Fear/Mass Hysteria

The town of Dungatar become madly enthralled with the dressmaker Tilly after it becomes evident at Gertrude and William’s wedding that she is ‘an absolute wizard with fabric and scissors’ (Part 2), and the right creation for the bride-to-be was magnificent enough to make her feel ‘safe’ (Part 2) and secure that her groom would not stray from her. Tilly’s bespoke creations become much sought after as women begin to see the power that the seductive gowns designed specifically for them are able to do, making them feel confident whilst also bewitching the men. Elsbeth and Gertrude’s appearance, wearing ridiculously unsuitable dresses ‘huge and domed in yards and yards of taffeta’ (Part 2), coincides with Gertrude announcing that she be hereon known as Trudy, in a chameleon like shift from the mousy daughter of a store owner to fashion extraordinaire.

The women’s obsession with the ‘exquisite’ (Part 2) new gowns that they believe will ‘set[s] women back ten years’ (Part 2) grows into a mania to acquire the same exact look and in some situations, the same lifestyle as the super models in Tilly’s fashion magazines: she [Nancy] ‘held the January edition of Vogue up in front of her and pointed to a model in an elegant tapered trouser suit in bright swirling colours. “See her? That’s what I want.” ‘ In this instance, the impressionable Nancy Pickett, who is in a secret lesbian relationship with Ruth Dimm, associates fashion with her desire for women.

The repercussions of Tilly’s creations filter through and become a mad competition between the women as they exclaim their sole reason for purchasing such extravagant gowns to be that they ‘have to look better than everyone else’ (Part 2) and whilst the Pratt’s haberdashery counter expand with new materials to cater for a more couture crowd, so do the citizens’ rivalry toward one another.

This intense hysteria culminates in the final part of the novel, when tensions reach an all-time high as the performance evening for the Eisteddfod play rapidly approaches. The cast go from ‘progressing slowly’ (Part 4) through the rehearsals to ‘looked[ing] increasingly stressed and tired’ and finding little joy in the practice, which has become a laborious task, often causing ‘someone… any other lousy actor here… [to have] a bit of a bawl’ (Part 4) and the fractious crew bicker constantly. The deterioration of Trudy throughout the rehearsals seems fitting but is nonetheless a jarring incident to occur to someone so young and over something as trivial as a county play, but connections can be drawn between the ‘screeching and pounding’ (Part 4) Trudy who claims that the glory is ‘MINE, MINE’ (Part 4) and the heinous Lady Macbeth, the character Trudy was originally intended to portray in the play.

Dungatar’s suspicious notions about Tilly’s return to their quaint town are completely unfounded but nevertheless cause havoc. Their constant gossiping and snide comments ostracize Tilly and by proxy, her mother Molly, as the townspeople venomously believe that ‘she’s [Tilly’s] up to no good that one, worse than her mother’ (Part 2) and that she ‘can never make up for it’ (Part 1), when referring to the accidental death of Stewart Pettyman. The women are in hysterics that the ‘daughter of Mad Molly is back – the murderess!’ (Part 3) and quake at the sight of Tilly when she and her mother venture down to town for supplies: ‘The nerve of that girl… not natural…’ (Part 1). Despite Teddy teasing Tilly that ‘I’m [he’s] the one that should be frightened of you [her]’ (Part 1), Tilly’s notion that bad luck follows her is cemented as the residents of Dungatar begin dying. Tilly fears their wrath more than ever when Teddy passes and irrespective of Farrat’s attempts to redirect the blame, Tilly is in their sights: ‘Tilly feared football defeat would send the people to her, that they would spill wet and dripping from the gateway of the oval to stream up The Hill with clenched fists for revenge blood’ (Part 4).

Fear and Mass Hysteria Quote

Edward always remembered the look on Evan’s face at that moment… when he realised fully what it all meant, what it had come to. (Edward McSwiney reflects on when he told the town how Stewart Pettyman had died) Part 3

Judgement and Justice

In a small rural town in Outback Australia in the 1950s, residents will do almost anything to protect their reputations. In addition, people’s reputations follow them around for decades and even remain long after those with them have left the town.

Tilly’s reputation as a murderess resonates with the small-minded residents of Dungatar, and even her hiatus to Europe where she trained under the prestigious fashion magnates of Paris was not enough to erase the memory of her association with Stewart Pettyman’s death. The judgement upon Tilly is so acute that William uses it as leverage to marry Gertrude when his mother sees through the young girl’s ploy to trick him into marriage using sex. Knowing that Gertrude would be his mother’s preference, he threatens Elsbeth that ‘it’s either her [Gertrude] or Tilly Dunnage’ (Part 2) to which she resigns.

This notion does not escape Molly, who reminds her daughter that ‘everybody knows everything about everyone’ (Part 1), but the townsfolk have learnt not to gossip about one another, lest ‘some [one] else’ll tell of them’ (Part 1). This perpetual tit-for-tat speaks of childishness in the dynamic characters of Dungatar who lack the intelligence to understand the social politics of living in a small town. It is not only the outcasts of the town that are victims of the ‘open slather’ (Part 1) but anyone who seems to have stepped out of line. The morning after the dance, the local ladies natter between themselves excitedly with ‘you’ll never guess what she wore… or almost wore’ (Part 2) and do not hesitate in openly condemning Tilly and assuming ‘she’s up to no good again, that one’ (Part 2), in an effort to keep the hatred and distrust for Tilly alive. It seems that Gertrude’s paranoia about ‘my [her] reputation’ (Part 2) is well founded when they move on from Tilly and begin to attack Trudy: ‘and guess who Gertrude was with, all night’ (Part 2). Ham’s skills in storytelling give us the sense that the vicious rumours are spreading like wildfire through the town when a few pages later Irma and Lois stipulate that although they are ‘not gossipin’ or anythink…’ (Part 2), they retell the story of Tilly’s scandalous frock and Gertrude’s relationship status with extra assumption.

When Gertrude and William finally appear as a couple together the sniggers of the townspeople, who have already been privy to the rumour that a hasty marriage was on the horizon after the two lovebirds ‘spent the whole night wif each other…’ (Part 2), is reason enough for them to make remarks to each other on the snide.

In Dungatar, Ham reminds us that the citizens value others’ opinions of them in preference to most other things, and their attempts to improve their standing amongst the community is not only reflected on a larger scale by the women who have been ‘renovated’ (Part 2) by Tilly’s creations, but also in the minute changes the citizens conduct in order to elevate themselves to a higher social class. Whilst the ‘couturiered ladies of Dungatar… enter[ed] the halls at three minute intervals, poised, their noses aimed at the lights… slowly down the centre if the hall through the gaping guests from Winyerp’ (Part 2) symbolises the superficiality of their aspirations, the sudden notion to use euphemisms such as the porch, ‘now being called the back patio’ (Part 3), speaks to a deeper need to be seen as something they are not by others around them. But, it seems there is a lesson for those that meddle and judge others; when Beula Harridene sneaks up to The Hill and overhears Tilly and Farrat drunkenly singing about their woes she is hit by a radiogram that Tilly throws out in her stupor and the wound festers in her face, becoming a ‘raw flesh cavity’ (Part 4) that oozed, a fitting symbol indicative of what happens to those that judge others unfairly.

Tilly’s final appearance is met with admiration as she rises out of the mire of rumour and segregation and seeks revenge in a manner mirroring the early dramatical climax of ‘Deas Ex Machina’; where a complicated and seemingly hopeless plot is resolved neatly as the protagonist escapes the scene unscathed. In the case of The Dressmaker, the train that stops briefly at the Dungatar station provides the rapid getaway and Tilly’s future, although uncertain, is victorious over the villains of her hometown.

Judgement and Justice Quotes

William was slumped in a battered deckchair on what was now called ‘the back patio’, formerly the porch. Part 3

‘You can’t keep anything secret here,’ said the old woman [Molly]. ‘Everybody knows everything about everyone but no one ever tittle-tattles because then some else’ll tell of them. But you don’t matter – it’s open slather on outcasts.’ Part 1

‘The others were happy to let you die. I saved you. It’s me they’ll try to kill now.’ (Tilly to Molly) Part 1

He spoke of love and hate and the power of both and he reminded them how much they loved Teddy McSwiney. He said that Teddy McSwiney was, by the natural order of the town, an outcast who lived by the tip. Part 3

They drove up The Hill to throw rocks onto the cottage roof in the middle of the night, driving around and around, revving, calling ‘Murderers! Witches! Part 3

Belonging and Diversity

The decade of the 1950s is often looked back on as the halcyon days of morality and the nuclear family, but Ham’s novel reveals what remains when the veneer is striped back and we see ordinary citizens for what they are. Although Ham avoids subjects such as race, there is segregation from the community nonetheless. The McSwiney family were ‘by natural order of the town’ (Part 3) outcasts and despite the fact that Mae McSwiney ‘did what was expected of her from the people of Dungatar’ (Part 3) and her husband Edward ‘worked hard…fixed people’s pipes… trimmed their tree and delivered their waste to the tip’ (Part 3) they were and would always remain on the outer circle of society. It is assumed that their proximity to the tip, the presence of slow-witted Barney, and their affiliation with the Dunnage women were the reason for this but as is so often in small rural towns, sometimes there is no concrete reason and it is more a matter of demoting one group so as to elevate another. Despite this example it seems that diversity in Dungatar is hardly a reason to be considered an outsider; Nancy and Ruth’s taboo relationship does not exclude them from society, and in the same way, Mr Almanac’s crippled body and pious manner does not secure him a position on the outer circle of society. It seems people of necessity, such as Ruth who runs the town post and telegraph office and Almanac who concocts remedies for those that fall ill, are kept on the periphery of the inner circle for convenience. Those who are allowed to belong to the society serve some purpose and are therefore, tolerated. However, it is those who are considerably less deserving who incur the scathing judgement of the town, such as Molly who ‘wished for herself’ (Part 4) a ‘life of love and acceptance’ (Part 4) and failed to find that sense of belonging for which she so longed.

The McSwiney family help bridge the gap between the lower and middle classes; Teddy is known for his congeniality to the broader townsfolk and is similarly kind and charismatic with Tilly and her mother. Despite Sergeant Farrat reminding the citizens at the funeral of Teddy that ‘if you [they] had included her [Tilly], Teddy would have always been with us [them]’ (Part 3), the message falls on deaf ears and the Dungatar residents fail to see what their prejudice and bigotry had done to the town’s ‘cheeky boy’ (Part 3). In the end, the McSwiney’s leave Dungatar in a line of ‘sad, rag dolls’ (Part 3), resigned that they would never belong. Ham works to highlight this separation with the formation of the ‘Progressive Minded Ladies of Dungatah’ (Part 2) by Elsbeth and Trudy, who begin organising a variety of town events including ‘functions… fund raisers, tea parties, croquet games, dances…’ (Part 2) and who later induct Ruth and Pru Dimm, Nancy and Lois Pickett, Beula Harridene, Irma Almanac and Marigold Pettyman. But instead of visiting The Hill to invite Molly and Tilly, the newly formed Dungatar Social Club who had coincidentally ‘acquired an accent overnight – an enunciated Dungatar interpretation of queenly English’ (Part 3) insist she make them dresses to rival the others in their group. When this same social group plans to hold a play being directly involved in the proceedings becomes essential to each of the residents, and as they ‘queued on the tiny stage like extras from a Hollywood film’ (Part 4) the residents’ personalities meld together and readers begin to observe them as a collective enemy, neither one more forgivable than the other.

The fitting punishment for a the group who ostracized those around them was to suffer their fate together, and as they ‘walked in a pack’ (Part 4) back to their town and the fire which has claimed everything, once more Ham writes about them in the collective as they ‘all started to cry… they groaned and rocked, bawled and howled… they were homeless and heartbroken… a motley bunch…’ (Part 4).

Despite the numerous couples and romantic dalliances in The Dressmaker, Ham promotes the idea of pure, true love with the classic couple Tilly and Teddy. In juxtaposition to Lesley and Mona, and William and Gertrude, whose partnerships were a result of succumbing to the pressures of society, Tilly and Teddy share a deep and real love. As the novel sees William and Gertrude marry and merely exist in a loveless marriage with one another, Tilly and Teddy ‘made love over and over again and were made one person in their intentions’ (Part 3). The resignation that is shared by Lesley and Mona after the marry that they will ‘do the best we [they] can together’ (Part 3) is a suffocating prospect when we consider the endless possibilities of real love as Teddy and Tilly begin to plan a full life together.

Moreover, as much as Tilly tries to fool herself that she is not bothered by what others think of her, she is acutely concerned that ‘they’ll [the townsfolk] hate me [her] even more’ (Part 2) and is hounded by their hate of her, dreaming that the men of the town ‘stood shaking their fingers at her’ (Part 4) and that the residents will crawl up The Hill, armed with ‘firewood and flames, stakes and chains’ (Part 4) in a twisted amalgamation of a witch-hunt. Her fears bloom just as Teddy is buried and she fears the ‘football defeat’ (Part 3) will bring people to the house, baying for her blood because she had killed their star full forward.

After the loss of her mother, Tilly is no longer comforted by the promise Molly made to her her that ‘it’s me and you; there is only you and you have only me’ (Part 3); her isolation is confirmed when very few people attend Molly’s funeral and Tilly’s blames the rain.

Belonging and Diversity Quotes

Tilly stood alone in her brilliant magenta Lys Noir gown, then wrapped her shawl tight about her and reached for the handle. (after being spat at by Evan and called names by Beula at the social gathering) Part 2

T. Dunnage was printed lightly beneath T. McSwiney but it had been scribbled out. Part 2

… tragedy includes everyone… wasn’t everyone else in the town different, yet included? (At Teddy’s funeral) Part 3

Truth and Lies

In Ham’s The Dressmaker the truth has little value, instead the citizens are embroiled in malicious gossip and snide falsifications that serve only to elevate their selfish needs. By the time Tilly returns to her hometown, the manner in which young Stewart Pettyman died had far become the thing of legend. The fact that small Tilly was ‘cornered beside the library… just trying to save herself’ (Part 3) had become irrelevant and all that was remembered was the grotesque image of the ‘boy… with his neck broken and his round podgy body at right angles to his head’ (Part 3) and, as such, Tilly had been sent away from the town. Such is the insidious nature of the lies told, the fateful incident caused by a barbaric child attacking another became a by-product of Tilly’s curse. Similarly, Ham’s writing in the latter half of the novel strips back the façade and the once ‘couturiered ladies of Dungatar’ (Part 2) become ‘snobby old Elsbeth… puny Mona… putrid gossiping Lois, leathery old sticky-beak Ruth, venomous Beula’ (Part 3) as Tilly (and inadvertently, the reader) become aware of the true nature of these women. After their behaviour has been disclosed, Ham begins to morph the descriptions of these dynamic characters in an animalistic manner, likening them to lumbering livestock that mindlessly ‘traipse[ing]’ and ‘amble[d]’ (Part 4) wherever the crowd is going, failing to think for themselves until their behaviours and words are indistinguishable from the rest of the flock.

The animalistic association is also included as Ham courageously addresses the theme of sex within the novel. The characters of Dungatar are besotted with their carnal instincts: Mona’s ‘quiet, evening orgasm’ (Part 1); Trudy and William’s inability to remain chaste until a proper marriage is conducted; Evan Pettyman’s libidinous inclinations toward both his wife, whom he frequently drugs and rapes, and the countless women he either has affairs with or harasses; and the citizens of Dungatar who are presented as beasts unable to rise above their most base bodily needs. The revealing nature of Dungatar’s auspicious Councillor Pettyman, whose inability to get an arousal suspiciously coincides with Tilly’s vengeful concoction, foreshadows his demasculinasation both literally and figuratively when his wife later learns of his affair and not only exposes his filthy collection of pornography but also slices his ankle tendon, hobbling him like a ‘tortured elephant’ (Part 4), like the beast he is.

Although the truth behind the heinous Evan Pettyman is exposed it does little to assuage the hatred the citizens feel toward the Dunnage family, and Sergeant Farrat’s honest eulogy at Molly’s funeral captures the desperate attempts she had gone to in order to avoid the ‘full glare of scrutiny and torment’ (Part 4). The ‘grey, crying sky’ (Part 4) during Molly’s burial cements to Tilly that she is alone: the end of her family line. In the end Farrat is her last remaining friend, and he suggests that they ‘drink laced tea until we [they] feel some understanding’ (Part 4) in an effort to disguise their grief and avoid facing the truth.

In contrast, the truth can prove to be a liberation to some; the moral idyll of the 50s era proved overwhelmingly stifling for some characters and hence, breaking away from societal expectations proved cathartic. Sergeant Farrat’s penchant for women’s clothing works in direct contrast to the reliable law enforcement model typical in small rural towns scattered across the Australian outback. Not only does he harbour the secret passion for haberdashery and artistic flair, his insight when it comes to those around him is flooring. Delivering the eulogy at both Teddy and Molly’s funerals, he berates the citizens for their piety and espouses forgiveness and an understanding that Tilly was not to blame for the death of Teddy, even if it means bending the truth when he assures them that he ‘instead [he] wrote the Teddy McSwiney had slipped and that it was his own terrible mistake’ (Part 3). In addition, his suspicions about the ‘new seamstress in town’ (Part 3) not being well-travelled and not having ‘received any sophisticated training’ (Part 3) suggests that he is perhaps still tainted by the same judgemental affliction that the other residents have. However, Farrat’s sensitivity to the affects of his actions, such as when Tilly was sent away after the death of Stewart, awards him an element of retrospection that is acutely lacking in so many of the other characters. His duality within the novel is complete when he attends Molly’s funeral dressed in a ‘black knee-length wool-crepe frock with a draped neck… black stockings and sensible black pumps’ (Part 3) in an effort to both aggravate the deceased Molly whilst also paying homage to her unconventionality.

Truth and Lies Quotes

Ruth stood by her electric kettle steaming open a fat letter addressed to Tilly Dunnage. Part 1

Sergeant Farrat’s secret wardrobe hung in a locked cupboard next to the front door. Part 4

‘It’s all very hazy now, but you left I seem to remember, because your mother became unwell?’ (Marigold discusses her confusion with Tilly) Part 4

‘Some people don’t think they have to honour their marriage vows either,’ said Nancy.
‘At least I have a preference for men, some sick people in this town…’ (Lois and Nancy are arguing during rehearsals) Part 4