My First Popsicle by Zosia Mamet

If I had been asked to contribute a chapter to Zosia Mamet’s collection of essays about feelings and food, My First Popsicle, I would have written about my occasional sick-days as a child.

My Mum and Nan had a florist shop and if I was sick, I had to go to work with Mum. I would lie at the back of the shop on a plastic banana lounge, watching a tiny black and white TV. If I rallied by lunchtime (and let’s be honest, I mostly did), I would eat potato cakes from the fish and chip shop next door, and spend the afternoon misting the carnations (it was the seventies!) with my Nan’s special water bottle. Truly the best days, and the combined smell of flowers and the fish and chip shop oil is firmly and forever in my memory. Continue reading

#GermanLitMonth: An Inventory of Losses by Judith Schalansky

There’s a word for everything in German – it’s because you can simply describe something and join up all the words. Or, you think about a particular feeling or set of circumstances and attribute it to something tangible to make a word. Examples include Kummerspeck, Frühlingsgefühle, and Geborgenheit.

I mention the interesting words because one of my favourites (as a word and a concept) is Kunstkammer, which translates as a ‘cabinet of curiosities’. These cabinets have a long history, and were essentially collections of ‘curious items from home or abroad’, usually with a nature focus (obviously collecting bits of nature for personal viewing is frowned upon these days!). When I lived in Germany, my host family had a small Kunstkammer in their house, but I didn’t come across another one until I met a woman twenty years ago who had been a vet – her cabinet filled a whole wall and was carefully curated – it was amazing to look at. Continue reading

Stella Prize 2024 Shortlist

Argh! I didn’t get a chance to make my predictions before the 2024 Stella Prize shortlist was announced this morning. I’ve been in the Tasmanian wilderness and happily out of range for five days (more on that later). Continue reading

Look Alive Out There by Sloane Crosley

I was fortunate to see Sloane Crosley earlier this year (speaking about her latest novel, Cult Classic, which I’ve read but yet to review… I’m very behind on reviews). Anyway, she was as funny in real life as she is on the page, and her second essay collection, Look Alive Out There,  confirms exactly how funny she is on the page.

Crosley’s humour is self-deprecating, and relies on the very particular situations she has found herself in (as opposed to taking shots at the world in general). Although I found the essays to be of a consistent standard (high), there were standouts. A Dog Named Humphrey recalls Crosley’s guest appearance on Gossip Girl (best show, and I will not be taking questions at this time); Up the Down Volcano, about a poorly planned adventure in Ecuador; and Cinema of the Confined, which focuses on her diagnosis with Ménière’s disease, which she describes as something that ‘…sounds like a pastry but is the opposite of pastry…’. Her doctor says,

“I’m doubtful you’ll go deaf deaf.”
I didn’t want to go any number of deafs.
“It could be worse,” he said. “It could be cancer.”
This was not the first time Dr. Goldfinger suggested I appreciate my place on the mortality spectrum… The expression doesn’t go: “At least you have some portion of your health.” Continue reading