The Other Side of the World: Stephanie Bishop

“In the mind one jumps from one intensity to another, the hours in between elided and lost. It is the failure of life to stand out.”

Set in the 60s, Stephanie Bishop’s novel, The Other Side of the World, a story of displacement and cultural identity, follows the decision of a young married British couple to emigrate to Australia. While the decision to emigrate is supposed to create new opportunities, in reality, the move brings disaster to an already troubled marriage.


The novel opens with artist Charlotte Blackwood leaving the doctor’s office after discovering that she’s pregnant for the second time. This is not news that Charlotte wants to hear as she already has Lucie, a seven month old baby, at home. Charlotte isn’t coping well with motherhood; these days we’d probably say that she’s suffering from postpartum depression. It’s clear that Charlotte, stressed to the max, doesn’t enjoy being a mother, and it doesn’t help that she has no time to paint. Meanwhile Charlotte’s Anglo-Indian husband, Henry is in the final throes of finishing his degree and is lecturing at Cambridge. When a brochure advertising emigration to Australia arrives with the slogan, “Come Over to the Sunny Side!” Henry can’t get the images of a sunnier, better life out of his head. They live in a cramped, damp country cottage with black mold creeping on the walls, and it’s impossible not to contrast the photos of Australia with the realities of their living situation.

In his mind he sees a kind of paradise: sunlight, blue sky, pineapple and steak, golf and tennis.

After one particularly harsh winter, with Lucie deathly ill, Henry who misses the Indian climate, suggests they move to Australia. At first Charlotte refuses, but then, gradually, worn down, physically and mentally she agrees to the plan–somehow thinking that the day of departure will never arrive.

Henry, Charlotte. Lucie and baby May travel to Perth, arriving in the heat of summer, and as far as emigrants go, they’re landed on their feet. Henry has a job teaching English at the university, and they’ve arranged to rent a large house with a big garden. Anglo-Indian Henry, who’s never quite made the adjustment to England, finds that, in spite of his enthusiasm and dedication, he’s not exactly fitting in with his university colleagues. Meanwhile Charlotte doesn’t fit in either, but neither does she try, and then she meets someone who expresses interest in her painting.

The Other Side of the World recreates the emigrant nostalgia for the ‘old country,’ so Charlotte, who didn’t want to move in the first place, doesn’t remember any of the negatives they faced, only the highlights of the English climate, and just as Henry idealized India, Charlotte, who dreams of England at night, now idealizes her former life in England

She and her children at home amid the foxgloves and the hollyhocks. Then she”ll keep her apples wrapped in paper in a box in the cool of the cellar. She’ll wake to hear cuckoos in the summer morning. She’ll make jam from rose hips and hedge plums. She’ll not mind the cold, she thinks remembering the pleasure of gathering sticks and logs from the woodland in the Autumn dusk. 

And what of Henry? Henry doesn’t miss England. He misses the distant memories of his childhood in India. To Henry, “England was always secondary, always derivative, always an aftereffect of a story.”

He remembers this from long ago: a different boat pulling out from the a different port. His mother crying. Crowds, smoke, the heat. Birds circling in the sky. In the heart of the country there were fields of marigolds. Elsewhere, high mountains of green camellia. He used to long for these things. 

The Other Side of the World has a very interesting premise: a husband and wife who emigrate to Australia, with the husband, who doesn’t feel a bond to England, pushing the decision. The two main characters, Charlotte and Henry, fail to connect, and instead, they struggle in their own private hell.  The pain of absence for a loved country throbs through the narrative, and unfortunately, Henry and Charlotte don’t miss the same country. I loved the scenes of struggle with the garden. It’s such a common mistake to attempt to grow plants we loved from the ‘old country’ in a new, different climate.

The casual racism directed towards Henry is echoed by Charlotte’s rigid, narrow, judgmental view of Australians. Charlotte cannot make the adjustment, and quite frankly never tries. To Charlotte, scenes of beauty in Australia are not accepted for what they are, but are only for constant comparison. Charlotte never really grapples with the fact that a move to Australia means making and accepting change; it takes years to adjust. Years to wake up in the morning and realize what country you are in. You lose and you gain. Simple as that.

While the author’s descriptions of the emigrant experience, the climate and the landscape are amazingly evocative, there’s a heavy sense of depression that hovers over the plot which emanates mostly from Charlotte who moves through life in a hazy fog. There are several descriptions of her children as babies: drool, vomit, endless sickness, and it’s quite clear that Charlotte doesn’t enjoy motherhood. It’s not necessary to like characters in order to enjoy a work of fiction (on the contrary, I enjoy reading books about nasty people,) but in this instance, Charlotte’s selfishness oozes through the plot, and effectively impacts the book negatively with Charlotte’s behaviour subsuming and blunting the author’s skillful language. The plot’s conclusion leaves a lingering dissatisfaction, and there’s the sense, at least for this reader, that Charlotte still has an emptiness inside that nothing will ever fill.

Here’s Lisa’s review. 

Review copy



Filed under Fiction

25 responses to “The Other Side of the World: Stephanie Bishop

  1. This has been one of my favourite reads this year.

  2. I read an interview with Stephanie Bishop last week in which she talks about her grandmother’s experience as an unwilling migrant to Australia in just these circumstances. When Stephanie went to England as a PhD student, her grandmother was thrilled because she was “going home”, but it didn’t feel that way to her when she got there. There are so many aspects to the England/Australia tug of war.

  3. I had relatives that emigrated, stayed a few years, returned and spent one winter in some house sharing a toilet with who knows how many other people. Went back the next spring and that was the last we saw of ’em.

  4. Thanks for the mention:)
    I agree with you: I think she writes really, really well, but she needs something more engaging than her ‘family history’ to write about.

  5. Whenever I hear of people longing to move or to emigrate to radically different places I think about scenarios such as that described here. I have also heard of real life cases where similar disappointment and disillusionment resulted.

    Such situations can make for very interesting fiction.

  6. I’ve personally known several people who bought a chateau to renovate in France and ended up deeply unhappy with the move – and that’s much closer to the UK than Australia. I agree that it can make for interesting fiction. I wonder though if you are being a bit harsh on Charlotte for being selfish, if she really is suffering from depression, since she does ultimately follow her husband to a place she does not care much about.

  7. I too knew or know people who moves, mostly for the wrong reasons, and were terribly sad where they landend. And in both cases, they then ended up missing diffrent countries as they had different countries of origin.
    I really like the sound of this book.

  8. I reviewed this novel for the Fairfax papers some time back, and while I was more sympathetic to Charlotte than you are, I couldn’t forgive her cruel treatment of her husband. As you can see, I’ve put this in general terms, but it’s much easier to discuss a book when you can refer to exactly what happens, isn’t it?

    • I missed this review, perhaps because I hadn’t read the book and thought I’d wait, but your comment on my blog intrigued me. I’m fascinated by everyone’s reactions to Catherine. I’ve lived overseas twice – but have never emigrated – so have experience the dislocation but not the “having” to properly commit. However, with my family I lived in a couple of rural Australian towns when I was young, and my mother would speak of women (not many but enough for it to make an impression on me) who made their husband’s and family’s lives hell because they didn’t want to be there. Does a novel have to be a bit redemptive to work? Not everyone does resolve their problems but do we want novels to do so?

  9. I get the wives making lives living hell, but that wasn’t quite it. I think we were supposed to feel empathy for Catherine and that ship left the dock early in the novel. I saw her as having many issues: selfishness being one of them. The novel ends with (SPOILER) the family in England and I think we’re supposed to think that this is a good thing. (Not England as much as the reunion)

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.