To read Peter Carey is to be handed a map of a world that feels both familiar and thrillingly strange. He is a literary cartographer of the highest order, a two-time Booker Prize winner whose novels chart the vast, contradictory landscapes of Australia and the intricate, often deceptive, territories of the human heart. His stories are born from the soil of specific places, whether it’s the dusty, sun-baked earth of his childhood town or the cracked pavement of a global metropolis. Embarking on a journey through the settings of his life and work is more than a simple tour; it’s an act of stepping into the very pages of his fiction, a pilgrimage to the sources of his powerful imagination. We’ll trace the footsteps of this giant of modern literature, starting in the small Victorian town where the Carey story began, a place that imprinted itself on his soul and echoed through his greatest works. This is a journey through the real-world locations that fueled the extraordinary fictions of a master storyteller, a physical exploration of the landscapes that live and breathe in his novels.
This literary pilgrimage is not unique to Carey, as readers can also embark on a journey through the world of George Orwell.
The Formative Years: Bacchus Marsh and the Echoes of the Bush
Every story begins at an origin point, a ground zero from which everything else emanates. For Peter Carey, that place is Bacchus Marsh, a town nestled in a fertile valley about an hour’s drive west of Melbourne, Victoria. It’s a locale of quiet contrasts, where neatly irrigated orchards transition to the rugged, brooding Pentland Hills, and the vast, dry plains of western Victoria stretch out toward the horizon. To truly grasp Carey’s work, one must first understand the psychic landscape of a town like this—a community rooted in the land, yet always conscious of the sprawling city just beyond the rise. It’s a place on the edge, a recurring motif in his fiction, where civilization feels both enduring and fragile.
A Town Built on Wheels and Words
The Bacchus Marsh of Carey’s youth in the 1940s and 50s was a town alive with a distinct kind of energy. His parents operated the local General Motors dealership, Carey Motors. This detail is far from minor; it was the engine room of his early imagination. Surrounded by the mechanics of motion, the gleam of fresh duco, the persuasive chat of the showroom floor, and the scent of grease and gasoline, he absorbed a world where cars symbolized freedom, progress, and escape. Yet these machines could also fail, leaving you stranded on a lonely road beneath an immense, indifferent sky. This duality—the promise of technology contrasted with its shortcomings, the art of the sale balanced by a fine line of deception—runs deeply through his literature. It’s evident in the picaresque adventures of Herbert Badgery in Illywhacker, a character who is part pilot, part showman, part liar. It resonates in the surreal, often darkly comedic scenarios of his early short stories, where everyday machinery abruptly veers into the bizarre. The showroom floor was his first stage, where he witnessed the daily act of crafting narratives, of selling a story to a willing audience. He learned early that a well-told tale could move people, much like a finely tuned engine could move a car.
The Landscape as Character
Beyond the dealership’s walls lay the Australian bush—a character as potent and multifaceted as any human in his novels. This is not the gentle, rolling green of the English countryside. The bush surrounding Bacchus Marsh is a realm of stark beauty. Summers are bleached by an unrelenting sun, turning grasses to pale gold. Eucalyptus trees, with their peeling bark and silver-green leaves, stand like silent sentinels. The air teems with the raucous squawk of cockatoos and the manic, laughing calls of kookaburras. It’s a landscape that teaches resilience, warns of hidden dangers like snakes and bushfires, and imparts the profound isolation that descends when alone beneath the vast dome of the sky. This environment forged a unique imagination, one attuned to the vastness of space and the secrets it conceals. When reading True History of the Kelly Gang, you feel this landscape in your bones. The claustrophobia of dense stringybark forests, the vulnerability of a lone rider crossing an open plain—these are not mere backdrops but active forces shaping the characters’ destinies. The bush is where myths are born, where outlaws hide, and where the line between history and legend becomes hopelessly blurred.
Visiting Bacchus Marsh Today
A visit to Bacchus Marsh today offers a revealing glimpse into this foundational world. The town has expanded, becoming more of a commuter hub for Melbourne, but its essential character endures. The best way to arrive is by car, echoing the journeys central to Carey’s youth. As you drive from the city, suburbs fade away, and the landscape opens up, signaling a transition from one world to another. Alternatively, the V/Line train from Melbourne’s Southern Cross Station offers a leisurely trip through the western plains. Once there, stroll along the main street. Although Carey Motors has long disappeared, the wide street and historic shopfronts still evoke a mid-century country town feel. A key pilgrimage site is the magnificent Avenue of Honour, a stretch of road lined with mature elm, oak, and plane trees, each planted to commemorate a local who served in World War I. Walking beneath this dense canopy, you sense community, history, and loss. To connect with the land, visit one of the many local orchards, especially during the summer stone fruit season. Picking cherries or apricots connects you directly to the agricultural rhythms that have long defined the valley. For first-time visitors: drive or hike into the Pentland Hills bordering the town. From these heights, you can see the entire valley laid out—the patchwork of farms, the glinting Werribee River, and the town itself nestled within. Here, you best appreciate the geographical duality that shaped Carey: the contained, fertile safety of the valley and the wild, unpredictable expanse of the bush beyond.
Forging a Voice: Melbourne’s Bohemia and Sydney’s Adland
After leaving the country town behind, Carey’s journey led him to the vibrant, chaotic, and intellectually charged environments of Australia’s two largest cities. It was in the smoky pubs of Melbourne and the high-pressure ad agencies of Sydney that he refined his craft, evolving from a boy who loved stories into a man who could command them. These urban settings provided a sharp contrast to the natural world of Bacchus Marsh, exposing him to new languages, fresh ideas, and different ways of seeing the world.
Melbourne: Science, Dissent, and Carlton
Interestingly, Carey’s initial direction was not towards literature but science. He enrolled at Monash University in Melbourne in the 1960s, a time of significant social and political upheaval. The campus was a hub of radical thought, anti-war protests, and artistic experimentation. Although science was not ultimately his path, the analytical approach and the exposure to systems and structures undoubtedly influenced him. However, the real education took place off-campus, in the inner-city suburb of Carlton. Carlton was Melbourne’s bohemian core, a labyrinth of Victorian terrace houses, Italian cafes, and iconic pubs and bookstores. This was the domain of students, artists, activists, and writers. The atmosphere was electric, filled with the aroma of espresso from Lygon Street, the scent of aged paper from Readings bookstore, and the sound of passionate, alcohol-fueled debates in pubs such as the now-closed Albion and the still-operating Jimmy Watson’s. It was within this environment that Carey began to write seriously, discovering his voice amidst the counter-cultural noise. The stories he wrote during this period, which later formed collections like The Fat Man in History, are infused with the spirit of the era. They are surreal, satirical, and deeply skeptical of authority and convention. They feel urban, capturing the peculiar anxieties and unexpected poetry of city life—a world apart from the bush myths of his youth.
Sydney: The Seduction of Advertising
While Melbourne supplied intellectual rigor, Sydney offered commercial polish. Carey relocated to Sydney and launched a remarkably successful career in advertising—a field seemingly at odds with that of a serious novelist but for him, the perfect apprenticeship in storytelling. He worked at major agencies, co-founded his own, and mastered the 30-second narrative. Advertising taught him the economy of words, the power of a striking image, and the psychology of persuasion. He learned how to create a world, populate it with characters, and sell a captivating idea—all before the commercial break ended. This training shines through in the very structure of his prose. It’s muscular, vivid, and endlessly inventive. There’s a showman’s flair to it, a delight in language that grabs the reader by the lapels and demands attention. Sydney’s advertising scene in the 70s and 80s, centered in suburbs like Paddington and Surry Hills, was marked by long lunches, high stakes, and creative brilliance. This experience directly inspired his first novel, Bliss, whose protagonist is an ad man who briefly dies and returns convinced he is in Hell—a satirical critique of the seductive, soul-selling advertising world. More broadly, the art of “selling” and identity construction became central themes in his work. Herbert Badgery in Illywhacker exemplifies the ultimate ad man, selling not products but his own fabricated history—a living embodiment of the Australian myth-making machine.
A Literary Pilgrim’s Guide to Melbourne and Sydney
Tracing this stage of Carey’s life is to explore the cultural centers of these two rival cities. In Melbourne, start in Carlton. Stroll down Lygon Street, enjoy a coffee, and absorb its enduring European village ambiance. Visit Readings, a literary institution for decades, where Carey’s works now grace the shelves. Walk through the University of Melbourne’s grounds, adjacent to Carlton, and soak in the academic energy. A short tram ride away lies the State Library of Victoria, a magnificent 19th-century building whose domed reading room offers sanctuary to writers and thinkers. One can easily imagine a young Carey finding inspiration within its revered walls. In Sydney, the experience shifts—more about water, light, and commerce. Take a ferry from Circular Quay across the sparkling harbor to appreciate the city’s scale and beauty. Explore The Rocks, Sydney’s oldest district, with its cobblestone streets and convict-built pubs—a historical backdrop for novels like Oscar and Lucinda. Then venture to the inner-eastern suburbs. Wander through Paddington with its elegant Victorian terraces and chic boutiques, or Surry Hills, a lively mix of creative agencies, cafes, and bars. Although the specific agencies Carey worked for may no longer exist, the creative spirit of these neighborhoods endures. A useful tip: experience the contrast. Spend a morning in the quiet solemnity of Melbourne’s State Library and an afternoon amidst the bustling, sunlit energy of Sydney’s Bondi Beach. In doing so, you’ll sense the two poles of urban Australian life that shaped Carey’s versatile voice.
Weaving Worlds: The Fictional Geographies of a Master
While Carey’s personal history serves as the foundation, his true genius lies in his ability to create entire worlds on the page. His novels offer immersive experiences, with settings crafted as meticulously and as importantly as any character. To genuinely connect with his work is to embark on a journey through these fictional landscapes, many deeply rooted in real Australian locations, transformed by the power of his imagination.
The Glass Church on the River: Tracing Oscar and Lucinda
Perhaps no novel showcases Carey’s talent for historical and geographical world-building better than his first Booker Prize winner, Oscar and Lucinda. The story is a sweeping 19th-century epic centered on faith, gambling, and an extraordinary, seemingly impossible dream: transporting a glass church from Sydney into the wilds of coastal New South Wales. Readers can physically trace this journey today, making their own pilgrimage into Australia’s colonial past. The novel begins in a carefully reconstructed Sydney—a city of sandstone institutions, bustling wharves, and rigid social strata. A walk around Circular Quay, The Rocks, and the Royal Botanic Garden lets you step back in time to see the harbor as Oscar and Lucinda would have, a gateway to both civilization and the vast unknown. Yet, the novel’s heart lies in the second half: the challenging journey north. The destination is the fictional settlement of Bellingen, a name Carey borrowed for what he originally intended to call Bellinger. The real town of Bellingen, nestled on the banks of the Bellinger River, forms the undeniable spiritual core of the novel’s climax. Traveling there today is breathtaking. The drive north from Sydney along the Legendary Pacific Coast touring route traverses varied landscapes, shifting from rolling farmland to dense subtropical rainforest. Arriving in Bellingen feels like discovering a hidden paradise. The town is lush, green, and creative, with a slow, river-town rhythm. The air is humid, alive with the calls of insects and birds. The river is ever-present, winding through the landscape, sometimes calm, sometimes a raging force. To truly engage with the novel, rent a kayak and paddle the Bellinger River. As you glide beneath overhanging trees and through quiet stretches, you almost sense the immense, heartbreaking struggles of the characters. You come to understand how the landscape itself—its beauty, danger, and wild, indomitable nature—becomes the ultimate arbiter of their fate. The glass church was a fragile European dream; this powerful, ancient land was the reality that ultimately shattered it.
Ned Kelly’s Country: The Rugged Heart of True History of the Kelly Gang
For his second Booker Prize win, Carey explored one of Australia’s most potent and contested myths: the tale of bushranger Ned Kelly. He approached it not as a historian but as a ventriloquist, embodying Kelly’s raw, unvarnished, and fiercely poetic voice. To capture this, he immersed himself in the landscape that shaped the man: the rugged, unforgiving terrain of north-east Victoria, known as Kelly Country. This region stands as a character itself—a land of granite-strewn ranges, dense stringybark forests, and wide, open plains offering little cover. It’s a harsh country that creates tough people. The novel’s prose reflects this harshness; it is sparse, urgent, and almost devoid of punctuation, mirroring the breathless desperation of a man on the run. A pilgrimage through Kelly Country is a journey into the soul of the Australian bush myth. The best way to experience it is by taking a road trip along the “Kelly Trail,” linking the key towns of his life and downfall. Begin in Benalla, home to a famous tapestry depicting the Kelly siege and deeply connected to the story. Then head to Euroa, the scene of a daring bank robbery. But the true climax of any visit is Glenrowan, a town defined by a single, tragic event: Kelly’s last stand. Standing at the siege site, now marked by a large statue of Kelly in his iconic armor, is a powerful experience. The atmosphere hums with history and legend. You can also visit the local museum, which passionately reconstructs the events with local fervor. For a deeper connection with the land that sheltered the Kelly Gang, venture into the nearby Strathbogie and Wombat Ranges. Find a quiet spot, step away from the car, and just listen. Hear the wind rustle dry gum leaves, see the light filtering through the dense canopy. It’s in these moments of stillness that you begin to grasp the isolation and fierce loyalty the landscape inspired. You feel how this place could be both a refuge and a prison, a land where legend was forged in iron and blood.
The Lies of the Pet-Shop Man: Illywhacker‘s Sprawling Australia
Unlike the geographically focused journeys of his other novels, Illywhacker is a sprawling, picaresque road trip across 20th-century Australia. Its protagonist, Herbert Badgery, a 139-year-old liar, pilot, and charlatan, takes readers on a whirlwind tour through the nation’s psyche. The novel lacks a single sacred site; rather, it celebrates the journey itself. It’s a story of movement, reinvention, and the narratives we weave to define ourselves and our country. The settings form a patchwork of the Australian experience: dusty paddocks in rural Victoria, gleaming exhibition halls in Melbourne, early film sets’ back lots in Sydney, and the audacious vision of a futuristic pet shop in Queensland. To travel in the spirit of Illywhacker is to embrace the great Australian road trip—understanding the continent’s immense scale and the unique character of places lying between major cities. The journey from Victoria, through New South Wales, into Queensland’s subtropical climes mirrors the novel’s sprawling narrative. It’s about sensing subtle shifts in landscape, from golden southern plains to lush northern greenery. The essential Illywhacker experience isn’t about locating a specific film set; it’s about stopping at a roadside pub and absorbing local stories. It’s about visiting a quirky small-town museum filled with one person’s peculiar passions. It’s about realizing that Australia is a nation built on tall tales, bold schemes, and the relentless, often deceptive art of self-creation. The novel reminds us that the journey itself, with all its detours and fabrications, is the true destination.
A New Chapter: The Australian in New York
In the early 1990s, at the peak of his career, Peter Carey made a transformative decision to move from Australia to New York City. This shift—from the expansive, horizontal landscapes of his homeland to Manhattan’s dense, vertical environment—represented a significant change, providing him with a fresh perspective on both his new city and the country he had left behind. He became the quintessential insider-outsider, an Australian voice navigating the heart of global culture.
From the Bush to the Big Apple
The contrast could hardly have been more striking. Imagine exchanging the scent of eucalyptus and the quiet of the outback for the aroma of street vendor hot dogs and the relentless chorus of sirens. Carey established himself in SoHo, a neighborhood celebrated for its cast-iron buildings, cobblestone streets, and vibrant arts community. He integrated into the city’s influential literary and academic circles, teaching creative writing at institutions such as New York University. This fresh environment inevitably influenced his work. The experience of being an expatriate, perpetually caught between two worlds, offered rich thematic material to explore. From New York, Australia appeared with renewed clarity, its quirks and myths highlighted by the distance. Meanwhile, the city itself took on a greater role in his fiction—not merely as a setting but as a dynamic force, a place bursting with energy, opportunity, and alienation.
New York in His Fiction
Novels produced during his time in New York, such as Theft: A Love Story and His Illegal Self, reflect this transatlantic existence. Theft stands out as a prime example, weaving a narrative that oscillates between New York’s intense, high-stakes art world and the raw, earthy reality of rural Australia. The novel captures perfectly the tension between these two realms: the intellectual, language-driven culture of the city contrasted with the elemental power of the Australian landscape. The protagonist, a butcher’s son turned renowned painter, personifies this clash. He is a man grounded in the earth yet finds himself lost amid abstract ideas and financial speculation. In Carey’s fiction, New York emerges as a place of dazzling surfaces and concealed threats—a city that promises everything but can also strip away one’s identity. It serves as the ultimate proving ground for his characters, compelling them to confront their true selves outside the context that shaped them. These novels act as dialogues between his two worlds, delving into themes of authenticity, exile, and the essence of “home.”
Experiencing Carey’s New York
A literary tour tracing Carey’s New York offers an enriching way to discover Lower Manhattan. Begin in SoHo: stroll its renowned streets—Greene, Mercer, Wooster—and admire the distinctive cast-iron architecture that defines the area. In the 1990s, SoHo was the core of the gallery scene; although many galleries have since relocated to Chelsea, the artistic vibe still lingers. Then, head north to Greenwich Village, the historic heart of bohemian America. Explore the winding streets surrounding Washington Square Park and New York University’s campus, where Carey has mentored aspiring writers. The atmosphere here blends academic rigor with creative energy. For first-timers, sitting in Washington Square Park to observe the city’s vibrant diversity is essential. To conclude the journey, visit The Strand, the city’s iconic bookstore near Union Square, boasting “18 miles of books.” It’s easy to envision Carey, far removed from the dusty mechanics of Bacchus Marsh, losing himself for hours among its towering shelves—a writer truly at home in the world’s literary community.
The Cartography of Imagination
Tracing the path of Peter Carey means embarking on a journey across continents and weaving through layers of history and myth. Beginning with formative experiences in a small Australian country town, moving through the urban landscapes of Melbourne and Sydney, and extending across the ocean to the global stage of New York, his life has been marked by perpetual movement and keen observation. However, the deepest journeys he presents are those within his novels. His books serve as carefully crafted maps of both real and imagined worlds, from the subtropical rivers of colonial New South Wales to the rugged, haunted ranges of Kelly Country. Visiting these places offers a unique and powerful way to connect with his work. It provides a chance to stand in a landscape, feel the same sun, breathe the same air, and perhaps catch a glimpse of the truths that inspired some of the most remarkable fiction of our time. Reading Peter Carey is a form of travel, and journeying through his world reveals that the stories we tell are as tangible and vital as the earth beneath us. They shape and define us, and if well told, they can carry us to places beyond our wildest imagination.
