The best paper I took at University was by an academic named Ragnhild Eikli on the Theory of the Short Story. It took Joyce’s Dubliners as a theoretical prayerbook for understanding the form, and I think that holds up: Eikli was able to show that in each of Joyce’s stories there is a moment of epiphany and a gesture towards a much larger unnatural tension.
Eikli put me on to this story by Peter Carey which can be read according to those same concerns. He is one of the better-known names in the unknown pantheon of Australian literature.
There is a genuine horror here. There is also much that has ‘aged well’ – hoarding property, building walls, and the intrigue of small transgressions in suburbia. But I think Carey in 1974 was realising something about art or Australia or both that remains unacknowledged: the only available pastime is building tiny models of our situation, then taking them apart.
Published in American Dreams, University of Queensland Press, 1974