The Thorn Birds...a reviewed analysis

The Thorn Birds by Colleen McCullough

Who has not read this book or heard of this book or caught glimpses of the movie on Turner Classic Movies or perhaps even on Lifetime? We all know the story or, at least, the lustiest, naughtiest part of the story--Father Ralph falls in love with Meggie not as a young woman, but as a young girl.

I will not tear apart the story and make all of the pseudo-psychological inferences that have been dissected dozens of times before. Instead, I want to talk about why everyone either knows or loves this book. And, let's be honest, if you've read the book, it has somehow gotten inside yourself. It has taken residence, for better or worse, and it is now a part of you. I have read The Thorn Birds probably four times in my life (and I am in my twenties). I am not going to read it again any time soon. Instead, I am musing on how this book has become so much a part of me. It is ingrained in me and this review of sorts is not really a review of a book's plot. Rather, it is more of a remembrance and an exploration of its importance to someone who is in her twenties and who never really bought into romance, yet was inevitably sucked into the drama, the religious overtones, the sex, the beauty of ugly marriages and the desirability of uglier romances.

I remember playing Barbies on the floor of my bedroom and listening to my oldest sister and mother talk about how tragic it was when Meggie's mother cut off her curls and poured something like turpentine on her scalp to kill the last of the lice. I was about seven years old and thought that was so sad. I also thought that I had to read that book. I wanted to read that scene, but, more importantly, I wanted in on that conversation. A conversation of literary context. My mother and sister were not talking about television characters or family friends. They were talking about literary characters and I was intrigued that many people (i.e. readers) could intimately know people (book characters) on such a deep level. My mom was talking about Meggie's embarrassment, about her family, about the inner workings of her mind. I remember feeling jealous that they knew this person--and that millions of readers also experienced such intimacy with someone.

My seven-year-old self first became aware of The Thorn Birds and I always had the gist of the story in the back of my mind. I even remember my sister watching it on television. Ralph was not handsome to me and Meggie's hair was almost brown, not the red I had envisioned. Well, when I was about 11 I read the book for the first time. I loved it. I wanted to look exactly like Meggie. I remember that McCullough described her with beautiful red ringlets. Her breasts were small and firm from riding horses on the paddocks. She went to the dance with a dress the color of "Ashes of Roses." I had no idea what that meant, but I imagined a grey-ish satin dress with rose stains all over it. At that dance, Meggie had her first sexual experience. It was painful, as I recall. Since I imagined being Meggie, I, too, had my first sexual experience along with her. Later, when Meggie marries this man, she continues to have sex with him and her body tenses to save the sperm inside of her so that she can get pregnant without her husband's knowledge or consent. My body tensed right along with hers. Her husband was mean, yes, but he was manly and muscular and hot.

I cannot help but think that Meggie's first sex and the actions of her husband set me up for a life of desiring that sort of man. Not very nice, but sexual and good-looking. I was attracted to him, to that character. I wish I could say that I knew he was no good. But, Meggie loved him (or, she at least settled for him) and I identified with Meggie. I identified with her because she was the heroine, because she was beautiful (and I wanted to be), because she was alone, the only sensitive girl on a farm full of men (and don't all 11 year old girls feel that way to an extent?) Are we women really tainted or taught by our own parents' dysfunctional relationship or do we seek out a relationship to emulate. Maybe, t.v. and movies have been given too much credit. After all, most parents do not even realize what books their daughters are reading at night in bed before the light goes off. Well, as you know, Meggie does not stay with this sugar cane cutter. Of course, she gets it on with the priest.

I know that my first sex through Meggie kept me in love with The Thorn Birds. I mean, you never forget your first time, right? Even later when I read the book again and again and again, that lust is what always brought me back. And, Father Ralph, even with his beauty and regal being, was maybe even more unsatisfying to me, even if I could not articulate such contempt when I was 18 or 19, reading the book again. He kept Meggie at bay, could not love her the way a woman deserves to be loved. Now, I am afraid that these men made me believe I was not worth their love. I was not worth committing to. I know what you're thinking. I am putting too much into a story, a book. None of these people are real and I was impressionable. Yes, I reply. Yes to all of it. Even though I have not re-read this book in a few years, I am concerned that all of my focus was on imagining myself as Meggie and living my romantic life vicariously through her.

I know that even though I currently find these unavailable, keep-me-guessing men most attractive, I do have one consolation: Justine. Justine is Meggie's first-born. She makes a life for herself as an actress. She likes a rich life and participates in the drama by her own volition. She dutifully writes home--decadent letters she sends full of gossip and scandal and love of life. Justine longs for that in return from her family. She longs to receive lush letters, but all she ever gets are mundane updates of life. I remember liking her, liking that she pries her family for more and that they never deliver. Justine does not stifle her reports of life. She just hopes her family will reciprocate. Justine, by the end of the novel, is dating someone. Someone good and loving and in love with her. In my mature years (compared to 11), I may start to idolize Justine. She probably has full sex with a committed partner.

A priest too stuck on religion to regularly get it up for a woman? A sugar cane cutter who would rather sweat in the fields than be with his wife? Or, a man who loves Justine, a woman I relate to more and more as the years go by? I'll take that last one. Maybe, there's hope for me yet.