microaggressions experienced by indigenous peoples from outsiders.

Taboo is a persistent comment on the clash between the historical trauma of indigenous peoples, the attempt at healing from such trauma, and the white guilt and fragility that work to diminish such healing and revitalization efforts. A conversation between Tilly's Noongar family and the descendant of the white colonists of Kokanarup, Dan Horton, illustrates this dynamic. Horton, a white farmer whose land was a site of a massacre of Noongar people, prattles off an observation that is eerily reminiscent of President Trump's remarks on the Charlottesville protests, in response to grandma Nita's accusation, "White man robbed the black man ever since he put foot on the ground. Ever since then black man's getting punished" (222): "There are so many stories, on both sides" (223).

While serving as commentary on issues of decolonization and racism, Scott's writing also challenges readers with literary techniques such as free indirect discourse. This use of the writing style quietly interjects into the text as we see Tilly's perspective, as well as that of her uncle and Dan Horton. At times, the free indirect discourse is distracting and difficult to follow, but Scott leads the attentive reader to a closing that holds a startling impact.

In a time of much racial turmoil, and a time when healing, reconciliation, and cultural revitalization are so strongly sought, texts such as...

pdf

Share