The straight line of history has led, and was always leading, to this day and they have all been lucky enough to be alive, right now, to greet the moment.
One suburban morning in summer 1970, Peter van Rijn, proprietor of the television and wireless shop, realises that his suburb is 100 years old. He contacts the mayor, who assembles a committee, and celebrations are eagerly planned.
That same morning, just a few streets way, Rita is awakened by a dream of her husband's snores. It is years since Vic moved north, and left their house of empty silences, yet his life remains bound up with hers. Their son, too, has moved on - Michael is at university, exploring new ideas and the heady world of grown-up love. Yet Rita still stubbornly stays in the old street, unable to imagine leaving the house she has tended so lovingly for so long. Instead she has taken on the care of another house as well - that of the widowed Mrs Webster, owner of the suburb's landmark factory, now in decline.
As these lives entwine, and the committee commissions its centenary mural and prepares to commemorate progress, history - in the shape of the new, post-war generation represented by Michael and his friends - is heading straight for them...
Steven Carroll is an Australian novelist. He was born in 1949 in Melbourne, Victoria and studied at La Trobe University. He has taught English at secondary school level, and drama at RMIT. He has been Drama Critic for The Sunday Age newspaper in Melbourne.
Steven Carroll is now a full-time writer living in Melbourne with his partner, the writer Fiona Capp, and their son. As of 2019, he also writes the non-fiction book review column for the Sydney Morning Herald.
Setting: Melbourne, Australia; 1970. In this third book in the Glenroy trilogy, we again catch up with Michael, and his parents Vic and Rita. Michael is no longer living at home - he is at the local university completing his degree whilst teaching at his former school; he is also in the throes of his first major relationship with the enigmatic Madeleine. Vic has also left home and now resides in a small seaside town, spending his time drinking and golfing, living a life uncomplicated by relationships and in spite of the warnings from his doctor. Rita meanwhile lavishes all her attention on her house; she also cleans and looks after Mrs Webster's house whilst Mrs Webster takes her deceased husband's Bentley on its daily sojourn to his factory, which she still operates. The thoughts and emotions of all these characters are set against the backdrop of centenary celebrations for the suburb - 100 years since it was first 'established' by the building of a general store: it is the idea of Mr van Rijn, who runs the TV repair shop, and is taken onboard by the mayor, the local vicar and priest, Mrs Webster and Michael, representing 'the young'. As I have found with these books, it is all about the characters and their thoughts about the present and future and nostalgia about their respective pasts, which prompted similar thoughts in me: having lived in Australia myself I found this quite easy to relate to and it certainly brought back memories of my time there as a child. It is so sad for me that this is the last in the trilogy as I would really love to read more about Michael and his parents Vic and Rita! A deserved award winner - 9/10.
I didn't know this was the third book in a trilogy. Might have been a good idea to mention that somewhere other than the author's biography at the very end. Very slow plot plot, not a lot actually happens
It was not perhaps a great idea to read this book so soon after finishing Ishiguro's "Remains of the Day". With both books so heavily reliant upon the writer's prose to carry them (neither have a particularly eventful plot), I naturally find myself drawn to making comparisons between the two author's style and this does not seem fair - like comparing master and apprentice. The comparison did however help me to pinpoint exactly what it was about this book that annoyed me.
When compared with the clean subtlety of Ishiguro's prose, Carroll's appears unnecessarily heavy, dare I say tedious. The repetitive phrasing I find much praised by other readers really started to grate on me - knowing from Ishiguro how much could be said with so few words, i found this book overly wordy. I thought maybe Carroll was trying to infuse within his writing the sense of tedium inherent within the suburban life he describes, but if this were so I wasn't entirely convinced. This isn't to say there aren't some "nice" things going on in this book. It was a "nice", bittersweet and at times almost dreamlike portrait of the more depressing aspects of modern suburban life - the excruciatingly awkward relationship between Michael and Madeleine, Mrs Websters estrangement from the world she inhabits, and Vic's gradual descent spring to mind here. None of the characters are particularly endearing, with the exception perhaps of Rita although even she has her moments (as do we all I suppose...). None of the characters seem to be particularly interesting people - particularly Michael who's soul I just could not "find" at all - and I found myself cheering Madeleine towards her escape!
In the end, an ok, if depressing, read (it passed the time) but I'm not about to rush out and read the other two books in the series. I would be curious however to see whether the other two books were able to inject something more substantial into the central characters, sufficient at least to let the reader (or maybe just me!) build some attachment to them, or even to recognise something more particular of themselves within them.
One summer day in 1970, Peter van Rijn as he drives to work, realises that his Melbourne suburb is one hundred years old. He realises this because he drives past a building, a shop, built in 1870. The same morning that Peter, who owns a television and wireless shop, gathers this thought, Rita is awakened by a dream of her husband Vic. But Vic moved north years ago. Their son Michael has moved into the city to teach and is falling in love.
‘One minute you’re twenty and it’s all there before you, the next it’s gone.’
A celebration is planned for the suburb, an artist friend of Michael’s is commissioned to paint a mural of the suburb’s history.
And while the planning goes on, and people wonder what the mural will reveal, we explore the past through the musings of Rita, Vic, Michael and of Mrs Webster the widowed factory-owner.
‘Love can be won and lost, lives come and go, everything that may matter in someone’s life may be contained in a moment – just as whole worlds can turn or crumble in one.’
This novel is a beautifully constructed reflection on change, life, and progress at both an individual and collective (suburb) level. As I read, I became annoyed with Vic (for essentially just waiting to die) but recognised others (in real life) doing the same thing. I marvelled at how Rita, whose world seems so constrained, seemed to have a motive force that others lacked. I agonised for Michael, learning that change can be imposed as well as sought, and I wondered how much Mrs Webster knew about Mr Webster’s world.
‘The remains of the old life mingle with the new.’
What can I tell you about this novel, about how it made me think about the spaces I’ve occupied and the passage of time? Buildings usually outlive original purpose and occupants, people grow older and change. This, for me, was a novel to read slowly, to savour, to reflect on. Mr Carroll’s writing always holds my attention. Three of my favourite quotes from the novel:
’That lost tribe. At once exotic, strange and utterly familiar. Gone. Wiped away by time and speed .’
‘The suburb had grown, its children had left home, the factory’s workers had aged with the factory and the suburb didn’t need it anymore .’
‘We were Progress, only we didn’t know it then .’
This is the third novel in Mr Carroll’s Glenroy series. It was originally intended as a trilogy but grew to six novels. I’ve not read them all yet, and I’ve not read them in sequence, but this has not reduced my enjoyment. I still have a couple to look forward to.
Jennifer Cameron-Smith
‘And all the time, the living suburb is constantly evolving, through night and day, weekend and working week, sunshine and rain, ever forward, ever onward, until that perfect day arrives, surely not too far away, when the straight line of History can lie down its perfect summer gardens and pronounce its job done .’
A nice little read about life in a suburb of Melbourne. Set in 1970 on the 100 year anniversary of the suburb. It reflects on the lives of Mrs. Webster, Rita, Vic and Michael over the course of a year. How their lives change. It reflects on how the superb has changed. How progress evolves and how nothing stays the same forever.
Who knew that the ‘burbs of Melbourne could be so intriguing? One of the characters in this book muses that the author George Johnston; ‘turned familiar streets and houses and crappy milk bars into the unfamiliar stuff that is good enough for books.’ Perhaps Johnston was Carroll’s role model, for this is what he has done for Melbourne in 1970. The Time We Have Taken is a sequel to Carroll’s previous novels, The Art of the Engine Driver and The Gift of Speed, but reading these is by no means a prerequisite to enjoyment. The book interweaves the stories of ordinary suburban characters in such a way that we realise there is no such thing as ‘ordinary.’ Carroll shines a light on the secret longings and dreams that are the measure of a life; whether it be Rita, whose house is her castle, Michael, who longs to possess the elusive Madeleine, Mrs. Webster, the factory owner whose dead husband betrayed her with a hinted at infidelity, or Vic, Rita’s departed husband, who spends his days drinking beer at the Twin Towns Club while he waits to die. All the characters are flawed, hurt, inarticulate and portrayed with tenderness; ‘Vic knows that the sun will shine and the surf will be good on the day he dies.’ It is not often that you pick up a book and from the first page feel you are in the hands of an author who will only take you places where you want to go. Carroll’s sensitive and perceptive observations on human nature resonate with that ‘aha’ feeling you get with the best writing. I particularly enjoyed his insights on relationships. Michael ‘…is pleased that he can make her laugh, for observations tell him that all love begins with laughter, and if he can make her laugh, then he might be able to make her love.’ And on lending a favourite book; ‘this act of sharing can be as fraught as a declaration of love. Sometimes they amount to the same thing.’ ‘In giving her a favourite book, a question had been asked.’ The Time We Have Taken is a gentle meditation on lives lived and yet to be lived. Carroll’s writing invites you to into a contemplative space that is deeply satisfying. Read this one slowly.
Again, like Journey the the Stone Country, this is a slowish, creep-up-on-you kind of book. It was to me about the place of an individual in the world; be it community or personal space, and their own maturing within that space. Where we've come from, where we're going and the stuff of moving on in-between.
Reading this at 16 would have been a complete waste of time. Wouldn't have gotten anything out of it. Nadda. Zip. It's all about looking back - not forward. Like the mural. Eventually we reach a point in our age where we're remembering more than we're planning. I get that now. I'm close enough to see it. Even though I'm still young enough to keep planning.
What gives this book 4-stars for me is Steven Carroll's sensational word smithing. Mundanely ananlytical of me I know, but the original, simple, insightful turns of phrase were an absolute joy to read. I truly just drank this story in. Not a high-literary level of phrasing and word selection. Simple, but clear, and with, I may say somewhat jealously, a way of creating an emotional picture with an ease that I will likely never find. Big thumbs up with a smoochy kiss for that effort ! - Thank you Steven.
I have thoroughly enjoyed reading Carroll's 'coming of Age' trilogy (The Art of the Engine Driver/The Gift of Speed/TTWHT).
A very gently told yet engrossing tale of life in the new, progressive outer suburbs of Melbourne through the late '50s, '60s and early '70s entwining the lives of a handful of principal characters; each finely drawn and faithfully rendered.
Evoking a different and 'slower' age, perhaps my fondness for the series is that it mirrors so many of my own youthful memories - albeit a decade on from the era portrayed and of another country.
It is a testament to the quality of the writing and the universal themes addressed that I believe most readers would find something in the tales of love lost, redemption and the yearning for meaning that will resonate powerfully with you.
I’m not sure what to say about this book. It was slow going and overly repetitive, which I realise is a device used by the author, but I found it dull. It left me with no real feelings about the characters or their lives. I found nothing to invest in emotionally. I felt like I was reading words, not a story. Not the book for me I guess.
The Time We Have taken by Steven Carroll, which won the Miles Franklin Award in 2008, is a quiet, reflective slow-burn of a novel that takes a nostalgic view of Australian suburban life in the late 1960s.
A local resident determines one day that his unnamed suburb (seemingly in Melbourne) is about to become 100 years old, and approaches the local mayor suggesting that the suburb should stage events to celebrate this milestone.
Through this device, we are introduced to a range of local characters, some of whom make up the organising committee for the centenary celebrations, and examine their current and past lives in the suburb.
There is a young man on the cusp of his first adult relationship, which always seems doomed to fizzle out. His mother, separated and working for a wealthy woman who owns and runs a local business established by her late husband.
The ex-husband, who has moved to northern climes, and is slowly dying from his habitual excesses of alcohol and tobacco.
The Mayor himself, a study of a self-serving politician with few values, prepared to promote whatever might contribute to his own glory and status.
The owner of the electrical store who initially suggested the idea of the centenary celebrations.
The painter who created the mural reflecting the suburb's history since settlement, and who, controversially, included images depicting the suburb prior to colonistaion.
And a pair of lovers, Bunny Rabbit and Pussy Cat, whose noisy copulations and arguments ultimately end in personal tragedy.
Through these characters, Carroll reflects on a suburban life that existed prior to today's high-paced technological age, with a mix of nostalgia, whimsy and wonder, but not without its limitations.
He cleverly introduces the grand figure of Whitlam, as a symbol of a significant cultural change about to descend on the Australian lifestyle, which will have impacts that will last for several decades.
There are few dramatic highlights in this novel, no major surprises or suspenseful moments, It rolls along with carefully constructed sentences and chapters, creating an imagery that is evocative and meditative.
Although this novel (the third of Carroll's Glenroy series) won the Miles Franklin, I suspect the award may have been more for the series overall than for this particular book - although I'm sure the judges would deny that! One of the criteria for the Miles Franklin is that it reflects Australian life and this series certainly does. In each case the experiences of the main characters (Vic, Rita and Michael) are set against a broader social history of the late 50s, early 60s and in this case the turn of the 70s.
This novel reflects the changing attitudes of the younger generation, represented by Michael and his friends, the sexual revolution, the protests against the Vietnam war, the opening of new universities and opportunities for those not previously able to access tertiary education and finally the arrival on the scene of Gough Whitlam, whose prime ministership was to make such a dramatic shift in Australian political life. So that background interested me. The 'time taken' can be seen as both valuing the past and rejecting the past - an understanding of where we have come from and where, just possibly, we might be headed.
However, much as I enjoyed this book, as I have all of the Glenroy novels, I found it more fragmented and overall, less engaging. Each of the main characters is experiencing change, as is the suburb where they have spent most of their recent years. In fact, although as a 'suburb' it is relatively recent, the first settlement was designated as a century ago and some of the novel takes on the idea of celebrating the 'centenary suburb'. Only at the end is there a recognition that people lived in that landscape for many centuries (indeed millennia) before Europeans arrived. That awareness is part of the social history that Carroll makes a strong part of his novel, even while the lives of the characters are less interesting this time around - for me, anyway.
The Time We Have Taken is a slow burn novel more appreciated in the reviewing than the reading. There are no fireworks and minimal plot. For me the key themes are transience and impermanence. The mundanities of suburban life in the flat lands of Glenroy reclaimed from the thistles move slowly forward. Relationships evolve and fail as time erodes and the past dissolves into the future. Michael and Madelaine’s affair is sparely told and doomed from the outset. Mulligan has the task of encapsulating the history of the suburb on its hundred year anniversary in a piece of street art. The locals are disquieted and annoyed to find that the early drawings includes indigenous inhabitants living in the land. They had been forgotten and disregarded as their replacements soon will be. Time corrodes like a glacier rather than a steamroller. An unstoppable force that all the characters of this novel and indeed the rest of us are at the mercy of.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
I’m doing the thing again. Doing the thing means reading books that I have had an irrational aversion to in the past. So far I’ve conquered Jane Austen, bush poetry, and self-help. Now it’s Australian fiction set in the suburbs.
This book was okay. Not great, not bad, just okay. Part of a series, so that might have explained why the plot was so slow. Perhaps a filler novel. I liked how the perspectives switched between multiple characters, but it often felt like a watered down Woolf. Where was the collision between POVs, the confusion, the stream of consciousness? For a book situated during the Modernist period, I didn’t feel any sense of innovation—although, perhaps that’s a remark on the drudgery of suburbia and the hypocrisy of “progress”. I thought the commentary on settler-colonialism and historical amnesia seemed rather forced and tokenistic.
This book was very hard to track down but that really sums it up. In short the story could be described as a study of suburban life, focussing on a small geographical area and only few main characters, over a relatively short time frame. It ticks several boxes to qualify it as a literary work - it has themes, layers, complexity, reasonable prose, but it is just boring! The quality of the structure does not compensate of it’s lack of subject matter. There was no real plot, no punch, no real reason to read it. I finished it as part of my quest to read all Miles Franklin award winners, but would I recommend it to someone else? Definitely not! And this explains why it was hard to obtain, I assume lack of interest in the book, would have resulted in lower sales & therefore, less now available in the 2nd hand market.
There are moments in our lives that we remember with absolute clarity. These moments have a timeless quality that enable us to turn them over, re-evaluate and relive. Steven Carroll does this in his writing with consumate skill and delicacy. He takes away the urgency of life and allows us the space to sit and reflect. We are forced into slow motion even though life around us is action packed and moving fast. A wonderful book and profoundly moving.
Interesting way to weave the life of a group of characters around a single event and the build up of that event. Clever how he used the present to look backwards and forwards. I didn’t warm to any of the characters which makes it more challenging. Interesting that First Nations people and history got a mention in the book and demonstrated how divisive that can be.
This feels a lot more historical now than it did in 2007. The seventies feel unreal in their perspective, as does the post-war ideas of progress, which, despite their optimism, have led us so deeply towards destruction and decay.
It is interesting to reflect on that hope, futile as it appears to be, as a lesson in measuring our present hopes.
Told in the different viewpoints of people at different stages of their lives, reminds us that while life may be mundane for one person, at that same time, same day, same hour, someone else's heart may be breaking, or made joyful.
Thoughtful, gentle novel about time and memory, and ordinary lives. I enjoyed the way Carroll uses repetitions as a theme, showing time looping and stretching.
The story line didn't look that promising but I like this author's writing. However, in the end, the quality of the prose was not enough to keep this boring book afloat. 5.5/10
If I'd realised this book was the third in a trilogy, I may not have started on it, but I'm glad I did. A series of people (mostly older) are shown in degrees of somnambulent stasis, set in routines and becoming detached from their purpose, unable to make a leap to begin a new version of themselves. Read this if you're in your 50s I say! Loved it.. 4.5 stars.
Bizarre. I’ve read this book, but I have no way of explaining what it is about. I’ll try: Domestic; people; relationships and jealousy; listening to the next door neighbours, who get dubbed Pussycat and Bunnyrabbit. And apart from those two neighbours and their interlude in the book, there is no grip, no hook and no plot. The narrative meanders, quite nicely. I read it enjoying lovely descriptive prose of people and their jobs and relationships, wondering when I was going to get to the main point so I could know what was happening.
Apparently this book is a sequel. And perhaps that’s why I can’t find the missing piece that says: this is what the book is about. Perhaps also it’s post-modern, maybe a sort of book about nothing. And you’re just meant to revel in these pedestrian lives. But you know, Seinfeld was comedy. This ain’t. Seinfeld lived for the punch lines. What does this live for? Where is the ahh/ ha-ha/ he-he/ ho-ho/ oh yeah/ boo-hoo (not that I want to cry, but some books do that on purpose and make it their climatic point, really cruel).
Yep, this book makes me feel like I haven’t concentrated hard enough, because there are a whole lot quoted testimonies at the start screaming out the novel’s greatness. I imagine there’s this teacher out the front tapping a ruler on the desk asking questions about the book. And the teacher reckons I haven’t read it. Na, I have, I just don’t get it.
If the writer was talking to me, I’d be listening, thinking him quite intelligent and interesting conversationalist. But I’d walk away forgetting nearly everything he said, having it all blurred into a sort of: ‘That was a nice long chat we had. He had so much to say. If only I could tell one suburban house from another, then I’d be able to find my way and put the key in the door. Where is that key? it looks like every other key on this ring. Oh dear…’
Steven Carroll has written quite a few other books and works as a journalist. He’s obviously well-loved as a writer. So, just a cup of tea thing. And if Steven Carrol and I were to meet again, I’d be quite happy to have another nice long chat. He didn’t upset me, so you know, he’s all right. And perhaps next time I might be used to his nuances and subtly and find that grip to amplify the sense.
Book Review by Carinya 2014 The Time We Have Taken by Steven Carroll This is a novel stunning in its brilliance emerging like the ugly duckling into the most beautiful of swans. Ordinariness giving birth to an expose so exceptional that I lived for many moments inside the minds of the residents and ex-residents of Centenary Suburb. The author has captured the strand of sadness in each of us. He has recognised that although we live with and love our families, mingle among friends, neighbours and work colleagues, ultimately we face our individual destinies alone. Our inner selves are sometimes never revealed to others. Whole lifetimes are spent impersonating the person we believe other people imagine us to be. The characters in this novel are you and me. Some, like the Great Whitlam, make history as they plunder the excitement of the masses. Others, like Webster, create progress, live as progress and wither away as their moment passes. But most of us carry on day after day with no real perception of the history we are part of, or the steps we need to take that will remove us enough to see the whole truth. Steven Carroll senses the inevitable death of all human relationships. Death takes on so many meanings in this novel. I loved this book. Even though it forms part of the Glenroy Novels it is complete within itself.
A gentle rolling tale of suburban lives and their interactions and the importance of their past relationships. Steven captured the tiny parts of suburban life so terribly well. Rita pack s to leave her house, the reality of leaving a house after many years is so complex and Steven managed to dissect this and look at the different types of people, " ...the types that just get up and go..." and the type that need to "...say goodbye properly."
The novel got off to what seemed like a very excited and interesting beginning and from there lost momentum slowing to the pace of a horse and cart.
The information was interesting however, the tension lines in the writing waned a little. Madeline's character seemed a little weak and Peter Van Rijn could have had much more depth to his character.
There were some great lines in there and I did like the style of this writing, very common voice, , as thought he was writing straight from their heads. Being a Melbourne writer and being set in Melbourne perhaps also made it more common for me.
I did find myself guessing the whole time as to where "Progress" was. I found the title of the novel arduous, and kept forgetting it. Too long and hard to remember. All up
I read this book for our book club with half of the group loving it, and the other like me, finding it hard going with one of the members not even able to finish the book.
Unfortunately as a book club book I forced myself to read it because I was facilitator. I found this book strangely both boring and yet interesting in the way in which the reader is introduced to the memories/mental gymnastics that each character goes through as they go about their daily business. Oops let me rewind,
The Time We Have Taken is the third novel in a series that Steven Carroll began with The Art of the Engine Driver and continued in The Gift of Speed. The premise of the book is based on the life of a suburb nine miles north of Melbourne, from the late '50s to the early '70s. It is here that we slowly follow............
I started off really liking this book, thinking that it could be a four or a five, but it just didn't finish as strongly as it started. Nevertheless, this book is all about the ordinary. What does become very clear to me is that the ordinary can be extraordinary. It said to me that just being alive and living life, however we may choose to do it, is extraordinary. I found myself through out the book wanting to know more about what was happening in the ordinary lives of the people that the novel was following over the course of a year in a very average suburb of Melbourne. The novel takes place in 1970 and the undertone of changes taking place in society were noted. This novel was chosen for the Miles Franklin Award in 2008.