Reviewed by Lisa Collyer
The Foal in the Wire
by Robbie Coburn
Lothian Children’s Books
ISBN: 9780734423603, May 2025
The Foal in the Wire by Robbie Coburn is a vulnerable and accomplished bildungsroman written as a verse novel; ensuring its place as a central text in Australian schools. The length and accessibility will appeal to reluctant readers and the hybrid genre and complex themes, Australian setting, and sophisticated symbolism will appeal to teachers of ATAR English. The Foal in the Wire is a refreshing read for a young adult novel; there are no dead girls (although battered women) and the romantic bond that develops between Sam and Julia as they care for the injured foal is one of mutual attraction, rather than objectification. The shock that jolts Sam in coming of age begins before the immediate context of narrative, with his older brother’s death; and then arrives the injured foal found by Julia (his neighbour) who they both care for. Home for Sam and Julia is toxic, and the two must seek meaning and their place in the world outside of broken homes and despairing, angry parents.
As I run down the veranda steps
in the dark
I can still hear them screaming
at each other
inside the house,
he doesn’t love her
and she doesn’t love him
but they stay. (“Foal”, 3)
A central them of the verse novel is nurture. This is unique, particularly when coupled with the theme of masculinity and is a signature theme in the confessional and tender poetry of Coburn (see his poetry collection, Ghost Poetry (2024) (Upswell Publishing). The theme also extends to caring for each other in the face of adversity, caring for animals, what happens to the land when it is uncared for, and lastly caring for oneself (which for the female characters means walking away.) The incident that begins this journey from beleaguered to healing is the injured foal caught in the wire and found by Sam’s neighbour, Julia. They secretly care for the foal together, keeping it hidden from Sam’s father (for fear he will shoot the animal) and through their mutual care for the animal, develop a growing attraction to one another.
Julia takes one side of the jacket
and I take the other,
lifting the wounded body
from the earth
and slowly lowering it down,
the foal feels heavy
as it falls into my arms
and against my chest. (“Creek House”, 15)
The protagonist, Sam, suffers bullying at school, especially from his “friend,” Alex who belittles him because he is ‘poor.’ His mental health suffers because of his own grief for his deceased older brother, and the fact that he feels the wrath of his parents for being the one to survive. Coburn creates a bleak setting: the dry creek bed, and under the unlikely protection of an Old Ford car abandoned on the property, to create an alternative family; one that works together to care for the vulnerable, nursing them until they can stand on their own two feet or four hooves (in the foal’s case). Coburn does not romanticise the bush but finds love can still blossom under desolate conditions.
I think about Julia
as I walk out into the paddock
and how we will go and visit
the foal together after nightfall
as we promised we would.
I lie in the grass and imagine
I am the foal getting better. (“Healing Colt”, 28)
In a bildungsroman, the protagonist must undergo a rite of passage, typically one of bravery in the face of their nemesis to complete the transition from child to adult. In Sam’s case, it is standing up to toxic masculinity; facing his “friend” Alex and standing up to the batterer, Julia’s father, who in a drunken rage begins to beat her as he used to do to his now deserted wife. In both cases, Sam reverts to violence (learnt from the men around him) replicating toxic masculinity against a backdrop of care.
when I punch him,
the anguish of every time
he has hurt me
drives into his jaw (“Retaliation”, 61)
and
I feel the collision of my fist
against the back of his skull
before I know what I have done. (“Two Screams”, 80)
Despite Julia being central to Sam’s coming of age and healing, Coburn does not represent her as being responsible for the emotional heavy lifting for Sam, nor the other female characters. This is an epiphany when representing male, female relations, and the connection between masculinity and nurture and Coburn should be applauded for this. There is no place for girls and women in this rural setting; they all leave, never to return. The care for the foal in the wire is the catalyst for Sam in learning (as a male) to nurture the weak, and in turn is the catalyst for Sam and his father to come together: to care, grieve and nurture each other; so, men can heal.
dad talks to me
about my older brother
for the first time I can remember
without mentioning him dying
…
and can somehow hear
me and dad talking about him,
…
we give the foal my brother’s name. (“Names”, 104-105)
Coburn’s language moves fluidly between straightforward prose to soaring poetic imagery, particularly around the central character, the foal. Sam learns to make new meaning in a harsh environment, which is beyond alcohol, blame, and violence; finding communication and care is a purer way to relate to the world. Coburn’s verse novel is a beautifully written and visceral bildungsroman, which speaks like a scared whisper from broken men in rural settings; about men trying to learn how to nurture others, and in turn nurture themselves.
About the reviewer: Lisa Collyer is a writer in Boorloo (Perth). She is the author of the poetry collection, How To Order Eggs Sunny Side Up (2023) (short-listed for The Dorothy Hewett Award), published with Life Before Man Books. Her personal essay, ‘Prolonged Exposure’ is published in the anthology Women of a Certain Courage (2025) with Fremantle Press. Her poem, ‘The Grape Pickers’ was short-listed for the Gwen Harwood Poetry Prize (2025). She recently won an artist residence at Bundanon Art Museum (2025) where she will create new work on climate grief. Her second poetry collection, Gold Digger will be published in September 2025.