Menagerie of False Truths by Greg French

Reviews and Media:

'Greg French shares stories based on a family life that was at once dysfunctional and formative due to his growing up with autistic siblings and an emotionally distant mother.' MiNDFOOD

PICK OF THE WEEK, The Age, 10 July 2010
'Menagerie of False Truths is the kind of novel that makes you wish it wasn't a novel, for the qualities that make it a novel are among its least attractive. It is, however, worth persevering past the initial bumps of the opening — a stilted meeting in Victoria's high country between Jack and Cherry, two strangers with a lot in common (both have autistic siblings, as well as an obsessive love for antipodean nature and world literature). Greg French has written a roman a clef and shaggy dog story that charts the progress of a long-distance relationship, and the intimacy of minds that keeps it alive. If the book's indigestible literary coat-trailing and digression sometimes make you wish it were memoir, there is no denying French's ambition, talent, superior taste in fiction, and exhausting curiosity. It is a novel that might, perhaps, rank among such infuriating works of genius as Furphy's Such is Life and David Foster's The Glade Within the Grove.'

'Having seen this novel in draft form and debated its content with Greg, I was relieved to finally read it from cover to cover. I enjoyed it, though my world is different—more ordered, more ‘believable’ than French’s. In my world people don’t cast to fish as they lie drowning in the mud. Such things test credibility, but he writes from the heart. They are his thoughts, his memories, his experiences. And isn’t that what the book is about? It challenges what we perceive to be normal, what is credible, and in all 477 pages he doesn’t hold back.
Whereas Frog Call and Artificial focussed on fishing, mateship and the natural world, Menagerie of False Truths is more about the human condition. Jack Salmon is on a mission to record and photograph some of the weird and wonderful things trout eat. He is collecting to satisfy some inner compulsion, an urge that extends to memories, experiences, and to books. If the author shares Jack’s compulsion to ‘gather experiences and display them to the world,’ then this novel must surely be his ultimate work.
‘All sorrows can be borne if you put them into a story’ (Karen Blixen), is one of many poignant quotes. Jack’s vivid recollections of early childhood are filled with isolation, pain and despair. His doubts and depressions are tempered by a fascination for the natural world, and later in life by a passion for fly fishing, wild places and literature.
In parts the book shouts of frustration and anger, so much so that a social worker friend who borrowed my copy joked that she was surprised it wasn’t printed in capitals. She also expressed surprise that the book was written by a man, suggesting it might find deeper favour with a female audience. She liked it.
THIS IS NOT A BOOK ABOUT FISHING!—look, now I’m doing it.
Though rooted in Tasmania, the novel encompasses New Zealand’s cultural and natural heritage as well, as Jack and Cherry, the main characters, correspond between New Norfolk and Dunedin and explore their respective social and natural environments. Jack is a fly fisher and journalist, of course, and Cherry is an artist. Both have severely autistic siblings and share ‘abnormal’ if not mildly autistic traits. Both are misfits of sorts, struggling to deal with normality, their ‘gifts’ often manifesting as burdens.
On the fishing front there are some evocative descriptions of trout foods and their antics, and hidden gems about polaroiding and sight-fishing in general. French also answers the burning question: why do you fly-fish?
If there is a criticism, it might be cramming too much in, the background at times blurring out the foreground, but that also could be seen as part of the book’s manic drive. This might make Menagerie less readable for some, yet more interesting for others. But isn’t that the point? This is a book that questions ‘normality’ and intends to shock and provoke.
The novel for the most part is inspiring and perceptive but there are black moments when French exposes life’s wretchedness, confronting subjects like depression, faith, domestic violence, illness and death. Cancer, stroke, autism and abortion are met head-on.
Fortunately you don’t have to have read all the books and understood all the arguments to get something out of Menagerie. Agree or disagree with his forthright views, it does present food for thought.
At least Greg French can now say with authority that he knows his own name—he understands himself.' Rob Sloane, FlyLife Magazine