Johnno

David Malouf’s Johnno, chosen in 2004 by the Brisbane City Council as a winner of the short-lived "One Book One Brisbane" initiative, had long been on my radar. Released in 1975 as Malouf’s debut novel, it is seemingly semi-biographical, based on his friendship with an old schoolmate.

I’m going to group Johnno with two other Brisbane novels that explore life “on the streets”: The Delinquents by Criena Rohan. https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...

and Praise by Andrew McGahan https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...

Johnno delves into Brisbane’s streets during the earlier period of the 1940s through to the 1950s, preceding Rohan’s 1950s in The Delinquents and McGahan’s gritty 1980s in Praise. For a Brisbane reader, these three books provide a fascinating comparison: from Johnno’s defiance against the conservatism of the 1940s, to the rebellious bodgie and widgie couple in The Delinquents, and finally the alienation and disconnection of Gordon in McGahan’s modern world. The descriptions of place in all three novels vividly mirror my early memories of Brisbane in the mid-1960s—dirt roads, no sewage system, the 6 o’clock swill, and the sight of every old bloke sporting a Trilby. Today, Brisbane has transformed into yet another modern metropolis, but at the street level, these books capture the city's evolving identity. Interestingly, The Delinquents wasn’t a bestseller upon its release and only gained recognition after its film adaptation in the 1980s.

In Johnno, Malouf’s narrator Dante recounts meeting Johnno as schoolboys, seemingly from well-to-do, middle-class families. Dante describes Johnno as an outsider and prankster, intelligent and well-read in the classics. It was Johnno who gave Dante his lifelong nickname. As Johnno grew older, his wanderlust led him to Brisbane’s pubs and post-war brothels. Many of the places mentioned in the book—the street names and even a few pubs—are familiar to me. When I was an apprentice in the mid-1970s, near-retirement tradesmen often shared stories of the brothels and gambling dens that were once prolific in the city centre. The Brisbane of their youth for the most parts was isolated culturally and academically, it was very inwards looking and wary of those perceived as outsiders. For that generation, this lifestyle was as good as it got outside the dullness and sectarianism of those times. What sets this book apart is its bold depiction of a middle-class boy/young man stirring up trouble on Brisbane’s streets before deciding to get on a boat and head to Europe—a relatively novel concept in Brisbane literature at the time. Even into the mid-1970s, the idea of going ‘overseas’ carried an almost exotic allure.

Brisbane's identity shifted rapidly, shedding its big-country-town conservatism as global connectivity grew. Nowadays, street grit in Brisbane isn’t much different from the world portrayed in McGahan’s Praise. As for traveling abroad, all it takes is a plane fare, a visa to work (if you're from a Commonwealth country), and the right mindset to embrace the adventure.

Yet another great Brisbane novel. Highly recommended.