Winch has built her novel with subtlety and strength. This is a complex, satisfying book, both story and testimony. The Yield works to reclaim a history that never should have been lost in the first place. — The Guardian
"Unmissable." — The Guardian
“[A] wily, appealing novel….A testament to the saving grace of language itself, and to the corrosive consequences when it falls out of use and disappears.” — Wall Street Journal
A lyrical, courageous storyteller, Winch redefines Australia in this generational tale of reclamation and hope. — Sunday Times (London)
"A deep and affecting novel, [and] one of the summer's literary must-reads." — Bustle
"Winch makes a strong statement, beautifully rendered." — Library Journal (starred review)
Take courage when you read this book. You’ll need it. Winch asks big questions ... Is the answer within us? — Bruce Pascoe, author of Dark Emu
"The Peoples, languages and wildlife of Australia have been purposely decimated for a great many years. The history of this vast land is a tragic one and this young Indigenous author has taken it on in a graceful act of retrieval and witness. The dictionary and use of Wiradjuri words is transporting. Birrabuwawanha—to return, to come back. The Yield is a fine novel, and one not without hope." — Joy Williams, author of Pulitzer Prize finalist The Quick and the Dead
A lyrical and generous writer, Winch’s prose shimmers through this extraordinary tale of cruelty, dislocation, love and resilience. — Judging Panel for the Prime Minister’s Literary Award
Already a best-seller in Australia, Winch’s second novel is a clear-eyed look at the experiences of native people and the ways in which history is inherited through generations. — Booklist
A beautifully written novel that puts language at the heart of remembering the past and understanding the present. — Kate Morton, internationally bestselling author of The Clockmaker’s Daughter
"The Yield is, by far, the Australian novel of 2020 that you won’t want to miss." — Book Riot
"The humorous undercurrent to some of Winch’s short stories has no place here, and this is a more serious work than her previous books—but while she may have developed a more sophisticated style, her work is no less vivid, and this is an astonishingly elegant and powerful second novel." — Melanie Kembrey, Sydney Morning Herald
A groundbreaking novel for black and white Australia. — Richard Flanagan, Man Booker Prize winning author of The Narrow Road to the Deep North
Mesmerising and important. — Melissa Lucashenko, 2019 Miles Franklin award-winning author of Too Much Lip
Winch offers a stark account of how Aboriginal peoples are ignored, abused and their cultural beliefs stomped on, [but] The Yield's final message is one of hope. — Buzzfeed
The Yield is a story of hope and preservation — Buzzfeed
The Yield sings up language, history, home, blood - all the important stuff. — Paul Kelly, author of How to Make Gravy
A work of immense scope and sensitivity. — Jessie Cole, author of Deeper Water
Reap the wisdom this book yields. — The Saturday Paper
The Yield is the work of a major talent. It hypnotises with its lyricism, with the juxtaposition of horror and hope, and the candid look at family, country and history. It’s a work to be savoured, to be enjoyed in the sun on a winter’s day, and then to be shared—as widely as possible! — Madelaine Dickie, National Indigenous Times
The Yield... is a poignant story of personal and cultural reclamation and survival. — The Australian
As August navigates her connection to home, to family, and seeks to save what is left of it, the three stories collide in a beautiful ending. The story touches on many types of trauma that have been inflicted on Indigenous Australian’s from the colonization of Australia. Beautifully written, this was a deeply moving story that showed that regardless of the brokenness, the spirit of culture is so much stronger. — ReadWithWine
"A brilliant novel: deeply thought provoking, challenging, intelligent, sophisticated in style, and beautifully written, despite the brutality and sorrow that the history, and narrative, is awash with." — Theresa Smith Writes
Nothing short of a landmark Australian novel, simultaneously timeless and yet urgently a story for now, with sentences that’ll knock the wind out of your gut. — Benjamin Law, author of The Family Law
The Yield is a bleak and beautiful book that eloquently phrases the weight of history, with an ultimately uplifting sensibility at its heart: that of the power of storytelling across thousands of years. — Anne Barnetson, Australian Bookseller + Publisher
Winch’s urgent novel is a chance to listen. A moving and evocative story of Aboriginal Australia. Hope shines through this contemporary novel of a culture dispossessed and the importance of preserving language. Winch is a Wiradjuri author and here she writes about the Wiradjuri language which was once thought to be extinct but has now been preserved. The Yield is current, timely and an important must-Read for all Australians. — Dean, Better Read Than Dead
It’s another mesmerizing tour de force, throwing a spotlight on Australia’s broken heart. — Juliet Rieden, Australian Womens Weekly
This is a big hearted, hopeful book. More hopeful, maybe, than we deserve. — Miles Allinson, Readings
I just finished this book and it is ABSOLUTELY extraordinary. Intensely moving, gripping, brutal and yet so full of generosity. I learned so much especially about the lyrical Wiradjuri language. Brilliant. — Annabel Crabb, author of The Wife Drought
The Yield uniquely and powerfully shows how revolutionary a shift from an imported language to an Indigenous language might be ... such aesthetically and ethically ambitious writing. Reap the wisdom this book yields. — Maria Takolander, The Saturday Paper
This is an astonishingly elegant and powerful second novel. — Louise Swinn, The Sydney Morning Herald
A lyrical and generous writer, Winch’s prose shimmers through this extraordinary tale of cruelty, dislocation, love and resilience.
Judging Panel for the Prime Minister’s Literary Award
Already a best-seller in Australia, Winch’s second novel is a clear-eyed look at the experiences of native people and the ways in which history is inherited through generations.
Take courage when you read this book. You’ll need it. Winch asks big questions ... Is the answer within us?
[A] wily, appealing novel….A testament to the saving grace of language itself, and to the corrosive consequences when it falls out of use and disappears.
"A deep and affecting novel, [and] one of the summer's literary must-reads."
"The Peoples, languages and wildlife of Australia have been purposely decimated for a great many years. The history of this vast land is a tragic one and this young Indigenous author has taken it on in a graceful act of retrieval and witness. The dictionary and use of Wiradjuri words is transporting. Birrabuwawanha—to return, to come back. The Yield is a fine novel, and one not without hope."
Winch has built her novel with subtlety and strength. This is a complex, satisfying book, both story and testimony. The Yield works to reclaim a history that never should have been lost in the first place.
A lyrical, courageous storyteller, Winch redefines Australia in this generational tale of reclamation and hope.
Already a best-seller in Australia, Winch’s second novel is a clear-eyed look at the experiences of native people and the ways in which history is inherited through generations.
[A] wily, appealing novel….A testament to the saving grace of language itself, and to the corrosive consequences when it falls out of use and disappears.
Nothing short of a landmark Australian novel, simultaneously timeless and yet urgently a story for now, with sentences that’ll knock the wind out of your gut.
"A brilliant novel: deeply thought provoking, challenging, intelligent, sophisticated in style, and beautifully written, despite the brutality and sorrow that the history, and narrative, is awash with."
The Yield sings up language, history, home, blood - all the important stuff.
The Yield... is a poignant story of personal and cultural reclamation and survival.
"The Yield is, by far, the Australian novel of 2020 that you won’t want to miss."
A work of immense scope and sensitivity.
I just finished this book and it is ABSOLUTELY extraordinary. Intensely moving, gripping, brutal and yet so full of generosity. I learned so much especially about the lyrical Wiradjuri language. Brilliant.
Reap the wisdom this book yields.
The Yield is the work of a major talent. It hypnotises with its lyricism, with the juxtaposition of horror and hope, and the candid look at family, country and history. It’s a work to be savoured, to be enjoyed in the sun on a winter’s day, and then to be shared—as widely as possible!
This is an astonishingly elegant and powerful second novel.
The Yield uniquely and powerfully shows how revolutionary a shift from an imported language to an Indigenous language might be ... such aesthetically and ethically ambitious writing. Reap the wisdom this book yields.
A beautifully written novel that puts language at the heart of remembering the past and understanding the present.
It’s another mesmerizing tour de force, throwing a spotlight on Australia’s broken heart.
A groundbreaking novel for black and white Australia.
The Yield is a bleak and beautiful book that eloquently phrases the weight of history, with an ultimately uplifting sensibility at its heart: that of the power of storytelling across thousands of years.
As August navigates her connection to home, to family, and seeks to save what is left of it, the three stories collide in a beautiful ending. The story touches on many types of trauma that have been inflicted on Indigenous Australian’s from the colonization of Australia. Beautifully written, this was a deeply moving story that showed that regardless of the brokenness, the spirit of culture is so much stronger.
"The humorous undercurrent to some of Winch’s short stories has no place here, and this is a more serious work than her previous books—but while she may have developed a more sophisticated style, her work is no less vivid, and this is an astonishingly elegant and powerful second novel."
Mesmerising and important.
This is a big hearted, hopeful book. More hopeful, maybe, than we deserve.
Winch’s urgent novel is a chance to listen. A moving and evocative story of Aboriginal Australia. Hope shines through this contemporary novel of a culture dispossessed and the importance of preserving language. Winch is a Wiradjuri author and here she writes about the Wiradjuri language which was once thought to be extinct but has now been preserved. The Yield is current, timely and an important must-Read for all Australians.
Better Read Than Dead Dean
Winch offers a stark account of how Aboriginal peoples are ignored, abused and their cultural beliefs stomped on, [but] The Yield's final message is one of hope.
The humorous undercurrent to some of Winch’s short stories has no place here, and this is a more serious work than her previous books – but while she may have developed a more sophisticated style, her work is no less vivid, and this is an astonishingly elegant and powerful second novel.
The Sydney Morning Herald
07/06/2020
This angry, elegiac tale of an aboriginal family from Indigenous Australian writer Winch (After the Carnage ) explores the charged meaning of the word Ngurambang , meaning country or home in the Wiradjuri language. Albert Gondiwindi, facing a terminal illness, begins writing the story of his Wiradjuri family in the town of Massacre Plains. Upon his death, his granddaughter August, who had moved to England to get away from the town, returns for the funeral. After August learns the family’s home, an old mission station, will be destroyed to make way for a mine, she decides to stay, determined to save the home and land around it. Meanwhile, the reader learns that Wiradjuri artifacts have long since been excavated and removed, along with other brutal details chronicled in letters written by Reverend Greenleaf, the missionary who started the school in the late 19th century. Albert, Greenleaf, and August narrate alternating sections: Greenleaf’s long letter describing mission history is heavily expository, while August’s section is where the plot lives, and it’s enlivened by dialogue with her family. The strongest chapters are from Albert, in narratives framed as dictionary entries of his ancestors and their disappearing culture. While the shifts in narrator interrupt the flow, Winch succeeds at contextualizing August’s story with cultural history. The result is often quite moving. Agent: Pamela Malpas, Jennifer Lyons Literary Agency. (June)
06/12/2020
DEBUT Three distinct narratives bind together Winch's riveting story of Australia's Indigenous people. From the proud patriarch Albert "Poppy" Gondiwindi and his peculiar bilingual dictionary, a haunting history of his ancestors the Wiradjuri comes alive, depicting their lore, their love of the land, their cruel defeat by white settlers, and his punishing days in the Boys' Home after his parents were run off their land. In 1915, the Rev. Ferdinand Greenleaf writes letters to His Excellency the Governor describing white acts of horror he has witnessed but gets not replies. Instead, with Britain at war, Greenleaf is taken to an internment camp for German settlers, where his fierce commitment to the Aborigines earns him extra punishment. Gondiwindi's granddaughter August returns for Poppy's funeral after 10 years in England. Although her arrival brings back painful memories, it also coincides with a mining company takeover of the land. She quickly grasps the importance of her heritage and uses her grandfather's dictionary, Greenleaf's letters, museum records of stolen Aboriginal artifacts, and buried native bones to challenge the company. VERDICT The Aborigines' story is one of yielding, of not taking from the land but of bending to the will of others, a tragic picture of the Australian colonial period. Winch makes a strong statement, beautifully rendered. [See Prepub Alert, 12/2/19.]—Donna Bettencourt, Mesa Cty. P.L., Grand Junction, CO
Winch, a member of the Wiradjuri people of Australia, shares an epic story of the impact of colonialism on one Aboriginal family. Tony Briggs, himself Aboriginal, demands listeners’ attention with an understated yet compelling narration. He smoothly weaves the indigenous language, defined in an accompanying PDF, into the story as he moves through time to trace the culture from its exposure to colonialism, to its near extinction, to its concerted efforts to recover. His smooth delivery of the stories of Poppy Albert, the patriarch who produces a dictionary; granddaughter August, who is determined to recover and honor her heritage; and the missionary who looks back on the costs of colonialism proves Poppy’s belief that “there are few worse things than memory, yet few things better.” N.E.M. © AudioFile 2020, Portland, Maine
Winch, a member of the Wiradjuri people of Australia, shares an epic story of the impact of colonialism on one Aboriginal family. Tony Briggs, himself Aboriginal, demands listeners’ attention with an understated yet compelling narration. He smoothly weaves the indigenous language, defined in an accompanying PDF, into the story as he moves through time to trace the culture from its exposure to colonialism, to its near extinction, to its concerted efforts to recover. His smooth delivery of the stories of Poppy Albert, the patriarch who produces a dictionary; granddaughter August, who is determined to recover and honor her heritage; and the missionary who looks back on the costs of colonialism proves Poppy’s belief that “there are few worse things than memory, yet few things better.” N.E.M. © AudioFile 2020, Portland, Maine
2020-03-29
August Gondiwindi, a dishwasher in London, receives word that her grandfather Poppy Albert has died and knows she must return to Massacre Plains, the small Australian town her family has lived in for generations—a place she hasn’t visited in years: “Go back full with shame for having left, catch the disappointment in their turned mouths, go back and try to find all the things that she couldn’t find so many thousands of kilometres away.” She arrives at the family farm, Prosperous House, and as she helps her grandmother Elsie prepare food and clean for the large collection of aunts and uncles gathering for the funeral, she runs into former classmates and old flames and wrestles with her long-dormant grief at the disappearance of her sister, Jedda, who vanished when August was 9 and Jedda, 10. She also discovers that this may be the last time she sees her childhood home—her grandmother will soon be forced out of Prosperous House because a company plans to open a large tin mine on the land. Interwoven with August’s story are two other narrative strands: a lengthy letter from the Rev. Ferdinand Greenleaf, who founded the mission that eventually became Prosperous House to “build a home of safety for the poor waifs and strays,” and sections from a dictionary Poppy Albert was compiling of their family’s native language before his death, which includes words from the author’s ancestral Wiradjuri language. Albert’s entries are easily the most charming parts of the book. “The dictionary is not just words—there are little stories in those pages too,” he writes, and the same is true for his own effort, which weaves in reminiscences of meeting Elsie, fond memories of raising Jedda and August, and stories from his ancestors. But August’s chapters suffer from a lack of clarity; it’s often difficult to understand why events are significant, especially in the novel’s more dramatic latter half. Too often, it’s simply that the sentences are bewildering: “When the previous evening, like a virus, the true rumour that Rinepalm Mining had set an open day at the town hall filtered into the Valley, and back streets, the men and women, though on the edge of heatstroke, leapt from their houses and headed into town.”
A story woven from profound, overlooked historical material that’s sadly marred by sloppy execution.
