Lisa Walker's Blog, page 11

Hanging on for the knicker sale – ‘The Fine Colour of Rust’ by PA O’Reilly

‘The Fine Colour of Rust’ is a departure from literary fiction for Paddy O’Reilly, who has previously written a novel and a short story collection. Hence she is writing as P.A., rather than Paddy.

The book is the story of Loretta Boskovic, who lives in Gunapan, a dusty town in north-west Victoria. Loretta describes herself as an ‘old scrag standing with her hands on her hips, pursing her thin lips, squinting into the sun. You could make a statue of that. It would look like half the women in this town.’

Gunapan is full of single mothers. As Loretta says; ‘It’s been so long for most of the single mothers in this town we’ve forgotten what it was that husbands do to make us mothers in the first place.’  Loretta fantasises about leaving her children in an orphanage and riding off into the sunset with a man on a Harley. The highlight of her year is the annual K-mart underwear sale in nearby Halstead. This is a finely judged affair as ‘the elastic only lasts ten to eleven months, which makes these last few weeks before the sale pretty dicey.’

‘The Fine Colour of Rust’ reads a little like a TV series, there are episodes rather than plot. The prodigal son returns after doing time in jail, the local councillor is a dodgy operator, a refugee family from ‘Bosnia Herzegobble’ appears, creating conflict in the community.

There are also a host of charming, idiosyncratic characters. Loretta’s closest friend is Norm, who runs the local junkyard. The new mechanic, Merv Bull, a single and passably attractive man is flooded by business as women desert the old eighty year old mechanic in search of a ‘tune up’.  Loretta’s two kids and her family in Melbourne add to the drama. One of Loretta’s former babysitters returns to the town to set up business as a witch.

This is my sixth review for the Australian Women Writers Challenge. I’ve got a feeling I said I’d only do six, but what the hell, I’m going on!

 

A woman with strong sense of injustice, Loretta tries to rally the town behind her to save the school, which is slated for closure. This leads to one of the funniest scenes in the book, when the Minister for Education comes to town. Treated to a butchering demonstration, he is left shocked and ‘festooned with a morsel of raw steak glued to his upper lip.’

I enjoyed the Australian character and light-hearted appeal of this book. If you liked ‘The Castle’ you’ll love Loretta.

Book Review: A Most Immoral Woman By: Linda Jaivan

Linda Jaivan is best known (by me, anyway) for her erotic comedy. Since reading Eat Me in the mid-nineties, I get a tingle every time I go into the supermarket fruit section. Those who associate Jaivan with raunch may not know that she is also a serious scholar of all things Chinese. A Most Immoral Woman brings together her two diverse talents.

This well researched story is set in the ‘floating world’ of foreigners in China in the early 1900s and based on real people and events. It gives an insight into a part of history I knew little about – the war between Japan and Russia for control of Manchuria. And then, of course, there’s the sex…

Jaivan tells the story from the point of view of the Australian war journalist, ‘Morrison of Peking’. The ‘most immoral woman’ in question is Mae Perkins, an American heiress. Maisie, as Morrison calls her, is a free spirit who takes and discards men as she pleases. Morrison battles to resist Mae’s charms, but even her frank admission that she spreads her favours widely can’t quench his ardour. Maisie boasts that the Captain of her ship kissed her all the way fromHonolulutoPeking. In telling Morrison this, she sets him a challenge; ‘kiss’ being a euphemism for her favourite form of pleasure…

Written in overblown prose which mirrors that of the period, the book offers up a myriad of sights, sounds and smells. ‘Shanghai, with its steamy, moist exhalations, was yin. A woman, and a loose one at that. Anyone could have her.’

Morrison was a trifle dull as a character, but perhaps that was true to his nature. The exuberant Maisie was much more fun. And she alone questioned her society’s focus on sexual morality, while the ethics of a war in which so many died went un-noted.

While erotica and history is a not uncommon mix, Linda Jaivan gives it her own stamp. So is it naughty? Yes, but far from the graphic detail of Eat Me. I found A Most Immoral Woman to be a witty and sexy romp through history.

This is my fifth review for the Australian Women Writers Challenge.

Book Review: Fall Girl by Toni Jordan

What's not to love about a good romantic comedy? You know that the girl's going to get the guy and there'll be some laughs along the way. Toni Jordan has positioned herself as the thinking woman's rom com author of choice. Her first novel, Addition, was a best seller and Fall Girl is a worthy follow up.

The plot centres on Della Gilmore, part of a family of con-artists, as she attempts to pull off the biggest con of her life. Her 'mark' is Daniel Metcalf, a millionaire with a penchant for the Tasmanian Tiger. Enter Doctor Ella Canfield, evolutionary biologist. Boy, has she got a proposition for him.

Della is a loveable character who carries the story. Her supporting cast of con artists are also fun as they pretend to be PhD students in biology. I found Daniel Metcalf a little undefined but I was enjoying Della and her gang so much I didn't really care.

Della's masquerade as a field hardened researcher is hilarious. Take this dialogue, when faced with a river in need of crossing. 'This is a minor problem. When I was at Harvard researching I walked all day to a skunk research site, then I had to wade a raging river carrying my tent over my head. Alone. In the dark. If I remember right, it was raining. That was fairly hard.'

The plot unfolds with twists and turns as Della suspects that Daniel, too, is not who he seems to be. Her growing interest in Daniel is nicely drawn. 'I watch the way his shoulders tense and flex through his shirt… It is somewhat compelling, the sight of him, merely because this part of the trail is boring and there is nothing else to look at but trees trees trees.' The reader's expectations are playfully subverted; 'I catch a glimpse of Daniel's face and am not surprised to see desire etched there. He's also looking at the water.'

Jordan's writing is fresh and original. It is also very, very sexy. In fact her sex scenes are some of the best I've read.  I was tempted to quote from one, but this being a family blog… In short, if you want a light, humorous read that won't insult your intelligence, Fall Girl is for you.

'Fall Girl' is the fourth of my book reviews for the Australia Women Writers Challenge. 

I will be on a panel at the Gloucester Writers Festival on the 6th of May with another Lisa, Lisa Heidke. The topic we're discussing is… 'Chick lit is not Dumb lit'. Indeed! Love to see you there if you're in the vicinity. 

Book Review: The Freudian Slip by Marion Von Adlerstein

Marion Von Adlerstein is the author of two other books on shopping and etiquette. The Freudian Slip is her first novel. It draws upon her own experience in a territory familiar to viewers of Mad Men – an advertising agency in the early sixties.

Set in Sydney, the novel revolves around three women. Desi is a television producer, Bea a copywriter and Stella, an ambitious 'want to be' from the wrong side of the tracks. Stella's efforts to establish herself as part of the creative team at the agency generate most of the plot momentum.

While Stella has boundless energy and willpower, originality is not her strong point. Elevated from typist to copywriter, she soon learns that the package rules over the product – a message she apples to updating her look. Her outdated fifties beehive hairdo and princess-line dress make way for the a-la-mode look of the sixties. 'Which persona to adopt? … an impersonation of Jeanne Moreau would be unsuitable. Jean Shrimpton? She no longer found that role model exciting. Then she remembered Audrey Hepburn…'

As with Mad Men, the role of women in the agency made me a little uncomfortable, but no doubt it was true to the time. Women are regularly described in terms of their vital statistics. Men are predatory and blatantly sexist. The agency's male executives enjoy long boozy lunches while the women hold the fort. The social mores of the time regarding sex make interesting reading. A divorced woman is 'spoilt goods' and an affair with a married man is headline grabbing social death.

I enjoyed the period details of clothing and food which Von Adlerstein obviously remembers well. 'Onion dip, devilled eggs and stuffed tomatoes were ready before the first guests were due. Swedish meatballs and cocktail frankfurts were standing by to be re-heated. A dozen bottles of sparkling Barossa Pearl sat among ice in a large tub…' The brainstorming around the ad campaigns was also fun. The Freudian Slip of the title is a daring label for a new line of underwear.

The novel had a fast pace and enough intrigue to keep me turning the pages. The characters' career and relationship dilemmas provide plenty of action. Von Adlerstein's copywriting background shows up in the easy to read prose. This is a lively and entertaining book for those in the mood for a light-hearted romp.

This is my third review for the Australian Women Writers Challenge.

I’m sorry, Madam, but your novel is picaresque

A few months ago I received a rather long report from my publisher in regard to my next novel. I can now share with you that it will be called ‘Sex, Lies and Bonsais’. Probably. Titles are funny things, but that’s another story…

The length of the report was scary enough, but there was one section in particular that had me worried. ‘Your novel is picaresque.’

Picaresque! Oh no. I must have looked like that painting ‘The Scream’ by Munch. It can’t be. Please tell me it isn’t true. Eventually I calmed down enough to Google the word. Here is what I found.

‘of or relating to an episodic style of fiction dealing with the adventures of a rough and dishonest but appealing hero. Usually satirical.’

    I’d never thought of my heroine as being like that. Appealing, yes (hopefully), but rough and dishonest, no. Well, maybe just a little. I Googled more and found examples such as Don Quixote and Huckleberry Finn described as picaresque. At least I was in good company.

As I looked into it further, I realised that a lot of chick-lit could actually be described as picaresque. Rather than following a traditional three act – beginning, middle and end structure, it relies on the charm of the    protagonist to carry the reader through their rough and tumble life. Bridget Jones’s Diary is a classic example.

It’s funny how once your mind is open to a word it starts appearing everywhere. Almost every novelist I read now seems to be described as picaresque.

Who have you heard described as picaresque lately?

 

If you would like to learn more about picaresque fiction (among other things) I am running a workshop called ‘Beyond Sex and Shopping: Writing fiction that sells’ this Saturday – the 17th of March in Byron Bay. Contact the Northern Rivers Writers Centre.

I'm sorry, Madam, but your novel is picaresque

A few months ago I received a rather long report from my publisher in regard to my next novel. I can now share with you that it will be called 'Sex, Lies and Bonsais'. Probably. Titles are funny things, but that's another story…

The length of the report was scary enough, but there was one section in particular that had me worried. 'Your novel is picaresque.'

Picaresque! Oh no. I must have looked like that painting 'The Scream' by Munch. It can't be. Please tell me it isn't true. Eventually I calmed down enough to Google the word. Here is what I found.

'of or relating to an episodic style of fiction dealing with the adventures of a rough and dishonest but appealing hero. Usually satirical.'

    I'd never thought of my heroine as being like that. Appealing, yes (hopefully), but rough and dishonest, no. Well, maybe just a little. I Googled more and found examples such as Don Quixote and Huckleberry Finn described as picaresque. At least I was in good company.

As I looked into it further, I realised that a lot of chick-lit could actually be described as picaresque. Rather than following a traditional three act – beginning, middle and end structure, it relies on the charm of the    protagonist to carry the reader through their rough and tumble life. Bridget Jones's Diary is a classic example.

It's funny how once your mind is open to a word it starts appearing everywhere. Almost every novelist I read now seems to be described as picaresque.

Who have you heard described as picaresque lately?

 

If you would like to learn more about picaresque fiction (among other things) I am running a workshop called 'Beyond Sex and Shopping: Writing fiction that sells' this Saturday – the 17th of March in Byron Bay. Contact the Northern Rivers Writers Centre.

Book Review: ‘A Common Loss’ by Kirsten Tranter A Common Loss By: Kirsten Tranter

A Common Loss is Australian author, Kirsten Tranter’s second novel. Her first, The Legacy, was an assured, fresh retelling of Henry James’s Portrait of a Lady.

A Common Loss tells the story of five friends who meet at university and keep in touch over the next ten years. Following the death of one of their number, Dylan, the friends re-group for their annual visit to Las Vegas.

The story starts with the narrator, Elliot, remembering a car accident the five had together. The driver, Cameron, swerves to avoid a deer and they crash. Cameron has been drinking, so Dylan claims to be the driver. As the years go by, whenever Elliot remembers the crash, it is Dylan who he sees at the wheel. This trick of the memory becomes a motif for the story.

Elliot, a professor of literature, sees himself as a bit of an outsider in the group. With Dylan, who Elliot idealised, removed, tensions rise and relationships buckle under strain. Elliot discovers that not all of his friends viewed Dylan the same way he did. Dylan’s death sets events in train where each friend is forced to reveal long-hidden secrets.

The first part of the book seems a little slow, as Elliott comes to terms with Dylan’s death. Passages of introspection set the scene; ‘I felt strangely paralysed in that way that you feel in dreams sometimes, wanting to move and yet unable to take a step. Was this another symptom of grief, I wondered, catalogued and tagged somewhere?’

However, once the friends gather in Vegas it gets on quite a roll.  I enjoyed the observations on Vegas – how it all seemed like a stage set, changing rapidly from glitter and glitz to ‘desperation and emptiness’. ‘Backstage should be hidden with a curtain or a door from the audience, surely; it shouldn’t be so – well, just so easy to see all the crap and falling-apart stuff out the back,’ Elliot observes.

Essentially a psychological suspense novel, the narrative drive comes from waiting to see how the friendships will react to pressure. Tranter’s writing is clever and insightful. She digs deep into the undercurrents of friendship, guilt and shame. An enjoyable and thought-provoking read.

This is my second review for the Australian Women Writers Challenge. 

Book Review: 'A Common Loss' by Kirsten Tranter A Common Loss By: Kirsten Tranter

A Common Loss is Australian author, Kirsten Tranter's second novel. Her first, The Legacy, was an assured, fresh retelling of Henry James's Portrait of a Lady.

A Common Loss tells the story of five friends who meet at university and keep in touch over the next ten years. Following the death of one of their number, Dylan, the friends re-group for their annual visit to Las Vegas.

The story starts with the narrator, Elliot, remembering a car accident the five had together. The driver, Cameron, swerves to avoid a deer and they crash. Cameron has been drinking, so Dylan claims to be the driver. As the years go by, whenever Elliot remembers the crash, it is Dylan who he sees at the wheel. This trick of the memory becomes a motif for the story.

Elliot, a professor of literature, sees himself as a bit of an outsider in the group. With Dylan, who Elliot idealised, removed, tensions rise and relationships buckle under strain. Elliot discovers that not all of his friends viewed Dylan the same way he did. Dylan's death sets events in train where each friend is forced to reveal long-hidden secrets.

The first part of the book seems a little slow, as Elliott comes to terms with Dylan's death. Passages of introspection set the scene; 'I felt strangely paralysed in that way that you feel in dreams sometimes, wanting to move and yet unable to take a step. Was this another symptom of grief, I wondered, catalogued and tagged somewhere?'

However, once the friends gather in Vegas it gets on quite a roll.  I enjoyed the observations on Vegas – how it all seemed like a stage set, changing rapidly from glitter and glitz to 'desperation and emptiness'. 'Backstage should be hidden with a curtain or a door from the audience, surely; it shouldn't be so – well, just so easy to see all the crap and falling-apart stuff out the back,' Elliot observes.

Essentially a psychological suspense novel, the narrative drive comes from waiting to see how the friendships will react to pressure. Tranter's writing is clever and insightful. She digs deep into the undercurrents of friendship, guilt and shame. An enjoyable and thought-provoking read.

This is my second review for the Australian Women Writers Challenge. 

Finding my Mojo (and other serendipitous events)

I think every writer has them – moments when life imitates art in a way which raises hairs on the back of your neck. Coincidences multiply until you start to feel that the act of writing is almost magical – a prediction of events to come.

I have been struggling away for over a year now, on a novel about a woman who loses her mojo. I feel like it has been the hardest of my novels to write (I have written five previously), but perhaps I always feel like that. Perhaps the act of finishing a novel is like childbirth and you instantly forget the pain that came before.

Yesterday, to clear my head, I went down to the beach for a swim. I threw down my bag and noticed next to it an abandoned dog collar. The tag on the collar read – you guessed it – mojo. I FOUND MY MOJO. Perhaps I have been on the north coast too long, but I find this, like, totally amazing.

This is not the first time I have had this type of rather woo woo experience. Another scene in this novel requires my mojo-less heroine to visit the Big Redback in Brisbane. I wrote this scene before I went there, adding a garden gnome, which I described in some detail, to serve the needs of the story.

I got to the Big Redback, had a bit of a look around, and was just about to drive off when I saw it – hiding shyly among the ferns – the gnome just as I had already described it.

And wait, there's more! Those of you who have read Liar Bird – check out this link. If you haven't, hold off so you don't spoil the story.

Have you had any similar bizarre cases of life imitating art?

 

I am running a workshop called 'Beyond Sex and Shopping: Writing fiction that sells' on the 17th of March in Byron Bay. If you are interested, contact the Northern Rivers Writers Centre.

Ice-fishing, anyone?

We have it easy in Australia, not having to deal with snow. Here in Hokkaido, just functioning in any normal way requires daily snow shovelling. Kids learn this early. Pass any local pre-school and they are busy digging with their snow shovels. One day, if they show promise, this can lead to any number of job opportunities.

Out of the many varieties of snow shovelling that go on, my favourite is the rooftop shoveler. These daring men wander around on steeply pitched roofs with no safety protection. The other day, we watched a man standing on the edge of a roof about fifteen metres above an ice-filled canal. He steadily worked his way along, swinging a mallet to dispatch the icicles which hung from the roof. It looked like the momentum of his swing would be enough to launch him into the canal at any moment. 

When you're ready to take a break from shovelling snow, you can take your pick of any sport, as long as it involves snow or ice. Ice-fishing is big over here. Every frozen river or lake is dotted with little tents. These are wind breaks where the fishers sit all day long; pulling up fish through a hole they have drilled in the ice.

If you're not into ice-fishing, skiing or ice-skating there is always alcohol. A plastic four litre bottle of whiskey sells for around twenty dollars. That's a whole lot of whiskey, but then the nights are long in Hokkaido.