L.E. Truscott's Blog, page 44

Book Review: Gaslight Carnival by Tracy Cembor

Tracy Cembor sent me an email via the Contact Me page on this blog and asked whether I do book reviews in return for gift copies. Gaslight Carnival is her first novella and currently available on Amazon for US$0.99. For that price, I told her I’d happily purchase a copy to read and review it.

Gaslight Carnival is subtitled with the words A Dreamless City Steampunk Story. I had to look up the meaning of steampunk because although I’d seen the reference a lot, I’d never taken the trouble to find out precisely what it meant. I’ve certainly never read steampunk fiction before. Wikipedia describes it as “a subgenre of science fiction and sometimes fantasy that incorporates technology and aesthetic designs inspired by 19th-century industrial steam-powered machinery”.

Gaslight Carnival slides somewhere into the in-between of science fiction and fantasy. It is the story of Margo, a young and unlicensed alchemist struggling to keep her father’s alchemy shop going after he sold her twin brother to the eponymous Gaslight Carnival and then succumbed to accidental poisoning. The money went towards paying Margo’s medical bills after an unsupervised alchemy accident and she feels a terrible responsibility.

She has received several unwanted and menacing offers from a local gangster to work for him, essentially as an illegal drug manufacturer. But Margo has a plan: she is going to buy her twin brother’s freedom so he can come home. They will be a family again, her debt will be repaid, and no one will threaten her or her business anymore.

Of course, it’s never going to be that simple. When Margo goes to the carnival, the ringmaster takes the large amount of money she has saved and says she will only let Leonard, Margo’s twin brother, go if Margo can perform a series of difficult tasks, all of which are designed for Margo to fail.

This is the first time I’ve ever reviewed a piece of fiction specifically at the request of the author. Now I realise there is a temptation to be kinder than I might ordinarily be because of that small personal connection. I don’t know Tracy but she reached out to me, no doubt in the hope that I would have all positive things to say.

The best I can do is half positive, half negative (which accounts for the 2.5 star rating – normally I rate according to the Goodreads system, which doesn’t allow for half stars, but I genuinely believed that Gaslight Carnival deserved it).

The positive half first – the novella displays the bones of a very good idea and the way Tracy Cembor has written the second task Margo has to perform drew me into the scene in the best possible way. It was the most evocative and interesting part of the novella. The character of Rook was so endearing, I wanted more of him. And I genuinely believe that fans of Samantha Shannon could easily be fans of Tracy Cembor.

The negative half now – despite the bones of a very good idea, there is very little flesh on them. I suspect that this story – which easily contains enough characters and ideas for a novel – is a novella because the author isn’t ready to commit to and develop a more complex narrative.

There is little character development and what there is feels forced – Margo can’t stand up to her tormentors outside the carnival but inside it she stands up to the ringmaster when none of the other carnival workers can or do, which is strange because a lot of them are more threatening than she is. And her sudden change of heart about the use of dangerous alchemy against people is unexplained. She spends a considerable length of the novella abiding by her father’s alchemy rules (even though he is portrayed as a generally terrible role model), then suddenly abandons them, mainly because the story wouldn’t have been able to go where the author needed it to if she didn’t. Margo is one dimensional and naïve in the extreme, considering the hard life lessons she has been through. Additionally, the villains are stereotypical and rely on fear rather than any genuine evil to keep their criminal empires going.

The descriptive style follows a very strict pattern – adjective noun, verb adverb, adjective noun, verb adverb, adjective noun, verb adverb – which I really only noticed because so many of the examples were unnecessary. “…gleaming wetly” could just have been “gleaming”. This passage is a prime example. “When the ringmaster turned, her too-pale skin reflected the verdant glow like an ethereal wraith. Adding to the menace tonight was a fan of throwing knives hanging from her tightly cinched girdle, the silver tips winking with vicious promise.”

The author also falls into the “how dare you” trap quite a few times as well. Does anybody say this anymore? No, because everybody dares now. The setting for the book might have been a different time but it’s never really explained. The Dreamless City (great, great name) is named and then simply forgotten or ignored despite its potential as an important character in itself in this kind of story.

Many of these stylistic problems could be solved with the help of a good editor – as could the many misspellings, typos, tense switches and sentences that make no sense – and a few more years of practice. As someone who has been writing and editing for twenty-five years and who has a handful of novels that will never be published because I recognise that they were more important as tools to help me refine my writing, I don’t feel patronising saying that. I hope the author doesn’t feel patronised by me saying it.

I see great potential in Tracy Cembor and great potential in this story – that potential just hasn’t been fulfilled yet.

2.5 stars

*First published on Goodreads 29 August 2015

When Your Favourite Authors Jump the Shark

If you’re not familiar with the reference, “jumping the shark” is what Fonzie did in a latter episode of Happy Days – and it was the point at which people started thinking the show had gone on a few episodes too long. After all, he is water skiing in the scene in which he jumps the shark. Yes, that’s almost unbelievably right. He literally jumps a shark while water skiing!

Now I would never suggest that anyone should ever stop writing – how would we ever get better if we stopped? – but there seem to be a number of uber successful writers who have reached a point where their writing, which was once “must read” to me, is now a bit ho hum. In fact, I have stopped reading some of my once favourite writers altogether.

Matthew Reilly

Matthew Reilly is the poster boy for all writers working towards their first published novel. After receiving more rejections that most of us could handle, he self-published his first book, Contest.

And then he took the next step that most of us wouldn’t have the courage to take. He went down to Angus & Robertson’s flagship Pitt Street store in Sydney and asked if they would put his book on their shelves. They agreed.

In an unbelievable stroke of luck that couldn’t have happened were it not for Matthew’s initiative, an editor at Pan Macmillan was perusing the competition in that Angus & Robertson store and came across Contest. She called the number listed in the front of the book, Matthew’s parent’s phone number, and the rest is history.

I’ve read and loved all of Matthew’s earlier works – Ice Station, Temple, Scarecrow, Area 7, Seven Ancient Wonders, Six Sacred Stones, Five Greatest Warriors.

I struggled with Hover Car Racer, which isn’t surprising because I’m hardly the intended demographic (Matthew has frequently said he writes books that he hopes can get boys reading again).

And then came The Tournament. A historical murder mystery featuring Queen Elizabeth and chess. And later The Great Zoo of China with fire-breathing dragons. Now I can’t pass judgement on either of these books because I haven’t read them. But that was the problem. Matthew had deviated away from his original genre of current day action adventure. And if there are two things I don’t enjoy as a reader, they are historical fiction and fantasy.

And as simply as that, the expectations that used to make me the first person in line to buy his new books were gone. And now I don’t read his work at all anymore.

****

It’s perhaps a cautionary tale for writers as well as readers. Changing the genre you write in can disillusion readers who specifically read you because of what you’ve done before. And equally, buying a book simply because it’s written by an author you’ve enjoyed previously doesn’t guarantee your reading experience.

Patricia Cornwell

Patricia Cornwell is perhaps a strange one for me in that I never actually liked any of her characters (with the exception of Virginia West’s cat) but I couldn’t stop reading her books regardless.

I’ve always been unable to empathise with Kay Scarpetta. I respected her. I admired her. But she’s just a little bit too cold for me to actually like her. Virginia West and Win Garano, the other main characters in different book series, were pretty much forgettable. Nonetheless, I have entire shelves dedicated to Patricia Cornwell’s books.

I’m not sure when exactly my passion cooled but I think it was right around the time Benton Wesley re-emerged in Blow Fly after having faked his death several books before. We, as readers, didn’t know Kay Scarpetta’s on again, off again lover and eventual husband wasn’t really dead. And his comeback struck a false note like a concert pianist who just can’t find the right key and move on to finish the piece of music in the way it’s meant to be finished.

All the books after this felt like one too many. I understand why Patricia Cornwell has continued to write the Kay Scarpetta books – none of her other attempts to write different series have really been the successes she hoped for. I continued to buy and read her books up until a couple of years ago but my heart wasn’t really in it anymore.

****

Surely writers have a responsibility, both to their readers and to their own legacies, to recognise when a character has reached its expiry date? Apart from the Bruce Willis problem (how does the same shit keep happening to the same guy?), the surprising absence of psychological impact from being exposed to that many murders and being the victim of that many murder attempts makes the ongoing storylines unbelievable.

Jeffrey Archer

Jeffrey Archer was, is and always will be my favourite author. I read his best novels and collections of short stories during my formative reading and writing years and was intrigued by his own personal story, being cheated out of a significant sum of money and turning it into his very first novel (Not a Penny More, Not a Penny Less).

Shall We Tell The President?, Kane and Abel, The Prodigal Daughter, A Matter of Honour, First Among Equals, Honour Amongst Thieves, Twelve Red Herrings, The Fourth Estate – so many terrific books.

The first moment that something changed for me was when he went to jail. Nothing to do with his writing at all. Yes, it’s a key component of being a writer to be able to make things up but finding out it extends way beyond what’s being presented on the page was disillusioning.

Think James Frey and A Million Little Pieces. Think Belle Gibson and The Whole Pantry. Think Helen Demidenko and The Hand That Signed The Paper. Readers don’t mind being lied to – that’s what fiction is at the most basic level after all – but readers don’t like being deceived.

I persisted because, like I said, Jeffrey Archer will always be my favourite author. But as far as I was concerned, he wasn’t reaching the same heights he previously had. It wasn’t until the Harry Clifton series, though, that my mind was made up. I read the first one. I bought the second one. But I never read it. And I haven’t bought another Jeffrey Archer book since.

****

Another cautionary tale for writers perhaps? You may think your writing can be separated from your other activities, both personal and professional, but your readers may disagree. You can be one of those writers who protects your privacy at all costs and keeps out of the limelight and realistically expects your private and working lives to remain separate – a pseudonym can help with this. But if you’re one of those writers who lets the world in, you can’t be angry if when you do something morally or ethically questionable, judgements are passed and it affects your readership.

So these are my once favourite authors who have outlived their welcome. Are there any writers you once loved that you have left by the wayside?

The Perfect Job

Maybe it’s a misleading article title because I should start out by acknowledging there’s no such thing as the perfect job. At least, there’s no one-size-fits-all perfect job. The perfect job is different things to different people.

Some might think it doesn’t get any better than being a beer taster. Since beer makes me gag, I can’t think of anything worse.

On the other hand, I can’t imagine anything much more wonderful than being a commissioning fiction editor for HarperCollins or Pan Macmillan. My father, though, couldn’t even make it through my first novel without falling asleep (an indictment on his reading ability, I’m assured, not the quality of the text – the only novel he’s ever read through to the end is First Blood) so he no doubt would disagree.

As someone currently contemplating a career change, although not exactly sure what I want my next career to be (unless, of course, HarperCollins or Pan Macmillan come calling), it is becoming apparent that identifying the perfect job is more difficult than we might initially anticipate.

In fact, sometimes it’s easier to identify what we don’t want and then work backwards from there. So here’s a few options. Choose one in each category and when you get to the end, the options you have chosen might just be pointing you towards where you should be heading.

Fun vs Serious

It sounds like a silly choice but while some people thrive under the pressure of serious responsibility, others would rather have an eye examination performed with a hot poker. Some would just rather enjoy their time at work without being relied on for life-changing support. But don’t make the mistake of thinking that just because a job is fun that it doesn’t require hard work.

Fun options: clown, face painter, comedian

Serious options: funeral director, coroner, doctor

Home vs Local vs Commuting vs Relocating

While I’ve never relocated for work, having worked in the relocation industry has demonstrated that it is an almost unavoidable stressor, no matter the level of support offered. I have, however, experienced the long commute, the medium commute, the local commute and working from home.

Working from home has multiple benefits: no transportation costs, no time costs, working hours you choose. But it is also socially isolating and sometimes nothing can compensate for being in the same room as your colleagues in order to achieve your goals.

The long commute can give you uninterrupted time away from family and work (rare these days), the medium commute tends to be long enough to read a book but short enough not to resent it.

But the local commute is my preferred option. When I stopped working in the city and took a job in the suburb I lived in, I suddenly had an extra two hours in my day to myself. Oh, the possibilities!

Traditional vs New Industries

There will always be a requirement for traditional industries – somebody has to grow the food, somebody has to enforce the law, somebody has to put out the fires. But new and exciting industries are popping up all the time these days and some haven’t even been discovered yet.

Traditional options: farmer, police officer, firefighter

New industry options: IT, research and development, social media

More Money vs Less Money

Okay, I know what you’re thinking. Who, in their right mind, chooses less money when more money is on the table? It might come as a surprise that there are plenty who do just that. As long as you’re earning enough to cover the bills, then a less-money, low-stress option might be exactly what you need. Many of the feel-good employment opportunities helping out others are lower paid.

On the other hand, a more-money, short-term option might be a means to an end. At the height of the mining boom, when salaries were ridiculously good, plenty of people headed to remote areas on a temporary basis to ensure their financial futures.

More money options: professional sportsperson, business owner, share trader

Less money options: charity worker, volunteer, PhD candidate

Indoor vs Outdoor

Some people find the idea of being confined indoors for eight hours every day torturous. Others feel similarly about spending all their time outside. Personally, I fall into the latter category and while my sedentary work preference will probably kill me in the end, I don’t cope well with extremes of temperature or physical work that doesn’t challenge my mind. For those who don’t faint in the heat and enjoy labouring, perhaps the outdoors is the option for you.

Indoor options: office worker, retail worker, radiologist

Outdoor options: park ranger, tradie, environmental health officer

Lead vs Support

In any kind of business, there are generally two main types of roles. The first is about the big picture: having the idea in the first place, getting the funding and feeling committed enough about it to pursue it. The second is about the details, knowing how to accomplish the little things (like running the office, arranging travel and accommodation, organising projects) in order for the big picture to be achieved.

Some people will never be leaders and that’s okay. The ratio of leaders to followers necessarily needs to be small. Some people will never be support staff and that’s okay, too. Details aren’t everybody’s strong suit. Identifying which category your skillset sees you falling into, however, is crucial. Because leaders should never be support staff – it’s a disaster waiting to happen. And while support people can build up to become leaders, it’s important to recognise that an entirely different set of skills is required. If you can’t delegate, then you can’t lead, because you can’t do it all yourself.

Lead options: management, politician, entrepreneur

Support options: editor, personal assistant, secretary

Specialist vs General

Specialist options tend to require a lot of investment in your career – intensive upfront studies and significant ongoing training to remain a specialist. The specialisation can limit other career options in the future but it can also make you extremely sought after in your specialist field.

General options can involve shorter upfront studies and quicker entry into the workforce. So while it might seem strange, a generalist can progress further in their career more quickly with fewer debts. The transferability of general skills can also make changing industries much more simple.

Specialist options: doctor, lawyer, scientist

General options: payroll, HR, accountant

Team vs Solitary

The larger the group of people you work with, the more likely you are to come in contact with someone whose personality will conflict with your own. Some people deal with personality conflicts better than others. Some people have that enviable quality of being able to get along with everybody. And some people just prefer sociable working environments and working towards team goals so manage to figure out a way of minimising those conflicts.

However, some pursuits lend themselves to working alone and some personality types achieve more without the distraction of other people. That may mean working from home or taking on a role that is not part of a team within the business or simply closing the door to your office (if you’re lucky enough to have one).

Team options: call centre worker, teacher, defence forces

Solitary options: writer, artist, in-house legal counsel

Creative vs Repetitive

Not everyone who has a job needs it to provide fulfilment in their life. For those people, they may be happy with repetitive tasks. Once you know how to do a particular thing, you can get very good at it and for some, their satisfaction may be in the achievement of this same task over and over.

For others, variety and creativity can be essential to maintaining interest. Boredom can be a real motivation killer at work, regardless of how much you’re earning or how much you enjoy the company of your colleagues.

Creative options: journalism, advertising, marketing

Repetitive options: data entry, reception, market research

Internal vs External

The general public, and potential contact with it, can lead to very diverse reactions in employees. If you’re anything like me, dealing with the general public is a bit scary, especially because the customer isn’t always right (no matter how much we try to convince ourselves as a mantra for ensuring good customer service). The lack of common sense, intelligence and good manners that can sometimes be demonstrated by the general public is enough to make me tear my hair out. Which is no doubt the reason I’ve had a succession of jobs in which I primarily deal with my internal colleagues.

However, cutting yourself off from the general public means limiting yourself from meeting some terrific people and developing the networks that can be so important in creating the career you ultimately end up in.

Internal options: quality, bid management, business analyst

External options: customer service, sales, taxi driver

So my selections are:

*Fun

*Local

*New industries

*More money (unless less money can lead to happiness, in which case, less money)

*Indoor

*Support

*General

*Solitary

*Creative

*Internal

Which in combination make me think that my current LinkedIn job title of Writer and Editor is exactly what I’m meant to be doing. All I need now is the next company willing to pay me for it…

*First published on LinkedIn 22 June 2015

Book Review: Ghost Money by Andrew Nette

I really wanted to like this book because it is written by someone who lives in the same town as me…but I just couldn’t. Ghost Money is ostensibly the story of a private detective searching for a missing Australian businessman in Cambodia but so much of it feels like a history lecture (and I do mean lecture) that I often forgot that we were supposed to be on the lookout for a missing person.

I’m not sure if it was a terrible ebook conversion or just poor editing but the book was littered with spelling errors and missing words, so much so that I started to wonder if it had actually been written by someone for whom English wasn’t their first language and had then been lumped with the worst copyeditor in the world.

On my feminist pedestal for a moment: there are absolutely no complex female characters in this book.

Off my feminist pedestal now: I don’t think there were any truly complex characters in this book. I didn’t particularly like the main character – he seemed like a stereotype and a whiner – and by the end I was kind of hoping he would die. But, of course, at every opportunity the villains had to kill him, he miraculously and implausibly would be set free to continue with the story.

Perhaps the only redeeming feature for me was that the mythical treasure they were all searching for by the end of the book – missing person storyline was over and done with – didn’t end up in the hands of any of the unworthy characters in the book.

If you have a special interest in Cambodian or Asian history, perhaps this might interest you, but if you’re just looking for a good action/adventure/thriller/mystery etc, there’s plenty of other books I’d recommend before Ghost Money.

2 stars

*First published on Goodreads 3 April 2013

My Top Ten Movies – Part Two

On Wednesday, I posted the first five of my top ten movies. Here’s Part Two, again in no particular order.

Postcards from the Edge

Meryl Streep starring in a Carrie Fisher screenplay inspired by her book and supported by Shirley Maclaine – it doesn’t get much better than that. Streep is a recovering drug addict and an actress struggling in the shadow of her much-more-famous-than-her mother, Maclaine. In this scene, Streep is upset after a fight with her mother and talks with the director of her last movie at a looping session to fix dialogue problems (how ironic), which she has turned up to early.

****

Lowell, the Director: What could possibly be the matter? You’ve gone back and corrected the past. At least in your work.

Suzanne: Yeah.

Lowell, the Director: What could be a better metaphor? It couldn’t be something I said.

Suzanne: Nothing you say to me is as horrible as what I say to myself. At least it’s happening outside my head where I can deal with it easier.

Lowell, the Director: The trouble with you is you had it too easy and you don’t even know it.

Suzanne: No, no, I do know it.

Lowell, the Director: You’re not gonna get a lot of sympathy from anybody you know. You know how many people would give their right arm to be in show business, to lead the kind of life that you lead?

Suzanne: I know but the trouble is I can’t feel my life. I can’t feel it. I see it all around me and I know that so much of it is good but I just take it the wrong way. It’s like this thing with my mother. I know that she does all this stuff because she loves me. But I just can’t believe it. And other stuff.

Lowell, the Director: I don’t know what’s happening with your mother. Maybe she’ll stop mothering you when you grow up.

Suzanne: You don’t know my mother.

Lowell, the Director: No, I don’t know your mother. I know you and you can make a mother out of anybody. Look, your mother did it to you, and her mother did it to her, and back and back and back all the way to Eve. At some point you stop it and you just say, “Fuck it. I start with me.”

Suzanne: Did you just make that up?

Lowell, the Director: Well, I was working on it before you came in. If you’d come a half hour later when you were supposed to, it would have been better.

Suzanne: It’s pretty good as it is.

Lowell, the Director: You just like it because it sounds a little like movie dialogue.

Suzanne: Yeah, that’s me. I don’t want life to imitate art, I want life to be art.

Much Ado About Nothing

This is the Kenneth Branagh interpretation of the classic Shakespearean play, so it shouldn’t come as any great surprise that it contains great dialogue. But Branagh’s delivery of Benedick’s monologue makes it so palatable to a modern audience that each and every word can be understood without having to resort to a study guide explaining what Shakespeare’s poetry meant.

****

I do much wonder that one man seeing how much another man is a fool when he dedicates his behaviours to love will after he hath laughed at such shallow follies in others become the argument of his own scorn by falling in love.

And such a man is Claudio. I have known when there was no music with him but the drum and the fife, and now would he rather hear the tabor and the pipe. I’ve known when he would have walked ten mile afoot to see a good armour. Now will he lie ten nights awake carving the fashion of a new doublet.

He was wont to speak plain and to the purpose like an honest man and a soldier. Now is he turned orthography. His words are a very fantastical banquet, just so many strange dishes. Well, may I be so converted and see with these eyes? I cannot tell. I think not. I will not be sworn but love may transform me to an oyster. But I’ll take my oath on it til he hath made an oyster of me. He shall never make me such a fool.

One woman is fair yet I am well. Another is wise yet I am well. Another virtuous yet I am well. But til all graces be in one woman, one woman shall not come in my grace. Rich she shall be, that’s certain. Wise, or I’ll none. Virtuous, or I’ll never cheapen her. Fair, or I’ll never look on her. Mild or come not near me. Of good discourse, an excellent musician and her hair shall be of what colour it please God.

Stranger Than Fiction

This is a high concept movie about Harold Crick who one day starts being able to hear his life being narrated. While it’s annoying, he doesn’t really worry too much until he hears the words, “Little did he know that this simple, seemingly innocuous act would result in his imminent death.” This starts him on a journey of trying to find out why he’s going to die and how he can avoid it. He visits Dr Jules Hilbert, a literary professor who has devised a series of questions to try to determine what kind of story he is in.

****

Dr Jules Hilbert: How are you?

Harold Crick: I’m fine actually.

Dr Jules Hilbert: Looks like our narrator hasn’t killed you quite yet.

Harold Crick: No, not yet.

Dr Jules Hilbert: Good. Great. Have a seat? Count the stairs outside.

Harold Crick: No.

Dr Jules Hilbert: Of course not. I’ve devised a test. How exciting is that? Of 23 questions which I think might help uncover more truths about this narrator. Now, Howard…

Harold Crick: Harold.

Dr Jules Hilbert: Harold. These may seem silly but your candour is paramount.

Harold Crick: Okay.

Dr Jules Hilbert: So. You know it’s a woman’s voice. The story involves your death. It’s modern, it’s in English and I’m assuming the author has a cursory knowledge of the city.

Harold Crick: Sure.

Dr Jules Hilbert: Okay. Good. Question one. Has anyone recently left any gifts outside your home?

Harold Crick: Uh uh.

Dr Jules Hilbert: Anything? Gum? Money? A large wooden horse?

Harold Crick: I’m sorry?

Dr Jules Hilbert: Just answer the question.

Harold Crick: No.

Dr Jules Hilbert: Do you find yourself inclined to solve murder mysteries in large luxurious homes, to which you… let me finish… to which you may or may not have been invited?

Harold Crick: No. No, no, no.

Dr Jules Hilbert: Alright. On a scale of one to ten, what would you consider the likelihood you might be assassinated?

Harold Crick: Assassinated?

Dr Jules Hilbert: One being very unlikely, ten being expecting it around every corner.

Harold Crick: I have no idea.

Dr Jules Hilbert: Good. Let me rephrase. Are you the king of anything?

Harold Crick: Like what?

Dr Jules Hilbert: Anything. King of the lanes at the local bowling alley?

Harold Crick: King of the lanes?

Dr Jules Hilbert: King of the lanes, king of the trolls…

Harold Crick: King of the trolls?

Dr Jules Hilbert: Yes. A clandestine land found underneath your floorboards? Anything?

Harold Crick: No.

Dr Jules Hilbert: Huh?

Harold Crick: No! That’s ridiculous.

Dr Jules Hilbert: Agreed. But let’s start at ridiculous and move backwards. Now, was any part of you at one time part of something else?

Harold Crick: Like do I have someone else’s arms?

Dr Jules Hilbert: Well, is it possible at one time that you were made of stone, wood, lye, varied corpse parts or earth made holy by rabbinical elders?

Harold Crick: No. Look, look, I’m sorry but what do these questions have to do with anything?

Dr Jules Hilbert: Nothing. The only way to find out what story you’re in is to determine what stories you’re not in. Odd as it may seem, I’ve just ruled out half of Greek literature, seven fairytales, ten Chinese fables and determined conclusively that you are not King Hamlet, Scout Finch, Miss Marple, Frankenstein’s monster or a golem. Hmm? Aren’t you relieved to know you’re not a golem?

Harold Crick: Yes. I am relieved to know that I am not a golem.

Dr Jules Hilbert: Good. Do you have magical powers?

10 Things I Hate About You

Another Shakespearean entry on the list. This is a teen comedy adapted from the play, The Taming of the Shrew, (very loosely). Cameron is the new kid in school and falls in love at first sight with the beautiful but nearly unattainable Bianca Stratford.

****

Michael: Hello. Michael Eckman. I’m supposed to show you around.

Cameron: Oh, hi. Thank God. You know, uh, normally they send down one of those audio visual geeks.

Michael: No, I do, I know what you mean.

Audio Visual Geek: Hey, Michael, where should I put the slides?

Michael: Michael? So, uh, Cameron, here’s the breakdown. Over there, we’ve got your basic beautiful people. Now listen. Unless they talk to you first, don’t bother.

Cameron: Wait, is that your rule or theirs?

Michael: Watch. Hey there.

Beautiful Person: Eat me.

Michael: You see that. To the left, we have the coffee kids.

Coffee Kid: That was Costa Rican, butthead!

Michael: Very edgy. Don’t make any sudden movements around them. These delusionals are your white Rastas. They’re big Marley fans. They think they’re black. Semi-political but mostly…

Cameron: Smoke a lot of weed?

Michael: Yeah. These guys…

Cameron: Wait, wait. Let me guess. Cowboys?

Michael: Yeah, but the closest they’ve come to a cow is McDonald’s. These are your future MBAs. We’re all Ivy League accepted. Yuppie greed is back, my friend. Hey, guys, how you doing?

Future MBA: Close it, Bogey.

Michael: Yesterday I was their God.

Cameron: What happened?

Michael: Bogey Lowenstein started a rumour that I buy my Izods at an outlet mall.

Cameron: So they kicked you out?

Michael: Hostile takeover. But don’t worry. He’ll pay. Now over here…

Cameron: Oh my God. What group is she in?

Michael: The “don’t even think about it” group. That’s Bianca Stratford. She’s a sophomore.

Cameron: I burn, I pine, I perish.

Michael: Of course, you do. You know, she’s beautiful and deep, I’m sure.

Bianca: Yeah, but see there’s a difference between like and love. Because I like my Skechers but I love my Prada backpack.

Ebony: But I love my Skechers.

Bianca: That’s because you don’t have a Prada backpack.

Michael: Listen, forget her. Incredibly uptight father. And it’s a widely known fact that the Stratford sisters aren’t allowed to date.

Cameron: Uh-huh. Yeah. Whatever.

A League of Their Own

Watching this film again in preparation for this post, it’s amazing how many famous and familiar faces you will see. Based on the true story of the All American Girls Professional Baseball League set up during World War II when many of the professional male baseballers were fighting overseas, this movie has a number of scenes with punchy dialogue but I think this is the best of them. And I’ve used the last line of this scene to describe writing many times before.

****

Helen Haley: Dottie! Write to us. We’ll miss you.

Dottie Hinson: I will. Thanks. Good luck in the World Series.

Jimmy Dugan: Taking a little day trip?

Dottie Hinson: No. Um, Bob and I are driving home. To Oregon.

Jimmy Dugan: You know, I really thought you were a ball player.

Dottie Hinson: Well, you were wrong.

Jimmy Dugan: Was I?

Dottie Hinson: Yeah. It is only a game, Jimmy. It’s only a game. And I don’t need this. I have Bob. I don’t need this. I don’t.

Jimmy Dugan: I gave away five years at the end of my career to drinking. Five years. And now there isn’t anything I wouldn’t give to get back any one day of it.

Dottie Hinson: Well, we’re different.

Jimmy Dugan: This is chicken shit, Dottie. You want to go back home to Oregon and make a hundred babies, great. I’m in no position to tell anyone how to live. But sneaking out like this, quitting, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life. Baseball is what gets inside you. It lights you up. You can’t deny that.

Dottie Hinson: It just got too hard.

Jimmy Dugan: It’s supposed to be hard. If it wasn’t hard, everyone would do it. The hard is what makes it great.

My Top Ten Movies – Part One

This is not a traditional top ten movies list. Even though many of them are my favourite movies, this is my list of top ten movies containing great dialogue with examples included. Sometimes great dialogue goes by so quickly you don’t have a chance to appreciate the beauty of its construction.

I’ve broken it into two parts because it got very long when I was typing it up. So here are the first five of my top ten movies in no particular order and some terrific pieces of writing.

Galaxy Quest

Galaxy Quest is the story of a Star Trek-like TV show whose former stars have been reduced to attending conventions and store openings as well as selling autographs to make ends meet. They are approached by a group of real aliens who believe they are real astronauts and have recreated in real life the technology depicted in the TV show, then end up fighting alongside them in an interstellar war. Yes, it’s a comedy.

Gwen De Marco is the cast’s sole female and a bit of a token character but puts up with it graciously.

****

Alexander Dane: How did I come to this?

Tommy Webber: Not again.

Alexander Dane: I played Richard the Third.

Fred Kwan: Five curtain calls.

Alexander Dane: There were five curtain calls. I was an actor, dammit! Now look at me. Look at me! I can’t go out there and I won’t say that stupid line again. I can’t. I won’t.

Gwen De Marco: Well, Alex, at least you had a part. Okay. You had a character people loved. I mean, my TV Guide interview was six paragraphs long, about my boobs and how they fit into my suit. No one even bothered to ask me what I do on the show.

Fred Kwan: You had the… Wait, I’ll think of it.

Gwen De Marco: I repeated the computer, Fred.

And later:

Ship’s Computer: Forward thruster shaft, 87% damage. Aft vector guards, 96% damage. Structural breaches in quadrants 32, 34, 40, 43.

Jason Nesmith: What about the engines?

Ship’s Computer: Forward thruster shaft, 87% damage.

Gwen De Marco: Computer, what about the engines? Why don’t we have power?

Ship’s Computer: The beryllium sphere has fractured under stress.

Gwen De Marco: It’s fractured.

Jason Nesmith: Can it be repaired?

Gwen De Marco: Computer, can it be repaired?

Ship’s Computer: Damage to beryllium sphere irreparable. New source of beryllium must be secured.

Gwen De Marco: We need another one.

Alexander Dane: You broke the ship. You broke the bloody ship!

Jason Nesmith: Computer, is there a replacement beryllium sphere on board?

Gwen De Marco: Computer, is there a replacement beryllium sphere on board?

Ship’s Computer: Negative. No reserve beryllium sphere exists on board.

Gwen De Marco: No. We have no extra beryllium spheres on board.

Tommy Webber: You know, that is really getting annoying!

Gwen De Marco: Look! I have one job on this lousy ship, it’s stupid but I’m going to do it! Okay?

Tommy Webber: Sure, no problem.

Citizen Kane

Although this film does show its age a little bit now, it is still one of the greatest films ever made. The structure of the screenplay and the wonderful dialogue makes it as watchable as ever.

The film tells the story of Charles Foster Kane, a fictional newspaper baron but loosely based on a number of real people, the most obvious being William Randolph Hearst. But knowing the backstory of co-writer and director, Orson Welles, it’s interesting to note how much of himself he managed to infuse the main character with.

In this scene, he argues with his former guardian over the way in which he is running his newspaper, essentially making up stories, which he has previously described as sounding “like fun”. Other newspaper staff pop in and out and the scene.

****

Thatcher: “Galleons of Spain off Jersey Coast.” Is that really your idea of how to run a newspaper?

Kane: I don’t know how to run a newspaper, Mr Thatcher. I just try everything I can think of.

Thatcher: Charles, you know perfectly well there’s not the slightest proof of this – armadas off the Jersey coast!

Kane: Hello, Mr Bernstein.

Bernstein: Excuse me, Mr Kane.

Kane: Can you prove it isn’t?

Bernstein: This just came in.

Kane: Mr Bernstein, I’d like you to meet Mr Thatcher.

Bernstein: How do you do, Mr Thatcher?

Leland: I’ll just borrow a cigar.

Kane: Leland, Mr Thatcher, my ex-guardian.

Leland: Hello.

Bernstein: It’s from Cuba.

Kane: We have no secrets from our readers, Mr Bernstein. Mr Thatcher is one of our most devoted readers. He knows what’s wrong with every copy of the Inquirer since I took over. Read the cable.

Bernstein: “Girls delightful in Cuba. Stop. Could send you prose poems about scenery but don’t feel right spending your money. Stop. There is no war in Cuba. Signed, Wheeler.” Any answer?

Kane: Yes. “Dear Wheeler. You provide the prose poems, I’ll provide the war.”

Bernstein: That’s fine, Mr Kane.

Kane: Yes, I rather like it myself. Send it right away.

Thatcher: I came to see you about this campaign of yours. The campaign against the Public Transit Company.

Kane: Mr Thatcher, do you know anything we could use against them?

Thatcher: Still the college boy, aren’t you?

Kane: Oh, no, Mr Thatcher, I was expelled from college, a lot of colleges. You remember. I remember.

Thatcher: Charles, I think I should remind you of a fact that you seem to have forgotten. That you are yourself one of the largest individual stockholders in the Public Transit Company.

Kane: The trouble is you don’t realise that you’re talking to two people. As Charles Foster Kane, who owns 82,364 shares of Public Transit Preferred – you see, I do have a general idea of my holdings – I sympathise with you. Charles Foster Kane is a scoundrel. His paper should be run out of town. A committee should be formed to boycott him. You may, if you can form such a committee, put me down for a contribution of one thousand dollars.

Thatcher: My time is…

Kane: On the other hand, I am the publisher of the Inquirer. As such, it’s my duty. And I’ll let you in on a little secret. It’s also my pleasure. To see to it that decent, hardworking people in this community aren’t robbed blind by a pack of money mad pirates just because they haven’t anybody to look after their interests. I’ll let you in on another little secret, Mr Thatcher. I think I’m the man to do it. You see, I have money and property. If I don’t look after the interests of the underprivileged, maybe somebody else will. Maybe somebody without any money and property.

Thatcher: Yes, yes, yes.

Kane: And that would be too bad.

Thatcher: Yes, well, I happened to see your financial statement today, Charles.

Kane: Did you?

Thatcher: Now tell me honestly, my boy. Don’t you think it’s rather unwise to continue this philanthropic enterprise, this empire that’s costing you a million dollars a year?

Kane: You’re right, Mr Thatcher. I did lose a million dollars last year. I expect to lose a million dollars this year. I expect to lose a million dollars next year. You know, Mr Thatcher, at a rate of a million dollars a year, I’ll have to close this place in sixty years.

JFK

This is Oliver Stone’s classic conspiracy movie and while I don’t necessarily subscribe to the specific conclusion he reaches, it does what all good conspiracy theories should do: raises inconsistencies. It’s also a terrific piece of storytelling.

In this scene, Jim Garrison, the New Orleans District Attorney, is dining with his old law school friend, Dean Andrews, who testified at the Warren Commission regarding a mysterious figure going by the name of Clay Bertrand, who tried to organise a lawyer for Lee Harvey Oswald.

****

Jim Garrison: When’d you first do business with this Bertrand?

Dean Andrews: Pipe the bimbo in red. Lordy.

Jim Garrison: Yeah, she’s cute alright but not half as cute as you, Deano.

Dean Andrews: Thank you.

Jim Garrison: You should have tried a legitimate line of business.

Dean Andrews: Why you dancin’ on my head for, my man? We’ve been thick as molasses pie since law school.

Jim Garrison: Because you’re conning me, Dean. I read your testimony at the Warren Commission.

Dean Andrews: There you go again. Grain of salt. It’s beside the point.

Jim Garrison: You tell them the day after the assassination you’re called on the phone by this Clay Bertrand and asked to fly to Dallas and be Lee Oswald’s lawyer.

Dean Andrews: Right.

Jim Garrison: That’s pretty important, Dean. You also told the FBI that when you met him, he’s six foot two. Then you tell the Commission he’s five foot eight. Now how the hell does a man shrink like that, Dean?

Dean Andrews: They put the heat on my man, just like you doin’. I gave them anything that popped in my cabeza. Truth is, I never met the dude. I don’t know what the cat looks like and furthermore I don’t know where he’s at. All I know is sometimes he sends me some cases. So one day he’s on the phone, talking to me about going to Dallas, repping Oswald.

Jim Garrison: You ever speak to Oswald in Dallas?

Dean Andrews: Hell, no. Like I told that Bertrand cat right off, this ain’t my scene, man. I’m a hack. He needs a hot dog.

Jim Garrison: Then how the hell did your name get in the Warren Commission, Dean?

Dean Andrews: Like I told the Washington boys, Bertrand called that summer and asked me to help the kid upgrade his Marine discharge. There wasn’t no conspiracy, Jim. If there was, why the hell didn’t Bobby Kennedy prosecute it as Attorney-General? He was his brother, for Christ’s sake. How the fuck all those people could keep a secret like that, I don’t know. It was Oswald. He was a fruitcake. He hated this country.

Garrison: We’re having a communication problem, Dean. I know you know who Clay Bertrand is, alright? Now stop eating that crabmeat a minute and listen. I’m aware of our friendship but I want you to know I’m gonna call you in front of the grand jury. You lie to the grand jury as you been lyin’ to me, I’m gonna charge you with perjury. Alright, I took nine judges on right here in New Orleans. I beat them all. So am I communicating with you?

Dean Andrews: Is this off the record, daddyo? Good. In that case, let me sum it up for you real quick. If I answer that question you keep asking, if I give you the name of the big enchilada, you know, then it’s bon voyage, Deano. I mean like permanent. I mean, like a bullet in my head, you dig? You’re a mouse fighting a gorilla. Kennedy’s as dead as that crabmeat. The government’s still breathing. You wanna line up with a dead man?

Jim Garrison: Read my lips, Deano. Either you dance into the grand jury with the real identity of Clay Bertrand or your fat behind’s going to the slammer. Now you dig me?

Dean Andrews: You’re as crazy as your mama. Goes to show it’s in the genes. Do you have any idea what you’re getting yourself into, daddyo? The government’s going to jump all over your head, Jimbo, and go cock-a-doodle-do. Good day to you, sir.

Aliens

Any true Aliens and James Cameron fan when referring to Aliens will be talking about the special edition, not the theatrical release. The story is ultimately the same but so much richer for the inclusion of the additional scenes and not once during the hundreds of times I’ve watched this film have I ever lamented its length.

In the sequel (one of very few that are better than their original counterparts), Ripley is asked to return to the planet where the alien was first encountered in order to advise a team of soldiers. Their mission: to locate the two hundred or so colonists terraforming the planet who have lost contact with Earth.

In this scene (which appears in a cut down form in the theatrical release), Ripley is attending a hearing into the events of the first film and the destruction of the Nostromo, the ship she blew up attempting to kill the alien.

****

Ripley: I don’t understand this. We have been here for three and a half hours. Now how many different ways do you want me to tell the same story?

Van Leuwen: Look at it from our perspective please. Please. Now you freely admit to detonating the engines of and thereby destroying an M class star freighter, a rather expensive piece of hardware.

Male Hearing Member: Forty-two million in adjusted dollars. That’s minus payload, of course.

Van Leuwen: The life boat’s flight recorder corroborates some elements of your account and that for reasons unknown, the Nostromo set down on LB426, an unsurveyed planet at that time, that it resumed its course and was subsequently set for self-destruct by you for reasons unknown.

Ripley: Not for reasons unknown. I told you. We set down there on company orders to get this thing, which destroyed my crew. And your expensive ship.

Van Leuwen: The analysis team, which went over the life boat centimetre by centimetre, found no physical evidence of the creature you describe.

Ripley: Good! That’s because I blew it out of the goddam airlock. Like I said.

Male Hearing Member: Are there any species like this hostile organism on LB426?

Female Hearing Member: No, it’s a rock. No indigenous life.

Ripley: Did IQs just drop sharply while I was away? Ma’am, I already said that it was not indigenous, it was a derelict spacecraft, it was an alien ship, it was not from there. Do you get it? We homed in on its beacon.

Female Hearing Member: And found something never recorded once in over three hundred surveyed worlds. A creature that gestates inside a living human host – these are your words – and has concentrated acid for blood.

Ripley: That’s right. Look, I can see where this is going but I’m telling you that those things exist.

Van Leuwen: Thank you, Officer Ripley. That will be all.

Ripley: Please, you’re not listening to me. Kane, the crew member… Kane, who went into that ship, said he saw thousands of eggs there, thousands.

Van Leuwen: Thank you, that will be all!

Ripley: Goddammit, that’s not all. Because if one those things gets down here, then that will be all. Then all this, this bullshit that you think is so important, you can just kiss all that goodbye.

Van Leuwen: It is the finding of this court of enquiry that Warrant Officer E Ripley NOC14472 has acted with questionable judgement and is unfit to hold an ICC licence as a commercial flight officer. Said licence is hereby suspended indefinitely. Now, no criminal charges will be filed against you at this time and you are released on your own recognisance for a six month period of psychometric probation to include monthly review by an ICC psychiatric technician. These proceedings are closed.

Carter: That could have been better. Look, I think the… Ripley!

Ripley: Van Leuwen! Why don’t you just check out LB426?

Van Leuwen: Because I don’t have to. There have been people there for over twenty years and they never complained about any hostile organism.

Ripley: What do you mean? What people?

Van Leuwen: Terraformers. Planet engineers. They go in, set up these big atmosphere processors to make the air breathable. Takes decades. It’s what we call a “shake’n’bake” colony.

Ripley: How many are there? How many colonists?

Van Leuwen: I don’t know. Sixty, maybe seventy families. Do you mind?

Ripley: Families. Jesus!

Idiocracy

This is one of the most underrated movies and potentially a warning on where the world is heading. It starts out by comparing the reproductive results of a committed couple, Trevor (IQ 138) and Carol (IQ 141), and Clevon (IQ 84). While Trevor and Carol are waiting for the right time and the right financial conditions, Clevon just can’t seem to stop getting women pregnant. While Trevor and Carol end up never having children, Clevon ends up with twenty-three sons and daughters, all who demonstrate as much intellectual aptitude as he does and breed even more.

The story then moves on to the armed services conducting an experiment by freezing a military librarian and a prostitute. The experiment gets forgotten and the two eventually wake up and escape from their hibernation pods 500 years in the future where they are the smartest people in the entire world by a very long way. The President charges him with solving the problem of why all the world’s crops have failed (they’re being watered with a sports drink called Brawndo) with the promise of a pardon after Joe was convicted of “being a dick”, “for excaping from jail” and “for fucking lots of shit up”.

****

Joe: For the last time, I’m pretty sure what’s killing the crops is this Brawndo stuff.

Secretary of State: But Brawndo’s got what plants crave. It’s got electrolytes.

Attorney-General: So wait a minute. What you’re saying is that you want us to put water on the crops?

Joe: Yes.

Attorney-General: Water. Like out of the toilet?

Joe: Well, I mean, it doesn’t have to be out of the toilet but yeah, that’s the idea.

Secretary of State: But Brawndo’s got what plants crave.

Attorney-General: It’s got electrolytes.

Joe: Okay, look. The plants aren’t growing so I’m pretty sure that the Brawndo’s not working. Now, I’m no botanist but I do know that if you put water on plants, they grow.

Secretary of Energy: Well, I’ve never seen no plants growing out of no toilet.

Secretary of State: Hey, that’s good. You sure you ain’t the smartest guy in the world?

Joe: Okay, look. You want to solve this problem. I want to get my pardon. So why don’t we just try it, okay? And not worry about what plants crave.

Attorney-General: Brawndo’s got what plants crave.

Secretary of Energy: Yeah, it’s got electrolytes.

Joe: What are electrolytes? Do you even know?

Secretary of State: It’s what they use to make Brawndo.

Joe: Yeah, but why do they use them to make Brawndo.

Secretary of Defense: ’Cause Brawndo’s got electrolytes.

Narrator: After several hours, Joe finally gave up on logic and reason and simply told the cabinet that he could talk to plants and that they wanted water. He made believers out of everyone.

Look out for Part Two on Friday.

Book Review: A Is For Alibi by Sue Grafton

An easy read – finished it in two days (and not with non-stop reading). I didn’t love it but I didn’t hate it and I’m prepared to continue on with the rest of the alphabet.

The fact that it was written in the 1980s is very obvious – no one has cell phones and she drops off film to have photos developed! But apart from this, it has aged reasonably well.

Kinsey is a bit of a stereotype – but then again, maybe she was the first and I’m just really late to the party.

This is something I would recommend as a break from heavier reading.

3 stars

*First published on Goodreads 26 December 2012

Guest Post: Signs and Sounds Our Human Knows by Kiwi, Mia and Jock

Kiwi’s Story

Louise is my human. Got that? Mine. I chose her. I had a few options, although I suppose she did, too. I used to run with a lot of other cats. We were wild rebels. We didn’t need owners.

Before Louise and before my rebellion, I had another human, some bastard who cut my balls off but didn’t bother to microchip me. Any wonder I ran away. Without a microchip, when the vet checked me, they couldn’t send me back so it worked out in the end. That’s how I got to stay with Louise.

My name is Kiwi because I am an all black (although I’ve always had little tufts of white chest hair – sexy, right?) and I am the man of the house. I’m starting to go grey – I’m over ten years old now – but that just means I’m moving into my distinguished phase. I’m not ready to give up my position as man of the house, no matter how many young up-and-comers think they’re ready to take over the role.

Mia’s Story

My name used to be Princess. Original, right? I had another human before Louise, too. Her name was Emma. I don’t know what happened to her. She moved and she didn’t leave a forwarding address. Louise tried to find her, because that’s what good humans do, but I don’t think Emma wanted to be found.

I lived in Louise’s front yard for about three months but I didn’t let her know. There was a kennel nobody else was using and I was pregnant. Besides that, Louise had a reputation for being nice and for feeding neighbourhood cats who were hungry. Not all of them. Only the ones that would let her pat them. She was trying to socialise us all.

I gave birth in March of 2010 to two black and white kittens, a boy and a girl. We managed to hide for a while but eventually Louise saw us. She took in my little boy but the girl escaped and it took her another two months before she was caught, too. My son, Jock, stayed with Louise and my daughter, Lexie, lives with Louise’s sister.

My official name is Mia but Louise called me Mama from the start (Get it? Mama Mia?) because I wouldn’t or maybe couldn’t stop having babies. I continued visiting Louise and in July of 2010, she realised I was pregnant again. I started living with her and I haven’t left since. In August 2010, I gave birth again – this would be my last litter though. Five kittens. Louise found homes for them all and they left at twelve weeks.

Kiwi and I don’t get along so well. He thinks Louise is his human. I think she’s my human. But we’ve got one other thing in common: he loves my son, Jock.

Jock’s Story

Louise is my mum. Not my biological mum. My adopted mum. My sister, Lexie, and I were born in a kennel in her front yard and when I was seven weeks old, I went to live with Louise. I should have stayed with my biological mum for a few more weeks so I could be properly weaned. But I wasn’t. I suck Louise’s earlobe as a substitute and she doesn’t seem to mind. [Yes, I do! – Louise]

I was about five months old when my biological mum had another litter of kittens. I loved being a big brother and I used to carry the kittens away, picking them up by the scruff of the neck just like Mama used to do. Louise would bring them back.

Kiwi isn’t my dad but he taught me how to be a man cat. I’m nearly ready to be the man of the house but Kiwi says I’m not ready. I think what he really means is he’s not ready to let me take over. That’s okay. In the meantime, we’ll just focus on being a family.

The Signs and Sounds

Sitting by the Water Fountain

Jock: The water fountain doesn’t run all the time. There’s a magic switch on the wall that makes it go and makes it stop. If Louise sees me sitting at the water fountain when she comes into the kitchen, she knows I want her to turn it on. I don’t drink still water. It has to be bubbling out of the spout. And I don’t drink water like a cat. I drink water like a human. I put my whole mouth over the spout and drink it down. None of this lapping crap that Mama and Kiwi do. Because I’m half cat and half human.

Scratching the Glass Doors

Kiwi: I used to be a day-time outside and night-time inside cat. Now because we live bordered by two busy main roads and a freeway, I’m a permanent inside cat. Mostly I’m okay with that but sometimes I still get wanderlust, which I tell Louise about by scratching the glass doors. She opens them and even though there’s still a flywire barrier, it’s enough to be able to smell the fresh air and see the birds (oh, boy, the birds!). Well, that’s what I tell her anyway. I suppose it’s a woman’s job to rein in a man. And I’m the man of the house. Relationships are all about compromise, right?

Sitting by the Litter Tray

Mia: Three cats and one litter tray? It’s an equation I don’t really like. Especially if two boys have used it before me. So I sit in front of the litter tray to let Louise know I want it cleaned. She knows from experience that if I’m not happy to go in the litter tray, then I’m more than happy to go on the couch (the couch went out in the hard rubbish collection in January and we haven’t got a new one yet but I’ve heard it’s going to be leather – easier to clean). I might be a cat but I’m still a lady and sharing a toilet with boys is… let’s just call it challenging.

Sitting on our Human’s Chest While She’s Watching TV

Jock: Breakfast and dinner should be served to a strict schedule but Louise sometimes is a little slack. Sitting on her chest and blocking her view of the television usually gets the message across.

Meowing in the Car

Kiwi, Jock and Mia: If we’re in the car, we know exactly where we’re going. And we don’t want to go there. And when we get there, we won’t get out of the carrier. Although once we’re there, it’s not so bad. So when it’s time to go, we won’t get back in the carrier (because if there’s one thing worse than the vet, it’s the carrier). Our vets are nice and check-ups aren’t that bad, but we still don’t want to go. And so we meow.

Run for It, Marty!

Kiwi, Jock and Mia: We don’t like strangers. So whenever anyone knocks on the door, we all run upstairs and hide.

Mia: I hide under the bed. Some other cats (who shall remain nameless) take it a step further and get in under the doona. They’re like those moron toddlers who think hiding their faces behind their hands means they’re invisible. They make two big lumps under the covers and Louise always knows exactly where they are. The strangers would, too. It’s the women in our family who are the smart ones.

Words and Sounds My Cats Know

As a communications expert, I think it’s important to acknowledge both inter-human and cross-species messages. While my cats might not have the detailed awareness of the English language I do, they know enough to get what they want – which is mostly (but not always) some type of food.

Their Names

When you have three cats, it’s important that they recognise their own names. In order for this to be possible, they need to be different enough so that the cats don’t get confused. It’s just horse shit luck that they ended up that way because I name my cats after their attributes – Kiwi, the all black (a New Zealand reference, for those who don’t get it – you can look it up), Mia (who didn’t have a proper name for a long time – I just called her Mama, and still do, but I didn’t think it was something I could put on the council’s cat registration form without embarrassment) and Jock (who was the most athletic kitten I’d ever seen and is also black and white so was named after the famous Collingwood coach – go Magpies!).

Breakfast, Dinner, Snack, Nom Noms

All of these words, once uttered, have them racing for the kitchen pantry where they know their cat food is stored.

Down

Whether this is in relation to the kitchen bench (the one and only place I don’t allow my cats to climb up on) or my lap, “down” usually has the desired effect. In the first situation, it’s a stern reprimand and in the second, it’s a gentle warning about upcoming cat displacement, which is what makes me think they know the word. They’re not just responding to a tone.

Snuggles

This word is only recognised by Kiwi because he is the only cat that likes to snuggle, which means he gets under the covers with me in the morning, curls into the curve of my body and gets snuggly. My first cat used to do this. She was quite old when I got her so I wonder if it’s something older cats like to do to make the most of their human’s body heat.

My Car’s Engine

My cats spend most of the day sleeping so I know they don’t just sit around waiting for me to get back when I go out. But a lot of time when I come up the driveway in my car, there is Kiwi looking out the window next to the front door, and there is Mia behind the blinds next to the garage and there is Jock peering down from my bedroom window. They seem to recognise the sound of my car’s engine, which makes sense to me because it’s the sort of thing humans do, too.

The Kitchen Pantry Door Opening

I should really get around to fixing this but the kitchen pantry door squeaks when I open it so there’s no opening it in secret. And regardless of whether I’m opening it for myself or for the cats, they come racing as soon as they hear that squeak – even if it’s not breakfast or dinner time – in the hopes they can score some food.

The Clink of the Spoon on the Glass When I’m Making Chocolate Milk

This is another Kiwi specific one. He loves to drink chocolate milk – any milk really – and the sound of the spoon clinking on the side of the glass as I stir the chocolate in makes him come running. He’s a big cat and is on a perpetual diet (my choice in conjunction with the vet, definitely not his) so he takes any opportunity he can to score extra food. This includes stealing my dinner when I get up and walk away from the plate momentarily to answer the phone. He is the most food motivated cat I have ever known.

The Opening of the Bag Containing the Grated Cheese

Perhaps not surprisingly, the sound of the grated cheese bag snaplocking open is also Kiwi-specific. He always comes running when he hears it. Meat and dairy are his two weaknesses. Jock’s favourite is canned asparagus (don’t ask). Mia doesn’t give her secrets away as easily but so far she doesn’t seem as food motivated as the boys. Maybe she’s watching her figure.

Book Review: The Great Flood Mystery by Jane Curry

I first read this book when I was ten after buying it from the Scholastic book catalogue that we used to come home from school with and I read it again this year in preparation for adding it to a list of my current top ten books.

There are so many elements that combine to make this a great book. A mystery to be solved, the hundredth anniversary of a devastating flood, summer holidays, houses with secret entrances and secret rooms, possible treasure, a serial burglar, disguises, surveillance, board game design shenanigans, a family struggling with economic realities and a boy who cries, “Wolf!” Or does he? All of these components sound like overkill but they come together to create a terrific story with a realistic ending.

This book is thirty years old now and it’s indicative of another time when twelve-year-olds could roam the streets of their home towns having adventures on their summer holidays. This book set me on a path of loving similar (although more grown up) books with mysteries and their eventual solutions without inevitable happy endings.

I’ve had this on my shelf for twenty-five years and I intend for it to remain there for fifty more. And while it might not stand up in comparison to some other books I’ve rated five stars, it holds a special place in my heart for setting me on a varied and wonderful reading journey.

5 stars

*First published on Goodreads 18 June 2015