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Shell
“A luminous look at a city at a time of change, a time when the building of the Sydney Opera House was a reach for greatness.” —The New York Times
In this spellbinding and poignant historical novel—perfect for fans of All the Light We Cannot See and The Flamethrowers —a Swedish glassmaker and a fiercely independent Australian journalist are thrown together amidst the turmoil of the 1960s and the dawning of a new modern era.
1965: As the United States becomes further embroiled in the Vietnam War, the ripple effects are far-reaching—even to the other side of the world. In Australia, a national military draft has been announced and Pearl Keogh, a headstrong and ambitious newspaper reporter, has put her job in jeopardy to become involved in the anti-war movement. Desperate to locate her two runaway brothers before they’re called to serve, Pearl is also hiding a secret shame—the guilt she feels for not doing more for her younger siblings after their mother’s untimely death.
Newly arrived from Sweden, Axel Lindquist is set to work as a sculptor on the besieged Sydney Opera House. After a childhood in Europe, where the shadow of WWII loomed large, he seeks to reinvent himself in this utterly foreign landscape, and finds artistic inspiration—and salvation—in the monument to modernity that is being constructed on Sydney’s Harbor. But as the nation hurtles towards yet another war, Jørn Utzon, the Opera House’s controversial architect, is nowhere to be found—and Axel fears that the past he has tried to outrun may be catching up with him.
As the seas of change swirl around them, Pearl and Axel’s lives orbit each other and collide in this sweeping novel of art and culture, love and destiny.
In this spellbinding and poignant historical novel—perfect for fans of All the Light We Cannot See and The Flamethrowers —a Swedish glassmaker and a fiercely independent Australian journalist are thrown together amidst the turmoil of the 1960s and the dawning of a new modern era.
1965: As the United States becomes further embroiled in the Vietnam War, the ripple effects are far-reaching—even to the other side of the world. In Australia, a national military draft has been announced and Pearl Keogh, a headstrong and ambitious newspaper reporter, has put her job in jeopardy to become involved in the anti-war movement. Desperate to locate her two runaway brothers before they’re called to serve, Pearl is also hiding a secret shame—the guilt she feels for not doing more for her younger siblings after their mother’s untimely death.
Newly arrived from Sweden, Axel Lindquist is set to work as a sculptor on the besieged Sydney Opera House. After a childhood in Europe, where the shadow of WWII loomed large, he seeks to reinvent himself in this utterly foreign landscape, and finds artistic inspiration—and salvation—in the monument to modernity that is being constructed on Sydney’s Harbor. But as the nation hurtles towards yet another war, Jørn Utzon, the Opera House’s controversial architect, is nowhere to be found—and Axel fears that the past he has tried to outrun may be catching up with him.
As the seas of change swirl around them, Pearl and Axel’s lives orbit each other and collide in this sweeping novel of art and culture, love and destiny.
259 pages, Hardcover
First published October 9, 2018
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 187 reviews
October 13, 2018
“As with all of my books, Shell was not written because I knew something. I write, always, compulsively, because I don’t know something. It is always about a question. At the end of that process I find I have no solid answers. Only possibilities, a whole new set of questions.”
I was taken by what Kristina Olsson writes to her readers in a beginning letter. It made me think that this is what good fiction should do - open up possibilities, make us think. This is exactly what this novel does. Quiet, beautiful writing, with revelations about the characters slowly coming to the surface through introspective narratives that dig deep into who they are, their pasts, how they have gotten to where they are, fighting the demons of that past. It’s an interesting piece of historical fiction, and although not too far in the past, it was an opportunity to learn several things. The story takes place during the mid 1960’s and centers on two events - the building of the Sydney Opera House and the Australian lottery that drafted young men to fight in Vietnam. I knew absolutely nothing of the politics surrounding the building of the Sydney Opera House and had no idea that Australia was involved in the Vietnam War.
Around these events, Olssen has created a complex story around complex characters. Pearl Keogh, a journalist, an anti war activist is focused on trying to find her younger brothers who she has not seen for years. She carries the guilt of abandoning them after she leaves the orphanage they were all sent to when her mother dies and her father’s grief is so overwhelming, he cannot take care of them. She’s obsessed with finding them, to warn them and save them from the draft. Her narrative is blended with that of Axel Lindquist, a lonely glass sculptor from Sweden, trying to find a place for himself working on his art commissioned for the Sydney Opera House. Pearl’s story was more compelling at first. I waited for the characters to connect and they did, but still it took until close to the end before I had a better understanding of Axel’s story. His story brought another level here. He is scarred by the disappearance of his father, during WWII, when Axel was 10 years old. Sweden’s neutrality is juxtaposed with the Australian participation in the Vietnam War. This actually brought to my attention another thing I had not known about - the White Buses, the efforts of the Swedish and a Danish governments and the role they played in freeing Jews from the camps in 1945.
I wondered how this book came to be and it made sense when Olsson tells of her background. She’s a former journalist with an Australian mother and a Swedish father and connected in ways to the events that are part of this novel. When I finished this, my first response was to rate it 3.5 and round it up, but the more I thought about the fantastic prose and the profound themes, I realized that this is deserving of a full 4 stars.
I received an advanced copy of this book from Atria through NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.
I was taken by what Kristina Olsson writes to her readers in a beginning letter. It made me think that this is what good fiction should do - open up possibilities, make us think. This is exactly what this novel does. Quiet, beautiful writing, with revelations about the characters slowly coming to the surface through introspective narratives that dig deep into who they are, their pasts, how they have gotten to where they are, fighting the demons of that past. It’s an interesting piece of historical fiction, and although not too far in the past, it was an opportunity to learn several things. The story takes place during the mid 1960’s and centers on two events - the building of the Sydney Opera House and the Australian lottery that drafted young men to fight in Vietnam. I knew absolutely nothing of the politics surrounding the building of the Sydney Opera House and had no idea that Australia was involved in the Vietnam War.
Around these events, Olssen has created a complex story around complex characters. Pearl Keogh, a journalist, an anti war activist is focused on trying to find her younger brothers who she has not seen for years. She carries the guilt of abandoning them after she leaves the orphanage they were all sent to when her mother dies and her father’s grief is so overwhelming, he cannot take care of them. She’s obsessed with finding them, to warn them and save them from the draft. Her narrative is blended with that of Axel Lindquist, a lonely glass sculptor from Sweden, trying to find a place for himself working on his art commissioned for the Sydney Opera House. Pearl’s story was more compelling at first. I waited for the characters to connect and they did, but still it took until close to the end before I had a better understanding of Axel’s story. His story brought another level here. He is scarred by the disappearance of his father, during WWII, when Axel was 10 years old. Sweden’s neutrality is juxtaposed with the Australian participation in the Vietnam War. This actually brought to my attention another thing I had not known about - the White Buses, the efforts of the Swedish and a Danish governments and the role they played in freeing Jews from the camps in 1945.
I wondered how this book came to be and it made sense when Olsson tells of her background. She’s a former journalist with an Australian mother and a Swedish father and connected in ways to the events that are part of this novel. When I finished this, my first response was to rate it 3.5 and round it up, but the more I thought about the fantastic prose and the profound themes, I realized that this is deserving of a full 4 stars.
I received an advanced copy of this book from Atria through NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.
May 23, 2019
I loved the beautiful cover and I found all the research about the Opera House and Sydney life in the sixties well done and very interesting. However I never managed to become involved in the characters or the story.
Most of all I was constantly irritated by the italicised speech. I think this was my biggest problem and it prevented me from concentrating fully on the rest. Two stars then because the book was okay, just not for me.
Most of all I was constantly irritated by the italicised speech. I think this was my biggest problem and it prevented me from concentrating fully on the rest. Two stars then because the book was okay, just not for me.
December 20, 2018
“Writing about architecture is like dancing to music – a completely natural thing to do”. Wait, that’s not how that quote goes? Oh well.
The building of the Sydney Opera House marks a watershed moment in Australia’s history: symbolic of a coming-of-age for the nation, of forging a cultural identity distinct from the Britishness that had characterised the preceding era. Just think: Australia in 1965, when the bulk of Shell takes place, had the same prime minister as it did 26 years earlier in 1939. Difficult to move forward with one foot stuck in the past.
This tension then, this state of flux, the awkward adolescence of a nation, is the stuff from which Shell is wrought. The construction of a singular architectural icon looms in the background as a perfect metaphor.
In the foreground are two personal stories: Pearl, an Australian journalist sidelined by her newspaper into writing the ‘women’s section’ because of her opposition to the Vietnam war, is desperately trying to find her two brothers before they can be drafted; meanwhile Axel, a Swedish glassmaker commissioned to create a bespoke artwork for the Opera House foyer, obsesses about meeting ‘the architect’, Jørn Utzon, and traipses around Sydney seeking clarity for his artistic vision. Each has a past they are grappling with, while also questioning their own values in a shifting world.
Utzon’s own fascinating story can be found elsewhere. In Shell he is a shadowy enigma, with the political interference forcing him off the project referenced only briefly. Shell is more concerned with digging deep into the national psyche that produced such animosity towards the man:
The dual perspectives of Axel, an artist and a foreigner, and Pearl, a local and a woman during major social upheaval, give a real depth to the story. Olsson’s prose is rich with metaphor, each sentence crafted with careful artistry, and distinctly unafraid of grandeur.
It’s a slow burner, so patience is required. Slow-paced, lyrical novels are not usually my thing, but once I stopped resisting and let the book’s gentle current carry me along, I was completely captivated. It never lapses into easy nostalgia, neither does it condemn, but rather paints a complex picture of a tumultuous time. An elegant novel to be savoured.
The building of the Sydney Opera House marks a watershed moment in Australia’s history: symbolic of a coming-of-age for the nation, of forging a cultural identity distinct from the Britishness that had characterised the preceding era. Just think: Australia in 1965, when the bulk of Shell takes place, had the same prime minister as it did 26 years earlier in 1939. Difficult to move forward with one foot stuck in the past.
This tension then, this state of flux, the awkward adolescence of a nation, is the stuff from which Shell is wrought. The construction of a singular architectural icon looms in the background as a perfect metaphor.
In the foreground are two personal stories: Pearl, an Australian journalist sidelined by her newspaper into writing the ‘women’s section’ because of her opposition to the Vietnam war, is desperately trying to find her two brothers before they can be drafted; meanwhile Axel, a Swedish glassmaker commissioned to create a bespoke artwork for the Opera House foyer, obsesses about meeting ‘the architect’, Jørn Utzon, and traipses around Sydney seeking clarity for his artistic vision. Each has a past they are grappling with, while also questioning their own values in a shifting world.
Utzon’s own fascinating story can be found elsewhere. In Shell he is a shadowy enigma, with the political interference forcing him off the project referenced only briefly. Shell is more concerned with digging deep into the national psyche that produced such animosity towards the man:
”But symbol and metaphor were lost down here beneath the heavy hand of heat and lethargy and a vastness of sky and ocean and air. Beneath a particular attitude, he saw suddenly, one the protesters with their placards might sense: a kind of huddling around sameness, a retreat from risk and – despite the openness of air and sky – from exposure. He saw it plainly in the derision of Utzon in the papers, the growing clamour of voices mocking his vision. As if they were ashamed of a building that might reveal them, the soaring shapes of their dreams, the true interior of their hearts. As if they were afraid of grandeur.”
The dual perspectives of Axel, an artist and a foreigner, and Pearl, a local and a woman during major social upheaval, give a real depth to the story. Olsson’s prose is rich with metaphor, each sentence crafted with careful artistry, and distinctly unafraid of grandeur.
It’s a slow burner, so patience is required. Slow-paced, lyrical novels are not usually my thing, but once I stopped resisting and let the book’s gentle current carry me along, I was completely captivated. It never lapses into easy nostalgia, neither does it condemn, but rather paints a complex picture of a tumultuous time. An elegant novel to be savoured.
October 17, 2018
It was the 1960s and Australia was on the brink of change. The Vietnam War was about to take a poke at Australia’s youth – and the Sydney Opera House was under construction. The draft for the Vietnam War was in the form of a lottery, and all the young people who were born within a certain time period had their birth dates put in a barrel. If you were lucky, your birth date didn’t come out. (My husband’s didn’t thank goodness!)
Journalist Pearl Keogh was in a desperate search for her two younger brothers whom she hadn’t seen in years. Pearl was anti-war and an activist – her protesting could put her career at risk; but her guilt was deep, so she was determined to find her brothers to help them avoid the draft.
Meanwhile, Axel Lindquist, newly arrived from Sweden, was working as a sculptor on the Opera House. His art work was his salvation – his hopes were that the new country would also help him find the inspiration he had lost during WWII. Pearl’s and Axel’s lives would come together in this period of change…
While fully aware of the poignancy and beautiful writing of Shell by Aussie author Kristina Olsson, I found myself struggling, putting the book down and going back to it days later. The author has indulged in my pet hate – no speech marks – with the dialogue in italics inside the paragraphs. Very off-putting for me I’m afraid. The cover is stunning, but I’m disappointed I didn’t love this book as I expected to. That said, I’ll still recommend it to others who are sure to enjoy it more than I did.
With thanks to S&S Australia for my uncorrected proof ARC to read in exchange for an honest review.
Journalist Pearl Keogh was in a desperate search for her two younger brothers whom she hadn’t seen in years. Pearl was anti-war and an activist – her protesting could put her career at risk; but her guilt was deep, so she was determined to find her brothers to help them avoid the draft.
Meanwhile, Axel Lindquist, newly arrived from Sweden, was working as a sculptor on the Opera House. His art work was his salvation – his hopes were that the new country would also help him find the inspiration he had lost during WWII. Pearl’s and Axel’s lives would come together in this period of change…
While fully aware of the poignancy and beautiful writing of Shell by Aussie author Kristina Olsson, I found myself struggling, putting the book down and going back to it days later. The author has indulged in my pet hate – no speech marks – with the dialogue in italics inside the paragraphs. Very off-putting for me I’m afraid. The cover is stunning, but I’m disappointed I didn’t love this book as I expected to. That said, I’ll still recommend it to others who are sure to enjoy it more than I did.
With thanks to S&S Australia for my uncorrected proof ARC to read in exchange for an honest review.
July 5, 2019
The first section was a claustrophobic reading experience for this little sailor who has been stuck on board her boat in high winds persisting for over a week with low cloud, torrential rain and low temperatures. If I didn't already have cabin fever, I do now.
Pearl is walking around in a guilt ridden haze, her mum has died, her dad is sick, her brothers are missing. A journalist by profession she has been banished to report on "the ladies pages" for being seen and photographed in an antiwar rally in Sydney. There is a buzz of constant noise around her, snippets of whispered conversations, partial demonstration propaganda from megaphones, catching radio relays as she walks by and headlines as words fly by. She carries a secret, she knows the date that the Menzies government will be conducting the first lottery for the first of the young 20 year olds to face other young kids in the front lines of the Vietnam war. Petrified of losing her brothers to this random fate of the draw, she is often caught up in her own inner monologue, or in a drunken stupour which helps her deal with the life she's been dealt. It's heavy going. Its jumbled and intense and if that wasn't enough to make you put down the book and read something more cheerful, the speech text and the inner voice dialogue are all in italics. It's often hard to know if she's talking to herself the whole time or if there really is a friend called Suze.
Similarly, a young Swedish glass sculpture artist, Axel, is now living in Sydney. He seems to be walking around in an immigrant haze, the language and the food and the history seem to be baffling him but he doesn't appear to have made any friends with which he can work through it all. He is an educated man, has a fair grasp of English and works with a big team of people. Half way through the book I was still trying to work out what his actual role is on the Opera House project. He is falling in love with the mess of a lady, the previously mentioned Pearl, who even in her pathetic state of agony over losing her brothers has become some kind of muse. Before her, he was getting inspiration from the land and the sea and at one point deduces that there is a city under Sydney, now buried under the white mans rule. He basically can't stop thinking about how this all connects to his hero and icon Opera House architect, the Danish Utzon, who he obsesses about on nearly every page. If he is supposed to be the deep thinking, emotional artist that the author is trying to portray it is not working for me. I'd like to slap him back to reality and ask to see the damned plans for the Opera House glass sculptures. Also, he is constantly going on about his mum back home in Sweden, which is kind of weird for a man of his years...
I found in the end that there's no focus, or maybe just too much; the war, the draft lottery, midnight parliaments, the past wars and the depression, the Opera House are all part of the story, but I failed to connect with any of it. I just wanted to read a book about the building of the Opera House which is prominently displayed on the bookcover. The continuing drama of the lost boys (now men) who Pearl is trying to find so that she can save them from the draft is really unconvincing. The brothers may want to fight in the war? They may be dead? They may be hiding from her because they hate her guts for abandoning them in the nunnery? The oppressive nature of the guilt Pearl feels is highly overdone. I get it. As a reader, I should have the right to understand this simple concept and not be frequently reminded that they are lost. Maybe if they were 5 this would have worked, but they are grown men and can probably look after themselves.
I don't like to diss Australian writers but I can only give feedback on how I read and feel about a book. I will award this a third star as I think that the writing style didn't suit me, but that is my issue and not Olssons.
Pearl is walking around in a guilt ridden haze, her mum has died, her dad is sick, her brothers are missing. A journalist by profession she has been banished to report on "the ladies pages" for being seen and photographed in an antiwar rally in Sydney. There is a buzz of constant noise around her, snippets of whispered conversations, partial demonstration propaganda from megaphones, catching radio relays as she walks by and headlines as words fly by. She carries a secret, she knows the date that the Menzies government will be conducting the first lottery for the first of the young 20 year olds to face other young kids in the front lines of the Vietnam war. Petrified of losing her brothers to this random fate of the draw, she is often caught up in her own inner monologue, or in a drunken stupour which helps her deal with the life she's been dealt. It's heavy going. Its jumbled and intense and if that wasn't enough to make you put down the book and read something more cheerful, the speech text and the inner voice dialogue are all in italics. It's often hard to know if she's talking to herself the whole time or if there really is a friend called Suze.
Similarly, a young Swedish glass sculpture artist, Axel, is now living in Sydney. He seems to be walking around in an immigrant haze, the language and the food and the history seem to be baffling him but he doesn't appear to have made any friends with which he can work through it all. He is an educated man, has a fair grasp of English and works with a big team of people. Half way through the book I was still trying to work out what his actual role is on the Opera House project. He is falling in love with the mess of a lady, the previously mentioned Pearl, who even in her pathetic state of agony over losing her brothers has become some kind of muse. Before her, he was getting inspiration from the land and the sea and at one point deduces that there is a city under Sydney, now buried under the white mans rule. He basically can't stop thinking about how this all connects to his hero and icon Opera House architect, the Danish Utzon, who he obsesses about on nearly every page. If he is supposed to be the deep thinking, emotional artist that the author is trying to portray it is not working for me. I'd like to slap him back to reality and ask to see the damned plans for the Opera House glass sculptures. Also, he is constantly going on about his mum back home in Sweden, which is kind of weird for a man of his years...
I found in the end that there's no focus, or maybe just too much; the war, the draft lottery, midnight parliaments, the past wars and the depression, the Opera House are all part of the story, but I failed to connect with any of it. I just wanted to read a book about the building of the Opera House which is prominently displayed on the bookcover. The continuing drama of the lost boys (now men) who Pearl is trying to find so that she can save them from the draft is really unconvincing. The brothers may want to fight in the war? They may be dead? They may be hiding from her because they hate her guts for abandoning them in the nunnery? The oppressive nature of the guilt Pearl feels is highly overdone. I get it. As a reader, I should have the right to understand this simple concept and not be frequently reminded that they are lost. Maybe if they were 5 this would have worked, but they are grown men and can probably look after themselves.
I don't like to diss Australian writers but I can only give feedback on how I read and feel about a book. I will award this a third star as I think that the writing style didn't suit me, but that is my issue and not Olssons.
December 17, 2018
I was drawn to this book with its beautiful cover of the Sydney Opera House & Harbor. The muted colors and softly blurred image is really appropriate for this historical fiction story. Olsson writes a tender, poignant contemplation of the atmosphere and times of 1960s Sydney, with a backdrop of events of the building of the Opera House and the Vietnam War lottery draft of young men. The story features two characters whose paths cross: Axel, a glassmaker from Sweden contracted to create sculptures for the Opera House, and Pearl, a Sydney journalist on a mission to find the younger brothers she hasn’t seen for ten years.
The pace of the story is slow and contemplative. It’s less about plot, and more about immersing the reader in the sights, sounds, and feel of the time and place. What I liked the most was the connection of the Opera House to its surroundings and getting a feel for how strongly the architectural elements communicated that connection.
The characters of Pearl and Axel and their relationship were less interesting to me, it felt a bit odd that they even crossed paths to begin with, and I never really felt the connection there.
With the slow pacing and lyrical writing of this book, I found myself only able to read a handful of pages at a time, and then putting the book down for breaks of ever-increasing amounts of time. As others have commented on, I too found the dialogue all in italics vs. quotation marks to be odd to read that way.
While I didn’t love the book, I appreciated the insight into this period of time in Australia when the Opera House was being built. I enjoyed learning about the design and construction challenges and public perceptions of the project at the time.
With thanks to Atria Books via NetGalley for providing me an ebook version to read in exchange for an honest review.
The pace of the story is slow and contemplative. It’s less about plot, and more about immersing the reader in the sights, sounds, and feel of the time and place. What I liked the most was the connection of the Opera House to its surroundings and getting a feel for how strongly the architectural elements communicated that connection.
The characters of Pearl and Axel and their relationship were less interesting to me, it felt a bit odd that they even crossed paths to begin with, and I never really felt the connection there.
With the slow pacing and lyrical writing of this book, I found myself only able to read a handful of pages at a time, and then putting the book down for breaks of ever-increasing amounts of time. As others have commented on, I too found the dialogue all in italics vs. quotation marks to be odd to read that way.
While I didn’t love the book, I appreciated the insight into this period of time in Australia when the Opera House was being built. I enjoyed learning about the design and construction challenges and public perceptions of the project at the time.
With thanks to Atria Books via NetGalley for providing me an ebook version to read in exchange for an honest review.
December 30, 2018
This lyrical novel uses the construction of the opera house to explore Australia in the 1960s. It's beautifully constructed as the building that inspired it.
October 17, 2018
My feelings about this book are very divided. On one hand, I was fascinated by Olsson’s evocation of the setting; Sydney in the mid-60’s was a culture deeply divided between its past and its future. On the brink of the Vietnam war draft, with the iconic Opera House in mid-construction, Australia was a country of immigrants unsure how to deal with its diversity.
Ultimately, though, the plot moved too languidly to keep me fully engaged. I was interested by Pearl and Axel, and their back-stories, but not enough to continue to plow through the adjectives and beautifully written turns of phrase.
Ultimately, though, the plot moved too languidly to keep me fully engaged. I was interested by Pearl and Axel, and their back-stories, but not enough to continue to plow through the adjectives and beautifully written turns of phrase.
September 7, 2019
I waited a long time to receive this book, sadly I was not terribly impressed. I usually do my own research for a hard copy book purchase, this time I relied on professional reviewers and now wonder about their judgement. However, I loved Pearl, resilient and a young woman before her day.
It is written in my life's time zone and birth place during the building of the Sydney Opera House and the enforced conscription of young men for the war in Vietnam for which several of my school and neighbourhood friends were conscripted. Contrary to how Australian history is written of this war, public hostility to it and the forced conscription was real and meant that many of these young men on return home had to deal with more than being forced into a war, as well as being faced with the horror of it all and the public negativity. It has taken until this day to give the credit they deserve and for real recognition and understanding of their plight of forced conscription that left many with mental trauma.
This read is centred around 2 main characters both carrying a lot of emotional baggage due to difficult lives as children. Pearl is a young news journalist caught up in the protest movement against the war in Vietnam for which her involvement against the newspaper's policy has meant that she has been moved sideways into women's fashion etc. However this doesn't seem to stop the clandestine meetings and whispered phone calls from a secret source of events soon to take place, primarily the lottery of birthdates for males aged 20 for the armed forces call up. "Reds Under the Bed" becomes a government's mantra for creating public fear (still resorted to at times even today). Pearl lost contact with her brothers soon after they absconded from the orphanage where they lived, placed there after the death of their mother. Her real guilt regarding her brothers is not revealed until well into the read and up until this point, it seems to be part of her obsessive nature.
Axel, a glass artist has left Sweden to create for the Opera House. His obsession is Utzon and his Opera House. He seeks knowledge of Utzon's vision of the shells and while the author makes it seem to Axel that the shell design comes from the natural landscape/harbour/surf of Australia (in actual fact Utzon had remarked that they were like quarters of an orange, the glass walls from the wing of a seagull) He also is a lost soul due to his lonely upbringing and the disappearance of his father during WW2. Sweden remained neutral and because of this he has experienced hostility from many during his life. Is, his obsession with Utzon the result of not remembering much of his father or that due to the closeness he had with his mother his guilt of not wanting his father to return?
The book wanders and becomes bogged down in emotion seemingly with little direction. The spoken word is identified in italics and is very annoying. The descriptions of Sydney at this time will only be appreciated by locals or others that travelled on weekends to the beaches, the harbour, ferries and the salt/surf, which are in such strong contrast to the beginning of the ferry journey from the city.
Pearl and Axel meet up and Pearl with her investigative nature begins to look for information on Axel's father as well as searching for her lost brothers. Axel is close to an emotional breakdown and the news of the final events of Utzon's turmoil known by Pearl is kept from Axel, still it all comes to an explosive ending for him. Pearl finds her brothers but now realises being young men with already a lifetime of experience behind them, she is no longer responsible for their lives.
The author makes reference several times about Australians at this time fearful of excellence. Utzon's design was really out of the box, applauded but beyond knowledge for it's complex construction, cost and for which he was savaged and badly treated by government bureaucrats. The Opera House today is applauded world wide, a magnificent structure as well as having fabulous acoustics in it's design. Utzon received well deserved recognition for his vision when declared a World Heritage Site in 2007. It took from 1957 to 2004 for him to be recognised when opening the refurbished Utzon Room in his honour.
(For glass enthusiasts/artists Boussois Souchon Neuvesel, in France made the Opera House glass walls, one of the world's largest glass manufacturers. BSN produced over 70,000sq ft of glass for the Sydney Opera House.)
It is written in my life's time zone and birth place during the building of the Sydney Opera House and the enforced conscription of young men for the war in Vietnam for which several of my school and neighbourhood friends were conscripted. Contrary to how Australian history is written of this war, public hostility to it and the forced conscription was real and meant that many of these young men on return home had to deal with more than being forced into a war, as well as being faced with the horror of it all and the public negativity. It has taken until this day to give the credit they deserve and for real recognition and understanding of their plight of forced conscription that left many with mental trauma.
This read is centred around 2 main characters both carrying a lot of emotional baggage due to difficult lives as children. Pearl is a young news journalist caught up in the protest movement against the war in Vietnam for which her involvement against the newspaper's policy has meant that she has been moved sideways into women's fashion etc. However this doesn't seem to stop the clandestine meetings and whispered phone calls from a secret source of events soon to take place, primarily the lottery of birthdates for males aged 20 for the armed forces call up. "Reds Under the Bed" becomes a government's mantra for creating public fear (still resorted to at times even today). Pearl lost contact with her brothers soon after they absconded from the orphanage where they lived, placed there after the death of their mother. Her real guilt regarding her brothers is not revealed until well into the read and up until this point, it seems to be part of her obsessive nature.
Axel, a glass artist has left Sweden to create for the Opera House. His obsession is Utzon and his Opera House. He seeks knowledge of Utzon's vision of the shells and while the author makes it seem to Axel that the shell design comes from the natural landscape/harbour/surf of Australia (in actual fact Utzon had remarked that they were like quarters of an orange, the glass walls from the wing of a seagull) He also is a lost soul due to his lonely upbringing and the disappearance of his father during WW2. Sweden remained neutral and because of this he has experienced hostility from many during his life. Is, his obsession with Utzon the result of not remembering much of his father or that due to the closeness he had with his mother his guilt of not wanting his father to return?
The book wanders and becomes bogged down in emotion seemingly with little direction. The spoken word is identified in italics and is very annoying. The descriptions of Sydney at this time will only be appreciated by locals or others that travelled on weekends to the beaches, the harbour, ferries and the salt/surf, which are in such strong contrast to the beginning of the ferry journey from the city.
Pearl and Axel meet up and Pearl with her investigative nature begins to look for information on Axel's father as well as searching for her lost brothers. Axel is close to an emotional breakdown and the news of the final events of Utzon's turmoil known by Pearl is kept from Axel, still it all comes to an explosive ending for him. Pearl finds her brothers but now realises being young men with already a lifetime of experience behind them, she is no longer responsible for their lives.
The author makes reference several times about Australians at this time fearful of excellence. Utzon's design was really out of the box, applauded but beyond knowledge for it's complex construction, cost and for which he was savaged and badly treated by government bureaucrats. The Opera House today is applauded world wide, a magnificent structure as well as having fabulous acoustics in it's design. Utzon received well deserved recognition for his vision when declared a World Heritage Site in 2007. It took from 1957 to 2004 for him to be recognised when opening the refurbished Utzon Room in his honour.
(For glass enthusiasts/artists Boussois Souchon Neuvesel, in France made the Opera House glass walls, one of the world's largest glass manufacturers. BSN produced over 70,000sq ft of glass for the Sydney Opera House.)
September 24, 2018
An incredibly interesting book on many levels and served to highlight a big gap in my knowledge - Australia in the 1960s, its involvement in the Vietnam War and, especially, the controversy surrounding the building of the Sydney Opera House. I found it all fascinating.
The book is so much more than this, though. It features two equally sympathetic main characters, from very different cultural backgrounds. Axel, a glassmaker from Sweden contracted to create an artwork for the Opera House, and Pearl, a Sydney journalist on a mission to find the younger brothers she hasn’t seen for ten years. They conduct a touching, tentative relationship - absorbing and reflecting each other’s preoccupations with missing family and trying to come to terms with their past.
Not a book to rush through, the pace is slow and contemplative, comparing Pearl’s view of her Australian home with the Scandinavian Axel’s impressions of it.
These people had absorbed sea water and the drift of desert at their backs. Felt the weight of it on their shoulders. The weight of history, of all they had come to and all they had inflicted on this place. Perhaps, he thought suddenly, that weight stopped them welcoming others here. They themselves had been the newcomers once; at a cellular level, they knew what they were capable of.
But no. They were blinded by the sun; it meant they didn’t have to look. Where Axel came from, you had to look hard. Work for your visions, your insights. Set free in the immense southern ocean, this country sprawled like a sunbather. Without borders, it imagined its enemies, was free to create them. Looked only at themselves rather than over their shoulders. Found it too easy to be right.
The writing is sublime. So many images of the beauty to be seen in Scandinavian and Australian landscape and seascape and, soaring above, the art involved in creating the Opera House and its accompanying glasswork. I can’t recommend this highly enough.
With thanks to Simon & Schuster via NetGalley for the opportunity to read an ARC.
The book is so much more than this, though. It features two equally sympathetic main characters, from very different cultural backgrounds. Axel, a glassmaker from Sweden contracted to create an artwork for the Opera House, and Pearl, a Sydney journalist on a mission to find the younger brothers she hasn’t seen for ten years. They conduct a touching, tentative relationship - absorbing and reflecting each other’s preoccupations with missing family and trying to come to terms with their past.
Not a book to rush through, the pace is slow and contemplative, comparing Pearl’s view of her Australian home with the Scandinavian Axel’s impressions of it.
These people had absorbed sea water and the drift of desert at their backs. Felt the weight of it on their shoulders. The weight of history, of all they had come to and all they had inflicted on this place. Perhaps, he thought suddenly, that weight stopped them welcoming others here. They themselves had been the newcomers once; at a cellular level, they knew what they were capable of.
But no. They were blinded by the sun; it meant they didn’t have to look. Where Axel came from, you had to look hard. Work for your visions, your insights. Set free in the immense southern ocean, this country sprawled like a sunbather. Without borders, it imagined its enemies, was free to create them. Looked only at themselves rather than over their shoulders. Found it too easy to be right.
The writing is sublime. So many images of the beauty to be seen in Scandinavian and Australian landscape and seascape and, soaring above, the art involved in creating the Opera House and its accompanying glasswork. I can’t recommend this highly enough.
With thanks to Simon & Schuster via NetGalley for the opportunity to read an ARC.
December 26, 2018
From the very first pages of Shell (Scribner Books 2018), the new novel by Kris Olsson, you realise you are in the capable hands of a masterful storyteller. Not a word is wasted. Each sentence is crafted with care. Every paragraph sings from the page, like poetry, like prayer. The story is meticulously researched, and that research informs every line of dialogue, every cultural reference, all the minutiae of daily life. The characters are fully formed and multi-faceted; each has a background that is hinted at but never thrust upon us, each is complex and nuanced, never black and white. The themes of the book: family and community; war and service and sacrifice; belonging; guilt and morality; politics; atonement; art and creativity – all are explored with sensitivity and thoughtfulness. This is a rare kind of book, one that is so well written that it is surely destined to become a classic of the Australian literature canon.
The story is set in Sydney in 1965, with two narratives braiding together the lives of Pearl Keogh and Axel Lindquist. Pearl is a young journalist who has been relegated to the ‘Women’s Pages’ because of her anti-war stance. When conscription becomes fact, and 20-year-old boys are being drafted for the Vietnam War, Pearl becomes obsessed with trying to protect her fractured family. Alex Lindquist is a master glassmaker from Sweden, commissioned to create a centrepiece for the new Opera House which is under construction. But with the vision of Danish architect Jorn Utzon clashing with the financial and social restrictions of the government of the day, and Sydneysiders divided over their views of the strange construction as either an ugly eyesore and waste of money or an inspired and magnificent cultural wonder, tensions run high amongst union workers, politicians and artists. It is these two major conflicts – the uproar over the war and the consternation over the Opera House – that mark the times and define the lives of the characters.
As with all of Kris Olsson’s works, Shell was informed by historical aspects of her own life, nuggets of pain or rage or devotion or regret that she has used as the stepping stones on her search for answers. She says in the Author’s Note that ‘Ideas and notions and doubts coalesce into a long and intricate conversation with myself…’ and that ‘The more I write, and read, and the older I get, the more comfortable I am with uncertainty. With being the humble servant of the questions, the story.’ This wise statement comes from a place of deep reflection, from a writer who ceaselessly strives to uncover truth, and who is never complacent about the meaning of what she discovers.
I could quote passages from Shell, luminescent and shimmering words, but there are so many it is difficult to choose. The entire book is poetic, each line lingers so that even after you have read on, you find yourself returning to the previous section, just for the thrill of reading it again, purely for the beauty of the language. The book plunges us into the lives of Pearl and Axel and carries us as their journeys intertwine. We are first intimately engrossed in one and then with the other, and all the while the social and political acts of the time are enshrouding these two people like a caul. There is plot – and it is tense and compelling. There is dialogue – and it is authentic and believable. There is the familiarity of the setting and the majesty of the architectural creation and the despair and fear of the looming war. There is the chaos and the impossible choices and the irresolvable intricacies of family. But above all that, there is the language. The beautiful, lilting, descriptive language that holds us aloft as we progress through the story. Every line I read was magnified in my mind and I could hear it, each line, read by Kris’s careful and steady voice, the novel narrated as a song would be sung, as a mantra would be chanted, as a prayer would be spoken. This story is unforgettable, and this book is a marvel.
The story is set in Sydney in 1965, with two narratives braiding together the lives of Pearl Keogh and Axel Lindquist. Pearl is a young journalist who has been relegated to the ‘Women’s Pages’ because of her anti-war stance. When conscription becomes fact, and 20-year-old boys are being drafted for the Vietnam War, Pearl becomes obsessed with trying to protect her fractured family. Alex Lindquist is a master glassmaker from Sweden, commissioned to create a centrepiece for the new Opera House which is under construction. But with the vision of Danish architect Jorn Utzon clashing with the financial and social restrictions of the government of the day, and Sydneysiders divided over their views of the strange construction as either an ugly eyesore and waste of money or an inspired and magnificent cultural wonder, tensions run high amongst union workers, politicians and artists. It is these two major conflicts – the uproar over the war and the consternation over the Opera House – that mark the times and define the lives of the characters.
As with all of Kris Olsson’s works, Shell was informed by historical aspects of her own life, nuggets of pain or rage or devotion or regret that she has used as the stepping stones on her search for answers. She says in the Author’s Note that ‘Ideas and notions and doubts coalesce into a long and intricate conversation with myself…’ and that ‘The more I write, and read, and the older I get, the more comfortable I am with uncertainty. With being the humble servant of the questions, the story.’ This wise statement comes from a place of deep reflection, from a writer who ceaselessly strives to uncover truth, and who is never complacent about the meaning of what she discovers.
I could quote passages from Shell, luminescent and shimmering words, but there are so many it is difficult to choose. The entire book is poetic, each line lingers so that even after you have read on, you find yourself returning to the previous section, just for the thrill of reading it again, purely for the beauty of the language. The book plunges us into the lives of Pearl and Axel and carries us as their journeys intertwine. We are first intimately engrossed in one and then with the other, and all the while the social and political acts of the time are enshrouding these two people like a caul. There is plot – and it is tense and compelling. There is dialogue – and it is authentic and believable. There is the familiarity of the setting and the majesty of the architectural creation and the despair and fear of the looming war. There is the chaos and the impossible choices and the irresolvable intricacies of family. But above all that, there is the language. The beautiful, lilting, descriptive language that holds us aloft as we progress through the story. Every line I read was magnified in my mind and I could hear it, each line, read by Kris’s careful and steady voice, the novel narrated as a song would be sung, as a mantra would be chanted, as a prayer would be spoken. This story is unforgettable, and this book is a marvel.
October 26, 2019
*https://mrsbbookreviews.wordpress.com
3.5 stars
Kristina Olsson is an Australian writer, who has written both fiction and non-fiction books. In 2018, she released Shell to great acclaim, a book that merges the personal perspectives of two people living under the construction of the iconic Sydney Opera House. Shell is a complex meditation on the ills of war, love, sacrifice, ambition and change. Defined by pensive prose, Shell is demanding novel, that meanders through a turbulent time in Australia’s not too distant past.
Beginning in 1965, Shell outlines a time when visionary Jørn Utzon implemented his grand plans for the construction of a revered building of art and presence. We know that this building would later become the famed Sydney Opera House, one of the modern wonders of the world. Day after day, year after year, this building dazzles tourists and locals alike. However, this famous attraction was once the centre of a great deal of controversy. The building of the Sydney Opera House occurred under strained circumstances in Australian society. With the Vietnam War raging abroad, there was a need to enforce a conscription lottery. This act angered and divided the nation to the highest degree. This policy impacted Australians far and wide. From the men conscripted, to their partners and families left behind, this was a highly emotional turning point in our nation’s past. For journalist Pearl Keogh, one of the two leading protagonists in Shell, the agonising wait to find out the fate of her two brothers, takes its toll. When Pearl gains attention for the wrong reasons during a protest, she pays the ultimate price and her career takes a nosedive. Meanwhile, the other leading figure of this tale, Axel, is an artist who specialises in the art of glasswork, arrives on Australia’s shores to begin work on the Sydney Opera House project. Through Axel’s point of view, we watch on as one of our nation’s most beloved structures begins to take shape, under the backdrop of significant societal change.
There is an extrinsic and intrinsic beauty to Shell. I was immediately taken aback by the stunning cover art of Kristina’s Olsson’s fourth work of fiction. The palatable pearl embossed styling that engulfs the back and front of the dust jacket of Shell is simply spellbinding. The out of focus image of the Sydney Opera House, surrounded by a flock of seagulls in flight, certainly worked well to draw me in. In terms of the content of this novel, Shell is best defined as a piece of strong literary fiction, with our nation as its central concern.
Shell follows the lives of two different protagonists. The lead female of the tale is Pearl Keogh, an ambitious and passionate journalist. Pearl suffers a big hit to her flourishing career when she is involved in an anti-war protest. Pearl is determined to save her brothers from the forced conscription lottery, but it lands her in hot water and she demoted at her newspaper. Pearl’s experiences and world view, provide us with an excellent insight into this tumultuous time in Australia’s past. Although only a few decades ago, Pearl opens our eyes up to the inequality, the changes that were being petitioned, the opposition, fears, worries and central concerns of the population. Pearl’s perspective reminds us of the gains and losses of this time. Pearl is a likeable protagonist and I admired her tenacity, as well as her belief system.
Running alongside Pearl’s story is that of a newly arrived outsider to Australia. Axel is commissioned from Sweden to work on the glass aspect of the Sydney Opera House project. Axel’s view is insightful and unique, offering the reader a glimpse into how Australia of the 1960’s would have materialised in the eyes of a tourist, or a newcomer to our shores. Axel’s perspective is contemplative and observant. It helps the reader to think critically about an important moment in our history books.
The overarching theme of Shell is undoubtedly the impact of the Vietnam War on the home front in Australia. There are some resonating messages about this difficult time in our past, that I am sure will have a bearing on our thoughts today. For me, this aspect of the novel was almost educative, as it increased my knowledge and understanding about a time that I feel is often glossed over, for unknown reasons. As an Australian citizen, we should be aware of this time our past, the sacrifices that were made, and the emotional turmoil that this policy of conscription churned up.
The prose present in Shell is poetic, lyrical, descriptive but also ambiguous. I think the onus is on the reader to pull from the passages of the book what they desire. For me, this book was a personal struggle, my wish to race through it due to my fast reading pace and time pressures didn’t align with the rhythm of Shell. I recommend devoting a set and unhurried time to Shell, to gain maximum appreciation of this novel.
Shell is a rich literary meditation on the rise to power of Australia’s most well-known architectural masterpieces, the Sydney Opera House. With undercurrents of war, contention, political struggles, cultural and societal change looming around Shell, Kristina Olsson’s 2018 release is a poignant reminder of our recent past.
Shell is book #130 of the 2019 Australian Women Writers Challenge
3.5 stars
Kristina Olsson is an Australian writer, who has written both fiction and non-fiction books. In 2018, she released Shell to great acclaim, a book that merges the personal perspectives of two people living under the construction of the iconic Sydney Opera House. Shell is a complex meditation on the ills of war, love, sacrifice, ambition and change. Defined by pensive prose, Shell is demanding novel, that meanders through a turbulent time in Australia’s not too distant past.
Beginning in 1965, Shell outlines a time when visionary Jørn Utzon implemented his grand plans for the construction of a revered building of art and presence. We know that this building would later become the famed Sydney Opera House, one of the modern wonders of the world. Day after day, year after year, this building dazzles tourists and locals alike. However, this famous attraction was once the centre of a great deal of controversy. The building of the Sydney Opera House occurred under strained circumstances in Australian society. With the Vietnam War raging abroad, there was a need to enforce a conscription lottery. This act angered and divided the nation to the highest degree. This policy impacted Australians far and wide. From the men conscripted, to their partners and families left behind, this was a highly emotional turning point in our nation’s past. For journalist Pearl Keogh, one of the two leading protagonists in Shell, the agonising wait to find out the fate of her two brothers, takes its toll. When Pearl gains attention for the wrong reasons during a protest, she pays the ultimate price and her career takes a nosedive. Meanwhile, the other leading figure of this tale, Axel, is an artist who specialises in the art of glasswork, arrives on Australia’s shores to begin work on the Sydney Opera House project. Through Axel’s point of view, we watch on as one of our nation’s most beloved structures begins to take shape, under the backdrop of significant societal change.
There is an extrinsic and intrinsic beauty to Shell. I was immediately taken aback by the stunning cover art of Kristina’s Olsson’s fourth work of fiction. The palatable pearl embossed styling that engulfs the back and front of the dust jacket of Shell is simply spellbinding. The out of focus image of the Sydney Opera House, surrounded by a flock of seagulls in flight, certainly worked well to draw me in. In terms of the content of this novel, Shell is best defined as a piece of strong literary fiction, with our nation as its central concern.
Shell follows the lives of two different protagonists. The lead female of the tale is Pearl Keogh, an ambitious and passionate journalist. Pearl suffers a big hit to her flourishing career when she is involved in an anti-war protest. Pearl is determined to save her brothers from the forced conscription lottery, but it lands her in hot water and she demoted at her newspaper. Pearl’s experiences and world view, provide us with an excellent insight into this tumultuous time in Australia’s past. Although only a few decades ago, Pearl opens our eyes up to the inequality, the changes that were being petitioned, the opposition, fears, worries and central concerns of the population. Pearl’s perspective reminds us of the gains and losses of this time. Pearl is a likeable protagonist and I admired her tenacity, as well as her belief system.
Running alongside Pearl’s story is that of a newly arrived outsider to Australia. Axel is commissioned from Sweden to work on the glass aspect of the Sydney Opera House project. Axel’s view is insightful and unique, offering the reader a glimpse into how Australia of the 1960’s would have materialised in the eyes of a tourist, or a newcomer to our shores. Axel’s perspective is contemplative and observant. It helps the reader to think critically about an important moment in our history books.
The overarching theme of Shell is undoubtedly the impact of the Vietnam War on the home front in Australia. There are some resonating messages about this difficult time in our past, that I am sure will have a bearing on our thoughts today. For me, this aspect of the novel was almost educative, as it increased my knowledge and understanding about a time that I feel is often glossed over, for unknown reasons. As an Australian citizen, we should be aware of this time our past, the sacrifices that were made, and the emotional turmoil that this policy of conscription churned up.
The prose present in Shell is poetic, lyrical, descriptive but also ambiguous. I think the onus is on the reader to pull from the passages of the book what they desire. For me, this book was a personal struggle, my wish to race through it due to my fast reading pace and time pressures didn’t align with the rhythm of Shell. I recommend devoting a set and unhurried time to Shell, to gain maximum appreciation of this novel.
Shell is a rich literary meditation on the rise to power of Australia’s most well-known architectural masterpieces, the Sydney Opera House. With undercurrents of war, contention, political struggles, cultural and societal change looming around Shell, Kristina Olsson’s 2018 release is a poignant reminder of our recent past.
Shell is book #130 of the 2019 Australian Women Writers Challenge
October 27, 2018
As I wrote when I posted a Sensational Snippet from Kristina Olsson’s new novel Shell, (https://anzlitlovers.com/2018/10/24/s...) I have fallen in love with this book so it’s not going to be easy to write an objective review. I have mulled over the book for two days since I finished reading it, and I still feel a frisson of pleasure when I set eyes on it. It’s my Book of the Year, and it might even be the Book of the Decade, in the same way that Kim Scott’s That Deadman Dance turned out to be a Book of the Decade, for me.
For starters, it is beautifully published. Designed by Christabella Designs to mark the first book published by Scribner Australia (an imprint of Simon and Schuster), the hardback edition has creamy pale-pink textured boards imprinted with the same glorious image as the dustcover—it’s a photograph called Red Storm Day by Jean-Pierre Bratanoff-Firgoff. The endpaper images are a sketch and a site plan from the Red Book of Jørn Utzon, the architect of the Sydney Opera House. This is a book which heralds its status as a masterpiece even as the reader holds it in the hand.
I am not the only one utterly captivated by Shell: it has had glowing reviews in the print media, and its impressive list of blurbers includes this comment from Ashley Hay, author of The Railwayman’s Wife and A Hundred Little Lessons:
What Ashley Hay says is true. On almost every page, there’s something to make the reader pause to think, because the book explores fundamental truths and issues that still resonate now in the 21st century. Although it’s set in an historical period, it’s not historical fiction of the genre variety. It’s a book that explores history in a new and reflective way.
To see the rest of my review please visit https://anzlitlovers.com/2018/10/27/s...
For starters, it is beautifully published. Designed by Christabella Designs to mark the first book published by Scribner Australia (an imprint of Simon and Schuster), the hardback edition has creamy pale-pink textured boards imprinted with the same glorious image as the dustcover—it’s a photograph called Red Storm Day by Jean-Pierre Bratanoff-Firgoff. The endpaper images are a sketch and a site plan from the Red Book of Jørn Utzon, the architect of the Sydney Opera House. This is a book which heralds its status as a masterpiece even as the reader holds it in the hand.
I am not the only one utterly captivated by Shell: it has had glowing reviews in the print media, and its impressive list of blurbers includes this comment from Ashley Hay, author of The Railwayman’s Wife and A Hundred Little Lessons:
Shell sanctifies the greatest of our ideas and being, from love, courage and betrayal to creation and dissent… It’s the kind of book that opens out its readers, making them think and feel. It’s the kind of book I’ll carry with me for all time.
What Ashley Hay says is true. On almost every page, there’s something to make the reader pause to think, because the book explores fundamental truths and issues that still resonate now in the 21st century. Although it’s set in an historical period, it’s not historical fiction of the genre variety. It’s a book that explores history in a new and reflective way.
To see the rest of my review please visit https://anzlitlovers.com/2018/10/27/s...
December 31, 2023
Setting: Sydney, Australia; 1960-1966.
In 1960's Sydney, the Sydney Opera House is under construction. Controversially, the architect is Dane Jorn Utzon, who was selected after a global competition. Part of the construction team is Axel Lindqvist, newly arrived from Sweden as a glass sculptor on the project - a young man who is still haunted by the 'disappearance' of his father. Far from home, Axel seeks to work closely with architect Utzon but finds it a big problem arranging a meeting with him.
In a coffee bar one day, Axel meets ambitious reporter Pearl Keogh, who is currently languishing in the women's section of the newspaper, having been seen taking part in anti-war demonstrations, as the Australian government push forward with conscription in order to send Australia's young men to fight in Vietnam alongside the Americans. Pearl is particularly concerned to protect her two brothers who she lost contact with when they were taken into care after the shock death of their mother - now grown up, Pearl wants to find them again to try to save them from being drafted into the army.
As Axel and Pearl start a relationship, political turmoil threatens both Pearl's brothers and the Opera House project, which is running behind time and over-budget. When a national election brings about a change of leadership, Utzon's job as architect is on the line as political pressure is brought to bear....
This was a strange concept for a book but I enjoyed the read, particularly as I was living in Australia at the time of the events depicted. Although only a child at the time, I do remember my father buying lottery tickets every week, the proceeds of which were to pay for the building of the Opera House! I also recall some controversy over the selection of the winning architect - being foreign and all! - although the issue of conscription and the protests over the Australian government deciding to get involved in the Vietnam conflict were not familiar to me. Really enjoyed this quite unusual book, where the 'Shell' of the title not only refers to the unique design of the Opera House roof (meant to replicate marine shells) but also the carapaces erected by the main characters to protect themselves from their own memories and regrets - 8.5/10.
In 1960's Sydney, the Sydney Opera House is under construction. Controversially, the architect is Dane Jorn Utzon, who was selected after a global competition. Part of the construction team is Axel Lindqvist, newly arrived from Sweden as a glass sculptor on the project - a young man who is still haunted by the 'disappearance' of his father. Far from home, Axel seeks to work closely with architect Utzon but finds it a big problem arranging a meeting with him.
In a coffee bar one day, Axel meets ambitious reporter Pearl Keogh, who is currently languishing in the women's section of the newspaper, having been seen taking part in anti-war demonstrations, as the Australian government push forward with conscription in order to send Australia's young men to fight in Vietnam alongside the Americans. Pearl is particularly concerned to protect her two brothers who she lost contact with when they were taken into care after the shock death of their mother - now grown up, Pearl wants to find them again to try to save them from being drafted into the army.
As Axel and Pearl start a relationship, political turmoil threatens both Pearl's brothers and the Opera House project, which is running behind time and over-budget. When a national election brings about a change of leadership, Utzon's job as architect is on the line as political pressure is brought to bear....
This was a strange concept for a book but I enjoyed the read, particularly as I was living in Australia at the time of the events depicted. Although only a child at the time, I do remember my father buying lottery tickets every week, the proceeds of which were to pay for the building of the Opera House! I also recall some controversy over the selection of the winning architect - being foreign and all! - although the issue of conscription and the protests over the Australian government deciding to get involved in the Vietnam conflict were not familiar to me. Really enjoyed this quite unusual book, where the 'Shell' of the title not only refers to the unique design of the Opera House roof (meant to replicate marine shells) but also the carapaces erected by the main characters to protect themselves from their own memories and regrets - 8.5/10.
November 20, 2019
Novel set in 1960 SYDNEY
It is 1960 – the Sydney Opera House is halfway through its construction and Australia has recently introduced conscription to the Vietnam war – two events that are pivotal to this novel. Jorn Utzon, the architect of the iconic building, is facing increasing criticism and the country is divided in its opinion on conscription.
Against this turbulent background, Pearl Keogh, a young journalist has been relegated to writing for the women’s pages of her newspaper after she has been spotted involved in a protest against the war. Pearl has grown up with a social conscience and a well-developed guilt complex, following a troubled childhood. After her mother’s death, Pearl’s father retreated into alcohol dependency and Pearl and her younger siblings are sent to a children’s home. Pearl has become estranged from her two young brothers and, feeling guilt over her abandonment of them when they were teenagers, and determined to help them avoid being drawn into the war, she sets about hunting them down. Axel Lindquist, a glass sculptor from Sweden, is in Sydney at the same time, working on a sculpture for the opera house. He becomes obsessed with finding Jorn Utzon. Axel, like Pearl, has a troubled past and his search for the reclusive architect is connected to his own lifelong search for explanation of his own father’s disappearance at the end of World War Two, an event which seems to be linked to Sweden’s neutrality. Inevitably, Pearl’s and Axel’s paths cross and they embark on a tentative relationship.
Pearl and Axel are skilfully drawn and complex characters. In many ways Pearl is like Ms Olsson’s own younger self. “I have given her a lot of the things about myself I really don’t like, shame, guilt, the appalling errors I made …” Both characters spend a lot of time on introspection and, undoubtedly, the writer uses them to provide different perspectives on the events of the time and on art and politics. Ms Olsson’s mother was Australian and her father Swedish and both Axel and Pearl become the means to encourage the reader to reflect firstly on different attitudes to art, specifically the opera house and what it symbolises and secondly on war and the complexity of neutrality.
Shell’s setting in terms of place and time, is one of the great strengths of this novel. There is a real feel of the period with its turbulent politics and threat of war, with rebellion and change happening all around and yet paternalism still dominating. As Axel combs the city and surrounding areas in his search for Jorn, we are also given wonderfully detailed descriptions of place. Shell is filled with images of light and water and we are taken over and over again to view the opera house as it continues to be built.
This is a complex and thought-provoking novel, full of wonderful imagery and symbolism. It’s not the kind of novel you can read quickly. Often, you find yourself re-reading passages, pondering their meaning. You might be tempted to wish that there was a bit less introspection and a bit more storytelling, but, all in all, this is masterful writing and, if you were planning a trip to Sydney, and a visit to The Opera House you’d go there much better informed having read Shell.
It is 1960 – the Sydney Opera House is halfway through its construction and Australia has recently introduced conscription to the Vietnam war – two events that are pivotal to this novel. Jorn Utzon, the architect of the iconic building, is facing increasing criticism and the country is divided in its opinion on conscription.
Against this turbulent background, Pearl Keogh, a young journalist has been relegated to writing for the women’s pages of her newspaper after she has been spotted involved in a protest against the war. Pearl has grown up with a social conscience and a well-developed guilt complex, following a troubled childhood. After her mother’s death, Pearl’s father retreated into alcohol dependency and Pearl and her younger siblings are sent to a children’s home. Pearl has become estranged from her two young brothers and, feeling guilt over her abandonment of them when they were teenagers, and determined to help them avoid being drawn into the war, she sets about hunting them down. Axel Lindquist, a glass sculptor from Sweden, is in Sydney at the same time, working on a sculpture for the opera house. He becomes obsessed with finding Jorn Utzon. Axel, like Pearl, has a troubled past and his search for the reclusive architect is connected to his own lifelong search for explanation of his own father’s disappearance at the end of World War Two, an event which seems to be linked to Sweden’s neutrality. Inevitably, Pearl’s and Axel’s paths cross and they embark on a tentative relationship.
Pearl and Axel are skilfully drawn and complex characters. In many ways Pearl is like Ms Olsson’s own younger self. “I have given her a lot of the things about myself I really don’t like, shame, guilt, the appalling errors I made …” Both characters spend a lot of time on introspection and, undoubtedly, the writer uses them to provide different perspectives on the events of the time and on art and politics. Ms Olsson’s mother was Australian and her father Swedish and both Axel and Pearl become the means to encourage the reader to reflect firstly on different attitudes to art, specifically the opera house and what it symbolises and secondly on war and the complexity of neutrality.
Shell’s setting in terms of place and time, is one of the great strengths of this novel. There is a real feel of the period with its turbulent politics and threat of war, with rebellion and change happening all around and yet paternalism still dominating. As Axel combs the city and surrounding areas in his search for Jorn, we are also given wonderfully detailed descriptions of place. Shell is filled with images of light and water and we are taken over and over again to view the opera house as it continues to be built.
This is a complex and thought-provoking novel, full of wonderful imagery and symbolism. It’s not the kind of novel you can read quickly. Often, you find yourself re-reading passages, pondering their meaning. You might be tempted to wish that there was a bit less introspection and a bit more storytelling, but, all in all, this is masterful writing and, if you were planning a trip to Sydney, and a visit to The Opera House you’d go there much better informed having read Shell.
January 13, 2019
While I found Shell to be an enjoyable read, I don't find myself with much to say about it on finishing. Olssons's writing is gorgeous, and I really liked Pearl's storyline.
(If anyone has any other recommendations for historical fiction set in Australia, please send them my way in the comments!)
(If anyone has any other recommendations for historical fiction set in Australia, please send them my way in the comments!)
September 19, 2018
I don’t think there is an iconic image that identifies a place more than the Sydney Opera House in Sydney, Australia. It wasn’t always so, it wasn’t always accepted. There was a time when was just being built and public opinion wasn’t so positive.
In the mid 1960’s everything was changing. There was a war in Vietnam and Australia was adopting a draft system that, understandably so, was not well received. Pearl was a reporter embracing the change and protesting in the streets to defend her right to do that, putting her career at risk. She had a vested interest in not wanting the draft. Her younger brothers were just the age that would be sent to war. She hasn’t seen either of them in many years because they ran away from the boarding school they were sent to when their mother died. Pearl’s guilt in not trying harder for them is making her desperate to do this one thing she feels she CAN do.
Axel Lindquist is newly arrived from Sweden and specifically charged with the artistic glass work for the Sydney Opera House. He is under the charge of the architect Jorn Utzon but Utzon hasn’t been seen in awhile. Axel left Sweden and the shadow of World War II’s effect on the country and Axel and his mother. He is hoping this new country will renew him and his art.
Casting off the shadow of the old giving way to the new, the changing times, the war just ended and the new one gaining strength and a foothold, the new and ultra modern opera house, it can be hard to find your place.
The author says that she didn’t write because she knows something, she writes because she doesn’t know and with Shell, she taught me.
In the mid 1960’s everything was changing. There was a war in Vietnam and Australia was adopting a draft system that, understandably so, was not well received. Pearl was a reporter embracing the change and protesting in the streets to defend her right to do that, putting her career at risk. She had a vested interest in not wanting the draft. Her younger brothers were just the age that would be sent to war. She hasn’t seen either of them in many years because they ran away from the boarding school they were sent to when their mother died. Pearl’s guilt in not trying harder for them is making her desperate to do this one thing she feels she CAN do.
Axel Lindquist is newly arrived from Sweden and specifically charged with the artistic glass work for the Sydney Opera House. He is under the charge of the architect Jorn Utzon but Utzon hasn’t been seen in awhile. Axel left Sweden and the shadow of World War II’s effect on the country and Axel and his mother. He is hoping this new country will renew him and his art.
Casting off the shadow of the old giving way to the new, the changing times, the war just ended and the new one gaining strength and a foothold, the new and ultra modern opera house, it can be hard to find your place.
The author says that she didn’t write because she knows something, she writes because she doesn’t know and with Shell, she taught me.
April 1, 2019
I would have to agree with the myriad compliments paid to Kristina Olsson about her novel
Shell
; it is a perceptive, finely written work which mesmerised me from the moment I admired its beautiful cover depiction of the Opera House in an airport bookshop in October until my reading of it was completed very recently.
Descriptions of the Australian landscape with particular reference to the spectacular land and sea environs of Sydney Harbour during the construction of the iconic Sydney Opera House (1959-973) are vivid and atmospheric: they contrast strikingly with the also impressively described scenes from the Scandinavian homeland of the young glass artist, Axel.
I appreciated the historical detail of the novel and insights into the psyche of the Australian public at the time. The outrage felt by many Australians that its young men should be forced to participate in a war not of its making via the evil practice of conscription is compared with the fury at the choice of an outsider architect, Danish born Jorn Utzon, to design and oversee the creation of a building many wanted to herald Australia’s arrival as a player on the cultural world stage.
The most affecting parts of the novel for me were those that described the grief, loss and disruption experienced by families through untimely death, forced separation or the physical and mental decline of older family members. The young journalist Pearl’s desperation to reunite her family, feeling as she does the guilt that as the eldest of her family at fourteen she was, “unable to stop the disintegration, the scattering to homes and orphanages.” is but one example of the emotion laden situations which are a feature of the narrative. Kristina Olsson has previously written of her own family’s heartbreaking experience of losing a child in the exceptional family memoir, Boy, Lost .
I think that to do justice to Kristina Olsson's novel I will need to read it again in the near future - there is certainly much to take in and admire. Whilst reading Shell I was reminded of another Australian family story set in the 1970s, The Bridge by Enza Gondolfo. Both novels are fine examples of Australian literature which I recommend wholeheartedly.
Update January 3 2019
Link to a marvellous interview with Kristina Olsson talking about Shell on Radio National's The Hub on Books on December 4 2018.
https://www.abc.net.au/radionational/...
Descriptions of the Australian landscape with particular reference to the spectacular land and sea environs of Sydney Harbour during the construction of the iconic Sydney Opera House (1959-973) are vivid and atmospheric: they contrast strikingly with the also impressively described scenes from the Scandinavian homeland of the young glass artist, Axel.
I appreciated the historical detail of the novel and insights into the psyche of the Australian public at the time. The outrage felt by many Australians that its young men should be forced to participate in a war not of its making via the evil practice of conscription is compared with the fury at the choice of an outsider architect, Danish born Jorn Utzon, to design and oversee the creation of a building many wanted to herald Australia’s arrival as a player on the cultural world stage.
The most affecting parts of the novel for me were those that described the grief, loss and disruption experienced by families through untimely death, forced separation or the physical and mental decline of older family members. The young journalist Pearl’s desperation to reunite her family, feeling as she does the guilt that as the eldest of her family at fourteen she was, “unable to stop the disintegration, the scattering to homes and orphanages.” is but one example of the emotion laden situations which are a feature of the narrative. Kristina Olsson has previously written of her own family’s heartbreaking experience of losing a child in the exceptional family memoir, Boy, Lost .
I think that to do justice to Kristina Olsson's novel I will need to read it again in the near future - there is certainly much to take in and admire. Whilst reading Shell I was reminded of another Australian family story set in the 1970s, The Bridge by Enza Gondolfo. Both novels are fine examples of Australian literature which I recommend wholeheartedly.
Update January 3 2019
Link to a marvellous interview with Kristina Olsson talking about Shell on Radio National's The Hub on Books on December 4 2018.
https://www.abc.net.au/radionational/...
October 21, 2025
4 / Shell is intricate and intriguing, full of symbolism and metaphor, and is a quiet, restrained book. You have the sense that Kristina’s knowledge and life experiences of Australia and Sweden are part of the story.
This is a book to slow down with and enjoy, patiently envisioning yourself experiencing what the main characters Pearl and Axel are going through in a time of change in Sydney in 1965.
I enjoyed this, and appreciated the promptings to explore more about the building of the Sydney Opera House and learning of the White Buses of Sweden.
Below are a few of my favourites
“She sat down on an empty seat, on an almost empty platform and let other places and other lives ghost along the tracks in front of her, around the ornate steel above.”
“Urgency tapped at his shoulders and fear, the underbelly of art. The thought reverberated in his head, if the final piece revealed anything of this place, of these people, it would reveal just as much of its maker.”
“Where is the Aboriginal in Sydney? It’s like a picture you’ve painted over. She cocked her head thinking. We have painted over it, layers and layers, obliterating them. I’ve never thought of it like that before, as if it’s all still there, those old live and ways.” … “A whole picture, there must be, a city under the city, and we walk over it everyday.”
“Beneath a particular attitude, he saw suddenly, one the protesters with their placards might sense: a kind of huddling around sameness, a retreat from risk and - despite the openness of air and sky - from exposure. ... As if they were ashamed of a building that might reveal them, the soaring shapes of their dreams, the true interior of their hearts. As if they were afraid of grandeur."
“Life mixed up his senses again so, for a while he tasted numbers, and felt flavours, heard colours. Even when this was righted he remembered Doctors talking, there was nothing where his voice used to be.”
4 ⭐️ Audiobook read by Melle Stewart
This is a book to slow down with and enjoy, patiently envisioning yourself experiencing what the main characters Pearl and Axel are going through in a time of change in Sydney in 1965.
I enjoyed this, and appreciated the promptings to explore more about the building of the Sydney Opera House and learning of the White Buses of Sweden.
Below are a few of my favourites
“She sat down on an empty seat, on an almost empty platform and let other places and other lives ghost along the tracks in front of her, around the ornate steel above.”
“Urgency tapped at his shoulders and fear, the underbelly of art. The thought reverberated in his head, if the final piece revealed anything of this place, of these people, it would reveal just as much of its maker.”
“Where is the Aboriginal in Sydney? It’s like a picture you’ve painted over. She cocked her head thinking. We have painted over it, layers and layers, obliterating them. I’ve never thought of it like that before, as if it’s all still there, those old live and ways.” … “A whole picture, there must be, a city under the city, and we walk over it everyday.”
“Beneath a particular attitude, he saw suddenly, one the protesters with their placards might sense: a kind of huddling around sameness, a retreat from risk and - despite the openness of air and sky - from exposure. ... As if they were ashamed of a building that might reveal them, the soaring shapes of their dreams, the true interior of their hearts. As if they were afraid of grandeur."
“Life mixed up his senses again so, for a while he tasted numbers, and felt flavours, heard colours. Even when this was righted he remembered Doctors talking, there was nothing where his voice used to be.”
4 ⭐️ Audiobook read by Melle Stewart
May 26, 2018
I knew within the first few pages that I was going to love this book. I knew that I would hate to come to the end of these words which were only matched by the elegance of the Sydney Opera House. I read slowly, in order that I not miss even one small nuance, one exquisite thought.
Some novels are read for plot, some for character, and some, like Shell, for the beauty of the written word.
Axel Lindquist is a glass man from Sweden, brought to Australia by Jorn Utzon, the Danish architect of the Sidney Opera House, to design the glass in the structure. "His glasswork had flowered into complexity, a way of shaping his yearning, of what he saw -- the lakes, the shore and its paths, rain, snow. His liquid world. The terrible strength of water and of glass. Their fragility and beauty."
Pearl Keogh works for the Telegraph newspaper, for "from the beginning, she was obsessed by the process: the notion of a story, what it was, what it could do, the risk and potential of it."
Threaded through their lives are the Vietnam conflict and the construction of the Sydney Opera House, always under the watchful eye of the Southern Cross.
This deeply enchanting and alluring novel will not disappoint.
I read this EARC courtesy of Atria Books and Edelweiss. pub date 10/09/18
Some novels are read for plot, some for character, and some, like Shell, for the beauty of the written word.
Axel Lindquist is a glass man from Sweden, brought to Australia by Jorn Utzon, the Danish architect of the Sidney Opera House, to design the glass in the structure. "His glasswork had flowered into complexity, a way of shaping his yearning, of what he saw -- the lakes, the shore and its paths, rain, snow. His liquid world. The terrible strength of water and of glass. Their fragility and beauty."
Pearl Keogh works for the Telegraph newspaper, for "from the beginning, she was obsessed by the process: the notion of a story, what it was, what it could do, the risk and potential of it."
Threaded through their lives are the Vietnam conflict and the construction of the Sydney Opera House, always under the watchful eye of the Southern Cross.
This deeply enchanting and alluring novel will not disappoint.
I read this EARC courtesy of Atria Books and Edelweiss. pub date 10/09/18
January 12, 2019
Mixed feelings about this book, I had such high hopes due to the Australian historical setting and the subject matter of such a iconic building.
I was disappointed for a number of reasons those being:
-While I loved the poetic language used to descibe the setting, time of day or actions occuring I found the book largely confusing. I actually still don't get what happened in the end partially due to the metaphorical style of writing and there are still pleanty of gaps on the I just didn't grasp.
-This could have been a deliberate choice that the author made due to the nature of the story and the characters themselves but instead of being immersed in their lives I felt detached and distanced from them. Both characters still feel like strangers to me somewhat.
-Pearl and her brothers (plus possible twin sisters??) Became a bone of contention for me too as she seemed to think they saw her as someone who abandoned them, which that didn't and it was obvious, but this sense of betrayal didn't leave Pearl. Reallllllly annoying as a reader!
-annnnnd just the ending again. What actually happened?!?!
The book claimed enlightenment but I'm still, iconically, in the dark.
I was disappointed for a number of reasons those being:
-While I loved the poetic language used to descibe the setting, time of day or actions occuring I found the book largely confusing. I actually still don't get what happened in the end partially due to the metaphorical style of writing and there are still pleanty of gaps on the I just didn't grasp.
-This could have been a deliberate choice that the author made due to the nature of the story and the characters themselves but instead of being immersed in their lives I felt detached and distanced from them. Both characters still feel like strangers to me somewhat.
-Pearl and her brothers (plus possible twin sisters??) Became a bone of contention for me too as she seemed to think they saw her as someone who abandoned them, which that didn't and it was obvious, but this sense of betrayal didn't leave Pearl. Reallllllly annoying as a reader!
-annnnnd just the ending again. What actually happened?!?!
The book claimed enlightenment but I'm still, iconically, in the dark.
June 2, 2019
I would have to say that I did not enjoy this book as much I expected to, especially given the many favourable reviews. There was too much going on, and it was a bit difficult to follow the story among the many themes. I found Pearl a bit tiresome, and at times the writing somewhat melodramatic and unnecessarily abstruse. All the same, I'm glad I read the book, and I certainly came away from it feeling a bit more enlightened about the Sydney Opera House, as well as the time period of the story. Rating - 7/10
July 9, 2018
I just loved this book. It resonated for me in so many ways. It took me back to Sydney of my childhood, the Opera House being built, the anti-Vietnam protests, my experiences of growing up in Balmain and that weird inferiority complex we had in Australia that fed into a real cultural cringe and fear of the new. I even have a memory of Jorn Utzen getting the sack. This is how deep it’s building settled into our consciousness.
I loved the way Olsson used light and water as a vehicle to tell the story. The cultural differences in the book were underpinned by Pearl and Axel’s relationship. I guess in some ways the book is a statement of optimism - Pearl and Axel do end up understanding each other and the Opera House is built.
A wonderful book to read, it’s just sad that I got to the end of it.
I loved the way Olsson used light and water as a vehicle to tell the story. The cultural differences in the book were underpinned by Pearl and Axel’s relationship. I guess in some ways the book is a statement of optimism - Pearl and Axel do end up understanding each other and the Opera House is built.
A wonderful book to read, it’s just sad that I got to the end of it.
October 13, 2018
Thanks to netgalley for a free copy of this book.
I thought Kristina Olsson's book would be right up my alley: historical fiction, Sydney in the mid 1960s, the construction of the Sydney Opera House. Unfortunately, I did not like this book at all. Olsson utilized one of biggest pet peeves: no quotation marks. Instead, all dialogue was in italics and within the paragraphs instead of separated out. In addition, I did not like the structure, which continually switched back and forth between the two main characters (and time periods), Pearl and Axel, within the same chapter. Finally, I did not like Olsson's writing style, which seemed to me like she was trying too hard to be lyrical and artistic.
I thought Kristina Olsson's book would be right up my alley: historical fiction, Sydney in the mid 1960s, the construction of the Sydney Opera House. Unfortunately, I did not like this book at all. Olsson utilized one of biggest pet peeves: no quotation marks. Instead, all dialogue was in italics and within the paragraphs instead of separated out. In addition, I did not like the structure, which continually switched back and forth between the two main characters (and time periods), Pearl and Axel, within the same chapter. Finally, I did not like Olsson's writing style, which seemed to me like she was trying too hard to be lyrical and artistic.
November 19, 2018
‘There was no Swedish word to describe this, no English word that he knew; it wasn’t as simple as ‘awe’ or even ‘love’. It was the clutch at his heart as he lifted his eyes to its curves and lines. Its reach for beauty, a connection between the human and the sublime.’
Since its release last month, in my capacity as editor for historical fiction with the Australian Women Writers Challenge, I have read quite a few reviews on Shell, with no one reviewer saying the same thing. This in itself was reason enough for me to want to check it out and form my own opinion, but in the end, it was Lisa from ANZ LitLovers LitBlog who really persuaded me to read this novel post haste (do check out her review here). But it wasn’t all love at the first chapter for me, I will admit this and for the first seventy odd pages, I really felt as though I just couldn’t put my finger on the pulse of what was happening. There was a vagueness to the narrative which, to me, evaded full disclosure. It was almost as though I had to read between the lines of what was being alluded. However, in hindsight, I can note that these initial impressions can probably be attributed to the way in which I was reading the novel, more than the novel itself. I was picking it up in short bursts on Saturday, in between hanging out copious amounts of washing and acting as a taxi for my children all day long. Anyway, it wasn’t until I was able to really settle down with Shell in the evening that this dawned on me. Because all of a sudden, without distraction, I realised that this novel was actually quite exceptional.
‘Her own rollies had never tasted as sweet as she’d imagined. She’d thought they’d be just like those mornings, which held the deep flinty smell of her father’s breath and skin, like the embers of old kindling. She’d searched for years for precisely the right tobacco, settling recently for a blend of plum and spice she found consoling, if not sweet. Those hours with her father re-enacted in the rhythm of the match striking, the tobacco catching, the shape of thumb and forefinger around the smoke.’
There are so many moments of introspection from both of the main characters, Pearl and Axel, that gave me pause for reflection. Passages I read two, and even three times, just enjoying the beauty of the words and the way Kristina Olsson strings them together. This is why I needed to sink into the novel, rather than just pick it up and put it down over and over. While the narrative is engaging, it’s the beauty of the unsaid that takes this novel to the next level, and in order to appreciate the unsaid, you need time and no distractions.
‘She looked up, and between half-heard words and phrases, in the shifting space between earth and sky, she saw it: the boys had been abandoned by them all. Mother, father, sister. Through death, grief, selfishness – in one way or another, they’d each disappeared, left them. Leaving was what her brothers knew. What they expected.’
I have never actually been to the Opera House. The most I’ve seen of it is from the window of an airplane as we cruised into Sydney on an international connection flight. I have no physical context for which to place this story, no visual memories to draw on, yet while reading about it in Shell, I could picture the intricacies perfectly, her descriptions so precise and detailed that visiting the Opera House was not a prerequisite for enjoying this novel – to my relief, because some reviews I have read were from people who have visited the Opera House and they all mentioned how this helped them with the visualisation of its creation as it was described within the novel. Rest assured, if you are like me and haven’t yet had the pleasure of visiting, it’s not going to impact on your appreciation of this aspect of the novel. I never knew that there was so much controversy surrounding its construction. Seeing this all unfold through Axel’s eyes provided an insightful perspective, particularly his thoughts on Australians and the way we consider beauty and culture. In particular:
‘It wasn’t that they didn’t understand beauty. But there was a sense of being embarrassed by it, that it was an indulgence. The practical was held in such esteem. It made them too polite.’
And:
‘Australians appeared to have no myths of their own, no stories to pass down. He’d read about the myths of indigenous people, the notion of a Dreaming and the intricate stories it comprised. He wondered if Utzon knew these legends, their history in this place. Had he known anything of Aboriginal people when he designed his building? As he sat down and drew shapes that could turn a place sacred? Turn its people poetic: their eyes to a harbour newly revealed by the building, its depths and colours new to them, and surprising. Perhaps that was what the architect was doing here: creating a kind of Dreaming, a shape and structure that would explain these people to themselves. Perhaps the building was just that: a secular bible, a Rosetta stone, a treaty. A story to be handed down. If people would bother to look. If they’d bother to see.’
One more:
‘But in this country, he saw, it was a kind of sport to belittle those with vision, to treat art with disdain. He wasn’t sure what benefit it brought, but it was something to do with this flattening out, this shuffle towards sameness, to a life lived on the surface, without any depth. Was that why people clung so hard to the edges of the country, their backs to its beating red heart? Were they afraid to look in, to hear the old stories, to see what was inscribed on their own hearts and land?’
You see what I mean though? There are so many passages that just reach out to you with their intent.
The other topic of prominence within this novel is the introduction of conscription for the Vietnam War, and the way this divided people. I found this particularly interesting and it’s kind of changed my view to a certain extent on the way the Vietnam War was being protested against by the Australian public. I can’t help but consider the weight that conscription must have added to the ill-sentiment that was already prevalent. Would the absence of conscription have led to a more respectful return for our troops that had served in this war? I love it when a novel can get my mind working like this.
‘They were 18 and 19 then, not old enough to vote. To get a passport, buy a house or a beer. But they could be forced into army fatigues, she thought now, biting her lip. Given a gun to kill boys just like them, boys they didn’t know, had never seen.’
I have no doubt that Shell is one of those novels we will see a lot of next year as it pops up on longlists and (hopefully) shortlists for awards. It is a literary work of fiction, I only point this out because some readers prefer not to dive into these, but if you’ve been on the fence about whether or not to read Shell, I urge you to just go for it. If you love a novel that gives you beautiful prose threaded with thought provoking content set against a background of real historical events, then Shell just might be the perfect read for you.
‘The passage of time, of life, from one realm to another, the traces left for others.’
Since its release last month, in my capacity as editor for historical fiction with the Australian Women Writers Challenge, I have read quite a few reviews on Shell, with no one reviewer saying the same thing. This in itself was reason enough for me to want to check it out and form my own opinion, but in the end, it was Lisa from ANZ LitLovers LitBlog who really persuaded me to read this novel post haste (do check out her review here). But it wasn’t all love at the first chapter for me, I will admit this and for the first seventy odd pages, I really felt as though I just couldn’t put my finger on the pulse of what was happening. There was a vagueness to the narrative which, to me, evaded full disclosure. It was almost as though I had to read between the lines of what was being alluded. However, in hindsight, I can note that these initial impressions can probably be attributed to the way in which I was reading the novel, more than the novel itself. I was picking it up in short bursts on Saturday, in between hanging out copious amounts of washing and acting as a taxi for my children all day long. Anyway, it wasn’t until I was able to really settle down with Shell in the evening that this dawned on me. Because all of a sudden, without distraction, I realised that this novel was actually quite exceptional.
‘Her own rollies had never tasted as sweet as she’d imagined. She’d thought they’d be just like those mornings, which held the deep flinty smell of her father’s breath and skin, like the embers of old kindling. She’d searched for years for precisely the right tobacco, settling recently for a blend of plum and spice she found consoling, if not sweet. Those hours with her father re-enacted in the rhythm of the match striking, the tobacco catching, the shape of thumb and forefinger around the smoke.’
There are so many moments of introspection from both of the main characters, Pearl and Axel, that gave me pause for reflection. Passages I read two, and even three times, just enjoying the beauty of the words and the way Kristina Olsson strings them together. This is why I needed to sink into the novel, rather than just pick it up and put it down over and over. While the narrative is engaging, it’s the beauty of the unsaid that takes this novel to the next level, and in order to appreciate the unsaid, you need time and no distractions.
‘She looked up, and between half-heard words and phrases, in the shifting space between earth and sky, she saw it: the boys had been abandoned by them all. Mother, father, sister. Through death, grief, selfishness – in one way or another, they’d each disappeared, left them. Leaving was what her brothers knew. What they expected.’
I have never actually been to the Opera House. The most I’ve seen of it is from the window of an airplane as we cruised into Sydney on an international connection flight. I have no physical context for which to place this story, no visual memories to draw on, yet while reading about it in Shell, I could picture the intricacies perfectly, her descriptions so precise and detailed that visiting the Opera House was not a prerequisite for enjoying this novel – to my relief, because some reviews I have read were from people who have visited the Opera House and they all mentioned how this helped them with the visualisation of its creation as it was described within the novel. Rest assured, if you are like me and haven’t yet had the pleasure of visiting, it’s not going to impact on your appreciation of this aspect of the novel. I never knew that there was so much controversy surrounding its construction. Seeing this all unfold through Axel’s eyes provided an insightful perspective, particularly his thoughts on Australians and the way we consider beauty and culture. In particular:
‘It wasn’t that they didn’t understand beauty. But there was a sense of being embarrassed by it, that it was an indulgence. The practical was held in such esteem. It made them too polite.’
And:
‘Australians appeared to have no myths of their own, no stories to pass down. He’d read about the myths of indigenous people, the notion of a Dreaming and the intricate stories it comprised. He wondered if Utzon knew these legends, their history in this place. Had he known anything of Aboriginal people when he designed his building? As he sat down and drew shapes that could turn a place sacred? Turn its people poetic: their eyes to a harbour newly revealed by the building, its depths and colours new to them, and surprising. Perhaps that was what the architect was doing here: creating a kind of Dreaming, a shape and structure that would explain these people to themselves. Perhaps the building was just that: a secular bible, a Rosetta stone, a treaty. A story to be handed down. If people would bother to look. If they’d bother to see.’
One more:
‘But in this country, he saw, it was a kind of sport to belittle those with vision, to treat art with disdain. He wasn’t sure what benefit it brought, but it was something to do with this flattening out, this shuffle towards sameness, to a life lived on the surface, without any depth. Was that why people clung so hard to the edges of the country, their backs to its beating red heart? Were they afraid to look in, to hear the old stories, to see what was inscribed on their own hearts and land?’
You see what I mean though? There are so many passages that just reach out to you with their intent.
The other topic of prominence within this novel is the introduction of conscription for the Vietnam War, and the way this divided people. I found this particularly interesting and it’s kind of changed my view to a certain extent on the way the Vietnam War was being protested against by the Australian public. I can’t help but consider the weight that conscription must have added to the ill-sentiment that was already prevalent. Would the absence of conscription have led to a more respectful return for our troops that had served in this war? I love it when a novel can get my mind working like this.
‘They were 18 and 19 then, not old enough to vote. To get a passport, buy a house or a beer. But they could be forced into army fatigues, she thought now, biting her lip. Given a gun to kill boys just like them, boys they didn’t know, had never seen.’
I have no doubt that Shell is one of those novels we will see a lot of next year as it pops up on longlists and (hopefully) shortlists for awards. It is a literary work of fiction, I only point this out because some readers prefer not to dive into these, but if you’ve been on the fence about whether or not to read Shell, I urge you to just go for it. If you love a novel that gives you beautiful prose threaded with thought provoking content set against a background of real historical events, then Shell just might be the perfect read for you.
‘The passage of time, of life, from one realm to another, the traces left for others.’
January 19, 2019
An exceptional glimpse into a volatile time in Australia's past that heightened by the controversy of the Vietnam War - the enforced ballot and our fears and concerns of what it meant to be involved again in a conflict on distant shores. And yet in our own country, on our own shoreline another controversy was brewing - the construction, the design, the time delays and the budget blowout of the Sydney Opera House. Two major things that put the political landscape into upheaval, the Australian people questioned much and the media played an integral role in educating and generating angst. We see the story told by a young glassmaker Axel who was commissioned to work on the Opera House - his passion for his craft and his slow, painstaking process to work out what he wishes to create to align with Utzon's vision. We see an emerging modern Sydney through his eyes as he endeavours to grapple with what the building will be and how it will define the skyline. And Pearl, a journalist who was looking into her world with doubts and confusion - the confrontations she is willing to have, the questions she was willing to ask about not only her own life and of Axels but of the whole damn thing of love, work, gender, sex and war. Olssons narrative is slow, deliberate and quite magnificent really. It provided me with a whole new perspective of a time that was full of political and cultural change.
October 19, 2018
I rated this book 5 stars not because it’s perfect but because it captures the atmosphere & the times perfectly. You become immersed in the streets, suburbs & beaches of Sydney. The Opera House going up piece by piece & the problems associated with the build are tangible. The characters are also very relatable.
December 23, 2019
I bought this book because it was recommended - I got to page 91 and abandoned it because other books were waiting and I'd grown impatient with the proliferation of imagery laden sentences that for me detracted from the rather interesting story. In considering whether to go back to it - I was puzzled that I remembered nothing of what I had read other than the point at which I'd set it aside - the meeting moment when two people first saw each other. Wanting to know how these two would fare, I picked it up again , began at page one and persevered - I did loads of skipping from the middle but did get to the end. There is much to like but miles too many turns of phrase. Particularly irritating to me were suppositions about historical characters. I don't want to spoil the plot for those not in the know but I remember these events well. At the time I was an Architecture student and I and my fellows followed this project with anticipation and then dismay.
WARNING SPOILERS:
The Opera House (which is central to the story) was selected from a flimsy sketch, it was not of any prior or known construction, it ran into huge problems, going way over budget and time. To attribute to the politicians notions of shame of their backgrounds and claim they had an antipathy towards the Architect (because he was a foreigner who revealed their lacks to them) is fanciful. We were shocked when Utzon was sacked but I don't think an Australian Architect would have fared better. And there was no way for anyone to know what an icon and money spinner this would eventually become.
So much of this is hyperbole fed by supposition and hindsight. And yet …. Two days since finishing - my mind's eye is saturated with imagery of snow and water and searching and longing and self-blaming and the building rising and the many men working and disappointments and fears and the glass making and filial and sibling love and man and woman - so I am afterall very glad I did persist. Just wish at least a quarter had been word-smithed out.
WARNING SPOILERS:
The Opera House (which is central to the story) was selected from a flimsy sketch, it was not of any prior or known construction, it ran into huge problems, going way over budget and time. To attribute to the politicians notions of shame of their backgrounds and claim they had an antipathy towards the Architect (because he was a foreigner who revealed their lacks to them) is fanciful. We were shocked when Utzon was sacked but I don't think an Australian Architect would have fared better. And there was no way for anyone to know what an icon and money spinner this would eventually become.
So much of this is hyperbole fed by supposition and hindsight. And yet …. Two days since finishing - my mind's eye is saturated with imagery of snow and water and searching and longing and self-blaming and the building rising and the many men working and disappointments and fears and the glass making and filial and sibling love and man and woman - so I am afterall very glad I did persist. Just wish at least a quarter had been word-smithed out.
December 16, 2018
3 3/4 rounded up as I felt it wrapped up to quickly. LOVELY read, Sydney is the most dominant 'character', I felt. Wonderful realisation of place. and set in it's time. I felt a bit distant from the main people characters except I actually cried during a very poignant 'meeting', scene. Would definately recomend it, especially to Scandinavian readers as their countries portrayals match my memories.
October 9, 2020
1966 in Sydney. The Opera House is being built and a young Swedish glass maker has arrived to produce a centrepiece in the interior. While Pearl a 32 yo journalist is frustrated with being sent to the ladies pages after being seen at an anti Vietnam march. She is also a communist.
The book is an homage to design, architecture, the artistic spirit. It also celebrates the beauty of the Opera House. This is the heart of the book and the best writing.
The book also cover the anti war movement, the shallowness of the politicians that sent conscripts to Vietnam and the low state of women in society.
The Opera House is now lauded by politicians Australia-wide but during construction it was lambasted as too expensive and too difficult to build. How quickly they change.
The book is an homage to design, architecture, the artistic spirit. It also celebrates the beauty of the Opera House. This is the heart of the book and the best writing.
The book also cover the anti war movement, the shallowness of the politicians that sent conscripts to Vietnam and the low state of women in society.
The Opera House is now lauded by politicians Australia-wide but during construction it was lambasted as too expensive and too difficult to build. How quickly they change.
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