Just a quick mention of the Eat the Sky, Drink the Ocean launch which took place at Eltham High School yesterday afternoon, in truly Indian weather.
Stupidly I didn't think to take any photos (it's a bit awkward when you're one of the speakers!) but it was a wonderful event, chaired by Kirsty Murray, and featuring a plethora of speakers, including a representative from the Indian consulate, who selflessly sacrificed going to the India/South Africa World Cup cricket match at the MCG to be there. I also got to meet Mandy Ord, and hang out with Penni Russon and Nicki Greenberg, and hear their take on the experience of being Sky-Eaters and Ocean-Drinkers. I am continually fascinated by the range of collaborations this project has involved! and afterwards we got to gorge on samosas, curry puffs and lamingtons - a delicious combination.
Also you can hear Kirsty and Anita Roy discussing the book on Radio National here.
Thanks to everyone who was able to attend!
This is a gorgeous, old-fashioned magic story, in which two sisters stumble into the secret world inside the lilac hedge that rings their home, and become entangled with dark magic and charming creatures of fey. I particularly enjoyed the rivalry between the sisters, which is very realistic -- as well as their deep down love and loyalty to each other. This had echoes of Enid Blyton's magical stories, though it is a bit darker than most of Blyton, and I was also reminded of the atmosphere of the Elizabeth Goudge novels I adored as a child (maybe Jen read them too??)
Special kudos to Lucia Masciullo's illustrations, which are delicate and beautiful, and suit the story perfectly. A lovely package which would appeal to young girls who like fairies and princesses, and deserve better fare than those bloody awful Rainbow Fairy books.
I had mixed feelings about this one. I must admit my heart sank a little when I realised the author was a white woman, writing from the perspective of, and literally in the voices of, Black women of 1960s Mississippi. This is tricky territory, as I am all too aware, having faced similar choices about authorial voice while writing Crow Country. Apparently Stockett faced a law suit from her brother's nanny, Ablene, who feels her story has been appropriated.
On the other hand, it's a very juicy, sympathetic, readable novel which (together with the movie made from it) has no doubt led a lot of people to think about history, and racism, and civil rights, when they might not otherwise have done so. Certainly ED, at 13, started asking questions about American race relations, the history of slavery and the struggle for civil rights, as a result of reading this. (Listening to To Kill A Mockingbird recently might have contributed, too.) So I have to say, on balance, that's a good thing.
ED wants me to buy a copy, so she can keep it on her shelf, as the first adult novel she has read independently. And I think I will.
EAT THE SKY,DRINK THE OCEAN, is a unique collection of sci-fi and fantasy writing, including six graphic stories, showcasing twenty stellar writers and artists from India and Australia:
Isobelle Carmody, Penni Russon, Justine Larbalestier, Margo Lanagan, Lily Mae Martin, Manjula Padmanabhan, Kate Constable, Priya Kurian, Mandy Ord, Kirsty Murray, Nicki Greenberg transport you into dystopian cities and other worldly societies with stylish stories, poems, playscripts, fractured fairy tales and futuristic TV cooking shows.
"The tapestry of Eat The Sky, Drink The Ocean weaves in issues of food security, environmental destruction, class barriers, social justice and human rights to create lustrous narratives….
this anthology stands out for plucky writing and bold imagery"
Co-editor Kirsty Murray, author of over twenty books and anthologies including India Dark, The Four Seasons of Lucy McKenzie and the Year It All Ended, will chair an audio visual presentation by a selection of contributing authors and graphic artists
UNMISSABLE for avid readers 14 plus looking for the next best sci-fi, fantasy read.
Date: Sunday Feb 22nd
Time: 4.00pm for 4.30pm-6.00pm
Venue: Eltham High School, Withers Way, Eltham
Cost: $20 includes a signed copy of the book or a $15 gift voucher, authors' presentations and Aussie Indian treats.
Prepaid, early bookings are essential: 94398700
I was a very sheltered teenager, and if I'd found myself in Friday's shoes, I can't imagine that I would ever have turned my back on the shelter of a concerned grandfather and taken to the streets. But hey, if everyone was like me, there'd be no stories (well, not stories like this). I always find this kind of gritty YA uncomfortable to read. But then, I guess that's the whole point of it.
Well, it hasn't aged as well as Pastures, despite being published only a year later. Pastures is set on the Queensland coast, but Beat is completely urban. It's set in Melbourne in the mid-60s, published in the year I was born, in fact. This aspect was absolutely fascinating -- the story swirls around the axis of Johnston St, from the students of the university at one end to the Convent and the river at the other, and there's lots of nostalgia for a Melbourne resident: Allans Music Store, Abbotsford and Fitzroy's 'hugger-mugger of factories, tenements, migrant hostels, and almost brand-new slums', Whelan the Wrecker, Russell St police headquarters.
But it's very self-conscious about examining the 'with-it', 'way out' yoof with their dead, empty eyes, pursuing the dead, empty pleasures of 'canned' rock music and dancing; redemption is found when the characters are exposed to the delights of 'real' folk music! I must say I was drawn deeper into the story the longer I persisted, and I ended up enjoying it, though it was a bit of a struggle at the start. The illustrations didn't help, I felt they were quite unsympathetic, almost cartoonish, and I found them alienating.
I only discovered this morning that there was a TV miniseries made from the book, in 1975! Now that would be interesting to see!
My first experience of Marnie was when it was read aloud to my class, at the end of Grade 5, in Mt Hagen, in Papua New Guinea -- worlds away from the desolate Norfolk marshes where the story is set. But the gentle, wistful tale of lonely Anna and her mysterious friend Marnie gripped my imagination. At the end of the reading, the teacher asked, 'Do you think Marnie was really there?' I was indignant; of course Marnie was real, in the story. But our teacher pressed on, insisting, 'That couldn't really happen, could it? It must have been Anna's imagination.' (I wonder now why she read it to us at all, if she was so determined to deny the magic of the book!) But I was hotly resistant to any interpretation that reduced Anna and Marnie's magical connection to dry psychology. I remember the strength of my outrage, and the feeling that I was standing up for the book, somehow, that I needed to defend it. It might have been the first time that my personal interpretation of a book was ever challenged by adult authority. But I didn't give in.
Reading it again, it's just as magical as I remembered, written with such subtle skill that both interpretations are indeed possible. But I still prefer my original take on it (if there's a timey-wimey option available, I'll take it every time!) And I see now what a strong influence Marnie was on Cicada Summer; I even named one of my own characters Anna, without realising.
In many ways, When Marnie Was There is my perfect book.
The first time I read it, the discomfort of the sharp edges underfoot was overwhelming. The Book Thief is written in a very distinctive, deliberate style. Almost every adjective choice is unexpected: wooden tears, glittering anger, the sun was blond, her cardboard face, the bumpiness of love. You can never forget that you're reading a text; it's impossible to lose yourself in the story, because the jarring (often apt and beautiful, sometimes awkward) language constantly jerks you back. And that's without even mentioning that the book is narrated by the character of Death...
On second reading, I was able to adjust better to the language choices, and admire them, and find my way to the actual story. I could lift my eyes to the landscape I was passing through, and appreciate its shape and sorrow. I'm glad I've read it twice.
The Book Thief has been incredibly successful, and ardently loved, and made into a movie (which I haven't seen). It would be a very hard act to follow.
What I would have liked was more detail about the actual worlds her interview subjects invented, but Root-Bernstein was more interested in the implications of their play for their adult lives; which is fair enough.
(I'm going to start calling these posts 'book responses' rather than 'reviews', because I think reviews demand a more considered, critical and thoughtful analysis than I have time to prepare -- these posts are just a gut-feel reaction, really.)
I find it extremely peculiar that when New Guinea Moon was published, almost a year ago, it received barely a single review, and yet now reviews seem to be popping up from the most unexpected places.
This one is from the Subversive Reader:
This was an absolutely beautiful read which did a wonderful job of bringing the beauty and contradictions of 1970s New Guinea to the reader. I realised, as I read it, that I’d never read a book set in New Guinea before, which seemed like a pretty big oversight.
One of the things Julie discovers in the book is the casual racism of the ex-pat community, especially the diminutive terms used for the local men and women who work for them, regardless of their age (Julie seems particularly conscious of it, which is explained away by having a mother who talks about it at home, but I’m still not sure how realistic it is for a teenager in the 1970s). However, the author doesn’t shy away from showing the reader moments when Julie is also casually racist – the book does a good job of showing the complexities involved and pointing out that there’s always ways to do better.
I think it’s terribly important that we have books which tell stories of Australia’s past – the honest truth beyond what is often taught in history classes. This is a book which points out that we had a colonial past beyond our own borders and that it wasn’t really that long ago – less than 10 years before I was born. It’s not always a nice story to think about, but it is an important one. Books like this help us think more about it and should be celebrated more than they are.
My only complaint about the book is that it felt a little rushed towards the end, almost like another storyline had been pushed in where it didn’t really need to belong. It just felt slightly unbalanced, like it appeared too late in the book.
New Guinea Moon is a really lovely book which does a wonderful job of setting up Julie’s world and the things she sees. I thoroughly recommend it.
And this one comes from the Darien Times in Connecticut, of all places. It's most mysterious, I don't know how their reviewer even came across it!
But thank you!
Wow! The White Darkness, by Geraldine McCaughrean, wasn't what I was expecting at all. I came across a reference to it recently when I was looking for books about people who invent imaginary worlds and imaginary companions (the first stirrings of a possible future project), and I remembered reading a review in The Age when it was first published (2005, which seems awfully long ago) and thinking, that sounds interesting… And then I found it in the local library. Yay!
All I could recall when I started reading is that the main character, Sym, is in love with Titus Oates (Scott's doomed Antarctic expedition, 'I'm going out of the tent and I may be some time,' you know, him), whose presence she carries around inside her head. But more than an exploration of the comforts and pitfalls of imagined companionship, The White Darkness became an unexpectedly gripping and quite bizarre thriller, set in the wastes of the Antarctic, which is described in gorgeous, vivid and unsettling prose.
Totally, surprisingly, fabulous.
It's weird, I love the way that Tim Winton writes about country, and being in the bush, and by the sea -- but I feel so remote from his characters. I couldn't connect to Georgie or Lu or Jim until almost the very end of the book. Maybe they're just not my kind of people, I don't know; if I met them in real life I'd be scared of them. Maybe this is why I don't read much adult fiction? Maybe I felt resistant just because it had won so many awards? Also, I am not a music lover, so that wasn't a way in for me either.
But the descriptions are wonderful.
Note: I've just found this article which asks, why did Georgie sell the boat her father gave her, instead of setting off herself in search of the missing Lu? Hm. Good question!
I knew that it was going to be a strange and intriguing mixture, but I wasn't prepared for the sheer range of pieces -- styles and forms and different kinds of collaborative process -- that made the book even more fascinating than I expected. There are paired short stories, graphic stories, fairy tales and science fiction. Reading the notes at the back where the authors and artists discuss their collaborative journeys was just as absorbing as the stories themselves! Some pairs (like Priya Kuriyan and me) developed a single piece together; others tossed ideas back and forth across cyberspace and bounced away to create separate but linked stories; others critiqued each other's work. The result is a rich brew of individual, bite-sized morsels, swirling in a single spicy pot (forgive the mixed metaphor!) It was wonderful to be able to read it properly at last. Publication day is the end of January, so it will be hitting the shops soon!
Just to whet your appetite, here is another image from Swallow the Moon, the story that Priya and I created together. Isn't it gorgeous? Priya is so talented!
World's End Was Home, by Nan Chauncey
This is an old-fashioned adventure from the 50's, set partly in Tasmania and partly in Melbourne, complete with an orphan, a long-lost (rich) relative, a baby wombat and a sinister pursuit. There were a couple of explicitly cringey moments, as when Dallie is required to write in an exam 'all you know about the Australian blackfellow.' And when the family settle in their pristine, isolated Tasmanian bush paradise, the ghosts of the original dispossessed inhabitants seem to stir silently between the lines of the story.
But overall, this was a light, enjoyable yarn, beautifully illustrated by Shirley Hughes.
Years ago, I read a discussion of John Boyne's The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas on the blog of my American editor, Cheryl Klein, in which she stated that she hated this book 'with the white-hot loathing of a thousand suns.' It's possible that this prejudiced me; Cheryl is a woman's whose opinion I greatly respect. But seriously, now I've read it for myself, I can confidently state that it really is that bad.
This is not a book written for children; it's written for very stupid people. Bruno is supposed to be nine (ten, by the end), but his level of understanding is about that of a four year old. He's the son of a Nazi commandant who has never heard the word Jew, or Fatherland, or Fuhrer. He calls Hitler 'the Fury', which is 'cute' in a really inappropriate way, and ignores the fact that German and English are completely different languages. In fact the whole book is written in this coy, cutesy way, presumably to highlight Bruno's innocence and naivety; but it's just irritating, and trivialises the dreadful facts of the death camps by pretending that the events of the story could ever have occurred, even in a 'fable.' Also (spoiler alert) I find it really disturbing that the shock ending is (presumably) intended to upset us more than the actual horrific reality.
I could go on, but I'll save it for book group, which is the reason I read it. Should be an interesting discussion...
Even after nearly forty years, I still found this a difficult read; I started it before Christmas and only just managed to finish it yesterday. It might be the almost excruciating detail of the flight itself that put me off, especially in light of recent aviation disasters. It was just too vivid for my imagination, too realistic. I very much enjoyed Southall's Hill's End last year, and this is similar in theme -- stranded kids forced to draw on their inner resources, and co-operate, to survive -- but this version came perilously close to be being too harrowing for me. It was all so grim, lacking the flashes of humour that lightened Hill's End. It was well done, despite the traces of sexism and racism of the time -- it was published in 1966 --but I soldiered through this one rather than enjoying it. Even the ending is pretty grim; the kids aren't rescued, but they manage to light a fire, and might be about to find fresh water in their remote location. It's not much to feel cheerful about!