I finished Fiona Wright’s collection of essays, Small Acts of Disappearance, a week ago. I enjoyed it while I was reading it. Actually, ‘enjoyed’ is not the right word when you’re reading about someone’s experience with anorexia… Rather, I was interested and engaged. But now, a few days out, the guts of Wright’s message evades me. What parts of her story have lingered? Continue reading
Can I start out by saying that I hope I never have to read two books about communes in the space of a few weeks again? Probably not, but I did. It’s just not my scene, man…
And while this hippy commune story – Mireille Juchau’s The World Without Us – compares favourably to the last one I read, I need to stress that two coming-of-age-stories-set-in-communes-with-commune-destroying-fires-and-hippy-mothers-who-can’t-read-plus-a-side-of-paternity-issues on the one prize shortlist is just dumb. Where’s the diversity? Where’s the interest for people* who don’t like hippy commune stories that much?** Continue reading
Read my review of The Natural Way of Things by Charlotte Wood here.
It’s a book that demands thought and discussion. It’s a book that is current and topical but also serves as a cautionary tale. It’s a book that is skilfully and beautifully written. It’s a book that I couldn’t put down – at the same time, I couldn’t guess where it was heading. It’s a book that I finished and thought “I need to talk to someone immediately about that last page!”.
Basically, it’s a book prize judge’s dream. And for that reason…
Will it win the Stella Prize? Yes. And I said so here and here.
I’m back in familiar-short-story-territory with Elizabeth Harrower’s A Few Days in the Country and Other Stories. And that territory is uneven. Some of the stories in this collection shone but others, not so much. There are twelve stories, predominantly exploring the different roles of women – in friendship, as mothers and daughters, and as wives. Continue reading
Firstly, if you haven’t seen Shirley Barrett’s film, Love Serenade, stop everything and see it. It is truly one of the best Australian films. Best. Ever.
If you appreciate the humour in Love Serenade, I’m quite certain you’ll love Barrett’s novel, Rush Oh!.
Rush Oh! tells the story of Mary Davidson, the eldest daughter of a prominent whaling family living in Eden on the rugged south coast of New South Wales. Mary narrates her family’s tumultuous experiences during 1908, a year that brings a tough whaling season (and ultimately the decline of the whaling industry in Eden), as well as drama off the seas.
“I imagine the prospect of having to go out in all weather and row back and forth across the bay in endless pursuit of enraged leviathans must have seemed exceedingly grim…” Continue reading
Okay. Clearly I don’t ‘get’ Peggy Frew.
It’s all ticker-tape parades and celebrations on Goodreads for Frew’s second novel, Hope Farm. And then there’s my two star rating, sitting alongside the glowing four and five-star reviews. Continue reading
Well. Tegan Bennett Daylight’s Six Bedrooms is very, very good. If all short story collections were this satisfying, I might very well be a convert to the world of short stories. Continue reading
When I threw my hat in the ring to win a copy of Viral by Helen FitzGerald, I was under the impression that it was YA novel. Or rather, ’emerging adult’ (or whatever the genre is for books aimed at late teens that include sex-drugs-language lite).
I won (yay!).
The book arrived. I read the first line –
“I sucked twelve cocks in Magaluf. So far, twenty-three thousand and ninety-six people have seen me do this.”
…and knew immediately that this was not a ‘cautionary tale’ for emerging adults. Continue reading
I was prepared to be devastated by Eliza Henry-Jones’s debut novel, In the Quiet. After all, it’s about a mother, who’s dead, observing her husband and three children from afar as they try to get on with life without her. Basically, ALL MY TRIGGERS.
But then, apart from a little wobbly moment at the very beginning (the dead mother, Cate, was watching her children sleep… I know, right?), I was strangely resistant to this story. And I can’t really put my finger on why.
“…Rafferty has curled up in a ball, his head underneath his pillow, his arms curled around his stomach. He says it so quietly, I barely catch it. ‘Mum,’ Rafferty whispers, his eyes pressed shut.”
I don’t usually write reviews for re-reads because they must be ace books* if I’m taking the time to re-read them, right? But there’s been a few exceptions along the way and The Women In Black by Madeleine St. John is one.
I’d forgotten just how charming this story is when I picked it up last Friday. My hasty re-read (it is a very short book) was prompted by my theatre engagement that evening – Melbourne Theatre Company’s production of Ladies in Black.
Set in a department store in Sydney called Goode’s in the late 1950s, the story traces the lives of four women working in the Ladies’ Frock Department.
“Goode’s stayed ahead of the competition by means of a terrific dedication to the modes.”
Continue reading