- Culture
- 19 Jan 12
A wrenching account of a damaged childhood, Jon Bauer’s debut has the literati in a swoon. He explains why sometimes it’s okay to repulse the reader.
Jon Bauer is in good form. It may be freezing in the northern hemisphere but the English-Australian author is enjoying the smashing weather Down Under. More importantly, his debut novel, Rocks In The Belly, is attracting the kind of critical response most aspiring authors can only dream of.
Rocks In The Belly tells the family history of a young man. Having immigrated to Canada to escape a tragedy that has shaped his life, he is forced home to care for his once-domineering mother who is dying of brain cancer. Rocks In The Belly alternates between the narrator as an adult and as a boy angry at having to share his home and parents with a series of foster brothers.
Throughout the book, we never learn who exactly the narrator is, particularly since he is given to lying about his name. Why did the author do this?
“It was an instinctual decision,” says Bauer. “I couldn’t bring myself to name him. I think that it has served to make him more – I want to say toxic – but perhaps more invasive. A certain amount of detail is necessary but omitted detail can be very powerful. It sounds silly, but by not having a name he becomes much more mutable for the reader.”
Toxic is too strong a word, but the narrator is certainly ambivalent. His emotional damage elicits sympathy, but his selfishness is repellent. This kind of characterisation requires an author to walk a fine line.
“I wanted to compel and repel the reader. One of the interesting things about this book is that it shows how people’s compassion works. It sounds a bit harsh but can almost tell what kind of person someone is by who they align themselves with in the book. It took a long time and a lot of work and I won’t have managed that for everyone, for sure.”
The possibility of repulsing a large number of readers could be seen as a risky strategy, but Bauer disagrees.
“We are so coddled these days with our characters. Often the protagonist or the narrator is likeable, and the characters are either good or bad. I don’t like patronising readers – ‘He’s the baddie, he’s the goodie.’ These days the landscape of a character can be a little bit too simple. And what’s so bad about reading about a character you don’t like? Have we become so squeamish as readers that we can’t walk in the shoes of someone who is not saccharine, simplistic and good that we can cheer on? There is something to be said for someone who is not always likeable but we understand why, because we have witnessed their childhood.”
A foster boy named Robert joins the family when the narrator is eight years old and the tragic consequences of the boy’s jealousy shape the rest of his life. It’s commonly held that children can distinguish right from wrong around the age of seven. One question the reader must answer is how culpable the boy is for his actions.
“I think that children of eight, and even adults at 78, don’t have much control over their emotions,” says Bauer. “They might know the difference between right and wrong, but depending on their childhood context, they might be being triggered in very strong ways, more than they can cope with. At times the boy thinks he is bad, and he can’t stop doing bad things, which adds to his sense of disempowerment. He doesn’t have control over his emotions. The book is a lot about emotions and how cruel they are.”
Certain of these actions would suggest that the boy has some psychopathic tendencies, such his cruelty to the family cat.
“Well, that’s very common in children who have been emotionally or physically abused. A good friend of mine works with abused children and there are certain kinds of behaviours that indicate abuse. I wouldn’t say he is psychopathic, I’d say he is being abused. But as an adult, he does have some sociopathic tendencies”
However, Rocks In The Belly doesn’t blame the narrator or write him off a psychological misfit. Bauer creates a family psychodrama of a domineering mother and an ineffectual father. Does he see this as the cause of the boy’s actions and the man’s emotional disengagement?
“I think the root of the problem is the mother’s own history. The father is interesting because certain readers see him as a wonderful character and I think he is necessary as he gives some warmth and compassion, but for me he is the villain of the story. His passivity is what leaves the child holding the burden of his guilt. I think the relationship between the parents is important. But I think the cause is the generational nature of pain. You find out a small but important detail later on as to why the mother is so compelled to foster boys. Maybe she would have been happier if the relationship with her husband was better.”
The boy is very aware of the tensions in his parents’ relationship.
“I remember from my own childhood watching that. I remember being aware, although I didn’t fully understand it, of my mother’s reluctance to hug my dad, and the way he would try and hug her in front of us children in order to make it harder for her to say no. Children are very aware of what’s going on between their parents.”
The narrator seems to have a lot of rage towards women, perhaps fearing that he’ll be dominated in the same way his father was.
“His relationship to women is not very healthy. I think part of it is the way his father talks about women. If I was to simplify I would say it is about his need to be close but his great fear of being close. He is ambivalent. He really does feel both ways at once. He thinks he is unlovable. Anger is just a cover for pain.”
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Rocks in the Belly is out now.