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The past is another country
This beautifully
written novel is a contemplative exploration of childhood and
fatherhood set in 1970s suburban Melbourne. John Charalambous’s third
book evokes the character-shaping experience of a young
Greek-Australian boy in the landmark year that his mother leaves his
father.
In the years before the blessed advent of no-fault
divorce laws, Andy
and his family—acerbic older sister Angela and downtrodden mother
Carol—live in the shadow of his domineering Cypriot father, Harry
Stylianou, a man whose grand claims and ambitions far exceed his
reality. But Harry’s suburban dominion is about to crumble: while his
wife waits for the divorce laws to change so she can leave him with
minimal legal fuss, his son forms a gentle bond with the old Greek man
next door, and his daughter embarks on open teenage rebellion.
Two Greeks is told from
Andy’s point of view, his dreamy ten-year-old perspective channelled
through the voice of his adult self. The novel opens at Harry’s funeral
in 2010, when Andy and his mother and sister recreate their shared
history, creating ‘a collaboration that covers a jagged hole.’ With
poignancy and humour, Andy’s retelling reveals a gradual understanding
of his difficult father’s past.
In 1974, as his mother and sister cope with Harry in their own ways,
young Andy inadvertently chooses the path of least resistance. When the
Stylianous discover that a fellow Greek has moved into the house behind
theirs, their new neighbour acquires a strange mystique—by ‘stubbornly
failing to materialise,’ he piques everyone’s curiousity. Andy is
disappointed to discover that Mr Voreadis is an old man, having
imagined that the ‘great Greek wrestler Spiros Arion had retired
prematurely to the suburbs.’
After he’s embarrassingly discovered spying on Mr Voreadis from the
prickly confines of a hedge, Andy agrees to start walking the old man’s
dog, George. What begins as a financial arrangement—Andy dutifully
saves each dollar-per-walk so he can buy a record player—evolves into a
friendship of sorts, and Andy is soon listening to Mr Voreadis’s
stories with growing interest: ‘his friend Chris was a spy. He got
shot. By association, Mr Voreadis becomes more illustrious. It’s
possible to believe he lived a dangerous life.’
Although he feigns understanding when Mr Voreadis begins telling him
about Greek history and politics, Andy’s bewilderment soon leads to
curiosity about his father’s background, and his own Greek heritage. At
the same time, the Turks invade Cyprus—‘I think it an extraordinary
coincidence of timing, my father’s island exploding the moment I pay
attention.’
Charalambous evokes the peculiar experience of growing up between two
cultures with a wonderful lightness of touch. Andy remembers himself as
‘such a naïve kid, constantly picking away at the Greek lock in the
belief that I can steal what I like and reject the rest.’ As Mr
Voreadis begins to teach him Greek, Andy feels on the brink of forming
a connection with Harry.
But Two Greeks isn’t just the
story of Andy and his father. Charalambous captures the Stylianou
family unit—a disparate gathering of four very different souls,
awkwardly orbiting one another as they each struggle to find their
place—with astuteness and sensitivity.
Carol’s transformation from overweight housewife to self-determined
divorcee is particularly poignant. Narrating his recollections directly
to his mother, Andy illuminates the significant moments in her life as
aptly as he does his own. After sixteen years of thankless capitulation
in the face of Harry’s moods, his mother’s ‘resentments wriggle like
worms.’ Once she discovers that the divorce laws are set to change,
Carol loses weight and dances as she hangs out the washing, readying
herself to start a new life even as she remains beset by doubt. ‘You
can’t be sure that you will ever leave,’ Andy writes of his
mother. ‘Which makes you dismissive of your hopeful moods, when
you’re seduced by the promise of rational action, when you tell
yourself you’re waiting for the law to click over. What a con.’
But the family dynamic will inevitably shift, and Andy’s difficulty
lies in how he reconciles his tenuous new understanding of his father
with the love he’s always had for his mother.
This is a thoughtful and well-crafted coming-of-age tale that evokes
the emotional complexity of family relations. For all his faults, Andy
comes to recognise that Harry is no tyrant, but simply a man displaced,
lacking the means and opportunity to build a better life—‘if only he’d
stayed put in his little mountain village he might have been happy.’
It’s one thing to revisit the past, but another to become reconciled to
it. ‘We’re not so peculiar and misbegotten,’ Andy reflects. ‘These
faults are washed clean in the Hellenic sea.’
Carody Culver
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