That Deadman Dance, Kim Scott


Well, it’s taken me a while to get to Kim Scott’s That Deadman Dance (2010), but it was worth it and his earlier Benang is beside me in the TBR so now I suppose I must read that too. In fact I listened, rather than read, to the mellifluous tones of Humphrey Bower who, for audio book fans, is the voice of so many Australian books.

This is a historical novel, of first contact. Scott, I think, is at pains, subtly, to emphasise ‘novel’ rather than ‘historical’ with place names King George Town and Cygnet River alluding to the initial white settlements in WA at Albany (on King George Sound) and subsequently at Swan River. Reviewers were quick to point out similarities with The Secret River (2005), Kate Grenville but of course the novel’s real precursor is Eleanor Dark’s The Timeless Land (1941), a serious first attempt by the dominant white culture to understand both sides of the consequences of first contact at Botany Bay.

Kim Scott grew up on the south coast of Western Australia. As a descendant of those who first created human society along that edge of the ocean, he is proud to be one among those who call themselves Noongar. (Inside cover, Picador 2011 ed.)

So this is the first serious attempt to portray first contact from the other side, the losing side. And yet it is not ‘losing’ that Scott portrays. Rather, it is the attempts of the Noongar to deal with the numerically inferior whites fairly and in accord with custom. And, until the devastating last paragraph, it is an optimistic portrayal. The commonplaces of first contact, rape and murder and even the displacement of the original inhabitants, are largely mentioned obliquely, as happening to someone else and not to the principal (indigenous) characters.

Scott’s style of writing is engaging. He writes in the third person, and in the voice of each person, focusing on a number of characters, settler and Noongar, but circling back repeatedly to Bobby, Wabalanginy to his own people, a baby by his own estimation when the first ship comes in 1826, and who we see grow, but eccentrically, as Scott also circles around in time using the future to illustrate the present and the past.

Scott starts with Bobby practising his letters, but soon introduces Chaine who will become the principal merchant and entrepreneur of the new settlement, and at this point I thought “this is just another whiteman story set in the C19th”. And I was wrong. Scott has the gift of speaking in one voice for the settlers and another, entirely “other” voice for the Noongar. Every time we circle back to Bobby we swoop and swirl with his joy in being alive. In this example Bobby is at sea:

Oh imagine sailing on one of those very fine days on the ocean. Clear sky, sun and bright air, foam and bubbles at bow and wake, and taut, swelling sails, Bobby felt like a bird, rising on a sweep of air; he felt like a dolphin slipping easily in and out of the wave face.

The deck tilted mostly one way, and its regular beat at that angle put a rhythm to Bobby’s step, a walking uphill-downhill thing that, even with no music and no one singing out loud, made him want to dance (p.32)

The optimism of this story, of Bobby’s cooperation with, or cooption into, Chaine’s bustling enterprise, or of the happy marriage of Bobby’s sister Binyan and the white whaler cum shepherd, Jak Tar, is at odds with what we think we know of settler history. And with mostly male protagonists there is an absence too of sexual tension, and so, for a while, there is little narrative drive, but subtly – and there’s that word again- we are made aware that, in the background, there has been change. Bobby and Chaine’s daughter Christine, for many years playmates, are now distant. Bobby as an adult has responsibilities with his people and Christine is to marry the “Governor’s” son (I’m not sure why Scott invented a “governor” for Albany) but when they meet there is a charge between them. Likewise, the easy relationship between Bobby and Chaine evolves without us really noticing until, near the end, Bobby is using his familiarity with Chaine’s farms to raid them for food which Chaine is no longer willing to share, and as the Noongar had shared with the settlers in the past, and Chaine has grown with prosperity into pomposity and inflexibility.

I read recently that The Secret River is now the book most often set as a school text (ahead of My Brilliant Career). If we are serious about Reconciliation then I trust that one day soon that place will be taken by That Deadman Dance.


Kim Scott, That Deadman Dance, Picador 2010 and on Bolinda Audio, read by Humphrey Bower

See also reviews by:
Whispering Gums, ANZ Lit Lovers , The Resident Judge of Port Phillip

My reviews of Kim Scott’s other works –
True Country, 1993 (here)
Benang, 1999 (here)
Kayang and Me, 2005 (here)
Taboo, 2017 (here)

The Cocanarup Massacre, my post based on Kim Scott’s source material (here)
The Pinjarra Massacre (here)


18 thoughts on “That Deadman Dance, Kim Scott

  1. Yes, I would agree about this book’s suitability as a set text. More challenging than The Secret River, but hey, Year 12 ought to be able to handle that, with support from capable teachers….

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I’m not a teacher so it’s hard to judge, and kids forced to read seem to hate those books forever, but I think Scott imagines a way of thinking for Bobby that is very persausive. Also I probably didn’t make myself clear, but I think That Deadman Dance is very good literature both as writing in English and as writing from an Indigenous viewpoint.


  3. Totally agree. I reckon year 12 should be able to manage this. I did Patrick White’s Voss in what we called 6th form (now year 12) and it’s not an easy book. The secret river is a good book, but That dead man dance is a critical book.


  4. I don’t remember my 11 Matriculation (that’s 6th form in the olden days) Eng Expression books, except for Pride and Prejudice and Martin Boyd’s A Difficult Young Man, because I didn’t read most of the others and failed! Also, I tried White’s An Aunt’s Story around that time and it put me off White for years.
    But thankyou for getting me to read That Deadman Dance, I think there that you’re right on the money.


    • I wish I’d done Martin Boyd then. We also did Joyce’s Portrait of the artist as a young man (after doing The Dubliners in 5th form or the year pre matriculation). I think The aunt’s story is probably less suitable for school kids than Voss. The whole Leichhardt drama gives it an epic quality that teens can latch onto I think.

      Anyhow, glad you liked That deadman dance. Great story, wonderful voices, lovely writing.


  5. Year 12 for me was White’s A Fringe of Leaves. From memory I didn’t understand a word. We also read My Brother Jack. My then best friend subsequently shot his copy with a cross-bow. My vote is for for the ‘easy’ set text.


  6. […] (coincidentally not consequentially!) my recent review of Kim Scott’s That Deadman Dance there has been a debate in the letters pages of The West Australian about the killing of a number […]


  7. […] see also: The Cocanarup Massacre, my post based on Kim Scott’s source material (here) Lisa at ANZLitLovers’ review of Taboo (here) My reviews of Kim Scott’s earlier works – True Country, 1993 (here) Benang, 1999 (here) Kayang and Me, 2005 (here) That Deadman Dance, 2010 (here) […]


  8. My brother suggested I might like this blog. He was entirely
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  9. […] I said above that Angelus, the setting for many of the stories, is Albany, a port city on the south coast with a history of whaling. This is clearly the case, despite many reviews referring to it as a small fishing town, though I do sometimes get the impression Winton has included aspects of smaller towns on the west coast, Augusta for instance. White Point where Vic’s family camp on holidays is a real place, a remote beach south of Augusta. In passing, Augusta is the setting for much of Stedman’s The Light Between the Oceans and Albany, ‘King George Town’, is both Kim Scott’s boyhood hometown and the setting for That Deadman Dance. […]


  10. […] When the British arrived in 1826, Professor Sylvia Hallam describes the people of the south west as “firestick farmers and kangaroo pastoralists” with practices that had been continuously evolving for millenia. It is a (cruel) curiosity of the Native Title Act that claimants must show that their practices have not evolved since white settlement, but have been ‘preserved in aspic’. With the British came writing and ‘therefore’ history. Explorer Matthew Flinders called in at King George Sound (Albany) in 1802 and “wrote with evident bewilderment that Aboriginal people ‘seemed to have no idea of any superiority we possessed over them'” (see also Kim Scott’s That Deadman Dance (my review)). […]


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