Book Review: TORN: The Story of an Undeserving Wallaby Drowning in a Septic Tank, by Simon Williams

I was contacted by the author, Simon Williams, about reviewing the first book in his trilogy. The email was charming and snarky and the story – his own, in point of fact – sounded intriguing, so I agreed. I wasn’t sure exactly what to expect, but was curious. Well, I’ve finished the book, and am still curious… This is the teaser language that Mr. Williams included in his intro letter to me: “After suffering an unimaginable heart break, a dejected man suffers through depression and frustration. After four years of misery he considers ending it all. Thousands of miles from home he has only his thoughts for support. What began as a suicide note then turns into a hilariously sarcastic, disruptive and unapologetic book series. Only when we start to die, do we stop apologizing for who we are and what we go through.” I expected this to be a difficult story to read; it was, sort of, but not in the way I anticipated. Instead of a journey into depression, I found a bunch of stories about growing up an Aussie, the asininity of Americans, the heartbreak of frustrated rugby dreams, and lots of time in pubs. Then, in the last 5% of the book (literally), along comes the girl – and everything changes. Quickly, in brief paragraphs, and without much intro or explanation.

I must admit, there are some rough spots, both in content and in format/style. Mr. Williams has a strong voice. He tells a compelling story and is particularly gifted at conveying anecdotal snapshots of his life and adventures traveling from Australia (Queensland) to the United States (roughly the central west coast of Florida). The vast majority of the book feels like hanging out in a bar/pub, listening to stories… They are all a little rough around the edges, but that’s part of their charm – right up until it starts to feel like a little too much. Fortunately, the stories/chapters are generally not that long, so the “little too much” usually winds up before it becomes “just too much.” This format makes the book feel a little like rambling down a country road: the individual steps don’t always seem to be leading you anywhere, but then all of a sudden you find yourself running into something – a crossroads, a fellow traveler, a house – and realize you’ve been on a journey the whole time, you just didn’t always know to where. It made for a more disjointed read than I normally choose, but that’s alright – sometimes the roads we don’t choose are more interesting than the ones we do.

This was also a more decidedly masculine narrative than I normally pick up. That’s not to say that I only read “chick books” – I certainly do not – but that there’s a more tough-guy sensibility at work here than I anticipated (I don’t know why, but it’s true). I occasionally found myself rolling my eyes at yet another story about a pub or rugby or short-temperedness or the ridiculousness of America/Americans. I’d skim a bit to get past that point, then find myself intrigued again. The conversational style of his writing helped with that, I think, at least for me.

This is how literally 95% of the book went on. I had actually forgotten it was part of a trilogy at that point, and was starting to wonder where the dejection, heartbreak, and suicidal bits were going to come in. When they did, they felt rushed and overly brief and curt. There’s no indication as to why this particular woman became so indispensable that he literally threw everything away for her – despite what, in the abbreviated bits provided, seem to be rather clear indications of trouble… I am assuming those come in the next two installments (which are available now). That is fine – it was labeled a trilogy, so I don’t expect the story to come full circle in the first book. What I would have liked to see though, is a more consistent level of detail provided – it’s like the vast majority of the book is viewed through a microscope, then what I take to be the most essential part of his story is presented from 75,000 feet up… It felt rushed and like a teaser, rather than an ending of this first installment.

Still, this is a moving, incredibly detailed self-reflection. I can’t imagine how difficult it must have been to not only put all of this on paper but to then read and reread it and open it to others… It may feel rough around the edges, but whose life doesn’t, when examined microscopically? I give Mr. Williams tremendous credit for his efforts – and wish him the best of luck in his journey.