As I got to the midway point in Lucy Fricke’s novella, Daughters, I was reminded of my time on exchange in Germany (in the 80s), when everyone was obsessed with the TV show, Alf. Like, the-whole-family-sits-to-watch-Alf obsessed.

Stay with me as I order my thoughts on the German sense of humour*…

We had Alf in Australia, but the humour was considered a bit obvious and childish. Anyway, it came to mind because in Daughters, which is essentially a serious story (I think) about two women making a pilgrimage related to their fathers, ‘slap-stick’ events, such as the crashing of a car complete with exploding airbags and the torture of kind hosts serving a revolting meal, interrupted the emotional plot line. A reminder that I didn’t fully understand the German sense of humour.

So yes, there were parts of this book that felt uneven, but there were parts that I very much enjoyed. For example, the relationship between the two women was an authentic portrayal of a long friendship, and the dialogue was spot-on.

In this life, you need someone who will help you make your getaway, no matter how safe things may seem right now.

Fricke delves into how a person’s relationship with their parents reverberates. Betty and Martha both had absent fathers and independent, angry mothers.

It had taken him a long time to realise that you can’t escape where you come from… that all you do is vary your parents’ mistakes, that each generation just finds smarter ways to cock things up and ruin their lives.

I loved the part of the story set on a remote Greek island. I haven’t been to any Greek islands, but Fricke paints a vivid picture, and captures the forlorn atmosphere of the place in the low season, as well as the broader economic crisis that began in Greece in 2007.

Yannis said that the people here used binoculars to spy out of their windows, that gossip was as essential to life here as the sea and ouzo. Most of the men spent their winters alone. Tourism hardens the heart, he said. At the end of their holidays, women pack their suitcases…and slip onto the ferry before it gets dark.

People came here from all over Europe to crash and burn. You could buy wine here by the kilo: half a kilo for €2.80. If it was self-obliteration you were after, there was nowhere cheaper, plus you had a view of the sea thrown in for no extra charge.

I read Daughters as part of both #GermanLitMonth and #NovNov.

3/5 Will read more from Fricke.

Before me was a pile of hacked-up arms the colour of coal. He brought me a lemon to go with them, and the day descended into anxious despondency.

*don’t say it doesn’t exist! Any insights welcome.