‘He had never got within measurable distance of what he called life, at all . . . deep down in him, he knew, was an enormous residue of vitality . . . It was like a buried treasure, jealously kept for the event of his one day catching up with life: not the bare scramble for a living that here went by that name, but Life with a capital L.’
Richard Mahony is a restless man. Ballarat, England, Melbourne, Europe, the bush: elsewhere is always better.
Searching for a place, a meaning, a life, Mahony and his wife Mary journey from wealth to poverty, order to chaos, sanity to the asylum. The Fortunes of Richard Mahony is a towering novel.