Out of nineteenth-century Australia rides a hero of his people and a man for all nations, in this masterpiece by the Booker Prize-winning author of Oscar and Lucinda and Jack Maggs. Exhilarating, hilarious, panoramic, and immediately engrossing, it is also—at a distance of many thousand miles and more than a century—a Great American Novel.

This is Ned Kelly's true confession, in his own words and written on the run for an infant daughter he has never seen. To the authorities, this son of dirt-poor Irish immigrants was a born thief and, ultimately, a cold-blooded murderer; to most other Australians, he was a scapegoat and patriot persecuted by "English" landlords and their agents.

With his brothers and two friends, Kelly eluded a massive police manhunt for twenty months, living by his wits and strong heart, supplementing his bushwhacking skills with ingenious bank robberies while enjoying the support of most everyone not in uniform. He declined to flee overseas when he could, bound to win his jailed mother's freedom by any means possible, including his own surrender. In the end, however, she served out her sentence in the same Melbourne prison where, in 1880, her son was hanged.

Still his country's most powerful legend, Ned Kelly is here chiefly a man in full: devoted son, loving husband, fretful father, and loyal friend, now speaking as if from the grave. With this mythic outlaw and the story of his mighty travails and exploits, and with all the force of a classic Western, Peter Carey has breathed life into a historical figure who transcends all borders and embodies tragedy, perseverance, and freedom.

My thoughts
The name of this book should be True Adjectival History of the Adjectival Kelly Gang! If you don't like the word "adjectival", you won't like this book, that's for sure! In fact, after reading 300+ pages of this book, I'm still not sure I know what "adjectival" means! :-)

This book takes a little getting used to because of the style in which its written, but if you stick with it I think you'll find it rewarding. Ned Kelly is a huge Australian legend, part outlaw along the lines of Robin Hood, I suppose. The story starts with his childhood and goes through until his death at a young age in a shoot-out with police.

The story is almost like a bad soap opera in which there's a disaster waiting around each corner, but the book is written in a way that gives the benefit of the doubt to Kelly. Not knowing the Australian legend outside of this book, I'm not sure how much of this is fact or fiction. I wonder how many historical facts could possibly have been preserved. But it's a great story none the less, and I think you'll find it fascinating adjectival reading!

Favorite Passage
I were still wearing my moleskins and red shirt the same light clothes in which I had been taken 5 days previous I were so cold my teeth were rattling like old Fratelli's wooden dummy and my green sash proved little comfort to me here.

A very long time passed until finally a bright light showed under the door I shouted I were cold.

No reply.

God help me mate whoever you are.

Swear on the Virgin you will not jump me said a voice.

I were promised a blanket said I.

Stand back against the adjectival wall.

Thinking they was going to bash me I stiffened up the sinews but then the door swung open and there stood the handsome Constable I had earlier defeated he were as pretty as a saint in a Holy Card the shining all around him his arms was full of blankets.

Swear on the Virgin you won't jump me said he his face were beastly bruised the skin all were broken on his brow.

I swear on the Virgin.

Spit twice.

I done it.

Good man said he delivering his burden to my cot. I fell upon the blankets straight away they was scratchy and smelled strongly of camphor but never were a rough embrace so comforting and kind.

My name is John Fitzpatrick said he.

Ned Kelly.

I know he said placing his lantern on the floor then unwrapping v. carefully the newspaper from around a bottle which he swigged before wiping and passing to myself. I confessed I did not drink.

You aint too young to start.

Don't like it's taste.

Good show said he placing his treasure gently beneath the crib then solemnly smoothing out the newspaper it had been wrapped in.

If you jump me it would be the finish of my employment you must not do it.

I won't jump you no road.

Spit he said.

I spit.

Spit twice.

I done so again.