The Dig Tree

August 19, 2002
In a thorough but somewhat languid narrative, Murgatroyd chronicles the mid–19th-century trek led by Robert Burke to penetrate Australia's unforgiving interior and chart a course from Melbourne to the northern coast. The book, like the expedition itself, is a little slow to get going and, like the bulk of the territory the motley adventurers encounter, is exceedingly dry. While Murgatroyd does an exhaustive job of charting the group's movements and outlining the political machinations behind their quest, Burke's scant journal gives her little to draw on to make the story truly come alive. His second in command, the scientist William Wills, was more elaborate in his own writings, but decidedly practical. At one point, Murgatroyd despairs: "If only Burke had been a writer. His emotions surged so much nearer the surface than those of his deputy that he might have revealed more than just temperatures and plant names." But the book shows the obvious top-notch research one would expect from a seasoned journalist, and Murgatroyd unearths enough quirky facts to develop her main characters beyond the constrained outlines of a history textbook. She is also unflinching in portraying a campaign that, despite being elaborately equipped, was so shockingly unprepared and misguided that its account borders on black comedy. Burke, a volatile, impetuous leader driven by ego, was selected by a chummy, old-boys' network that cared more about his lineage than his qualifications. His poor decisions and leadership, combined with a considerable amount of bad luck, make for the type of hardship and disaster that will keep readers interested, even if they find themselves thirsting for a story that's a little more satisfying.