This week, Nonfiction November is hosted by Frances at Volatile Rune. The theme is a book that reflects a journey for its author, for the reader, or both. ‘Journey’ is described as a physical journey, an emotional, psychological or spiritual journey or a combination of these – essentially, a book that leaves its author and/or reader in a different place at the end from the start point. Continue reading
01. Belair Lip Bombs at The Forum. Love them. Continue reading
It’s time for #6degrees. Start at the same place as other wonderful readers, add six books, and see where you end up. Continue reading
I’m already wondering how I’ll keep up with the reviews for November reading challenges… Continue reading
I’m on loads of mailing lists for death and grief-related professional development. Over the years, I’ve noticed death/ grief ‘trends’. For example, ten years ago there was a focus on voluntary-assisted dying (it was topical in Australia at the time) and post-COVID there was lots about personal grief rituals (I think because COVID restrictions changed the way people conducted funerals). Lately, it’s all about death-bots and the problem of digital legacies. Continue reading
Two nonfiction and one fiction. Continue reading
Nonfiction November kicks off today with My Year in Nonfiction, hosted by Heather at Based on a True Story. Continue reading
01. An absolutely superb exhibition at RMIT Gallery – For Holding by Claire Garwoli, Davin Ivatts and Zosia Slifirski Duckett. Bronze objects that you’re invited to hold. Beautifully tactile and designed to fit snugly in your hand, each with a tiny inscription on the underside. I loved it so much. Continue reading
It’s week one of Novellas in November and the theme is My Year in Novellas. Continue reading
I know that Miranda July’s All Fours divided readers – I thought it was an astonishing story about a woman questioning her role and her identity (and without getting into gross generalisations, there’s a reason this happens during menopause, when the gentle scrim that oestrogen provides is ripped away). Wifehouse by Sonya Walger tackles similar themes (although without July’s humour and quirk).
…the ruin was internal, invisible and incremental. She had no words for the aching elasticity of time. Continue reading