If anyone can make a footy agnostic care about Aussie rules football, it’s Helen Garner. Her new book, The Season, her first in a decade, pulls us into the world of under-16s footy, where her grandson Amby and his teammates grapple with wins, losses, injuries – and, naturally, a dose of teen angst.
A lifelong Western Bulldogs supporter, Garner has always loved the theatre of AFL, even if the rules are a bit foggy. Her grandson, his coach and other fans serve as impromptu guides, translating footy’s mysterious language for her. Through them, we glimpse a sport where toughness and tenderness coexist, where men who tear each other apart on the field may tenderly carry each other off it.
And Garner, a sharp-eyed chronicler of life’s rough edges (though she admits her eyesight isn’t what it used to be), isn’t just a passive observer from the sidelines. She’s there at most practices, wearing her straw hat and brown coat, and wielding a notepad, slicing oranges, leaning in for a clearer view and wincing through tackles and tumbles. This ‘season’ of her own reveals the theatrical spectacle of AFL, somewhere between the operatic and the gladiatorial, where tension is sharpened by the ever-present risk of injury, even at an amateur level.
In Australia, concerns about the issues of concussion and injury in footy are getting louder, with former players like Max Rooke and Liam Picken launching lawsuits against the AFL over traumatic brain injuries. For Garner, the broken bones and dislocated fingers she describes in The Season are a sobering reminder of the game’s toll.
But Garner’s lens zooms out beyond sport. Though The Season is ostensibly about AFL, Garner’s real subject is the broader terrain of grace, loyalty, grit and what it means to be masculine today. She knows her focus may seem dated or even controversial, especially when women’s sports are surging in the public eye, but there’s a quiet subversion in it. This is her own brand of defiance; much like her debut, Monkey Grip, which probed into addiction and communal life, The Season examines masculinity with a similarly tender, unfiltered lens.
The generational spirit of Monkey Grip carries into The Season, with Garner nodding to the present through COVID-19, an infamous mushroom poisoning and contemporary definitions of masculinity. But here, the tone feels different, softer – zucchini soup replaces hard drugs, and the dusty oval stands in for the Fitzroy share house.
There’s a sense of farewell in The Season, a kind of winding down. Garner seems to be savouring these training sessions and weekend games, crafting a meditative pace. Not much happens in the traditional sense, but Garner’s knack for wringing meaning from the everyday keeps it compelling. It’s classic Garner actually: taut, observant prose, sprinkled with wry ‘nanna jokes’ and descriptions that bring the scenes to life – finely slanted rain showers, mud caked between the cleats and wintery green ovals. As in The Children’s Bach, Garner lets these quiet moments speak, allowing subtle shifts in her grandson’s demeanour and team dynamics to build the story.
Read: Book review: Mean Streak, Rick Morton
In a final paradox, The Season is radical without seeming to be. And, by the end, even a footy sceptic like me has to concede – there’s a kind of magic in those muddy ovals.
The Season, Helen Garner
Publisher: Text Publishing
ISBN: 9781922790750
Format: Paperback
Pages: 208pp
Publication date: 26 November 2024
RRP: $34.99
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