48 pages • 1 hour read
Shirley HazzardA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Detailed descriptions of clothing are a consistent motif throughout the novel. The characters, both male and female, are conscious of their own and each other’s dress, viewing it as a marker of social class, personality, and relationship to the external world.
The first mention of clothing is Grace’s “very good new woollen dress, [the] color of roses” that Ted perceives as soon as he meets her (7). The bright-colored, good-quality dress, which would have been especially striking in the wake of WWII’s fabric rationing, is the means by which Hazzard introduces Grace’s fiancé Christian: a government official who has sent the dress over from Canada. This detail immediately lets the reader know that beautiful Grace is off the marriage market and provided for by a wealthy man, as per the postwar gender ideal. The dress is also a means through which Ted feels his social inferiority: “[I]t was the first time Ted Tice had noticed the way a dress was made, though he had winced often enough for a brave showing in the clothes of the poor” (7). Likewise, Ted’s self-consciousness about the cable-stitch cardigans that Caro views dismissively indicates his last vestige of insecurity about being brought up poor. While he can hope to equal and even exceed the more privileged characters intellectually, his inability to present himself as they do makes him feel as though he is an imposter in their world.
Dress similarly defines Ted’s rival, Paul Ivory. Paul is a trendsetter—“the first Englishman they knew to dress, as everyone dressed later, in a dark-blue jersey like a fisherman’s, and to wear light cotton trousers and canvas shoes” (68). Unlike Ted’s chunky cardigan, Paul’s outfit shows off his body and expresses privilege in its muted, harmonious color-scheme. Its nod to working-class attire—the fisherman’s jersey—is also a testament to privilege, since only a member of the middle or upper classes could wear laborers’ clothes and expect it to be seen as a fashion statement.
Caro’s attitude to clothing reflects her desire to be independent and take control of her sexual appeal. She is proud of the dark dress that she bought “with a pile of pastel-colored banknotes on her last morning in France” (81), despite Dora’s protestations at the price. She envisages that the dress will help her stand out, as it “create[s] the effect that might in some future time, or very soon, be entirely hers” (81). The garment enables her to practice owning her sexuality and taking control of its display. She continues this pattern throughout her life, as even in middle age she knows how to make herself memorable with striking articles of clothing such as a peacock-colored scarf.
Imagery of cats is prominent throughout Hazzard’s novel, especially in association with Caro, who embodies similar independence, fierceness, and sensuality. Indeed, the first time Ted meets Caro, she is looking for Tom, the Thrales’ pet cat (5). The cat’s name is suggestive, since a tomcat is a male that hasn’t been neutered—the implication being that Caro is looking for a sexual partner. The rest of this first encounter at Peverel bears out this reading; as Caro rejects Ted’s advances, she lavishes affection on Tom instead, indicating that she prefers being close to a creature that will accept her caresses casually rather than come to rely upon them in a dog-like manner. Caro’s admiration of the sleek indifference of cats is a precursor to her passion for Paul, who is cat-like in his grace and ability to emotionally detach.
The motif of a woman being affectionate with a cat as a substitute for a person also occurs with Ted’s wife Margaret, who kisses and caresses her ginger cat because she knows that her unloving husband will reject her advances. Margaret’s symbiosis with the cat becomes fully evident when woman and cat mirror each other’s reactions in a charged conversation with Ted. As the cat requests to be held differently, “it seem[s] to expect something more” (266); it then listens itself when Ted tells Margaret “if you knew your beauty” (266), picking up on the unspoken emotional dynamic of unrequited love.
Death by water is a recurrent motif throughout the novel. The first instance—the Bell sisters’ childhood loss of their parents in a shipwreck—is an event outside of human control, much like the transit of Venus that led to Australia’s colonization. The chance event changes the girls’ lives forever by subjecting them to overbearing Dora’s guardianship, which defines their adult approach to relationships.
The parents’ drowning also makes the girls less rooted in their native Australia, as they leave for the continent that has shaped their education. For Australians, “[G]oing to Europe […] was about as final as going to heaven. A mystical passage to another life, from which no one returned the same” (37). Here, Hazzard likens the sisters’ journey to Europe as a kind of death by water, as though sea travel leads to the passage from one life to the next. Still, while they imagine that sailing to Europe will be their entry into a new life, Grace eventually realizes that her parents’ drowning remains the most eventful thing that has ever happened to her; Europe has in fact erased anything that could make her unique or interesting.
For Caro, the motif of the capsized ship returns just at the moment when she has reached a point of self-knowledge and reconciled with Ted; the sound of “the great gasp of hull and ocean as a ship goes down” enters her mind as her plane takes off (337). Thus, while Caro thinks she has taken control of her destiny by using this modern means of transport to meet her lover in Rome, she has the premonition that fate has decreed she will die in an accident like her parents. An earlier moment in the novel foreshadows this hypothesis, when on a pleasure-boating trip Caro “ha[s] the luminosity of those about to die” (332).
The other prominent death by water is that of Paul’s lover Victor, who drowns in a river when Paul purposely does not rouse him just prior to a flood. While the death of Caro’s parents was accidental, Victor’s dispatching is calculated. Paul uses his intimate knowledge of how deeply Victor sleeps, along with his fear of water and his inability to swim, to engineer Victor’s death and his own escape from responsibility. He even boasts that “[I]t couldn’t have been better if God had planned it” (308). However, the one flaw in his plan is that Ted saw him and retains the power over his secret. Here, Hazzard brings Paul a measure of the justice he deserves by reintroducing the cosmological framework that depicts humans as in thrall to random elements.
As its title suggests, astronomy and space are important motifs in the novel. Venus’s name comes from the Roman goddess of love and is therefore an appropriate planet to allude to in a novel so concerned with the ways love “crosses” the lives of its characters. The more immediate reference is to the circumstances in which Cook “discovered” Australia—an event that also has thematic significance, since it heralded the beginning of British colonization there. Lastly, as a rare cosmological event that indirectly shaped human history, the “transit of Venus” symbolizes the vast, mysterious forces governing people’s lives.
These three threads carry through the novel itself, intersecting in various ways. As an unexplored frontier, space is arguably a successor to the unexplored expanses of land and ocean that spurred European imperialism. In this sense, the astronomical research of men like Sefton Thrale and perhaps even Ted Tice is an extension of the imperialist mindset.