Lisa Walker's Blog, page 12

Book Review: All That I Am by Anna Funder

All That I Am is Anna Funder's first novel. Her previous non-fiction book, Stasiland, about communist East Germany, was highly acclaimed. All That I Am is set in the 1930s, prior to the start of the Second World War. Real people and events are used as a springboard to an involving work of fiction.

Told through the eyes of Ruth, now an old woman living in Sydney, and Toller, a left-wing playwright, the story revolves around Dora Fabian, an anti-Nazi activist. 'We were the two for whom she was the sun,' says Ruth.

Toller dictates his tales about Dora to a secretary in a hotel room inNew York. Meanwhile, Ruth's mind wanders to the past while sedated in hospital after an accident. This complex setup and the time shifts between Toller's voice, which is in the 1930s and Ruth's, in the present, took a bit of getting used to.

The three have fledGermanyduring the first wave of Nazi terror, when thousands of opponents of Hitler were jailed or killed. Living as refugees inLondon, they try to expose the threat of the Nazis to a country bent on appeasement. A climate of fear and suspicion is created as the reach of the Gestapo extends further.

The complex romantic relationship between Dora and Toller, who is married to a teenage bride, adds tension to the story. Ruth is married to the handsome Hans, who finds refugee life aimless and difficult to endure.

This story is about courage, love and betrayal. Each of the characters has to choose where they stand in the face of suffering. As Ruth says; "It is not that people lack an imagination. It is that they stop themselves using it. Because once you have imagined such suffering, how can you still do nothing?"

Writing a fictional tale based on fact can be a difficult task to pull off. Constrained by real events, the author must imagine the internal landscape of the participants. Funder, who is clearly passionate about her subject, has largely succeeded in this.

While I did find the book difficult to get into, by the end I was fascinated and moved by this story of a part of history which was unfamiliar to me. All That I Am will reward those who can hang in there long enough to get over the initial confusion.

Lisa is on a mission to review at least six Australian Women Writers in 2012. To find out more see http://www.australianwomenwriters.com/

Zen and the art of roadwork

I have been in Japan for the past two weeks. As always, in a strange country, little things jump out at you. Hey, they do things different here!

One of the lovely things about Japan is the pleasure that people take in the minutiae of life. Consider the 'stop/go' man. In Australia, this is a very dull occupation. You stand by the side of the road. You turn the sign saying 'stop', to one saying 'go'. Occasionally, if a car is driving too fast, you might wave your hand in a 'slow down' action.

In Japan, the 'stop/go' man is a highly trained performer. In the daytime, he wields the red or white flags. These are waved in a complicated cheerleader- like way. This is followed by a bow as your car goes past, making you feel like an honoured member of a procession.

At night-time the flags are replaced by light sticks, brandished in a way that would put a Byron Bay fire twirler to shame. I admit it can be a little confusing to be confronted by a whirling red light stick. Do they mean, stop? Go? What the hell, just enjoy it and proceed with caution.

The props for the roadwork are almost as good as the performance itself.  There are no boring road barriers here. Instead, barriers are held up by cute green frogs or smiling monkeys, and flashing lights are replaced by flowers with lights undulating out from the centre. It's calming and beautiful. And perhaps that is what is intended – for each little moment of life to be made as perfect as possible.

Next week – zen and the art of kitchen appliances.

Take me to your internet connection and other writing bloopers

While Liar Bird is the first novel of mine to be published, it is not the first I have written. Before I turned my hand to romantic comedy, I tried out a few different types of writing – young adult fantasy, crime, the bonkbuster… In retrospect, it's obvious why some of these gems from my writing annals never made it to the shelves:

 

Young adult fantasy:

"Why don't we see if we can find out about these places? Where's your internet connection?"

      "There isn't one. Myrna and Arthur don't believe in it."

            Kate's mouth opened in astonishment. "How do you survive?"

 

Does anyone ever say 'Where's your internet connection?' Well, it was 2002, maybe they did at the time.

 

Fantasy:

Origod looked down the hill. A cloud of dust was rising from the valley. Every time the Mustrogorns stampeded across the Gnarlverge its soft banks collapsed, damming the river. It would not take long for the waters to reach the village.

            'Quick.' Origod grasped Bethwyn's hand. Even now, at this urgent moment, her touch sent a quiver through his body. This spring, surely, he would defeat Mentron and prove to Budvegan that he was a worthy suitor for her hand.

            Bethwyn looked him in the eye then slowly lifted his hand and pressed it against her breast.

            Origod's legs turned to water as he felt the soft swell of her skin.

            Her blue eyes blinked. 'How long must we wait, Origod? I think only of your touch.'

            She moved closer and Origod felt her slender body pressed against his. He wrapped his arms around her and-

 

Hm, that's actually kind of sexy. I think I might have had a future as a fantasy writer if I could only have kept track of all the names.  So, what have I learnt from all this? If you keep those fingers to the keyboard, you can only improve! (Keep watching and my attempts at the bonkbuster and crime novel may make an appearance at a later date…)

 

Liar Bird will be launched at the Northern Rivers Writers Centre in Byron Bay on January 14th. Contact siboney@nrwc.org.au for details.

Australian Women Writers – why not?

I'm excited about the Australian Women Writers Challenge 2012. This challenge aims to redress the huge gender bias against women writers in the media generally and in book reviews specifically. How is it that when women write at least half of Australian fiction, about 80-90% of most 'Top Picks' lists feature books written by men?  And the most surprising thing about this is that many of these lists are compiled by women.

Mea Culpa. In the past couple of years I have reviewed a total of 48 books for our local Northern Rivers Echo. I am alarmed to realise that 32 of these were by male authors and 16 by female authors. On the positive side, of the 16 women, 13 were Australian.  And what a fantastic group they were: Kate Grenville, Tobsha Learner, Toni Jordan, M.J. Hyland, Fiona McGregor, Cate Kennedy, Linda Jaivan, Helen Garner… The list goes on.

In 2012, I pledge to reviewing at least six Australian women writers. First up is Anna Funder's All that I Am, which I will post in February. Bring it on.

 I am out and about over the next couple of weeks, so please drop in and say say hi if you're at any of these places in the not too distant future.

Lennox Bookmark, Lennox Head – 7th January 10am – 12.00 (reading at 11.00)

Collins Bookshop, Byron Bay – 7th January 1.30pm – 3.00

Mary Ryans Bookshop Byron Bay – 8th January 10.30 – 12.00

The official launch of Liar Bird – 14th January 4pm, Northern Rivers Writers Centre, Byron Bay. RSVP to siboney@nrwc.org.au

Alert but not alarmed – the power of Google

I recently discovered something new – Google Alerts. Those of you who have not yet heard of this, look away now because once you're alerted there's no going back.

I blame Nick Earls for this new dimension to my inter-web addiction. A few weeks ago he posted a rather amusing blog detailing his duel for supremacy with his internet doppelganger – the other Nick Earls.

Now, most of us have internet doppelgangers – unless your name happens to be Jesse Blackadder – in which case you're very lucky. I, personally have been fighting it out with Lisa Walker, the jeweler. Apart from a few glorious weeks where for some unaccountable reason I made it to the top, hers is the first name that appears when you Google Lisa Walker. I can do nothing but bow to her superior pulling power.

But, Nick, for 'professional reasons only' he says (sure, Nick) explained that he gets an alert from Google whenever his name is mentioned. Why haven't I heard of this before? I cry to myself and sign up immediately.

Let me tell you now, Google alerts are the work of the devil. Unless you are Justin Bieber or Lady Gaga, there is nothing good that can come from being sent an email every day telling you how often your name is mentioned in the internet cloud. Very, very infrequently is the answer.

On a similar note, a while back I wrote a blog about favourite Google search terms. As a result, people searching for fluffy rabbits and cute kittens are still the main visitors to my blog.

I'm sorry for wasting your time all you fluffy rabbit and cute kitten fans. But I do have a nice fluffy rabbit picture here.

And if you live in the same part of the world as me, please say hi if you're at any of these places where I will be signing books and doing all those other things which authors do (whatever they may be). 

Lennox Bookmark, Lennox Head – 7th January 10am – 12.00 (reading at 11.00)

Collins Bookshop, Byron Bay– 7th January 1.30pm – 3.00

Mary Ryan's Bookshop Byron Bay– 8th January 10.30 – 12.00

Launch of Liar Bird – 14th January, Byron Bay. Contact the Northern Rivers Writers Centre – siboney@nrwc.org.au

Happy feral pig awareness day.

In a bookshop somewhere, they are turning up in boxes. Boxes full of 'Liar Bird.' Supposedly not to be opened until January 1st (although sightings have been confirmed in bookshops in Sydney, Lismore, Alstonville and Byron Bay). It's a strange feeling to know that words that I first started to put on paper way back in 2006 will soon be read by hundreds or – hopefully – thousands of people. Or, hundreds of thousands, even. Why not think big?

I just had a look at my old computer file from August 2006 when I first jotted down a few thoughts about this book. It contains important questions to myself such as:

City PR girl reinvents herself?


'Sea Change' meets James Herriott? (does anyone remember all creatures Great and Small?)

And there were also a few immortal lines such as: 'If it wasn't for the long-footed potoroo, I might never have heard of Beechville.'  That line is now the first sentence in 'Liar Bird'.

It is said that you should write what you know. Unfortunately, I'm sometimes not too good at taking advice. I've been working for national parks for a long time but it had never occurred to me that I was sitting on a mine of inspiration. It didn't hit me until one day a friend saw a news release I'd written and started cackling with laughter. The title of the news release was 'Feral Pig Awareness Day.' When I stopped to think about it, it was very, very funny.

And it didn't stop at pigs. Foxes were funny too, and chickens and cane toads. In fact, the original title of this book was 'Toading – a story of love, lust and feral pests'. I don't think it would have gone too far with that title.

So, this year, for me is not really about Christmas, I'm hanging on for January 1st – Happy Feral Pig Awareness Day!

 

Come January, I will be doing a few events around the Northern Rivers. If you are in the area, please drop in and say hi at:

Lennox Bookmark, Lennox Head – 7th January 10am – 12.00 (reading at 11.00)

Collins Bookshop, Byron Bay – 7th January 1.30pm – 3.00

Mary Ryans Bookshop Byron Bay – 8th January 10.30 – 12.00

PR queen takes a dive

 With only two weeks until Liar Bird is published, I thought I'd share another short extract. If you missed the last one, it is here. City PR Queen, Cassandra, has taken a dive and is considering her options…

I needed to get away for a while; act like it was my choice, return refreshed, revitalised and triumphant. What I needed was another job – some place they'd never heard of Cassandra Daley and her astroturf. Somewhere Sydney people would never find me.

Ant was still sitting on the end of the bed, doggy eyes following my every move.

"For Chrissakes Ant, stop watching me. Get me a coffee…and a fresh muffin from the bakery. Will you, snooks?" That would keep him out of my hair for a bit.

As he left the room I grabbed Alice from my bedside table. 'You look a little shy, let me introduce you to that leg of mutton,' said the Red Queen.

Ha.  I would be lucky to be introduced even to a leg of mutton if I stuck around here. A pathetic, friendless loser, that's what I'd be.

I opened the jobs section. There were lots of PR jobs, but all in Sydney. I kept flicking, there at the end was a small box – Public Relations specialist for wildlife agency, north coast – Beechville.

Beechville? I shuddered. There were good parts to the north coast. Come to think of it, one good part – Byron Bay. Byron was tres chic – most of Balmain was there in summer. You had no trouble getting any sort of latte in Byron. Somehow I suspected Beechville wasn't like that. It sounded like the kind of place where Instant Roast and teabags were the order of the day.

Getting out of bed, I pulled my road atlas from the shelf. There it was; Beechville – a small dot near the Queensland border. Why on earth would they need a public relations specialist there? What could happen in a country town like that? Something about that appealed though. I'd had enough action for the time being.

I pictured myself in a rocking chair on a wide verandah – maybe strolling in to work to have my photo taken with a koala or on a rainforest walkway…

At least it wasn't too far from civilisation – if you could call Surfers Paradise and Brisbane civilised. Anything north of Hornsby was the wilderness as far as I was concerned, but, given the circumstances, you take what you can get. It would be quiet, boring maybe, but quiet. I'd have time to plan my comeback; recuperate my energies for a big re-entry.

Wazza would take me back; he'd never find anyone else as good as me. No, stuff Wazza, I'd set up in opposition to him. I might find my reputation to be an asset; in fact I'm sure I would – once people had the chance to reflect on it. It showed I'd go the extra mile. Clients liked that.

The good part was, Beechville was north coast and Rainforest Runaway was south coast. Separation of these two places could only be beneficial.

The door clicked as Anthony let himself back in. Ripping out the ad, I placed it in my top drawer.

Beechville. I felt half-asleep at the thought of it…

Hope you enjoyed that. And for anyone who happens to find that too much 'Liar Bird' is never enough – here's a link to the Varuna Blog where I read a couple of pages.

Meter maids – can girls in bikinis solve any marketing problem?

When I was young I used to go to the Gold Coast with a friend. We cruised the mall, were called Briso's by the locals and sneaked into nightclubs when her parents thought we were visiting friends.

            Even as a teenager I sensed the lack of something there. It seemed like there was no heart, just arteries of tawdry shops draining money from the tourists. When I moved back to this area, I kind of thought it would have changed, but it was as tacky as ever; tackier if possible.

There are many reasons to dislike the Gold Coast:

            One – the skyscrapers; Horizons, Mariner Shores, Pelican Sands, Chamonix…enough said.

            Two – too many tourists, property developers, desperados and sharks of the two-legged variety.

            Three – um… never mind, two reasons are enough. Oh yes, the meter maids. What is it with the girls in gold bikinis, high heels and cowboy hats? I try to imagine how the meter maid concept might have started…

            Surfers Paradise, 1965. The Rolling Stones can't get no satisfaction, but there's plenty here. Surfies cruise the streets in EH Holdens whistling at girls in that great new look – the mini skirt. The sun shines, the Gold Coast booms, developers prosper. But a cloud looms on the horizon. 'Parking meters are coming, parking meters are coming'. Panic hits the streets. Men in suits huddle around a table. 'It's a disaster.' 'We're ruined.' 'No-one will shop here anymore.' A light bulb comes on. 'I'm thinking, girls in bikinis.' 'What's the concept there, Scott?' 'Bikini girls who put money in meters.' Back slapping all around. Problem solved.

            Is there any marketing problem that can't be solved by the addition of girls in bikinis? Bringing in 'pay and display' machines instead of coin meters a few years ago didn't change things. The girls just buy the tickets and place them on cars now.

            When I visit the Gold Coast I feel like an explorer who's discovered a lost tribe. I just don't get it. Am I alone in thinking that the Gold Coast is the strangest place in Australia, if not the world?

 Goodness, only three weeks until Liar Bird is released – counting down the days now. Thank you to Jill from Goodreads and Leigh from Likesbooks for such lovely early reviews. I might have to post another excerpt next week. First excerpt here in case you missed it.

Beautiful Byron – too many people, too few waves

Surfing on the north coast can be a frustrating experience. It's pretty cutthroat out there; especially in Byron Bay. Catching the waves is the easy part; it's dealing with the pack that's the problem. There seem to be a lot of men out there who have evolved into a kind of man-fish thing. Their hands are the size of flippers and they get onto the waves with about two strokes.

The pack takes your measure pretty quickly. Woe betide you if you paddle for a wave and miss it. From then on every time you attempt to catch a wave someone else will come in from the front or behind or materialise out of nowhere. It gets depressing.

My lack of action surf-wise has often given me plenty of time for observing the line-up. In a typical Byron Bay pack there are:

(a) The old crusties – weather-beaten old dudes who remember Byron Bay when you had to go looking for someone to surf with;

(b) The grommets – school age kids with no respect for their elders;

(c) The surfing lawyers – the new wave of surfers, distinguished by their tight name-brand clothing, shiny surfboards and superior attitude.

A number of questions usually jostle in my mind as I watch them. Why aren't those kids in school? What do these people do for a job? How is it, regardless what time of day I surf, the same people are there? Are they really the same, or so similar I can't tell the difference? Why hasn't someone done a postgraduate study to answer all these questions?

So, next time you see me out there, letting all the waves go by, it's not that I'm an incompetent surfer. I'm working up my PhD funding application.

'Liar Bird' takes flight

In stores 1st of January! Byron Bay launch January 14. Love to see you there. Please RSVP to the Writers Centre.