A Song For Summer

Another lovely Eva Ibbotson novel, this one from 1997 (she kept writing almost up until her death in 2010). A Song For Summer is set at an eccentric artsy school in Austria, just before the outbreak of the Second World War. Our heroine is Ellen, who despite being the child of a famous suffragette, has turned her talents to the housewifely arts and is working as a cook. Our hero is Marek, who despite being a world-renowned composer, is working as a groundsman and handyman in the same establishment (he's secretly rescuing Jews from the Nazis). This time there are three ill-matched couples who need to be disentangled and reassorted, and the obstacles in their way are even more dramatic than usual, including an actual marriage, a terrible fire, and of course the war.

By now I know exactly what I'm going to get from an Eva Ibbotson novel, and if some of her notions are a little old-fashioned, she's also refreshingly candid about sex, and values kindness above all other virtues. There will probably be a big old neglected house somewhere in the mix, a lake or a river and some animals, a precocious child, and music, as well as our star-crossed lovers. My only quibble was an anachronistic mention of Bletchley Park at a time when its very existence was top secret, but I can overlook that. I'm so glad to have discovered Eva Ibbotson.
 

Always Was, Always Will Be

I was lucky enough to see Thomas Mayo speak at the recent Sorrento Writers Festival. In person, he is a calm, strong, gentle presence, the very embodiment of healthy masculinity. Always Was, Always Will Be was written in the aftermath of the unsuccessful Voice referendum which had such a disappointing result and seems to have virtually shut down any further discussion of First Nations issues since. It wasn't until some far-right dickheads disrupted the Anzac Day Welcome to Country speech that any politicians even mentioned Aboriginal issues in the current election campaign.

But Always Was, Always Will Be begins and ends with a message of hope and optimism. It's subtitled 'the campaign for justice and recognition continues,' and it contains numerous practical ideas for allies to take the fight forward. As Mayo points out, every other step toward equality and justice has at first been met with opposition and hostility, and yet slowly the cause has crept in the right direction.

The book is less than two hundred pages, but it neatly summarises the history of First Nations peoples since colonisation, a history of oppression and pain that even in 2025, many Australians would prefer to deny or forget, or are simply ignorant about. Without this basic historical understanding, there will never be justice. Always Was, Always Will Be is engaging and simply written, without bitterness or blame, and I hope it will provide a perfect starting place for anyone who is curious about First Nations issues.

She Said

I didn't realise, when I borrowed She Said, by Jodi Kantor and Megan Twohey, that my reading it would coincide with Harvey Weinstein's rape retrial (though he will remain in jail on other charges, no matter what the result). One of the reasons for the retrial is the contention that the judge improperly allowed what's called 'propensity evidence,' in other words, evidence from other women, not plaintiffs in the case, to give evidence that Weinstein had acted in a similar way with them -- to show that he had a pattern of predatory behaviour. In a way, this cuts to the very heart of the Me Too movement, which relies on women sharing their testimony to provide a weight of corroboration that eventually becomes irrefutable.

Kantor and Twohey, the New York Times journalists who broke the Weinstein story, had to dig behind numerous non-disclosure agreements, which acted to silence many individual women and hide the truth of Weinstein's history of sexual assaults. It wasn't until a couple of brave women came forward to bear witness, facing down the threat of legal action, on-line vilification, and personal intimidation, that Weinstein was toppled.

She Said also covers the story of Christine Blasey Ford, who revealed that Supreme Court hopeful Brett Kavanaugh had sexually assaulted her in high school, and subsequently suffered the full weight of the above consequences. Kantor and Twohey end the book on a note of hope, with a gathering of the women involved in the Weinstein case comparing their experiences and bonding together; but I can't help feeling that the backlash is in full swing. In Australia, the preferred silencing tactic is defamation laws, and anyone who has followed the case of Bruce Lehman and Brittany Higgins must feel disheartened. The full weight of patriarchy still comes crashing down on any woman who dares to challenge toxic male behaviour, and with serial sex offender Trump in the White House, things are not looking any brighter.
 

The Cryptic Clue

I really enjoyed Amanda Hampson's first Tea Ladies mystery, so I was thrilled to spot this second novel, The Cryptic Clue, in a local street library (I told you I'd made some good finds lately!) Just as with Richard Osman's murder mysteries, the real joy is the cast of characters. The redoubtable tea ladies include intelligent, level-headed Hazel (who has dyslexia and can't read), flighty, soft-hearted Betty, cynical Merl and grubby Irene, who provides a lot of impetus for the plot with her shady connections, including a husband who has just died in jail.

The Cryptic Clue is set in Sydney in 1966 and features the then half-built Opera House. It's hard to remember, now that the building is the single most iconic image of the entire country, that it was highly controversial when it was first being built. Hazel befriends a Scandinavian acoustic engineer working on the project, and helping out Jørn Utzon -- who also had dyslexia, something I learned from this book.

Oddly, The Cryptic Clue and House of Many Ways both featured characters who lisped, as well as girls who didn't know how to wash dishes...

With the tea ladies' careers threatened by the new-fangled Cafébar (an Australian invention), I wonder if there will be any more sequels? Surely there will have to be a third volume at least.
 

As Fast As I Can

Full disclosure: I made friends with Penny Tangey years ago when we both attended a literary festival at a school in Queensland. She was a baby author back then, having just published her first book, Loving Richard Feynman, which I adored. I spotted As Fast As I Can in a street library -- I've had a few good finds lately!

As Fast As I Can was published in 2020 and it won both the Readings Prize and the Queensland Literary Award, and rightly so, because it's terrific. Ten year old Vivian wants to go to the Olympics. After trying and failing at several different sports, she discovers that she is actually a talented long distance runner. But when her mum is diagnosed with a genetic heart condition, it might mean the end of Vivian's Olympic dream.

As Fast As I Can is filled with Tangey's droll humour, perfectly pitched to a young audience, but as all the best kids' books are, thoroughly engaging and funny for an adult reader, too. Vivian's story is a poignant one but it's never sentimental, and there is plenty in here about changing friendships, healthy choices and family relationships, as well as hopes and dreams. Even though I've never been a runner or indeed sporty in any way, I really loved it.
 

House of Many Ways

I'm supposed to be not buying books this year (I have a pile of books TBR a mile high as well as my multiple library memberships), but I couldn't resist adding this to the cart when I was buying a different book for my daughter (yeah, I know, any excuse). I hadn't read this particular Diana Wynne Jones title before. House of Many Ways is a sort of sequel to Howl's Moving Castle, though it centres on a very relatable character called Charmain, who would rather curl up with a book than do anything else.

It's so much fun to curl up with a Diana Wynne Jones book and allow her to pelt you with all sorts of weird and wonderful stuff -- purple insectoid lubbocks, houses in multiple dimensions, a shabby and bookish royal family, a sweet little dog, a missing and mysterious 'Elfgift', delicious cakes -- and relax in the knowledge that they will all be woven together into a satisfying and logical plot with not a word out of place.

I raced through this story and enjoyed every minute, especially the parts where Charmain is working with the King to sift through the ancient royal archives to figure out where all their money has gone. And it was lovely to see Sophie and Calcifer again, though Howl appears in a very (intentionally) irritating disguise as an annoyingly cloying toddler called Twinkle, rather than his usual dashing self.

There It is Again

I picked up this 2018 collection of Don Watson's writing, There It Is Again, from an op shop about a year ago and finally got around to reading it. I am a huge admirer of Watson's writing and his politics, but it wasn't until I opened the collection that I realised that I had probably read most of these pieces before. Many of these essays first appeared in The Monthly, to which I have subscribed for many years and which probably turned me into a Don Watson fan in the first place (or maybe not, I loved Recollections of a Bleeding Heart way back in 2002 when it was first published, while The Monthly only started in 2005).

Don Watson is a wonderful writer and he writes with extraordinary vividness and insight about current affairs. The downside of focusing on this subject matter is that the political pieces date quite quickly; do I really want to read about Tony Abbott or John Howard now that that particular nightmare is over? Mind you, he was incredibly prescient about Australia's position as dutiful deputy to the US, and the dangers this might pose if, for example, a lunatic was elected to the White House... and we all know how that's worked out.

It's not just politics in this volume, though. There are sharp pieces about the degradation of language, a recurring bugbear of Watson's; there are book and radio reviews; there are extracts from other books of Watson's like The Bush and American Journeys. He is only 76, so I hope we can look forward to much more writing from Don Watson to come.
 

The Wedding Forecast & I'm Not Really Here

By chance, I ended up reading two contemporary Australian romances at the same time: Gary Lonesborough's YA novel, I'm Not Really Here, and former YA writer, now adult novelist, Nina Kenwood's The Wedding Forecast.

Both these books were sweet, satisfying romantic stories. In I'm Not Really Here, gay Aboriginal teenager Jonah's struggles are mainly internal doubts -- he feels fat and unattractive, he's not sure if his crush Harley returns his feelings or if he's even gay. In contrast, in The Wedding Forecast, thirty year old Anna is fresh out of an eight year relationship with Joel, when she meets hot but US-based actor Mac at a mutual friend's wedding. There's no doubt that Mac finds Anna equally attractive, but how can they build a life together when he's so far away? The obstacles here are mostly external ones.

Interestingly, given the different ages of the characters and presumably the intended audience, the amount of sexual content is about the same and at about the same level of explicitness (ie not massively explicit, but enough to make these books probably unsuitable for very young children -- not that they'd be harmed by reading either of these novels. I got most of my sex education from reading Jean Plaidy historical novels as an eight year old, so what would I know?)

I really enjoyed both these books. I had a long wait at the library for the Nina Kenwood, so I'm obviously not the only fan out there! And I'm happy that Gary Lonesborough's book has made it to the CBCA Shortlist, because we need so many more of these kinds of tender, honest stories, especially for boys.

Scattered Minds

Even though it's twenty five years old now, Gabor Maté's Scattered Minds remains a clear and compelling explanation of ADHD and a useful guide to what to do about it. I have a vested interest in this topic because my family has informally diagnosed my husband with (mild, manageable) ADHD tendencies. Maté himself and all his children have been diagnosed with ADD and he is breathtakingly honest about his own shortcomings as a parent as a result of the disorder.

Maté's thesis is that ADHD is the result of the infant brain failing to fully develop self-regulation, leading to the distractability, impulsivity and restlessness that are characteristic of the disorder (Maté doesn't like the term 'disorder.') A good portion of the book is devoted to exploring the concepts of attunement and attachment in parenting, which Maté believes lies at the root of the hyper-sensitivity and failure to develop self-regulation. This is familiar territory, thanks to our long-ago family therapist who was very keen on attachment. There doesn't have to be dramatic trauma for parent-child attachment to be insecure; there are all kinds of reasons why a parent might be unable to respond completely to their baby (depression, illness, instability in their lives).

Scattered Minds is highly readable and packed with good advice for parents of ADHD kids, and adults with ADHD who are now able to parent themselves and fill that gap that formed in childhood. Maté also includes an even-handed discussion of medication and what it can and cannot do; though he has taken medication himself and supported his children doing the same, he is no Ritalin cheerleader and advises caution before prescribing.
 

I Hope This Doesn't Find You

Next on my list of the CBCA Older Readers Notables is Ann Liang's I Hope This Doesn't Find You. Since I began this list, the official shortlist for the awards has been released, and it includes three books I've already read -- A Wreck of Seabirds, Birdy, and Comes the Night. I was disappointed that Deep Is the Fen missed out -- I wish Lili Wilkinson would get more recognition from awards committees.

I Hope This Doesn't Find You didn't make the shortlist cut, either, but my friend Cathy who is a librarian at a girls' school tells me Ann Liang's books absolutely fly off the shelves, so maybe she doesn't need any extra help! This novel centres on high-achieving, self-effacing private schoolgirl Sadie Wen, who has endured a ten year rivalry with her co-school captain, the insufferable (but weirdly hot) Julius Gong. Julius inspires such strong emotions in Sadie -- it's because they hate each other, right? Right?

I found this book a bit of a weird reading experience because, although Liang explicitly says it's set in Melbourne, it seems to float in a strange unanchored American-ish location, where there is a palm-lined beach two hours from the city, people say Mom and math, students aspire to attend Harvard and Berkeley and older brothers live in college dorms. I found this disorienting, but Cathy assures me it works for Liang's young readers. For me, the will-they, won't-they romance took a while to get going, and I was more interested in perfectionist Sadie's urge to control and solve every problem, while never admitting to any weakness in herself. Her dilemma is symbolised early in the novel when a secret cache of draft rage-emails are unwittingly sent to the whole school, and everyone learns what Sadie is really thinking.
 

Prep

It's official: my mild crush on Curtis Sittenfeld has turned into a full-blown passion. Her smash debut novel, Prep, which is surely at least semi-autobiographical, follows diffident, middle class, Mid-western student Lee as she navigates a posh East Coast boarding school. I never wanted this novel to end. I was totally absorbed in Lee's agonising social awkwardness, her desperate attempts to fit in. As someone tells her towards the end of the book, 'You should have realised you're not that weird, or that being weird is not that bad.' (I'm paraphrasing.)  

Lee's experience at boarding school reminded me of my own life at residential college. At one point, Lee begins cutting people's hair; it gives her a social role, a confidence, an identity. That reminded me of the way I used to tell fortunes for my fellow students with tarot cards. The section where Lee faces expulsion from the school because she's failing pre-calcuus was viscerally distressing (mind you, I can't see how she could go from utter bafflement to a B or C the next year without ever actually understanding what she'd missed). The stakes are very low throughout -- no one's life is ever at stake -- but Lee's misery and joy are so closely observed that we feel her pain and delight in our own body.

I was fascinated to discover that Ault, the posh school in the novel, was based on Groton School in Connecticut which Sittenfeld herself attended, and which in turn featured as a filming location in the movie The Holdovers, which I watched over summer. So I can summon up some images of Lee's beautiful, traditional school surroundings. It was those images that she first fell in love with, just like I fell in love with the Oxford-style (or so I assumed) buildings of my college. Mind you, the students at my college didn't have ridiculous names like Horton, Aspeth, Gates (girls) Cross, Devin, and McGrath (boys). That's first names, not surnames, just to be clear.

Curtis Sittenfeld has just released a collection of short stories, which includes one featuring the characters from Prep. I'm in two minds about whether to read it, because I've heard mixed opinions, but I bet I won't be able to resist.

 

A Company of Swans

I recently read another novel by Eva Ibbotson, The Countess Below Stairs, so I pounced on this ex-library copy of A Company of Swans. Originally published in 1985 as an adult romance (like The Countess), it was reissued in 2013 by Macmillan Children's Books. I feel this was a... dubious... decision. Certainly from the look of this cover, and the others in the Macmillan series, the casual browser would probably take A Company of Swans to be a conventional ballet book, a suitable follow-up to Noel Streatfeild's Ballet Shoes, or Lorna Hill's Sadlers Wells series. But it's not.

A Company of Swans is a sweet, frothy romance. Young adults could definitely read it in safety, and no doubt that was what Macmillan intended. However, to my eye, it is clearly marked and packaged as a children's book: a children's book that features, as the kids say these days, 'some spice.' We have brothels, seduction, naked breasts and an instance of heartbreaking child neglect. It also has an exotic setting -- South America in 1912 -- with some potentially awkward colonialist overtones. However, overall, it's a delightful romp, with a noble hero, a kind, determined heroine, and an array of stiffly respectable adversaries whose defeat is a joy to witness.

I think I know exactly what to expect from Eva Ibbotson now, and I'm looking forward to reading more.
 

Conclave

I just realised I forgot to write about Robert Harris's novel Conclave, which I finished about a week ago! I borrowed it from my daughter and gave it back to her when I'd finished reading it, so it vanished from my various book piles -- it's out of sight, out of mind, with me. My younger daughter saw a preview of the recent film, starring Ralph Fiennes, Stanley Tucci and Isabella Rossellini, and then took me to see it because she thought I'd enjoy it, which I did.

The film is mostly faithful to the novel, which follows a straightforward timeline. There are several likely candidates for the role of new pope, but as the conclave proceeds over several days, one by one doubts arise about the integrity or suitability of each frontrunner. The outside world intrudes by means of a terrorist attack nearby; Dean Lomeli (Lawrence in the film) is racked with his own crisis of faith and dabbles in a little detective work. When the last vote is taken, everyone is happy with the final decision -- but there is one more mighty twist to come...

Conclave is a highly readable, engaging glimpse into a world that most of us know little about, with its arcane rituals, shameful secrets and strange leadership role in an increasingly secular world. It was an undemanding read (it was my daughter's 'tram book') but a very enjoyable one, even though I already knew what was going to happen!
 

Upheaval

I've read almost all of Jared Diamond's comparative history books, starting with Guns, Germs and Steel, which had a profound effect on the way I saw the world, but also Collapse, The World Until Yesterday, and The Rise and Fall of the Third Chimpanzee. In Upheaval, which was actually published in 2019, Diamond takes seven case studies of nations that have faced various crises (military coups, invasion, sudden contact with the outside world) and compares how successfully (in his view) they have handled them. Interestingly, one of his case studies is Australia, and the slowly unfolding challenge this country has faced in separating our identity from Great Britain (and re-attaching ourselves to the US instead, which is not looking like a great idea at the moment). He also examines the histories of Indonesia, Finland, Chile, Japan and Germany.

The last part of the book was most interesting, because Diamond turned his critical lens on his home country, the United States, and wondered how well his own nation might handle a crisis. Upheaval was written before the Covid pandemic (which the US handled badly), and before Trump's second presidency (though during his first). Diamond pointed to the biggest problem, in his opinion, in the US being the growing polarisation of political opinion, and the loss of the ability to compromise -- it's hard to disagree that this situation has indeed led to catastrophe, just a few years after Upheaval was published. I'm sure Diamond feels no satisfaction in seeing his predictions come to pass, but his observations were so astute that I feel a new respect for his insights on other matters, too -- even Australia.
 

Deep is the Fen

Lili Wilkinson just gets better and better. Deep is the Fen is a novel set in the same universe as A Hunger of Thorns, with magical 'mettle' (like a life force or energy) controlled by a handful of corrupt corporations. Merry's father and her best friend have been co-opted into a male only organisation called the Toadmen, whose silly bonnets and secret rituals mask a more serious and sinister power.

Deep is the Fen is a perfect combination of fantasy, fast-paced action and romance (side note: I was briefly quite cross with Lili for naming one of her characters Caraway, because I've been working on a fantasy-adjacent novel also featuring a character called Caraway -- however, her Caraway is a boy and mine is a girl -- and mine may never be published, so I guess it doesn't matter!)

The Toad magic is deeply nasty, brown, marshy and pustulent, and I enjoyed the women's power uniting to challenge it (the boys also fight). I get the same 'safe hands' feeling with Lili's work that I do with other writers I trust and admire, and I'll be very pleased if Deep is the Fen wins the recognition it deserves.