Marianne Vincent
“By mid-morning, the sun was out, hot and vengeful, lifting the moisture. In the humidity, Dimple wanted to drag the moisture back and push it into the ground. But you could only accept the weather, not make demands of it.” Small Mercies is the third novel by Australian author, Richard Anderson. Ruth Travers has received a worrying letter from her GP. Maybe that distorted her reasoning a bit, because what she hears on the radio while helping Dimple with the cows on their Fresh Well farm has spiked her anger enough to act. Wally Oliver, a young, rich farmer with a massive land-holding, shares his (insensitive, to Ruthie’s mind) opinion that the drought will weed out the losers. (He later makes a thought-provoking parallel between the first peoples during white settlement and the failing farmers in today’s world.) “Was it not enough for people to suffer drought without being told they should suffer? That their suffering was just part of an economic equation?” Ruthie tells Dimple she wants to tell this big farmer the adverse effects his words will have. She understands that “All big farmers believe in survival of the fittest because they think they’re the fittest, when really they’re simply the fattest. They can stand to lose a bit of lard.” They take a break from their third-generation farm to travel to Wally Oliver’s farm near Willi. It might not have any effect, but it will make Ruthie feel better. As to her medical matter, Ruthie is momentarily tempted by the idea of denial, but acknowledges that’s not really her, though she can surely take a short reprieve from it before she has to act. Their time away starts with an angry mission, becomes a little vacation then morphs into something that Ruthie finds rather stimulating but just makes Dimple heartsick. Anderson’s credentials as a second-generation northern NSW farmer lend authenticity to his portrayal of the farmer’s lot: he easily conveys the sense of it all being something between a balancing act and a guessing game, having to predict the weather and gamble on whether to plant, whether to buy or sell stock. “Optimism was all you ever really had. It was the truth of farming. You had to get up in the morning knowing that, someday soon, things would be better.” The farmer’s sense of responsibility and care for his animals is clearly expressed when Dimple finds one of cows dead in the paddock; he counts the monetary cost but also “…he knew her. There were too few cows left for him not to know her: an Angus-cross with a fine coat and a neat udder, who always produced one of the better calves. She was a good servant: never the rogue; never the fence jumper; never one to kick you or rush you in the yards.” This is not an action-packed rural drama, but a sedately-paced read, full of wonderful characters, evocative prose and topical issues – it is a read to be savoured. Anderson’s protagonists clearly care deeply about each other even if their communication is often less than ideal. They work well in tandem, having achieved a harmony and generally showing consideration of each other’s needs. Perhaps Ruthie underestimates Dimple’s perception of her emotions, but their banter is enjoyable and often laugh-out-loud funny. Particularly relevant and deeply moving, this brilliant novel is perhaps Anderson’s best yet. This unbiased review is from an uncorrected proof copy provided by Scribe Publications.