You don’t get many crocodiles in Manchester. I know, I know, I should have warnings when I drop bombs like that, shouldn’t I? I hope you weren’t drinking or anything… apologies if your computer is now a bit damp.
I think the closest I’ve ever come to a crocodile was on a school trip to Chester Zoo but… well, when there’s a place you can go where bats fly around your head, crocodiles don’t really register. I don’t know anything about crocodiles. And, while I’m talking about things that I don’t really know much about, I’ll admit I don’t know much about Australia’s Northern Territory. All of Australia to me looks like Jellicoe Road….and, um…. Ramsay Street*. I mean I’ve seen Crocodile Dundee and I am aware that Paul Hogan exists. Does that count?

Of course not.

So it may sound weird when I say that this book, which is about a seventeen boy who lives in Australia’s Northern Territory and works on a crocodile tour boat, is one of the most affective YA books I’ve read this year and, possibly, ever.

I first heard about this book when I read Mrs Scott’s fantastic review on her blog. I’d never heard of Ms Jeffrey before. I know there are a lot of authors who fly under the radar but seeing as I am all about the contemporary, I like to think that I have my finger on the pulse. I like to keep a look out for YA contemporary authors, especially ones from Australia because you know they are going to be good. So why I left this book on my bookshelf for so long, I have no idea, because I think that, on this book alone, Ms Jeffrey is up there with my favourite YA contemporary authors.

This book has everything we’ve come to expect from Australian YA. Fresh, raw dialogue. Fearless subject matters. A subtle humour that runs through the pages. Fantastic characters and….

Actually, I’m not going to describe this book in relation to any other book because I haven’t really read another book like it. I went into this book not really knowing what it was about and I’m so glad I did. I think with some books it’s OK to go into knowing about the plot but this one isn’t.

Instead, I’m going to talk about Barry, our narrator.

I always wonder why there aren’t many YA books with male narrators. They really are a rare commodity, aren’t they? I’m not saying that everyone should start writing books with male narrators willy-nilly, because actually, the thing that struck me the most about Barry wasn’t that he was a boy but that he was authentic. I never felt like I was reading a grown woman writing about a teenager, I felt like I was reading a book about a seventeen year old teenage boy. Maybe Ms Jeffrey can hand out lessons on how to write authentic teenage narrators to some authors. Actually, no. She definitely should because then that would mean I would only have to read books written that feature narrators that I actually care about.
Again, it’s sad that is a rare commodity.

But I really cared about Barry and, as I flicked through my notes before writing this review, I realised he’s one of those narrators that people like me say cliché things about. He’s been through a lot. He’s broken but he’s strong. It’s so refreshing to find a narrator like him. He’s going to stay with me for a long time.
But, as ever, I stand by my clichés. All of the above. A thousand times yes. I loved Barry Mundy and he’s probably the only person who could get me on a boat in crocodile infested waters. That means a lot.

It’s difficult to talk about this book without alluding to spoilery plot points. I will say that it’s not an easy book to read, not at all, especially when I connected with Barry so much. It was difficult to see Barry go through everything he did. It’s heavy, it’s powerful, it’s uncomfortable but, most importantly, it’s not sentimental. I loved how Ms Jeffrey took a step back from Barry’s story, judging the distance perfectly so the reader wasn’t completely alienated but was prevented from getting too close and being told what to think and how to feel. I think this is where Ms Jeffrey excels. This book could have ‘emotional manipulation’ stamped all over it but luckily, Ms Jeffrey knew what she was doing and her writing did all the talking. Cliché, maybe, but she had me completely captivated, lump in my throat, e-mail open so I could send rambling e-mails to Anna with sentences like “OMG, WHAT IS GOING TO HAPPEN!?!”
Barry’s narration is so matter-of-fact and passive and it broke my heart so many times I’ve lost count.

“I just felt the road keeping on in front of me and I followed it.”


“I’m like a river without a name. Flowing through life because that’s what I do without knowing where I’ve come from and where I’m going. There’s beasts that have made a good home in me, too.”

Sure, I wanted to get closer because I wanted to see that Barry was OK and… well, ok yeah, I wanted to give him a cuddle too, but I loved how things were left unsaid. Problems were left unsolved. Characters that were OK in the beginning were lost at the end. Everything was still messy, but while I wouldn’t say it was a happy ending, I’d say this book had the perfect ending. I found myself holding my breath right along with Barry Mundy and when I read the final page, there was a certain kind of peace and acceptance that things just might be ok in the end… eventually.

I also absolutely adored the setting. It was bleak, isolated and the earthy tone of the story perfectly framed the book’s main theme: finding your place in the world and making sense of it. How can you feel significant when you’re surrounded by vast amounts of nature that has survived for millions of years?

“You can’t roll with a beast that has already survived a million years and live to tell the story.”

Ms Jeffrey’s descriptions of Barry’s surroundings paired with the eccentric and colourful characters he meets was extremely powerful and truly gave me the feel of what ‘off-the-beaten-track’ Australia is like. I don’t think this book would have worked half as well as it did if it was set in suburbia or in an Australian high school.

I had this great idea of writing about six paragraphs about the exploration of nature and the beautiful and heart-wrenching metaphors that. But I forgot that I don’t have to do that anymore because I’m not getting marked on this review (AM I?!). Also, why should I make you sit through my writing when I can use something that Ms Jeffrey penned?

“When you stand and look out at the river, you wouldn’t know they were there. The crocs, that is…. But once you know there are crocs in there- plenty of the beasts- it changes the way you look at it. The water is somehow deeper, menacing. Alive and dangerous. It’s another world with power and intrigue, disguise and desperation. And in some places, it’s war.”

And that’s just one out of about fifty quotes I picked out. This whole book is practically re-written in my note book accompanied by sad faces and ‘ohhhhh!’s.

Because that’s what reviewers do, yes?

I don’t have enough space to write all the praise I have for this book, so I’m going to stop here.
Go and buy this book.
Read it.
Tell Barry I say hi.
I think you’ll like him.

 

 

 

*It was either watch Neighbours or do my uni degree. Toss a coin?


You can read this review and lots of other exciting things on my blog, Wear the Old Coat.

4.5/5

not the lightest read, but extremely compelling, and I felt like I was in Humpty Doo with the characters.

Lovely writing.

Intense, intimate and intriguing. Also hopeful, which is always good.

“I’m like a river without a name. Flowing through life because that’s what I do without knowing where I’ve come from and where I’m going. There’s beasts that have made a good home in me, too.”

I love Jeffrey’s writing. Darwin as the setting was vividly combined with Barry’s intense voice as the protagonist. Barry struggled with the disconnection between how others see him and how he perceives himself in relation to his mixed Aboriginal identity. This book also re-affirmed my fear of crocodiles. Prehistoric predators indeed.

This book. This book. This book. This book. This book. This book. THIS BOOK.
Brown skin blue - Belinda Jeffrey
This book is amazing. Truly amazing. Lik omg guyss.
What is it with Australian authors? THEY’RE ALL BLOODY AMAZING.
‘Brown skin blue’ is the story of a young adult trying to find out who he is, and where he comes from. After leaving his Mother, he lives in a hotel called ‘Humpty Doo’ and works at a crocodile-feeding tourist exhibition.
This is not your average ‘journey’ book. It’s been done so well, and so clever I just can’t believe it. Belinda Jeffrey is extremely talented.
The way it’s written is incredibly simple. Easy language, yet complicated issues. I can find so many quotes in here that are inspirational and mean something to so many people, it’s fantastic.
The characters are gorgeous! I said above that their’s heaps of quotes, and most of them come from dialogue. What makes it so special and mean a lot more is that the characters are so basic. As in, the people themselves are just your average people, work all day in the sun then have a nice beer to end the week. And yet, they say the most wonderful and touching things that it feels natural and meant-to-be. It really makes you think that you don’t need to pay for top psychiatrists or people with fancy degrees and such. You can find hope in just your average guy, that hasn’t necessarily studied the mind and what makes people work, but has experienced it first hand. These are the people you should seek help from.
This book isn’t something I would call a ‘page turner’. When I said that to my dad he said ‘so it mustn’t be a very good book then?’ No, Dad, you’re wrong. It’s a beautiful book that teaches you more about life than any self help books you find in the non fiction section. So it’s not action, it’s just like watching someone go about their life. It’s personal. It makes you smile and sigh once you’ve finished a chapter. And I wouldn’t want it any other way.
Anyway, I’m going to give this book a 50/50. I could not honestly think of any reasons to deduct marks, so there’s the score.
So pretty much, next time you’re in the library, or in the book store, pick up this book.
YOU WILL NOT REGRET IT.
-
””
I’m nothing
I’m no one.
It’s just not happening.
I’ve done that before.
If anyone can survive this, I can. And it occurs to me that I’m the only one that could. I have everything that’s required. Dark skin. No shirt. And enough fear to know to play dead. It’s all been there when I look in the mirror; dirty, dark, serious. It’s just bark, that’s what it is, and if that’s what I see, then that’s what the crocs see, too. Just the flaky protection of something hard inside, snapped off from it’s roots and floating free to nowhere and anywhere. If I was a man in the movies I’d be thrashing around against the injustice, trying to prove my strength over nature and adversity - and I’d be dead in a second, no matter what size my bulging muscles, but I’m not. I’m a boy in a river of tears never cried and I have my own cards to play. I have been this moment all my life.

4.5/5

not the lightest read, but extremely compelling, and I felt like I was in Humpty Doo with the characters.

Lovely writing.