Breathless in the High Country: A Review of Dusk by Robbie Arnott
Sometimes, a book finds you at just the right moment, aligning with your feelings in a way that seems almost eerie. That’s exactly what happened when I picked up Robbie Arnott’s Dusk. I had heard whispers of his talent—shortlisted for the Dylan Thomas Prize and twice for the Miles Franklin Literary Award—yet nothing could prepare me for the ethereal journey I was about to embark upon.
Set against the backdrop of the haunting Tasmanian highlands, Dusk expertly intertwines the story of twin siblings Floyd and Iris Renshaw with a vivid and almost otherworldly landscape. Arnott believes that “place comes first” in his writing, and you can feel that truth permeating every page. The bones of ancient creatures—only imagined, yet palpably real—rise from the soil in this eerie setting, wrapping readers in a shroud of mystique. His intricate descriptions of the landscape reveal Iris’s emotional evolution, turning what could have been harshness into a “lung-emptying openness.” It’s a testament to Arnott’s skill that I, too, felt that freedom wash over me with each new body of water they encountered.
The twin relationship at the heart of the story is fraught with tension and complexity, stemming from a tumultuous past raised by convict parents. Throughout their efforts to escape their lineage, I was taken on a rollercoaster of emotions, feeling both their pain in moments of physical suffering and their struggle for belonging. Floyd’s old back injury often symbolizes their emotional burdens, while Iris’s quests through memory gave me insight into their profound connection. Their search for a new home and identity is nothing short of heartbreaking, and I found myself rooting for them relentlessly.
And then there’s Dusk—the titular puma. The threads of humanity and nature intertwine so seamlessly here. The looming threat of Dusk, a creature driven by survival, magnifies the twins’ own quest for purpose. The bounty on Dusk represents a flicker of hope for Floyd and Iris, a chance to transmute their ancestral burden into something that could forge a new path. The puma evokes haunting memories from my family, stories of mysterious creatures that haunted my grandfather’s tales. I loved how Arnott reignited those sentiments, reminding me that wildlife once danced in our narratives like old friends.
As I settled into the pacing of the story, I noticed it evolve from slow to a more urgent tempo, propelling me through the narrative as I searched for resolution amidst the chaos. While I wasn’t entirely content with the ending, I appreciate that it left me craving more—perhaps it’s a reflection of life itself, where we’re often left wanting. I can only wish that Arnott would return to these characters in a future tale.
Dusk is a treasure trove for readers who appreciate deeply layered narratives and stunningly beautiful prose. Those who enjoy the works of Annie Proulx or Richard Flanagan will likely find a kindred spirit in Arnott. This book didn’t just linger in my mind; it etched itself into my heart. If you’re in the mood for a novel that explores the depths of familial ties and the yearning for identity, let Dusk transport you to a landscape where nature and human experience intertwine with breathtaking eloquence. You won’t regret the journey.