Beautiful Thing

I knew that the shortlists for APA Book Design Awards had been released, but I didn't realise until the weekend that Josh Durham had been nominated for Crow Country in the category of Best Designed Children's Fiction. Ngarra Murray drew the powerful crow on the cover, but Josh is responsible for the rest.

I reckon it's at least partly because of the crows that perch on the chapter numbers inside - clever Josh!

But I mean, come on -- isn't it just the most beautiful cover ever? (Okay, I may be slightly biased...)

Completely Sherlocked

Sherlock Holmes was my first literary crush (I'm not counting Captain Cook (who was, after all, real) and his disturbing attractive white breeches in my Ladybird book of the same name).

At first glance there's not a lot to recommend Mr Holmes as an object of desire. There's the casual drug use, the total lack of interest in women (or anyone, really), the constant smoking, the insufferable ego, the chronic untidiness - he must have been a pain in the neck as a housemate.

Ah, but the searing brilliance of his mind makes up for everything. And we all know that the cold, distant types merely present a challenge - because if they give even the slightest hint that they care, that hint is worth infinitely more than some soppy emotional type declaring their undying love and throwing roses at you. As Dr Watson says,

It was worth a wound; it was worth many wounds; to know the depth of loyalty and love which lay behind that cold mask. The clear, hard eyes were dimmed for a moment, and the firm lips were shaking. For the one and only time I caught a glimpse of a great heart as well as of a great brain. All my years of humble but single-minded service culminated in that moment of revelation.

Swoon! I shudder to think of the effect that this must have had on my later romantic life. Indeed, my first real world sort-of relationship was with a boy who bore quite the resemblance to Holmes -- super-smart, but cold and distant. Which is why it was only a sort-of relationship. But ah, the arguments were fantastic.

In recent years I've enjoyed Laurie R. King's Mary Russell books, featuring Holmes as Mary's partner in crime-solving, and later, life. But fun as these books are, somehow I could never quite accept Sherlock as a married man, demonstrating ordinary marital passion. Also he is, you know, old. And Sherlock Holmes for me is like a Time Lord; he never ages.

But now I've been seduced by Sherlock Holmes all over again. Sherlock, the new adaptation by Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, with Benedict Cumberbatch as Holmes and Martin Freeman as Watson, is as genius as Sherlock himself. I've come to this much later than everyone else, I know, and I've only seen one episode so far, but that was enough for me to fall, and fall hard. Irresistible.

16th February

2012 (aged 45)
Noticed that the producer of Outland is Andrea Denholm, who I think I went to school with in Goroka. If it's the same one. There could be millions of them. Outland reminds me of living with B in Budd St -- loving science fiction and being queer. It seems like a long time ago.
2008 (aged 41)
Evie: Alice is a genius. (pause) And I am a genius too.
2007 (aged 40)
Alice: I like the baddies best. Because sometimes I feel like I'm a baddy.
2001 (aged 34)
This time next week we will know if Sachin is Charlie or Alice. I'm sure it's Alice and Mikey is convinced it's Charlie. WE SHALL SEE.
1997 (aged 30)
Have to break it off with AS but how? J thinks I should sink the knife in immediately. B & L think arranging a short date (drink/coffee) then breaking it to him. D isn't interested. B thinks I should see him in the company of others to ease tension. C thinks I should count my blessings and not be so ungrateful and anyway he'll probably lose interest because I'm not so great!! No chance of getting a big head while she's around, that's for sure...
1996 (aged 29)
Sony classical guy raving about the latest signing: "For an unknown kid from Melbourne, events have certainly gathered an inertia all of their own in the last 18 months."
1994 (aged 27)
As G. becomes more of a loser, he gets more interesting.
1993 (aged 26)
C, looking at a picture of Andrea Dworkin: I don't think this means I'm a victim of the patriarchy or anything, but I just think people should take a bit more pride in their appearance.
1986 (aged 19)
One week till college!!!
1985 (aged 18)
Ginned to the max. Watched cricket all day. Greg Matthews got three wickets. The Ds came; joined them for dinner, drinks and deep conversation, most surprisingly, on sex.
1983 (aged 16)
Prepare a little chat on the beginnings of drama
Do a wee bit o' maths maybe p'raps
1981 (aged 14)
I am writing this, very romantically, by the glow of a candle. Actually there's a power blackout but who wants boring trivialities like that? I am a refugee in a strange land, writing a journal no-one will ever see...the heiress to the throne of our deposed country. Everyone in my family was killed, and I only just managed to escape... Ah, who would give that up for Monday morning tomorrow?
1978 (aged 11)
Goroka. We were burgaled last night. A man shone a torch in Mummy's face, and she chased him down the hall! He took beer, money, and our radio. He got in our spare room window. I'm very glad Daddy's back! Andrea lent me a book.
1977 (aged 10)
Mt Hagen. Leanne and Lyn had a fight. We wrote stories. Oh, Mary, it's a funny world! See you tomorrow.
1976 (aged 9)
Mt Hagen. First day at school. Mrs Jordan said I'm a marvoulaous girl. We played dressing up. I was a mouse.

Overheard: Two Ten-Year-Olds Talk Politics

A: It's sad about Julia Gillard.
M: Yes, it's a shame, because she was the first woman. And she's been really mean to the Greens.
A: It's such a pity when someone isn't as good as you expect.
M: Labor and Liberal are exactly the same at the moment.
A: Like tea and coffee...
M: Except tea and coffee aren't...
A: ... they're like a tea shop and a coffee shop who hate each other. Then one gets muffins, then the other gets muffins...
M: (sighs) I know what you mean.

Some Happy News

Crow Country has been shortlisted for the Adelaide Festival Awards for Literature. Yay!

The rest of the shortlists can be found here. Congratulations to everyone.

We're Ba-ack!

So, we had a holiday in Tasmania. It was brilliant. This is what we did:

Night Crossing

I take ginger pills, and no one is sick. No one sleeps, either, but that's okay, it feels like an adventure.
Best bit: Alice looks out at the night sky over Bass Strait at about 2am, totally covered in stars.

Day 1

 Stagger off the ferry at 6am. Drive to Launceston and stop at Cataract Gorge, a place of stunning beauty. Because we've arrived there so early, we have the place virtually to ourselves for two hours, and the girls splash like happy otters in the (unexpected) swimming pool.
Drive to Swansea, where we have lunch and visit their lovely little brand new museum. Drive on to Orford. Instantly go to the beach. Fabulous.
Best bit: Cataract Gorge.

Day 2

 Two visits to the beach. Play Jenga and Connect 4. Read books. Relax.
Best bit: the girls learn to body surf.

Day 3

 More beach. Evie and I sculpt a hippo out of sand. We're all sunburnt in different places, but we don't care. The weather is perfect, hot enough for swimming but not uncomfortable.
Best bit: trying to boogie board in the shallow, but quite fierce, waves.

Day 4

Say goodbye to Orford. Evie cries when we discover that yesterday's hippo has been washed away. We drive to Richmond, admire the cottages and the pretty bridge with ducks, and eat lunch there. Visit a nearby zoo where you can feed the animals from the back of a truck. Hands pecked by emus. Then on to Hobart. Our hotel has a swimming pool, and the girls have a long swim. Fish and chips with gravy for dinner! Amazing sunset.
Best bit: the cute marmosets at the zoo.

Day 5

 The girls spend the morning in the swimming pool (their swimming has improved out of sight). We explore Salamanca, and visit the Tasmanian Museum, and the Hobart Maritime Museum, which Mikey adores.
Best bit: we find some art we like and buy it.

Day 6

Port Arthur. The weather is perfect, the scenery stunning, the ruins impressive, the atmosphere melancholy. Last time I was here was two weeks before the shooting, which is hard to forget.
Best bit: the roofless church. I wish all churches were like this, open to the heavens.

Day 7

(Photo: Daniel Bowen, because we forgot to take any)
It's Saturday, so we dive into Salamanca Market. Best Market Ever. The girls happily spend their holiday money. Walk to Battery Point and stumble across the house that was on Who's Been Sleeping In My House? In the afternoon, have a lovely catch-up with an old friend who I haven't seen for about fifteen years, and his partner, who now live just outside Hobart.
Best bit: seafood dinner extravaganza!

Day 8

MONA!
OMG, MONA. You have to go. You just have to. It is extraordinary. Mikey thought the girls might last an hour. Four hours later, we emerge, blinking and shellshocked, into the sunshine. Just - wow.
Drive to Devonport. The drive is lovely. But let us, in all charity, draw a veil over Devonport.
Best bit: a waterfall that makes words out of droplets of water

Day 9
Day crossing. It rains. It's a bit rough. It's the first day the weather hasn't been perfect. Alice throws up before the boat leaves the harbour (though after this, admittedly, she is completely fine). I feel queasy for nine and a half hours. The girls play happily in the cabin, making cubbies, and constructing pirate ships out of biscuit boxes, totally shunning all the shipboard activities provided.
Best bit: I fall asleep for a bit. Coming home.

Abundance of Everything

This summer, with all the rain, our garden has burst into life again. Trees are thrusting out crowds of leaves, creepers shoot out tendrils, weeds sprout overnight, grass swarms up between the bricks, flowers erupt.

There are flocks of birds, chattering in the flowering gums, spattering my nice clean washing with their poo, swooping between the trees and sometimes smashing into our big window - blackbirds, wattle birds, rainbow lorikeets. In the evenings, swarms of mosquitoes lie in wait to ambush innocent ankles. Beetles, flies, slaters, mantises, snails are all more visible than in previous years.

And then there are the spiders.

Alice is terrified of spiders. And this year, they are EVERYWHERE. Some days it seems that every ceiling corner has its own resident daddy-long-legs. Tiny jumping spiders appear from nowhere. I've found a red-back inside a watering-can. Overnight, webs spring up inside shoes and across doorways; they drape themselves over picture frames. I have to carry out a nightly spider check before Alice can turn off her bedroom light. We're not even supposed to use the word 'spider' -- for some reason, she prefers the term 'black snake,' though personally, I know which I'd rather find inside my gumboot.

But I'm not complaining. After the last few parched years, it's lovely to be surrounded by all this eager, pulsating life. Even the black snakes are welcome.

6th January

2012 (aged 45)
Michael's gone to the gym,  the girls to the studio with the-other-Evie's mum. First time I've had the house to myself since school broke up. So what am I going to do? Blog, of course! And listen to the cricket on the radio.
2009 (aged 42)
Alice, at the beach, asks to be buried. Evie: Do you want to go to heaven?
2008 (aged 41)
I ask Alice the 'On the Spot' questions in the Saturday paper.
Guilty pleasure? Splashing in the bath.
Last time you were scared? When there was that big spider in the kitchen. I was shaking.
Happiest moment? When Evie was born, giving Evie her first cuddle. (thinks) Well, that might not be my absolute happiest. But I was happy.
2006 (aged 39)
2005: The year I learned to drive. The year I wrote 'Taste of Lightning.' The year '10th Power' was published.
2001 (aged 34)
2000: WHAT A MASSIVE YEAR!! The year we bought our beautiful little house and moved to Thornbury. The year I got pregnant. Isn't that enough? The year Y2K didn't happen. The year I was on Sale of the Century. The year of Tremaris. The year we changed from JJJ to 3LO. And this year: BABY YEAR...
1997 (aged 30)
Woke up in fantastic mood. Set up a date with A (3pm today). Called the agents (they haven't read it yet). Woke up to Kate Bush on the radio - 'I just know that something good is going to happen...'
1996 (aged 29)
1995: The year I left Warner and went to Sony. The year L got pregnant. The year C went overseas. The year I went to the Film Festival alone. The year of enormous phone bills.
1993 (aged 26)
Resolutions: swim every day (or as often as poss); complete a piece of work every month
1992 (aged 25)
Edinburgh Read 2 articles in Melody Maker - one about the Sugarcubes - grabbing life by the throat, doing crazy things every minute of the day etc; and the other about Ned's Atomic Dustbin touring and getting sick and feeling insane and disconnected and wanting to go home & get a grip on who they were. So sad, because I want to be like a Sugarcube, but I'm really a Ned at heart...
1991 (aged 24)
Sitting at home recovering after being knocked off my bike on Friday afternoon. Bruised and grazed all over but nothing broken. Feeling very sorry for myself.
1988 (aged 21)
Paris Set off to the Gare du Austerlitz so S could allay her fears about the Swiss train. Bought 2 hunks of cheese and 2 bloody great baguettes which got in the way like you wouldn't believe until we ate them... Jardin des Plantes, Left Bank book stalls, Sainte-Chapelle, Eiffel Tower, Sorbonne... Getting tired by now so back to hostel on the Metro.
1987 (aged 20)
Ten days since I last wrote, can't remember a THING. Gave S fish and chips for tea. Took down Chrissie cards.
1986 (aged 19)
Slept vr badly. Breakfast of potato salad and Tim Tams with B & D. Missing P. Why doesn't he ring me?? bastard bastard bastard
1981 (aged 14)
I am at present at loggerheads with Mum. She has finally realised how bloody selfishly lazy I am.
1978 (aged 11)
This morning we went to the dentist. He pulled out my loose tooth and it hurt. There was a horrid man there. Then we went to the Powells. (AFTER LUNCH) Lisette and I drew a huge picture of Nash. (A COUNTRY IN MY HEAD) It looks good. We went to the Pioneer Club and saw some television programs. They were mostly awful.

2011: A Year of Reading

I read 107 books this year. What's that, about two books a week? That sounds about right. Of course, many of them were rather short. I can whip through an Antonia Forest or a KM Peyton in less than a day. (I'm not counting books read aloud to my children, because I don't keep a record of those, though perhaps I should.)

The gender breakdown was about what I'd have expected, roughly two thirds books written by women, and one third written by men. It's skewed because I read a lot of kids and young adult novels, most of which are written by women. Also skewed because the authors I 'discovered' this last year and read everything I could get my hands on, were all women.
Total titles by women: 74. Titles by men: 35.*

I read 38 books by Australian authors, and 69 by overseas authors. Hm, I might need to read a few more Aussie books next this year. Though actually I don't think that balance is too bad, considering how many books are pumped out of the US and UK. Sadly, I don't think I read a single book that wasn't originally written in English. Now that's something to work on.

I read 44 books written for adults, and 63 children's/YA books, of which twenty were read for book group. So if I took those out, the balance is about even. Considering how much shorter kids books generally are than adult books, I'm quite impressed I did so much adult reading!

I read 71 fiction titles, and 36 non-fiction. That's a lot more non-fiction than I expected. Also, nearly all my 'adult' books turn out to have been non-fiction. Hm. Perhaps not surprising, since I find a lot of adult fiction tedious in the extreme. But since I was pleasantly surprised by some adult fiction I read late in the year (Olive Kitteridge, In This House of Brede) maybe I need to persevere.

Authors 'discovered' in 2011: Rumer Godden, KM Peyton, Cynthia Voight
Favourite book: Wolf Hall, Hilary Mantel (adult fiction, so there you go)
Least favourite book: The Water Babies, Charles Kingsley (I can say that cos he's dead. Also the only book read on an electronic device. Not that that proves anything, of course.)

Biggest surprise: Open by Andre Agassi. It was absolutely gripping. And I don't even like tennis.
Biggest disappointment: I'd rather not say... but I'll tell you if you ask me! And millions of other people love it to death, so it must be just me that the magic didn't work on.

* Two books were co-authored by one man and one woman, which is why the figures don't add up.

Love like Nun Other

I bought myself Rumer Godden's In This House of Brede for Christmas. I had thought Rumer Godden was a recent discovery, but now I realise I had read this book at school, and I think probably Black Narcissus as well, without remembering that they were written by Godden.

In This House of Brede is the kind of book you wish you could live inside forever. It's so rich, so wise and so fascinating - and it's about nuns! On one level, it's the story of Philippa Talbot, a successful 40-something civil servant, who turns her back on her old life to enter the abbey; and it's the story of several years in the life of the community, the incidents and accidents, the disasters and blessings that visit them.

But In This House of Brede is also an unflinching examination of community life. The ninety-six women of the abbey are all very different personalities, with different backgrounds, and they are far from perfect. They remain people - striving for holiness, working hard to help each other, but flawed, rubbing each other up the wrong way, irritating, sometimes clashing outright. Rumer Godden captures the pinpricks and rewards of life in a community where there is no escape from your companions. Dame Beatrice is sentimental, Dame Agnes sharp-tongued. Abbess Catherine is strong, but weighed down with the burdens of her office as leader. Sister Hilary is slapdash, Sister Cecily perhaps too joyous, too sure of her vocation? Dame Veronica is weak, Dame Maura rather frightening. The characters are vividly drawn, their struggles very real.

And perhaps most importantly, the book draws us into the spiritual life of the abbey - the whole purpose of the nuns' lives. They are an enclosed order, separated from the world for their work of prayer, study and song. To a non-religious person, there is something slightly surreal about the notion of all these women dedicating themselves to an endless cycle of prayer and praise, hidden away from the rest of the world. It could be argued that it's a criminal waste of their talents and energy to spend all those years sending up one-way messages to their imaginary friend... And I'm very sure that an abbey like Brede would struggle, these days, to attract several new postulants a year, as they do in the book.

And yet reading this lovely, passionate account of religious life, it's impossible not to be moved by the nuns' dedication, the rigour and the beauty of the life they've chosen. I can't help feeling that the wisdom and the peace that they earn, their work of prayer and music, does have value, even if it's difficult for a modern agnostic to understand.

Even, perhaps, if there is no God.

After School

Mum, I'm hungry.
Mum, I'm hungry.
Mum, can I have some more onion rings?
Mum, can you put this back in the fridge?
Mum, I'm hungry. Can I have an icy pole? Can you help me pull it up?
Mum, can I try that pure sugar thing [halva] again?
Mum, can I have some more onion rings? Can I have my icy pole back then?
Mum, can I have a jelly? Can you open it for me?
Can you play - can you read to me outside?
Can I have a chocolate digestive?
Can I watch You Tube on the lappy? How do you spell You Tube? How do you spell Horrible Histories?
Mummy, can you push me on the swing?
Mum, Evie's not going away!
Mummy, can you read-y?
Can you push me on the swing?
Can you peel and cut up this apple for me?
Can you tell Alice to stop watching the internet, cos it uses up too much bandwidth?
Can I have some Stingose?
Can I have some of that sugar stuff?
Can I make the lasagne? Can I make it the way I want it, not how you want it?
Can you pass me the fish oil tablets?
Can I please have some lemon cordial?
Can I have some more lasagne?
Can you push me?
What's for dessert?

Can I build a zoo?

From Argentina, With Love

I received a lovely email last week from Noel in Argentina:

I'm writing to you today to tell you that I had always wanted to plot out a Map of Tremaris to hang on my wall, so finally after some time I decided to go on with the idea. My mother and brother helped me out so it ended up being a family activity we all really enjoyed.

The image I'm attaching in this e-mail is the finished version. It's done on fabric and the actual size is about 100 cm x 160 cm.

How cool is that? I wish I had one, too!

I'm sure Beth Norling, who did the original artwork, would be proud.

Ssh... Don't Tell Anyone, But...

Alice is reading a book.

I almost don't want to talk about it in case I put the mozz on it, but... She has been reading in bed every night for the last week or so, a chapter or two at a time. It's our old favourite, The 101 Dalmations, which I have read to the girls three or four times, so it is quite familiar. She says the words aren't jumping around as much as they used to; also that the old, yellowed paper makes reading easier, because the contrast between the white space and the print is less.

Last night she had a choice between staying up to watch TV, and going to bed and reading, and she went to bed with her book. Of course, being Alice, she won't tolerate any hint of coercion. I can't tell her to go to bed and read; I can't talk about it to other people (so keep it under your hat, and please don't tell her I told you!) But at ten and a half, maybe we're turning a corner. Maybe.

All I have ever wanted for Alice is that she might be able to partake in the enormous pleasure of curling up with a book, and it has broken my heart that she hasn't been able to do that. Cross fingers - it might be here at last. The sight of her sitting in bed, absorbed in her book, makes my heart flutter with joy. And now all I can think about is, what can I give her next?

 

Five Jobs I Quite Enjoy

1) Hanging out the washing.
2) Wrapping Christmas presents.
3) Ironing; it just takes me a while to get started...
4) Vacuuming.
5) Proof reading.

Five Jobs I Loathe
1) Shopping for Christmas presents.
2) Dusting.
3) Making school lunches.
4) Weeding the garden.
5) Cleaning gobbets of hair and slime out of the bathroom basin.

Your favourite, and least favourite, household tasks?

2nd December

2011 (age 45)
Whole family sitting around this morning when they're supposed to be getting ready for work and school, watching 'Ra Ra Cleopatra' from Horrible Histories. We are all unwell to varying degrees, so the room resounds with coughs, sneezes and sniffles. Lovely.
2007 (age 41)
Alice: Henry and I are going to rob a bank. And it's okay, because Henry did some research and you can't go to jail until you're ten.
Evie: I'm sad. Sad plus cross. And that makes GRUMPY.
2006 (age 40)
Evie (pushing Alice off Mum's lap): Is NOT two people, is ONE people! You sit on a chair! Is ONE people! (tears)
2004 (age 38)
Mum: Don't you like kisses any more? Alice: I do sometimes but sometimes is not today. I want a different mummy and daddy who are nice. (stab me in the heart, why don't you)
2001 (age 35)
Alice rolls over and back again for the first time; very pleased with herself. Try to get her to stay up and watch educational TV about Henry VIII but she's poking her eyes out with tiredness.
2000 (age 34)
Nausea seems to be getting stronger. Threw up on Wednesday and almost did last night at the cooking smells. Bloody baby, you'd think it would want food!
1997 (age 31)
Went to kd lang with Tays, he cooked me dinner first. On the way home he said, 'Strictly for convenience, it would have been better to stay at my house,' to which I replied, 'Yes, but can you be trusted?' & he said, 'No.' Of course I was tormented all night by thoughts of what might have been, but never mind, never mind...
1996 (age 30)
Finished 'Whole of the Moon' today. Severely depressed about it... Nothing happens, it's not even interestingly written. It just goes on and on in its tedious fashion, I felt like shouting WHO CARES??? when I was reading it through today.
1992 (age 26)
The Naked Tarot
1991 (age 25)
Vienna. C and I got U-bahn to meet Mum and Dad at Franz-Joseph station - late, because our map is totally stuffed... Walked for miles and finally got into our gallery (for free) - why? Because none of the bloody paintings we wanted to see were there! Cranky. C tried to post letters and had much trouble.
1989 (age 23)
Here, in my windy garret, my little flat, my wuthering heights whose windows won't stay open, my Alcatraz in the gum trees, here I can watch the sky. I never get tired of the sky.
1987 (age 21)
Landed at Gatwick at about 7.30am. Cold, damp, foggy, green. D & I took the bus to London. Lugged our stuff from Victoria coach station past a bomb scare, Buckingham Palace, down the Mall to Nelson's Column. A flock of pigeons flew directly at us, worse than the 'The Birds'! Tried to find Youth Hostel nearby but it didn't existed... Jet lag finally hit, too tired even for shower though disgustingly dirty and smelly. 
1986 (age 20)
Still feeling miserable and funny. Did domestic things. Went to meet D at the supermarket but because the arrangement was so vague, he didn't come. Ironed B's shirts and felt motherly. C came over and cheered me up. 'Age' employment tomorrow.
1985 (age 19)
Lazy day. Had another driving lesson. Can do handbrake starts. Improving. Rang J. Bed at 1am.
1978 (age 12)
Mummy went to the dentist's. In the afternoon, K & E invited us over to swim in their pool. Mr V threw me in. K was mean to Hilly.
1977 (age 11)
I did all this week's work, and all my Tutors and Graphs. We had Clean-Up, and redecorated. I'm glad it's Friday. Weather: Gurias!!!*

*earth tremors