DON’T LOOK BACK
Kyle Perry makes a chilling debut with a crime thriller about a group of girls who disappear in remote Tasmanian bushland
When Kyle Perry was 12, he thought Picnic at Hanging Rock was a true story. Believing a group of schoolgirls really did go missing on a bush excursion, he was troubled that no-one seemed to be looking for them.
“It had such a powerful effect on me,” says Perry, 29, of the haunting 1975 Peter Weir film inspired by the Joan Lindsay novel. “I thought ‘there’s this mountain that is literally making girls disappear and no one is talking about this.’ It wasn’t until later that Dad told me it was made up.”
By then, the damage was done: Perry could not shake the notion that super-creepy, inexplicable things happened in the bush. It didn’t help when a teenage mate spooked the bejesus out of him by telling him the legend of the mythical Tall Man.
“If you look behind yourself three times he will take you,” Perry says. “I used to go for bushwalks when I was a teenager and be too scared to look behind.”
Perry has put these formative fables to good use in his debut novel, The Bluffs, a crime thriller set in Tasmania’s Great Western Tiers, in which two groups of schoolgirls go missing three decades apart, and the spectre of the Hungry Man haunts the people of Limestone Creek.
For his setting, Perry, who grew up near Burnie and now lives at Moonah, chose for inspiration his mother’s tiny hometown of Western Creek at the base of the escarpment.
Other inspirations for the novel include the legend of escaped Van Diemen’s Land cannibal convict Alexander Pearce, “a sad conversation with a cannabis dealer” and the anythingcould-happen vibe a nervy solo bushwalker can experience in remote parts of the state.
The author says his working life as a university-trained counsellor also inspires his writing.
Previously a youth counsellor in the NorthWest, Perry works in men’s drug and alcohol counselling in Hobart.
Two aspects of his work are especially influential: the stories men tell him and the way they elude binary categorisation as good or evil.
“I hear a lot of stories and I know what makes people tick … there are shades of grey.”
Perry says the drug dealer in The Bluffs emerged from a real-life interaction.
“It’s a more nuanced portrait of a drug dealer. He will buy people food and does stuff for his kids — it’s about reframing the narrative.
“It’s still a bad thing to do … but as people, [drug dealers] are more complicated than we allow.”
Perry spent a decade writing a young adult manuscript a year, without publishing success, before hiring an editing consultant (now his agent), who suggested he change course. He wrote the first draft of The Bluffs three years ago. Thematically, its concerns are not a world apart from YA Fiction — the power of social media, generational trauma, small-town mentalities and mental health. The addition of spine-chilling suspense did the trick and the manuscript was picked up by Penguin and published last month.
“Writing is the thing that makes me happiest,” Perry says when asked why he persisted despite countless rejections. “It didn’t make sense for me to stop. I thought ‘I have to keep going until I get there.’
“It meant that other goals went by the wayside. I sunk a lot of time and life decisions into following this path. A lot of life was put on hold until this moment.”
Early success of The Bluffs means he is already thinking about a sequel.
Next up, though, is a standalone second novel set at Eaglehawk Neck, where a girl abducted seven years earlier returns.
For now, Perry is revelling in getting nonreaders reading.
“I had a message last night at 1am from a mate saying ‘I can’t put it down’,” he says.
“Another mate who usually doesn’t read books smashed it out in four days. ‘That’s it’, I thought after hearing that. ‘I don’t care how many copies I sell’.”
PRE-COVID, I never quite realised how much energy I drew from interactions with other people. Whether it’s small interactions like morning banter with my local barista, impromptu chats at the dog park or larger affairs like dinner parties with friends and work conferences, I am now more aware than ever of how joyful it is to be in the company of others. As a precaution, my family and I went into strict isolation from mid-March in the lead-up to the birth of our second child (Alfie, born early June). For my husband and I, having the option to work from home and care for our daughter was an immense privilege (one I am aware wasn’t possible for many) but like countless others in the same situation, it was at times painfully lonely.
Zoom calls with extended family and phone catch-ups with friends certainly helped but, on reflection, I recognise that I also owe a considerable amount of gratitude to the hospitality community who have hustled so hard to pivot their business models and maintain a connection to their customers.
Being able to order takeaway from your favourite pub or cafe might seem like a small thing, but when you’re unable to leave the house it is akin to a postcard from your preCOVID life – a taste of normal, literally. We may not have been able to have visitors at the hospital when our son was born, but a nourishing post-birth meal from Tom McHugo’s (complete with their incredible Brewer’s Malt Pie for dessert) was like a warm hug (in the absence of actual hugs).
As time ticked by from mid-March onwards, I looked forward to deliveries of chicken congee and hearty curries and stews from Adam James, of Rough Rice, vegie boxes from Huski Greens, freshly ground coffee from Straight Up and drive-through pick-ups at Farmgate Market.
Tasmanians are good at buying locally at the best of times and you’d be crazy not to with the quality of our produce. But as a community, there has been an extra effort to step up and make a point of choosing local food businesses over the past few months. While consumers and patrons have made purchasing decisions to do what they can to help try to sustain and support a sector that has been hugely affected by the pandemic, conversely, food businesses and producers have sustained and supported us in more ways than one. For me, the sense of connection and regular interaction with people outside of my immediate family unit has been just as important as the food itself.
At the height of lockdown, Collide Wholefoods and Criterion Street Cafe teamed up to support emergency health workers by launching an initiative where people can purchase and gift nutritious meals that are then delivered to doctors and nurses on the frontline. Meals continue to be available to be purchased and donated via the Collide Foods website with the option to include a note of thanks. Having recently spent time in hospital to give birth, I was reminded of how incredible our doctors, nurses and midwives really are. There I was having spent the past few months at home while they continued to turn up day in, day out to care for others in the middle of a pandemic with rumoured inadequate amounts of personal protective equipment.
In that vein, we can’t forget about the various distilleries and breweries around the state that stepped up to fill a much-needed shortage in supplies and turned their production lines to hand sanitiser.
Of course it has by no means been all “warm and fuzzy” for the hospitality industry. Countless people have lost their jobs, turnovers are at an all-time low and some of our most loved venues have closed permanently, including Oddfellows (which barely had time to get off the ground since opening in late 2019), and, of course, the award-winning Franklin Restaurant that opened in 2014.
As restrictions have gradually relaxed, venues have cautiously begun reopening their doors to diners, albeit often with different layouts in order to comply with social distancing recommendations. Food-focused day trips have become a big thing in our house – our favourite destinations to date being Franca’s Bake Sale at Port Cygnet Cannery (Saturdays 10am-noon), Masaaki’s takeaway sushi in Geeveston (Saturdays and Sundays from noon) and The Agrarian Kitchen’s Kiosk (Saturdays and Sunday 11am–2pm or until sold out).
For now, I’m relishing the slow return of face-to-face interactions, of spontaneous conversations and the odd meal out with a friend. Over the coming months we’ll all be navigating the delicate balance between wanting to visit restaurants and cafes while also adhering to social distancing requirements and other public health advice as we do our best to maintain the lifestyle that we enjoy as Tasmanians.