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A Cry From The Dark

by Robert Barnard

For fans of Robert Barnard (of which I'm most certainly one) his novel A Cry From The Dark is different from what we've been led to expect from this author so far. It's the story of an older female novelist, writing her memoirs while she deals with the present. The story therefore bounces back and forth between Bundaroo in the Australian outback where she grew up, and London, England, where she presently resides as a successful writer. Barnard's trademark dry wit is lacking here, and although there's the requisite murder, it's not dwelt upon. Nevertheless, in this book Robert Barnard still spins a very interesting tale.

Bettina Whitelaw is an eighty-year-old novelist getting to know – and dislike – the eighteen-year-old girl, Kerry Probyn who is scheduled to play the lead in Bettina's book, Heart of the Land. Corydon Films are to make it into a big screen production. While not mentioned again, except in passing to both friends (Hughie Naismyth and her agent, Clare Tuckett) Kerry does remind Bettina of herself at that age back in Bundaroo.

All of Bettina's friends say she's writing her memoirs, which is true, but Bettina prefers to think of the book as memories, put down in novel form. She returns to her first paragraph, where she describes Bundaroo; not much more than a single paved street with a hotel that served mostly as a bar and several tiny stores. The next section recalls her first meeting with Hughie, whose name was actually Eugene. They are about the same age, and Betty (as she was called then) encounters him on the way to his first day at her school.

Betty protects Hughie throughout the school year, because his family has moved there from England, and her classmates and Bundaroo in general don't take to 'outsiders.' Hughie doesn't help any because he's primarily interested in art instead of football, and his parents get themselves a really bad name – his mother by snobbishness and his father by refusing to consider that Australians may have different ways of doing things than the English.

In the present, Bettina plays hostess to her brother Oliver from Australia – and a daughter, Sylvia Easton, whom Bettina hasn't seen since she gave the baby away at birth after a brief marriage and divorce. Sylvia is now fifty years old. Her agent Clare supplies Bettina with tickets for all three to various entertainments – then as Sylvia and Bettina grow close, Bettina decides to accompany her guests to Edinburgh.

One thing troubles her in the present – Bettina's desk has evidently been searched, which means her apartment has been entered in her absence. She tells the police, but since Bettina has given so many keys to various people, there's no way they can be of help right off. So when her friend and former cleaning lady, Katie, offers to babysit her apartment while Bettina is in Edinburgh, Bettina agrees, and the three take off.

Interspersed among her present activities are the moments when Bettina adds to her memoirs – including the dreadful night in Bundaroo which precipitated her final escape and eventually landed her in London. Then her stay in Edinburgh is cut short by the news that her apartment has been broken into and Katie is in the hospital, not expected to live.

Past and present collide in the most unexpected way after Katie dies in the hospital. Bettina has something someone wants to steal – but what? The one painting of aboriginal art that was taken at the time of Katie's attack wasn't worth very much. Some of Bettina's other paintings were worth a great deal more. Then in the final pages, Bettina comes to the correct conclusion of just who the murderer is, and justice is imminent.

A Cry From The Dark isn't Bettina's cry. But that only becomes obvious after reading the entire volume. Robert Barnard continues to surprise us with his genius – not only in telling a story, but in narrating every tale in a totally different way.

Alan Paul Curtis

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