Everyone and Everything by Nadine J. Cohen

Hard to sum up my feelings about this novel. There were elements of the story that I really enjoyed – the beautifully described relationship between the main character and her sister; the exploration of grief through a modern Jewish lens; and the scenes at the women’s baths at Coogee, where there is fantastic sense of community. Coincidentally, and oddly, so many of the story elements were similar to other things I’ve read relatively recently (notably Hospital and Body Friend).

Perhaps because I was listening to this novel as an audio, I was aware of what seemed to be autobiographical details and the occasional breaking of the fourth wall – predominantly humorous. I didn’t mind this style but I also started to wonder if Cohen had thrown all that she had into her debut, and ultimately the glibness was a distraction to some deeper and interesting themes around inter-generational trauma.

3/5

Good Material by Dolly Alderton

The story of a break-up from a male perspective. Slightly too long but I always enjoy Alderton’s sense of humour.

Here’s what got me thinking – so much of what the main character, Andy, does in the wake of his break-up with Jen was interesting and funny because it’s a male doing what we assume women do (you know what I mean, the whole Bridget Jones scene). And once you lean into the character of Andy as satire, it’s a whole lot more fun. The cherry on top is the final chapter from Jen’s perspective, which turns assumptions and expectations on their head all over again. Clever.

3.5/5

Shirley by Ronnie Scott

Urgh. This novel is one of the worst things I’ve read in years. Ostensibly about a woman who is a highly successful copywriter for an insurance firm (so already it’s not believable), and her mother, who is a celebrity chef on television. There’s a bunch of links to Melbourne’s food scene, including the woman’s ex-boyfriend who works for a neighbour who owns a spice business.

There are so many things wrong with this book –

• the painful dialogue that never shifts from ‘I said xxxx. He said xxx. Then I said xxxx.’
• the pointless details that contribute nothing to the story – street names, descriptions of food packaging, and at least three adjectives for every single thing described – there’s a whole section about scrambled tofu (‘…it was Collingwood and she had come across me making scrambled tofu…’), another about martinis, and another about Kraft mac’n’cheese. No. One. Cares.
• strange inconsistencies – for example the chef criticises her daughter for serving an unimaginative ‘trio of dips’ and yet in the next paragraph it’s revealed she doesn’t know who Ottolenghi is. Really?
• the mother and the ex-boyfriend are portrayed as immature and child-like, with the woman constantly reprimanding them in an authoritarian way. Nothing about her thoughts or dialogue ring true.

I’ll leave you with some quotes that I think demonstrate the nonsense –

One thing about me is that I can easily recognise a child when I see one.

David appeared behind me in his fabulous shirt and familiar checkered pajama bottoms from Target Country.

…she brought out a media nickname for my mother that I have never liked. It’s a diminutive ending with ‘ie’ – this country’s way of saying, ‘Ah, you can go to Europe and chop salads with Alanis Morissette but we’ll never forget when you were a child.’ Even though they hadn’t known her when she was a child. She had always been an adult woman.

1/5