Picnic at Hanging Rock by Joan Lindsay (novel #131)

…history suggests that the human spirit wanders farthest in the silent hours between midnight and dawn.

Hanging Rock is a real place in Victoria, Australia.

Picnic at Hanging Rock is fiction, though in forward note, Lindsay casts some doubt on this point. Hence, the story has become legend and the novel is an Australian classic comparable to Tom Sawyer or Huck Finn in the U.S.

For me, Picnic at Hanging Rock is a perfect argument for rereading. I didn’t like it when I first read and reviewed it, four years ago. In fact, I felt cheated.

The story, set in Southern Australia, 1900, concerns the mysterious disappearance of three girls and one teacher from an all-girl boarding school, during a Valentine’s Day picnic to Hanging Rock (Down Under remember, so the height of summer). One of the girls is found, nearly a week later, barely alive, but even though she eventually recovers, she is unable to shed any light on the mystery.

Maddening! No one who ascended crags and crannies of the Rock could seem to remember ANYTHING. So, it’s a mystery. The first time I read this I was hooked, fascinated, obsessed, reading it entirely in one setting, anxious for the solution to the maddening mystery.

And then…Nope! No solution, no clue, mystery unsolved – Cheated!

As I’ve hinted, I had a different reaction with this reread. Two reasons: First, I was not obsessed with getting to the end and was able to appreciate Lindsay’s characters, settings, and dialogue. But, more importantly (still reason #1), when reading the all-important chapter 3 – last scene before the girls disappear – I was reading more deliberately and noticed a few marvelously subtle clues that did after all give a hint to an explanation.

Just the slightest hints…that there was something unworldly afoot. This was a wild-eyed, oh my goodness, no it can’t be moment for me, and I would probably doubt it still, if it were not for reason #2…

There is a missing chapter that confirmed my suspicions. It was in Lindsay’s original version, but excised by the publisher with her consent. I was very pleased with myself that I did not learn of the excised chapter until after I had formed my hypothesis. The 18^thchapter, also known as The Secret of Hanging Rock, is available online along with some interesting commentary.

I enjoyed Picnic at Hanging Rock much more with this reread. The 18^thchapter is quite bizarre and rather inharmonious to the otherwise realist style of the novel. That was probably Lindsay’s intent. It might even work better, as published without the 18^thchapter, and just the subtle hints, but for me – I just had to know if my suspicion was correct, so I’m glad to have the final chapter available.

My rating: 3 1/2 of 5 stars

I read this for the Back to the Classics Challenge 2019: a classic of Africa, Asia, or Oceania.

And in an odd bit of synchronicity, on the very day I finished Picnic at Hanging Rock, I was driving through the Blue Ridge Mountains, when my route took me through Hanging Rock West Virginia.

Excerpts:

Although we are necessarily concerned, in a chronicle of events, with physical action by the light of day, history suggests that the human spirit wanders farthest in the silent hours between midnight and dawn. Those dark fruitful hours, seldom recorded, whose secret flowerings breed peace and war, loves and hates, the crowning or uncrowning of heads.

To take a sword and plunge it through your enemy’s vitals in broad daylight is a matter of physical courage, whereas the strangling of an invisible foe in the dark calls for quite other qualities.

It is probably just as well for our nervous equilibrium that such cataclysms of personal fortune are usually disguised as ordinary everyday occurrences, like the choice of boiled or poached eggs for breakfast.

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Picnic at Hanging Rock by Joan Lindsay

This novel satisfies square O3 of 2015 Classics Bingo: Classic of Asia or Oceania (Australia to be precise). It is not part of my 100 Greatest Novels Quest.

I was fairly excited about reading this – the synopsis from Goodreads intrigued me:

Everyone at Appleyard College for Young Ladies agreed it was just right for a picnic at Hanging Rock. After lunch, a group of three of the girls climbed into the blaze of the afternoon sun, pressing on through the scrub into the shadows of Hanging Rock. Further, higher, till at last they disappeared.

They never returned.

I’m a puzzle solver professionally, so I was ready for a good mystery. Lindsay created some marvelous characters, and I was captivated early. I read through this quickly as I was thoroughly enjoying it – and then – the ending.

SPOILER ALERT – The following contains a spoiler

Though I don’t know how I could spoil it, when reading the novel doesn’t even spoil the ending. The mystery is never solved. The reader isn’t presented differing plausible solutions to choose from. There isn’t a hint of a suspect…because there isn’t a hint of a crime. There isn’t really a hint of an accident either, though that is the most likely explanation.

To be blunt, I felt cheated. I’ve read other novels that leave you wondering, but this didn’t even leave me wondering – just huh – never found em.

I did like some little snippets of thoughtful prose that Lindsay, the omniscient narrator, put in now and then amongst the dialogue or third person narrative.

Although we are necessarily concerned, in a chronicle of events, with physical action by the light of the day, history suggests that the human spirit wanders farthest in the silent hours between midnight and dawn. Those dark fruitful hours, seldom recorded, whose secret flowering breed peace and war, loves and hates, the crowning or uncrowning of heads.

Or in describing the life altering consequences of what we may deem insignificant acts:  Just as he himself by a few casual words this morning had effectively shaped the destinies of Tom and Minnie, so had Irma’s father, in a moment of generous impulse, altered the entire course of Albert’s life. It is probably just as well for our nervous equilibrium that such cataclysms of personal fortune are usually disguised as ordinary everyday occurrences, like the choice of boiled or poached eggs for breakfast.

And Lindsay creates some fabulous characters, and I could almost consider this a character driven novel, except – there is a plot, a maddeningly captivating plot, that is not brought to any kind of closure.

One other little thing that amused me. At one point the narrative mentions that Easter is approaching and later the same paragraph speaks of autumn. That threw me for a second. Then I remembered – Down Under.

So, some beautiful prose, marvelous characters but meh. I’m sure there is a better choice I could have made for an Australian classic; I’m not a fan of Picnic at Hanging Rock.