Jack Maggs
Peter Carey, an Australian who has lived in New York for several years, continues to write fiction that engages directly or indirectly with his homeland, whatever its subject. He first gained notice in 1974 with a book of experimental short stories, The Fat Man in History, then again in 1979 with another volume of equally fantastic short fiction, War Crimes. These two striking collections, widely acclaimed in Australia and overseas, previewed the breadth and inventive structure of his work once he turned to full-length fiction.
His first major novel, Illywhacker (1986), covers the history of 150 or so years of European settlement in Australia through a whimsical revision of fact and myth, told through the eyes of an “illywhacker” (Australian slang for a con artist or carnival spieler). In 1988, Carey received the Booker Prize for Oscar andLucinda, which follows the misadventures of a nineteenth century Australian couple who attempt to defy colonial reality by moving a glass church into the outback, where so fragile a symbol of civilization shatters. His next novel, The Tax Inspector (1991), centers on contemporary Sydney to depict private and public corruption. In The Unusual Life of Tristan Smith (1994), Carey invents a postcolonial nation called Efica and its powerful ally, Voorstand; through this contrivance, he subtly handles the perceived neocolonialism that Australia undergoes at the hands of the United States.
Thus it is no surprise to Carey’s readers that his 1998 novel, Jack Maggs, embraces the nineteenth century as its period but at the same time focuses on modern Australia’s relationship with the larger world—in particular, the Australian search for national identity. While this quest has occupied Carey throughout his career, he has managed to masquerade the recurrent theme in varied guises.
Widely reviewed in English-speaking countries, Jack Maggs received undue notice from critics for its debt to Charles Dickens’s Great Expectations (1860-1861). Granted, the newly minted Maggs owes his origins to the beleaguered convict Magwitch in the Dickens novel, just as Phipps represents another version of Magwitch’s surrogate son Pip; parallels with other characters in the earlier book have also been drawn, but highlighting such likenesses is not especially useful. Carey’s creation of the rising young writer Tobias Oates also led reviewers to speculate on how extensively Oates in both his professional and personal life resembles Dickens. Yet, once all these similarities have been pointed out, Carey’s expansion of the classic novel stands on its own, first as a lively and rousing story, then as a narrative with a strong subtext that examines not only the nature of fiction writing but also the uncertain identity and precarious condition of a postcolonial nation such as Australia.
Although a product of the late twentieth century, Jack Maggs resembles a work from earlier times with its mannered prose, its vivid details that re-create nineteenth century England, its meticulous development of character, and its old-fashioned narrative force. The story begins as Maggs returns to London after spending twenty-four years in Australia, first as a convict, then as a free man once he had completed his sentence. It was the practice in the early 1800’s to transport criminals to the farflung British colony in the antipodes. Once the convicts had completed their sentences, they were required to remain in Australia; if they dared return to England, they would be hanged. Some of the former convicts wasted away the rest of their lives as free men or women, carousing, drinking, and longing to go “home”—that is, to the England that had rejected them. Others adjusted and prospered in the developing colony. Maggs belongs to...
(This entire section contains 1785 words.)
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the latter company; he set up a brick-making factory in rapidly growing Sydney and accumulated a fortune. Like the first group, though, he still dreams of “home . . . the long mellow light of English summer” and would “build London in his mind . . . brick by brick.” Rebelling against the harsh life on the world’s underside, Maggs declares: “I am not of that race. . . . The race of Australians.” His passion is to see the orphan, now a grown man living in London, who had befriended him on his way to deportation those many years ago. With his newfound prosperity, he has secretly supported Phipps and financed his transformation into a gentleman. Maggs has long imagined the two of them living a genteel life together in his beloved London.
Thus Maggs, in spite of the threat of death, returns to the much-changed city, fully rendered in Carey’s descriptive prose:
The city had become a fairground, and as the coach crossed the river at Westminster the stranger saw that even the bridges of the Thames were illuminated.
The entire Haymarket was like a grand ball. Not just the gas, the music, the dense, tight crowds. . . . Dram shops had become gin palaces with their great plate-glass windows. . . . This one here—it was like a temple, damned if it was not, the door surrounded by stained panes of rich dye: rosettes, bunches of grapes.
Before long, however, Maggs’s enthusiasm is dampened when he finds the house he purchased for Phipps deserted. The ungrateful recipient of the ex-convict’s generosity has learned of his benefactor’s identity and imminent visit and has gone into hiding to avoid him.
Ever resourceful, Maggs takes a job in the house next door as a footman so that he can keep an eye on Phipps’s residence. His employer, Percy Buckle, is a former shopkeeper who inherited money and set himself up as a gentleman. Maggs soon learns that the household staff shows little respect for its upstart master. Fancying himself a man of letters, Buckle is delighted when the well-known writer Tobias Oates accepts an invitation to dinner, and Buckle does not object when Oates takes undue interest in his host’s new footman.
This meeting initiates a strange and often stormy relationship between Maggs and Oates, who eventually learns the bad-tempered footman’s secret past as a convict. By promising to help Maggs find the vanished Phipps, the writer convinces the suspicious Maggs to act as his subject in his amateur ventures into hypnotism and mesmerism. This agreement sets the narrative on its course when the unlikely pair intermittently delve into Maggs’s past and search in vain for the missing Phipps. Their personal explorations and wider hunt provide the basis for a series of adventures that lead the two men into varied avenues of nineteenth century English life. To augment the immediate narrative, Maggs writes long letters to Phipps. Through this one-sided correspondence, the neglected benefactor discloses how he grew up in London and trained as a thief who specialized in stealing silver from fine houses, for which he was eventually tried and exiled; here the first-person voice replaces the detached third-person narrator. Interwoven into these assorted strands are scenes revealing Oates’s turbulent household, his unfortunate romantic entanglement, and his financial problems, along with incidents picturing the disorderly ménage headed by Buckle.
At the novel’s end, Maggs discovers his true identity as an Australian. The romanticized picture of England he once carried dissolves when he finally grasps that his much-anticipated return “home” has brought him only suffering, humiliation, ingratitude, and disillusionment. Maggs, unrefined and given to violence though he is, and Mercy Larkin, albeit a former prostitute still plying her trade with Buckle, emerge as the two most admirable characters in the story. The rest of the British personages Maggs encounters, that “race” with whom he had once identified so fervently, display only selfish, grasping, pretentious, and perfidious streaks. Even a character who loosely suggests “Mother England” turns out to be an abortionist.
In addition to being an engaging narrative, Jack Maggs offers insights into the creative process itself through the alliance between Oates and Maggs. Fascinated by his subject, the ambitious writer attempts to enter deeply into Maggs’s experience, past and present, to gather material for a proposed novel about the former convict’s life. How stories originate and accumulate, how they unfold and grow, has always intrigued Carey, who has investigated the act of storytelling in his previous novels. Here the parallel between the imaginary Oates and the actual Dickens is legitimized, as Carey imagines the way Dickens may have set Great Expectations into creative motion. Further, the contemporary author has helped out his nineteenth century counterpart by providing the missing details from the life and times of Magwitch/ Maggs. In an interview, Carey admitted that he had always been curious about the mysterious benefactor in the earlier novel.
The ending, which should not be revealed in its entirety, makes a strong statement about national identity. Maggs discovers that he does indeed belong to “the race of Australians,” an identity he had earlier rejected. Mercy Larkin, who had been turned into the London streets by her mother to work as a prostitute, then rescued by Buckle, who took advantage of her weakness, finds salvation and happiness in Australia. The all-important concluding sequence, although clearly enough defined, turns out to be the book’s weakest part. The narrator seems to be in a hurry to tie the loose strands together, and too much happens too fast. Earlier scenes that are less essential get fuller treatment. The reader, in the final pages, tends to feel cheated and wishes that Jack Maggs and Mercy Larkin had been granted more extended treatment as they discover themselves, that their redemption and their awareness of their rightful identity had been more thoroughly developed.
Carey’s work is popular in his homeland, and no doubt this novel’s emphatic conclusion, which stresses Australia’s superiority over England, will please Australian readers. Although the country itself still pledges allegiance to the British monarchy, a strong movement has developed to sever these traditional ties and form an independent republic. While the current political maneuverings may have accounted in large part for the novel’s enthusiastic reception in Australia, readers overseas would not likely be aware of such parochial matters. The novel’s success outside Australia undoubtedly rests to some degree on its solid story, intriguing characters, and remarkable style. In addition, the book’s connection with Great Expectations surely accounts for part of its appeal. Although enlargement, revision, or updating of literary classics fails more often than it succeeds, Jack Maggs does full justice to the original work.
Sources for Further Study
The Christian Science Monitor. April 8, 1998, p. 14.
Los Angeles Times Book Review. February 1, 1998, p. 2.
The Nation. CCLXVI, March 2, 1998, p. 27.
The New York Review of Books. XLV, February 19, 1998, p. 26.
The New York Times Book Review. CIII, February 8, 1998, p. 10.
Publishers Weekly. CCXLIV, December 1, 1997, p. 45.
Time. CLI, February 23, 1998, p. 84.
The Times Literary Supplement. September 12, 1997, p. 8.
The Wall Street Journal. February 4, 1998, p. A20.
The Washington Post Book World. XXVIII, March 15, 1998, p. 1.
Literary Techniques
Jack Maggs is a novel deeply concerned with the themes of writing and rewriting. When Maggs consents to be mesmerized by Oates daily for two weeks, he insists, "I won't have nothing written down," revealing his profound distrust of the written word. The story features multiple intertwined narratives, each with various layers. Maggs fears not just being exposed to the authorities but also having his story appropriated. While Oates maintains two sets of records to deceive the convict, Maggs documents his own version of events using invisible ink, ensuring that only Henry Phipps can read his life's story.
Excerpts from Oates's ongoing work, The Death of Maggs, are interwoven with Carey's narrative and Maggs's personal account. This layering can sometimes make it challenging for the reader to distinguish "fact" from "fiction" and discern which narratives are "true." Carey himself manipulates facts to highlight the subjective nature of all writing. Although he meticulously records key dates that align with significant moments in Dickens's life (such as Lizzie Warriner's death coinciding with that of Dickens's sister-in-law, Mary Hogarth), his approach to naming is much less precise. Characters in Oates's family are named after figures associated with Charles Dickens, but Carey intentionally mixes them up, naming Oates's son after Dickens's father, Oates's wife after his sister-in-law, Mary, and his lover, Lizzie, after Dickens's mother. This method encourages readers to question the reliability of facts and history, serving as a constant reminder of the revisionist nature of storytelling.
In fact, the novel's final paragraph underscores that rewriting is never definitive by depicting Mercy Larkins as having erased Oates's dedication from no fewer than seven volumes of his novel, The Death of Maggs. Thus, while the novel, along with Maggs's letters to Phipps, becomes archival material in Sydney's Mitchell Library, it remains, like all documents claiming authority, both incomplete and flawed, having undergone revisions itself.
Ideas for Group Discussions
1. Considering Peter Carey's history of highly original fiction, why has he decided to reimagine Great Expectations? What motivates him to adapt the novel in such a loose manner?
2. Jack Maggs explores themes of silence and amplifies the voices of those "others" traditionally marginalized in "great" literary works. On one level, it could be interpreted as a post-colonial Australian text. Reflecting on the concept of suppressed voices, why might this interpretation be open to challenge?
3. How does the colonial outsider serve as a commentary on nineteenth-century British society?
4. Do you view Phipps's rejection of his benefactor as a tragic event? Why or why not?
5. What roles do the women in Jack Maggs play? Consider how they might be interpreted allegorically.
6. Throughout most of the novel, Maggs is haunted by the "phantom" of his repressed memories, which Oates taps into during mesmerism. Do you agree with Maggs's belief that Oates has implanted the phantom? Why does Maggs confuse Henry Phipps with the phantom?
7. Percy Buckle evolves from a weak character into a schemer who manipulates others to rid himself of Maggs. How does Carey use Buckle to drive the plot forward? Did you find his sudden character development convincing?
8. In addition to being a reinterpretation of an existing text, Jack Maggs contains multiple texts within itself. Why might Carey choose to do this, and why is he so focused on undermining the authority of the written word?
9. Why does Maggs desire to return to Britain? How does the novel's narrator perceive this ambition? Compare the depictions of London with Maggs's recollections of Australia during his trance. Does either location represent an "ideal" society? Contrast the characters in London with Maggs. Why does Maggs eventually return to Australia, and why do you think Carey chose to send him back?
10. The novel opens with an extensive passage from de Chastenet and de Puysegur's Du Magnetisme Animal, which seems to frame the narrative and perhaps put the reader in a trance-like state. Why might Carey have chosen to do this?
Literary Precedents
Jack Maggs is part of a long tradition of adaptations of Great Expectations. This tradition includes David Allen's play Modest Expectations (1990), where Dickens and his mistress Ellen Ternan travel to Australia, and Michael Noonan's Magwitch (1982), which delves deeper into the convict's story without making major changes. As Australia has grown more interested in its colonial history, rather than trying to forget its origins as a penal colony, the focus on characters like Magwitch/Maggs has increased. Robert Hughes has crafted a compelling history of British settlement in Australia with The Fatal Shore (1988), vividly illustrating the hardships faced by those sentenced to transportation. Similarly, Marcus Clark's For the Term of His Natural Life (1874) and George Dunderdale's The Book of the Bush (1870) offer graphic and sometimes startling accounts of life in the Australian outback.
Carey is not alone in his fascination with Dickens's novels. Recently, John Irving has drawn inspiration from Dickens's works, notably using David Copperfield in The Cider House Rules (1986) and A Tale of Two Cities in A Prayer for Owen Meany (1990). Looking ahead to adaptations that followed Carey, Susanne Alleyn's A Far Better Rest (2000) expands on the character of Sydney Carton, offering a retelling of A Tale of Two Cities from his perspective.