Book Review: Ned Kelly - Peter FitzSimons

Not sure why I didn’t enjoy this book. I love history, and one of the eras I find most interesting is Australia in the late 1800s through World War One and into the Roaring Twenties. 

So much of our country’s heritage had it’s beginning in those rough days before Federation, including the Kelly Gang – Ned Kelly, Steve Hart, Joe Byrne and Ned’s younger brother Dan – whose exploits seemed to grip the nation until the gang’s demise at the Siege of Glenrowan in rural Victoria, and Kelly’s subsequent death by hanging, are, for better or worse, always going to be an important part of our country’s history.

This was the first Peter FitzSimons book I’ve read. My dad’s read most of what the rugby player turned journalist has released, and I’ve got Tobruk and Kokoda on my eReader, ready to delve into later. From the way a lot of people, my old man included, rave about FitzSimons’ work, I was expecting a whole lot more than what I got.

I have a rule for reading: I won’t abandon a title until I’ve read at least a hundred pages. Some books – particularly long ones, like Tom Clancy’s work – really don’t get going before the century page mark is reached. For me, Ned Kelly never really got going at all. I found myself forever bogged down. It didn’t hold my attention really well at all – not even during the climactic siege. I didn’t like the chopping and changing of points-of-view, either.

Maybe it was information overload. The book’s title is Ned Kelly, but there’s so much about police officers, some who are very minor functionaries, and others with only minimal involvement that the Kelly gang are sometimes relegated to being a forgotten group of antagonists. It’s information overload. So much minute detail that I could really have done without. 

Somewhat frustratingly, FitzSimons has written a lot of the book using the same manner of speaking as was used during the time the Kelly gang were at their best/worst. I found it increasingly annoying as I got deeper in.

All of that said, I won’t give up on FitzSimons yet. Even the greatest authors in history write a bad book – or, at least one not as good as the others – every now and again. All those people, like my dad, who love his translation of history can’t be completely wrong. I’ll read Kokoda with an open mind and hope that it catapults me into the Peter FitzSimons Fan Club.