Sororicidal: this witty sisterhood novel knows children can be awful
- Written by The Conversation
The title of Edwina Preston’s fourth book, Sororicidal, warns us against the presence of a happy family. After all, the word refers to the killing of a sister, or the tendency to harm a sister – and in each section of this novel we come up against a different kind of harm.
It begins in early 20th century Australia and follows a dysfunctional family, and especially their daughters – one an artist, one later a conflicted mother – over several decades. It is organised chronologically in four sections, with the sisters alternating in the role of narrator, giving us very distinct perspectives on the start of their family.
Sororcidal continues threads from Preston’s earlier work. Her biography of artist Howard Arkley (2002) illuminates the world of Australian art and artists. The Inheritance of Ivorie Hammer (2012) plays with the mores and the complexities of Victorian Australia, and showcases the author’s skill in crafting characters and events. Bad Art Mother (2022), does what it says on the label, exploring the complexities of being a mother who is also an artist.
Blame the parents
Parents usually take the blame, of course, and here the parents are indeed blameworthy. They are so cold, so uninterested in their children, that they are known to the sisters – and therefore also to us – only as Mr Cussens and Mrs Cussens. It is perhaps the iciest account of a parent-child relationship I have read since Jeanette Winterson’s autobiography. Neither notice that their elder daughter, Mary, actively tries to kill little Margot – or at least, that is what Margot claims.
To make things worse, the girls are not permitted to attend school, so are deprived of everyday socialising. This is probably for the best, because the girls torment those around them: “Hiding things dear to people, removing and discarding people’s mail.” They maintain a Hate Book, full of written and sketched caricatures of those they dislike – which is everyone else. Indeed, “Even at Sunday school, where God was watching in his pall of yellow love, no one was safe from us.”
