My Brilliant Career: Metaphors 10 key examples

Sybylla's description of her father here encapsulates her childhood admiration for him. It presents him as an all-knowing, indispensable figure in her life. She refers to him as her "hero, confidant, encyclopedia, mate, and even [her] religion." This list of metaphors paints a vivid image of a father who is not just a parental figure, but also a mentor, a companion, and a pillar of knowledge. He’s so reliable that he is Sybylla's “religion”: she trusts that he is there, like an unseen god, without having to test the fact. This all-encompassing admiration reflects Sybylla’s youthful naivety. It also shows the reader the extent of her emotional dependence on her father at this early point in the book, and explains her extreme disappointment with him later.

Franklin adds an abrupt note of foreboding to the passage with the phrase, "Since then I have been religionless." This phrase indicates a profound shift in Sybylla's perception of her father and her relationship with him between the time of her childhood and the time of narration. Just as someone might lose faith in their deity or their religion, Sybylla has lost her faith in her father. She is “religionless” after he breaks her trust. This ominous hint prepares Franklin’s reader for the future decline of their bond.

The author uses the metaphor of a river to suggest that time in Possum Gully is “no object”: time is unimportant because it is unchanging and endless. Instead of time passing, Sybylla says her days “slide” into a "river of years.” This metaphor emphasizes the unpleasant monotony of the Gully, and explains why Sybylla feels trapped in its “narrow stagnation.” The language gives a sense of continuous flow, with each day indistinguishable from the next.

Tactile imagery further underscores this feeling of confinement. The terms "narrow" and "squeezing" suggest that Possum Gully is a space that exerts pressure on its inhabitants. All of this imagery reflects Sybylla’s sense that her family, in moving to this new community, have gone down in the world.

Sybylla's claim that "[n]othing ever happened there" is hyperbolic: Possum Gully may be boring, but time still has to pass. Franklin uses this hyperbole to underline Sybylla's frustration and sense of confinement. To a young and energetic woman, Franklin implies, it really might seem as if days merely slid "quietly into the river of years." Sybylla's teenage perspective amplifies the dullness of her existence there, making even small troubles seem more important than they are.

Franklin’s description of the wind as the "scorching furnace-breath" introduces the summer as a destructive and threatening presence, almost as if it is a living entity. The visual language here is all hard, hot, and gleaming, as if the "land" and "sky" are both molten metals being forged by a blacksmith. This metaphor of a furnace also accentuates the extreme heat of the summer; tactile language of being "parched," "shriveling," and having "no air" stifles the reader. The scene she depicts is unbearably hot, an environment where every blade of grass withers and dies. The desolation is further echoed by the "moan of starving stock," an auditory image that conveys the effects of the brutal heat on Mr. Melvyn's livestock. The combination of visual, tactile, and auditory imagery gives the readers an immersive sensory experience of summer in the Australian bush. All these images come together to portray the unrelenting harshness of the outback’s climate on living things.

The metaphor of the land being "iron" and the sky "brass" also works to create a visual representation of the severe terrain. Its solidity and unyielding nature mirrors the broader social and financial struggles faced by Sybylla: she is fighting against a world as hard as metal. Almost everything in the Australia of My Brilliant Career—aside from life at Caddagat—is difficult.

The reference to "starving stock" Franklin makes here is also another piece of clever wordplay. Sybylla and her family have come to this hardscrabble point in their lives because of her father's failed career in stocks and shares. Their "stock" are starving, so Mr. Melvyn has failed at "stocks" twice over.

The metaphor of peasants as "bulwarks" of a nation is central to this passage. A bulwark can be two things: it's either a defensive wall, or it refers to the sides of a ship that come above the deck. Both of these are protective features. With this metaphor, Franklin suggests that working-class people form the strong barriers that protect and uphold society. The idea of a "bulwark" also reflects a notion popular in the 19th century Australian consciousness: that the character and strength of the nation were built upon the efforts of its working class. This passage is another moment where Franklin aligns Sybylla's development with the values of Australian nationalism and democracy.

The alliteration in the repeated use of "peasant" emphasizes the importance and the prominence of the working class in Australian society. It’s rhythmic and recurrent, by far the most common noun in this sentence. Its repeated use here represents the number of working-class people in contrast to the much smaller upper class of Australia. This repetition, as the narrator uses it, also reinforces the idea that only a peasant who truly embodies and accepts their role can find fulfillment. Franklin portrays a peasant’s life idealistically, as "grand," "honest," "clean," and "wholesome," if they embody this role.

Sybylla's viewpoints evolve as the novel progresses and she develops into adulthood. In this passage she speaks of the peasantry as if she is separate from them. However, by the end of the novel she proudly identifies as a peasant herself.

Franklin emphasizes the dreamy beauty of Caddagat through a metaphor invoking the softness of fabric. Caddagat is so beautiful that it is “draped” in beauty. It isn't just a lovely place: it's so beautiful that it seems there's an excess of beauty that falls in folds around it. This metaphor also creates a sense for the reader that everything at Caddagat is soft, plentiful, and luxurious. This couldn't be more different from the harsh, sparse Australian outback Sybylla arrives from. This metaphor is about more than the visual aspects of Caddagat, however; it's also about how Sybylla feels about the place. Words like "draped" and "enfolded" suggest a sense of warmth and being held. They envelop Caddagat in more tactile imagery of softness and comfort, where Sybylla is “enfolded in grandmotherly love.”

The repetitive sound of the word "Caddagat" also adds to this soothing, soft quality. Sybylla repeats it several times in this passage. The rhythmic repetition of the words is amplified by the alliteration of all the “C” sounds, and by the repetitive sounds within the word “Caddagat” itself. It's like a soothing lullaby, reinforcing Sybylla's emotional attachment to the place. Through these techniques, Franklin helps readers understand why Sybylla is so attached to Caddagat. It's not just her birthplace: it's a place where she feels comfortable, loved, and hopeful. 

This passage emphasizes the beauty and tranquility of Caddagat, which Sybylla describes as a fantastical, dreamlike space of fulfillment and joy. While she’s there, she is enveloped by a world of color and scent. The reader’s sense of touch and sight is stimulated by flower beds "carpeted with pansy blossoms" and their sense of smell by air filled with the “rich perfume” of blooms. Everything is tender, beautiful, and appealing to an intense degree. Even the light contributes to this, the "soft spring sunshine" imbuing everything with warmth and growth.

Contrasted against this, Franklin introduces the metaphor of "burning discontent” when discussing Sybylla’s state of mind. Amidst the allure of all these “delights of the old garden,” she still feels internal dissatisfaction and frustration. Though the garden does soothe her “ruffled feelings,” it is only a temporary distraction from her turbulent emotions. The sharp disparity between Sybylla's troubled mind and the tranquil garden emphasizes the difference between her internal and external realities. Despite being surrounded by beauty, she is grappling with a profound discontentment with herself. This is one of many ways that Franklin depicts Sybylla’s teenage struggle with identity and self-acceptance.

The passage reflects Sybylla’s wish for Australia—then under British imperial rule—to achieve its “true” potential and shake off oppression. Her plea here uses a metaphor of birth and motherhood to personify Australia. She compares the country to a childbearing woman and its people to her children. She lists many distinguished occupations, asking why her country can’t also “birth” patriots. Sybylla wants to see “men of soul, mind, truth, godliness, and patriotism" instead of just artists and athletes. She wants people she feels could liberate the country from its metaphorical "shackles."

At the end of the novel, Chapter 38, the motif of Australia as having human qualities resurfaces. Sybylla expresses her pride in her Australian identity and her connection to the land as she bids farewell to her reader:

I am proud that I am an Australian, a daughter of the Southern Cross, a child of the mighty bush. I am thankful I am a peasant, a part of the bone and muscle of my nation, and earn my bread by the sweat of my brow, as man was meant to do. I rejoice I was not born a parasite, one of the bloodsuckers who loll on velvet and satin, crushed from the proceeds of human sweat and blood and souls. Ah, my sunburnt brothers!—sons of toil and of Australia! I love and respect you well, for you are brave and good and true. [...] My ineffective life will be trod out in the same round of toil—I am only one of yourselves, I am only an unnecessary, little, bush commoner, I am only a—woman!

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The personification in this passage also includes a metaphor comparing Australia to a mother, as Sybylla describes herself as a “daughter” and a “child” of Australian things. The country is also compared to a physical human body here. Through the metaphor of being a part of the "bone and muscle of [her] nation," Sybylla emphasizes how deep she feels her link with Australia goes. Her fervent rejection of being a “parasite” who does not work aligns her with the “sons of toil” that she praises. In this passage, both Australians and Australia itself are depicted as people living an honest, laborious life, rather than a wealthy, lazy one. Sybylla is proud to be a peasant and embraces it as part of her Australian identity.

Franklin’s first simile establishes that Beecham is a man "with a will like iron." The unbending strength of iron describes Beecham's will, implying the rigidity of his character. This comparison underscores his firm resolve and determination, qualities Uncle Julius cheekily tells Sybylla she has “none of.” 

Franklin's next simile likens Beecham's character to a "raging lion” when he is in a temper, evoking an unnerving sense of dangerous, untamed power. This simile is quickly followed by a metaphor: Beecham is a "sulking brute" when his anger subsides, but he can be “managed” if Sybylla will “coax” him. In describing him as this combination of animal and monster, Franklin gives the reader a comprehensive image of Beecham's mood swings and his potentially volatile nature. These descriptions all flesh out his character from an outside perspective for Sybylla. He is as changeable as she is, as capable of being a "raging lion" as he is of being a "sulking brute."

This passage draws readers into the raw emotional intensity of Sybylla and Harold's relationship at this point in the novel. The metaphor of Harold as a "calm silent giant" whom Sybylla has “waked” points to this: before, he was stoic and unresponsive no matter what she did, but her “ineffectual struggles” have now succeeded.

Franklin employs tactile imagery as the narrator describes feeling Harold's "big heart beating wildly" through his shirt. This conveys the physical closeness of the characters, as does the language of “warm” bodies and feeling “thrilling, electric” and “splendidly alive.” These descriptions make the reader feel the fervor and clutching closeness of this moment, and understand Sybylla’s triumph and excitement.

Shackles confine captives. By comparing leaving Barney’s Gap to "throwing off the leaden shackles," Sybylla makes her old place of employment seem like a prison. This metaphor represents the oppressive nature of the tasks she was assigned, emphasizing the weight and limitations they imposed on her. Franklin's use of this metaphor expresses Sybylla's happiness at her newfound freedom. It also highlights her sense of release from the burdens that held her back.

By employing this metaphor, Franklin conveys the intensity of Sybylla’s emotions. She drives home the significance of her liberation from Barney's Gap, a place that's unbearable to her. However, the presence of “regret mingled” with her relief also demonstrates some mixed feelings about her time there. While the young woman appreciates the freedom from her responsibilities, a hint of nostalgia and affection for the children she took care of lingers. Moments of mixed feelings like these make Sybylla a more three-dimensional character, providing insight into the complexities of her thoughts and feelings.

The passage reflects Sybylla’s wish for Australia—then under British imperial rule—to achieve its “true” potential and shake off oppression. Her plea here uses a metaphor of birth and motherhood to personify Australia. She compares the country to a childbearing woman and its people to her children. She lists many distinguished occupations, asking why her country can’t also “birth” patriots. Sybylla wants to see “men of soul, mind, truth, godliness, and patriotism" instead of just artists and athletes. She wants people she feels could liberate the country from its metaphorical "shackles."

At the end of the novel, Chapter 38, the motif of Australia as having human qualities resurfaces. Sybylla expresses her pride in her Australian identity and her connection to the land as she bids farewell to her reader:

I am proud that I am an Australian, a daughter of the Southern Cross, a child of the mighty bush. I am thankful I am a peasant, a part of the bone and muscle of my nation, and earn my bread by the sweat of my brow, as man was meant to do. I rejoice I was not born a parasite, one of the bloodsuckers who loll on velvet and satin, crushed from the proceeds of human sweat and blood and souls. Ah, my sunburnt brothers!—sons of toil and of Australia! I love and respect you well, for you are brave and good and true. [...] My ineffective life will be trod out in the same round of toil—I am only one of yourselves, I am only an unnecessary, little, bush commoner, I am only a—woman!

Cite this Quote

The personification in this passage also includes a metaphor comparing Australia to a mother, as Sybylla describes herself as a “daughter” and a “child” of Australian things. The country is also compared to a physical human body here. Through the metaphor of being a part of the "bone and muscle of [her] nation," Sybylla emphasizes how deep she feels her link with Australia goes. Her fervent rejection of being a “parasite” who does not work aligns her with the “sons of toil” that she praises. In this passage, both Australians and Australia itself are depicted as people living an honest, laborious life, rather than a wealthy, lazy one. Sybylla is proud to be a peasant and embraces it as part of her Australian identity.