Dusk

August 6, 2024
In his fourth novel, Dusk, Robbie Arnott returns to familiar terrain. ‘Dusk’ is the name the highland graziers have given to a puma who has begun to ‘take’ shepherds and hunters alike. The story begins when twins Iris and Floyd catch wind of the ‘decent price’ on Dusk’s head and turn their horses towards the mountains. Dusk’s mythic proportions and prowess recall the titular Rain Heron of Arnott’s second novel. However, there is a new subtlety to this adventure arising from the familiar contours of its contextual details—the struggle to contain an invasive species, the highland community’s deeply ingrained bigotry, and the men’s obstructive reticence. Similar to Arnott’s Limberlost, Dusk is more historical than fantastical. As with all the works in the author’s oeuvre, so much of the novel’s wonder resides in the landscape, whose incredible presence—owing to Arnott’s gift for writing Australian wilderness—at times overshadows the struggles of its human characters. Yet the mystery of the twins’ personal history, threaded through the narrative, has its own allure, and Iris’s empathy, as well as her ‘unfurling’ love of the highlands, insulates them against the many difficulties they encounter. The novel carried me forward with a propulsive force that feels new for Arnott. Though I was, at times, driven by my desire to know more, for the most part, I found myself surrendering to the momentum of a carefully plotted narrative whittled to a deadly point.