The Thorn Birds is a robust, romantic saga of a singular family, the Clearys. It begins in the early part of this century, when Paddy Cleary moves his wife, Fiona, and their seven children to Drogheda, the vast Australian sheep station owned by his autocratic and childless older sister; and it ends more than half a century later, when the only survivor of the third generation, the brilliant actress Justine O'Neill, sets a course of life and love halfway around the world from her roots.
The central figures in this enthralling story are the indomitable Meggie, the only Cleary daughter, and the one man she truly loves, the stunningly handsome and ambitious priest Ralph de Bricassart. Ralph's course moves him a long way indeed, from a remote Outback parish to the halls of the Vatican; and Meggie's except for a brief and miserable marriage elsewhere, is fixed to the Drogheda that is part of her bones - but distance does not dim their feelings though it shapes their lives.
Wonderful characters people this book; strong and gentle, Paddy, hiding a private memory; dutiful Fiona, holding back love because it once betrayed her, violent, tormented Frank, and the other hardworking Cleary sons who give the boundless lands of Drogheda the energy and devotion most men save for women; Meggie; Ralph; and Meggie's children, Justine and Dane. And the land itself; stark, relentless in its demands, brilliant in its flowering, prey to gigantic cycles of drought and flood, rich when nature is bountiful, surreal like no other place on earth.
“Beautiful….Compelling entertainment.” --New York Times
“A heart-rending epic…truly marvelous.” --Chicago Tribune
Chapter One
On December 8th, 1915, Meggie Cleary had her fourth birthday. After the breakfast dishes were put away her mother silently thrust a brown paper parcel into her arms and ordered her outside. So Meggie squatted down behind the gorse bush next to the front gate and tugged impatiently. Her fingers were clumsy, the wrapping heavy; it smelled faintly of the Wahine general store, which told her that whatever lay inside the parcel had miraculously been bought, not homemade or donated.
Something fine and mistily gold began to poke through a corner; she attacked the paper faster, peeling it away in long, ragged strips."Agnes! Oh, Agnes!" she said lovingly, blinking at the doll lying there in a tattered nest.
A miracle indeed. Only once in her life had Meggie been into Wahine; all the way back in May, because she had been a very good girl. So perched in the buggy beside her mother, on her best behavior, she had been too excited to see or remember much. Except for Agnes, the beautiful 'doll sitting on the store counter, dressed in a crinoline of pink satin with cream lace frills all over it. Right then and there in her mind she had christened it Agnes, the only name she knew elegant enough for such a peerless creature.
Yet over the ensuing months her yearning after Agnes contained nothing of hope; Meggie didn't own a doll and had no idea little girls and dolls belonged together. She played happily with the whistles and slingshots and battered soldiers her brothers discarded, got her hands dirty and her boots muddy to play with. Stroking the bright pink folds of the dress, grander than any she had ever seen on a human woman, she picked Agnes uptenderly. The doll had jointed arms and legs which could be moved anywhere; even her neck and tiny, shapely waist were jointed. Her golden hair was exquisitely dressed in a high pompadour studded with pearls, her pale bosom peeped out of a foaming fichu. of cream lace fastened with a pearl pin. The finely painted bone china face was beautiful, left unglazed to give the delicately tinted skin a natural matte texture. Astonishingly lifelike blue eyes shone between lashes of real hair, their irises streaked and circled with a darker blue; fascinated, Meggie discovered that when Agnes lay back far enough, her eyes closed. High on one faintly Bushed cheek she had a black beauty mark, and her dusky mouth was parted slightly to show tiny white teeth. Meggie put the doll gently on her lap, crossed her feet under her comfortably, and sat just looking.
She was still sitting behind the gorse bush when Jack and Hughie came rustling through the grass where it was too close to the fence to feel a scythe. Her hair was the typical Cleary beacon, all the Cleary children save Frank being martyred by a thatch some shade of red; Jack nudged his brother and pointed gleefully. They separated, grinning at each other, and pretended they were troopers after a Maori renegade. Meggie would not have heard them anyway, so engrossed was she in Agnes, humming softly to herself.
"What's that you've got, Meggie?" Jack shouted, pouncing. "Show us!"
"Yes, show us!" Hughie giggled, outflanking her.
She clasped the doll against her chest and shook her head. "No, she's mine! I got her for my birthday!"
"Show us, go on! We just want to have a look."
Pride and joy won out. She held the doll so her brothers could see. "Look, isn't she beautiful? Her name is Agnes."
"Agnes? Agnes?" Jack gagged realistically. "What a soppy name! Why don't you call her Margaret or Betty?"
"Because she's Agnes!"
Hughie noticed the joint in the doll's wrist, and whistled. "Hey, Jack, look! It can move its hand!"
"Where? Let's see."
"No!" Meggie hugged the doll close again, tears forming. "No, you'll break herl Oh, Jack, don't take her away-you'll break her!"
"Pooh!" His dirty brown hands locked about her wrists, closing tightly. "Want a Chinese bum? And don't be such a crybaby, or I'll tell Bob." He squeezed her skin in opposite directions until it stretched whitely, as Hughie got hold of the doll's skirts and pulled. "Gimme, or I'll do it really hard!"
"Nol Don't, Jack, please don'tl You'll break her, I know you will! Oh, please leave her alone! Don't take her, please!" In spite of the cruel grip on her wrists she clung to the doll, sobbing and kicking.
"Got it" Hughie whooped, as the doll slid under Meggie's crossed forearms.
Jack and Hughie found her just as fascinating as Meggie had; off came the dress, the petticoats and long, frilly drawers. Agnes lay naked while the boys pushed and pulled at her, forcing one foot round the back of her head, making her look down her spine, every possible contortion they could think of. They took no notice of Meggie as she stood crying; it did not occur to her to seek help, for in the Cleary family those who could not fight their own battles got scant aid or sympathy, and that went for girls, too.
She clasped the doll against her chest and shook her head. "No, she's mine! I got her for my birthday!"
"Show us, go on! We just want to have a look."
Pride and joy won out. She held the doll so her brothers could see. "Look, isn't she beautiful? Her name is Agnes."
"Agnes? Agnes?" Jack gagged realistically. "What a soppy name! Why don't you call her Margaret or Betty?"
"Because she's Agnes!"
Hughie noticed the joint in the doll's wrist, and whistled. "Hey, Jack, look! It can move its hand!"
"Where? Let's see."
On December 8th, 1915, Meggie Cleary had her fourth birthday. After the breakfast dishes were put away her mother silently thrust a brown paper parcel into her arms and ordered her outside. So Meggie squatted down behind the gorse bush next to the front gate and tugged impatiently. Her fingers were clumsy, the wrapping heavy; it smelled faintly of the Wahine general store, which told her that whatever lay inside the parcel had miraculously been bought, not homemade or donated.
Something fine and mistily gold began to poke through a corner; she attacked the paper faster, peeling it away in long, ragged strips."Agnes! Oh, Agnes!" she said lovingly, blinking at the doll lying there in a tattered nest.
A miracle indeed. Only once in her life had Meggie been into Wahine; all the way back in May, because she had been a very good girl. So perched in the buggy beside her mother, on her best behavior, she had been too excited to see or remember much. Except for Agnes, the beautiful 'doll sitting on the store counter, dressed in a crinoline of pink satin with cream lace frills all over it. Right then and there in her mind she had christened it Agnes, the only name she knew elegant enough for such a peerless creature.
Yet over the ensuing months her yearning after Agnes contained nothing of hope; Meggie didn't own a doll and had no idea little girls and dolls belonged together. She played happily with the whistles and slingshots and battered soldiers her brothers discarded, got her hands dirty and her boots muddy to play with. Stroking the bright pink folds of the dress, grander than any she had ever seen on a human woman, she picked Agnes uptenderly. The doll had jointed arms and legs which could be moved anywhere; even her neck and tiny, shapely waist were jointed. Her golden hair was exquisitely dressed in a high pompadour studded with pearls, her pale bosom peeped out of a foaming fichu. of cream lace fastened with a pearl pin. The finely painted bone china face was beautiful, left unglazed to give the delicately tinted skin a natural matte texture. Astonishingly lifelike blue eyes shone between lashes of real hair, their irises streaked and circled with a darker blue; fascinated, Meggie discovered that when Agnes lay back far enough, her eyes closed. High on one faintly Bushed cheek she had a black beauty mark, and her dusky mouth was parted slightly to show tiny white teeth. Meggie put the doll gently on her lap, crossed her feet under her comfortably, and sat just looking.
She was still sitting behind the gorse bush when Jack and Hughie came rustling through the grass where it was too close to the fence to feel a scythe. Her hair was the typical Cleary beacon, all the Cleary children save Frank being martyred by a thatch some shade of red; Jack nudged his brother and pointed gleefully. They separated, grinning at each other, and pretended they were troopers after a Maori renegade. Meggie would not have heard them anyway, so engrossed was she in Agnes, humming softly to herself.
"What's that you've got, Meggie?" Jack shouted, pouncing. "Show us!"
"Yes, show us!" Hughie giggled, outflanking her.
She clasped the doll against her chest and shook her head. "No, she's mine! I got her for my birthday!"
"Show us, go on! We just want to have a look."
Pride and joy won out. She held the doll so her brothers could see. "Look, isn't she beautiful? Her name is Agnes."
"Agnes? Agnes?" Jack gagged realistically. "What a soppy name! Why don't you call her Margaret or Betty?"
"Because she's Agnes!"
Hughie noticed the joint in the doll's wrist, and whistled. "Hey, Jack, look! It can move its hand!"
"Where? Let's see."
"No!" Meggie hugged the doll close again, tears forming. "No, you'll break herl Oh, Jack, don't take her away-you'll break her!"
"Pooh!" His dirty brown hands locked about her wrists, closing tightly. "Want a Chinese bum? And don't be such a crybaby, or I'll tell Bob." He squeezed her skin in opposite directions until it stretched whitely, as Hughie got hold of the doll's skirts and pulled. "Gimme, or I'll do it really hard!"
"Nol Don't, Jack, please don'tl You'll break her, I know you will! Oh, please leave her alone! Don't take her, please!" In spite of the cruel grip on her wrists she clung to the doll, sobbing and kicking.
"Got it" Hughie whooped, as the doll slid under Meggie's crossed forearms.
Jack and Hughie found her just as fascinating as Meggie had; off came the dress, the petticoats and long, frilly drawers. Agnes lay naked while the boys pushed and pulled at her, forcing one foot round the back of her head, making her look down her spine, every possible contortion they could think of. They took no notice of Meggie as she stood crying; it did not occur to her to seek help, for in the Cleary family those who could not fight their own battles got scant aid or sympathy, and that went for girls, too.
She clasped the doll against her chest and shook her head. "No, she's mine! I got her for my birthday!"
"Show us, go on! We just want to have a look."
Pride and joy won out. She held the doll so her brothers could see. "Look, isn't she beautiful? Her name is Agnes."
"Agnes? Agnes?" Jack gagged realistically. "What a soppy name! Why don't you call her Margaret or Betty?"
"Because she's Agnes!"
Hughie noticed the joint in the doll's wrist, and whistled. "Hey, Jack, look! It can move its hand!"
"Where? Let's see."
Release Date: March 27-30, 1983(Television Mini-Series)
Release Time: 467 minutes
Cast:
Richard Chamberlain as Ralph de Bricassart
Rachel Ward as Meggie Cleary (as an adult)
Sydney Penny as Meggie Cleary (as a child)
Barbara Stanwyck as Mary Carson
Richard Kiley as Paddy Cleary
Jean Simmons as Fee Cleary
Bryan Brown as Luke O'Neill
Mare Winningham as Justine O'Neill
Philip Anglim as Dane O'Neill
Ken Howard as Rainer Hartheim
John Friedrich as Frank Cleary
Dwier Brown as Stuart Cleary (as an adult)
Vidal Peterson as Stuart Cleary (as a child)
Piper Laurie as Anne Mueller
Earl Holliman as Luddie Mueller
Christopher Plummer as Archbishop Vittorio di Contini-Verchese
Brett Cullen as Bob Cleary
Stephen W. Burns as Jack Cleary
Barry Corbin as Pete
Holly Palance as Miss Carmichael
John de Lancie as Alastair MacQueen
Allyn Ann McLerie as Mrs. Smith
Richard Venture as Harry Gough
Stephanie Faracy as Judy
Antoinette Bower as Sarah MacQueen
Awards:
1983 Primetime Emmy Awards
Outstanding Achievement in Makeup - Del Acevedo - Won
Outstanding Art Direction for a Miniseries or a Movie - Robert MacKichan, Jerry Adams - Won
Outstanding Film Editing for a Miniseries or a Movie - Carroll Timothy O'Meara - Won
Outstanding Lead Actor in a Miniseries or a Movie - Richard Chamberlain - Nominated
Outstanding Lead Actress in a Miniseries or a Movie - Barbara Stanwyck - Won
Outstanding Miniseries or Movie - The Thorn Birds - Nominated
Outstanding Supporting Actor in a Miniseries or a Movie - Bryan Brown - Nominated
Outstanding Supporting Actor in a Miniseries or a Movie - Richard Kiley - Won
Outstanding Supporting Actor in a Miniseries or a Movie - Christopher Plummer - Nominated
Outstanding Supporting Actress in a Miniseries or a Movie - Piper Laurie - Nominated
Outstanding Supporting Actress in a Miniseries or a Movie - Jean Simmons - Won
1984 Golden Globes
Best Actor – Miniseries or Television Film - Richard Chamberlain - Won
Best Actress – Miniseries or Television Film - Rachel Ward - Nominated
Best Miniseries or Television Film - The Thorn Birds - Won
Best Supporting Actor – Series, Miniseries or Television Film - Bryan Brown - Nominated
Best Supporting Actor – Series, Miniseries or Television Film - Richard Kiley - Won
Best Supporting Actress – Series, Miniseries or Television Film - Piper Laurie - Nominated
Best Supporting Actress – Series, Miniseries or Television Film - Jean Simmons - Nominated
Best Supporting Actress – Series, Miniseries or Television - Barbara Stanwyck - Won
1984 People's Choice
Best TV Miniseries - The Thorn Birds - Won
1984 Young Artist Awards
Best Young Actress in a Miniseries or Television Movie - Sydney Penny - Won
Colleen McCullough was born in Australia. A neuropathologist, she established the department of neurophysiology at the Royal North Shore Hospital in Sydney before working as a researcher and teacher at Yale Medical School for ten years. Her writing career began with the publication of Tim, followed by The Thorn Birds, a record-breaking international bestseller. She lives on Norfolk Island in the South Pacific with her husband, Ric Robinson.
Click to read Colleen McCollough's obituary in the New York Times from January 30, 2015.
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