For once, this clichéd cover design is actually appropriate to the novel within its pages. This is a story of wistful gazing out to sea...

Alice has been an inmate since she was nine years old. She lost her grandfather to leprosy and suffered the stigma from people who feared its contagion, and then her mother disappeared when she was two. At nine she began to show symptoms of the disease (now known as Hanson's Disease) and the kindest thing her grandmother could do for her was to deliver her personally to the Coast Hospital at Little Bay in Sydney. Her mother's backstory reveals her caged journey to incarceration, a nightmare journey Alice was spared only by the intervention of the women who loved her.

But they could not spare her from the provisions of the Leprosy Act of 1890 nor from the progression of this cruel disease.

Alice is not actually her real name. She was baptised Hilda, but on admission, patients were renamed (and numbered) and buried on site, so that the stigma was untraceable. Hilda chooses the name Alice because her favourite book is Alice in Wonderland. Her mother Nellie chooses the name Clea, an allusion to Cleopatra, a powerful woman who did things her way and took love where she found it.

The place where Alice grows to be a young woman is no wonderland. There is a kindly doctor escaping the demons of his prohibited sexuality, and the authorities have done their best by providing individual cottages, a private beach, a rowboat, a library of books, and even a wireless when such things become available (though the men get one first). But it's a very small world, from which very few leave. Only occasionally is there is a misdiagnosis. Rarely, some patients turn out to have a less devastating form of the disease. For these, only after 13 negative results in a row do monthly swabs offer any prospect of release.

Yes, that's just over a year. A long time to be isolated from the world and everyone you love if the diagnosis was wrong. And for all patients, any time is a long time when science is taking so long to recognise that the disease is not as contagious as was commonly thought.

To read the rest of my review please visit https://anzlitlovers.com/2022/07/07/the-coast-by-eleanor-limprecht/ ( )

The Coast is a novel that knocks you for six – it’s that good. It’s emotional, heartbreaking and cruel at times, but joyous at others. This meticulously researched novel shines a spotlight on the individuals who were forced to live their lives in eternal quarantine because of leprosy – an infectious disease that can now be treated successfully with antibiotics.

Alice was a very young child when her mother, Clea, left the family in sudden, odd circumstances. But when she develops tell-tale marks on her skin, her grandmother takes her down to Sydney to see her mother in hospital – and leaves her there. It’s here that Alice learns she too has leprosy (now known as Hansen’s disease) like her mother and grandmother. She is now to live in the small, separated section of The Coast hospital until she is cured – or dies. While the residents of the lazaret have some freedoms – a beach to swim at and a small boat to fish with – they can never leave. As the disease progresses, they become disfigured and gangrene sets in to their fingers and toes. It’s not a nice way to live. Clea tries her best with Alice in difficult circumstances but it’s not easy being a mother for the first time. Alice is curious as she grows, and it’s the arrival of Guy that brings hope and happiness into her life. A Yuwaalaraay man and returned soldier from WWI, Guy offers Alice experiences and memories she’s never had. It’s bittersweet as Alice’s disease worsens and the public perception of those affected is so negative.

The Coast is intense. Intense with emotion, as Eleanor Limprecht tells the backstories of Alice, Clea and Guy (these are all their new names after coming to The Coast, as using their real names added stigma to their remaining families). We see their lives before they were affected by leprosy, and the shame and ill treatment they experienced due to their disease, and in Guy’s case, the colour of his skin. As the novel continues, there are lighter moments to be found in Guy and Alice’s relationship but all in all, you will need more than a few tissues. (The ending is particularly bittersweet).

Seeing the perspective through one of the only doctors not scared to visit the lazaret and treat the patients adds a good contrast. Will is frustrated by his inability to do more than reactive medicine and his role in keeping them separated from society. His own secret means he feels some empathy towards the patients and the stigma they feel. Clea’s stubbornness is something he is initially surprised at, but then grows to admire as she looks after Alice. Will is also disgusted by his colleagues, and their unwillingness to take care of the patients in the lazaret. This demonstrates how strong the fear was about ‘catching’ leprosy not only in the general community, but amongst medically trained staff.

It is interesting to compare Alice, Clea and Guy’s isolation and quarantine to that in the current COVID-19 pandemic. While theirs was much longer, it did make me ponder about the care and support needed to help these individuals. Overall, The Coast is a stellar read about a forgotten part of Australia’s history.

Thank you to Allen & Unwin for the copy of this book. My review is honest.

http://samstillreading.wordpress.com ( )