‘It was like a murder of crows had muscled in on a couple of pigeons.’
Back in the 1980s, Annie Jones was part of a mildly successful band named Love T‘It was like a murder of crows had muscled in on a couple of pigeons.’
Back in the 1980s, Annie Jones was part of a mildly successful band named Love Triangle. But her dreams were derailed by family responsibilities. Thirty-five years later, with her parents now dead and her three children grown, Annie wonders whether she can try again.
But families are complicated. Annie’s family is together in the days before Christmas, to attend her father’s funeral and will then celebrate Christmas together. They are all staying in the home of her late parents. Meet Molly and her partner. Molly is pregnant with her first child. Meet Simon, his wife and child, who have flown in from Germany, and Naomi and her child. And then, there are the other two members of Love Triangle: Annie’s ex-husband Paul, and his partner Brian.
Molly wants Annie to help look after her baby, Simon wants Annie to sell the house. At least Naomi seems content. Can Annie find her own space, and freedom to pursue her dreams? Or is it too late?
‘This was impossible, Annie thought. How was she supposed to know who knew what about whom and if they did know how they had found out, and how long they had known for and what they were planning to do with information they may or may not have? This felt like picking up an Agatha Christie novel halfway through. It was a murder mystery, and the victim was Annie’s whole history.’
Ms Dettmann has peopled her novel with a delightful (mostly) collection of very human characters, with their anxieties, concerns, dreams, and regrets. Most of our view of events is delivered from the perspectives of Annie and Molly. There’s humour here, as well as all the complicated dynamics of family. An enjoyable read.
Note: My thanks to NetGalley and HarperCollins Publishers Australia for providing me with a free electronic copy of this book for review purposes.
Ivan Novak was putting out his garbage bins one evening in Sydney’s west, when he was shot dead. His father, Milan, leader of a cThe price of loyalty.
Ivan Novak was putting out his garbage bins one evening in Sydney’s west, when he was shot dead. His father, Milan, leader of a criminal gang, wants revenge. Milan is sure that Ivan was murdered by a rival gang, and revenge is a job for Ivan’s younger brother, Johnny.
There is plenty of tension between the various ethnic gangs in western Sydney. Old fears and suspicions, together with the trauma of war, have accompanied those who have fled in their former homelands.
While Johnny is part of the gang his father leads, he is torn between his loyalty to his Croatian heritage and his love for his wife Amy and their son Sasha. Amy wants the three of them to break free from this wave of violence, of attack and retribution. She moves temporarily with Sasha to the home of her parents. The violence escalates and others become involved.
Johnny wants to be with Amy and Sasha, but he also wants to prove himself to his father. Johnny has a plan which just may enable him to meet the expectations of both. In the meantime, can he keep his family safe? In this fast-paced debut novel, Ms Peck explores the causes and consequences of ethnic gang violence as well as conflicting loyalties. There are a couple of twists which help sustain the suspense. And the outcome?
Well, we can hope for a violence-free future …
Note: My thanks to NetGalley and Text Publishing for providing me with a free electronic copy of this book for review purposes.
‘It can’t be a coincidence. Something’s very wrong.’
In the world of Nevermoor, Morrigan Crow is finally learning mastery of her Wundersmith skills. It‘It can’t be a coincidence. Something’s very wrong.’
In the world of Nevermoor, Morrigan Crow is finally learning mastery of her Wundersmith skills. It is an exciting time for Morrigan. But all is not well in Nevermoor: the Wunimals are becoming ill. It is a terrifying illness, which spreads from Wunimal to Wunimal transforming them into vicious Unnimals and then leaving them hollow. What has caused this illness, and can it be cured?
All members of the Wundrous Society are involved in either trying to take care of the infected Wunimals, looking for a cure or trying to keep the other inhabitants of Nevermoor safe.
And Morrigan? She is learning new skills, but she’s exposed to danger at a time when her patron Jupiter North is preoccupied with the illness they’ve called ‘Hollowpox’. There is a promise of a cure, but is it genuine? Can Nevermoor be protected? Can the Wunimals be saved?
I have enjoyed each of the three books in this series and will now wait (patiently, of course) for the fourth instalment. If you enjoy fantasy, then I recommend this series.
‘Sydney’s not full. And it’s not failing because of density. It’s just fed up with too much development too fast and too close, development that is ug‘Sydney’s not full. And it’s not failing because of density. It’s just fed up with too much development too fast and too close, development that is ugly, greedy, undercontrolled and importunate.’
I read this book because, while I have never lived in Sydney, I have spent quite a bit of time there both personally and professionally. I spent some time in the beautiful Education Department building in Bridge Street in the early 1980s (since sold by the NSW government) and in other buildings around the CBD. I have enjoyed walking around the inner city especially Surry Hills and Potts Point. But these days, my visits are occasional (for medical reasons or cultural purposes) and more often my rare trips terminate in what the real estate world now calls ‘Outer South Western Sydney’ (around Tahmoor and Picton).
Walking around the centre of Sydney or catching the train (during non-peak times) is enjoyable. Trying to drive around in Sydney or using public transport during peak times is horrific. To me, Sydney looks full. How can Sydney accommodate more people? This is the question I kept in my mind as I read Ms Farrelly’s book.
From reading this book (and from my own observations) too much of the development is driven by profit: short-term profit by government as public assets are exchanged for money; and longer-term profit by developers fitting as much income-generating activity into as little space as possible. And the people? For me, that is the heart of Ms Farrell’s message. Most of the development or redevelopment disregards what people want or need. Especially people on low incomes. And what about the people whose lives have been disrupted by WestConnex?
If cities are meant to be about and for people, then people’s views should be considered. Ms Farelly mentions the newDemocracy model. I was fortunate enough to be part of the group selected to look at Housing Choices in the ACT, and I think that the process followed there was a good example of citizen involvement. I am one of those people, Ms Farrelly, who lives in and likes Canberra. And Canberra has problems of its own: travel can be problematic for those without access to a car, especially in the more remote suburbs. But development in Sydney troubles me more. The endless urban sprawl, the impact (on the environment and on people’s health) of the commuting between home and work, the reclamation of public space for private development.
Ms Farrelly raises several important questions in this book If you have an interest in Sydney, if you care about cities meeting the needs of their inhabitants, then I recommend reading this book. The issues raised by Ms Farrelly apply to all large cities.
Note: My thanks to NetGalley and Pan Macmillan Australia for providing me with a free electronic copy of this book for review purposes.
‘I first saw her spotlit by headlight, a pink plush rabbit tucked under her arm.’
Meg’s own experience with an abusive partner helps her to decide to h‘I first saw her spotlit by headlight, a pink plush rabbit tucked under her arm.’
Meg’s own experience with an abusive partner helps her to decide to help another woman who is fleeing, with two small children, from an abusive partner. Meg knows that she left it too long to leave her own partner, Keith, and as a result she is essentially estranged from her daughter Emily.
Nerine, the mother, seems incredibly stressed. Her daughters, Analiese and Colette are anxious and afraid. Meg thinks that she can help. Her home (aptly named ‘The Bolt Hole) is remote, and Meg has plenty of supplies to keep the family out of sight. Meg will provide the three of them with shelter for a few weeks until another woman is able to offer them shelter.
But Nerine is convinced that her husband will find her, and when strange things start happening around Meg’s home, Meg is concerned. Meg is in a dispute with her own ex-husband: is he trying to intimidate her, or is Nerine right?
What a bleak, heartbreaking, and incredibly beautifully written story this is. The characters are well-developed, the issues are real, and the tension is high. Nothing is straightforward, and while I worked out a few of the twists, I was not at all prepared for the ending. If you read this novel, be prepared to ride an emotional roller-coaster.
Note: My thanks to NetGalley and Text Publishing for providing me with a free electronic copy of this book for review purposes.
‘In a perfect world, we could wait until the apricots bloom. Alas, the world is not perfect.’
Set in Iraq during the regime of Saddam Hussein, this nov‘In a perfect world, we could wait until the apricots bloom. Alas, the world is not perfect.’
Set in Iraq during the regime of Saddam Hussein, this novel is told through the eyes of three quite different women. Ally, wife of an Australian diplomat (a ‘dependent spouse’), has accompanied her husband on posting to Baghdad. Ally has her own reasons for wanting to be in Baghdad.
Huda, a secretary at the Australian Embassy in Baghdad, is ordered by the mukhabarat to befriend Ally. Huda does not want to be an informant for the secret police but must think of her family. Her husband is bitter and unemployed, and her teenaged son is of an age where he could be forced to join the militia.
Rania, a childhood friend of Huda’s, grew up in a life of privilege as the daughter of a sheikh. Both privilege and money are long gone, and Rania is an artist, struggling to look after her teenaged daughter. Three different women brought together by circumstance. Ally is trying to find information about people from the past, an activity which is viewed with suspicion and is highly dangerous. Huda will do almost anything to protect her son and calls on Rania for help.
‘Didn’t anyone ever teach you? Two can keep a secret only when one of them is dead.’
This novel was inspired by Ms Wilkinson’s own experiences in Iraq, and makes it clear how difficult and challenging life could be for many (and particularly women) in Saddam Hussein’s Iraq. Difficult choices need to be made by each of the women to protect their family members and to survive. And who can they trust? Each woman’s story is difficult and heartbreaking in its own way. As I read, I wondered what choices I might make in their situations. A thought-provoking debut novel.
Note: My thanks to NetGalley and Hachette Australia for providing me with a free electronic copy of this book for review purposes.
‘There are many memories that live in the brain of an old girl from Birkenhead.’
In this autobiography, published in 2016, Ms Ollman writes of growing ‘There are many memories that live in the brain of an old girl from Birkenhead.’
In this autobiography, published in 2016, Ms Ollman writes of growing up poor in Birkenhead in the UK. She was the eldest of six children. At the age of sixteen, pregnant with her first child, Trish and Ian eloped to Scotland to marry. By the time she was seventeen, Trish and Ian had two sons. Ian and Trish emigrated to Australia when they were aged twenty-one, where they had two more children.
In 2016, when this book was published, Ian and Trish were still married. They have since divorced.
It often takes courage to write about the past, especially when the past is full of challenges and difficulties. Ms Ollman’s life has certainly been eventful, and she has overcome many difficulties with determination. Numerous moves (between houses and between the UK and Australia a couple of times) combined with career changes and family issues makes for an interesting read.
Interesting but at times frustrating because grammatical and word choice issues (such as ‘it’s’ for ‘its’; ‘heal’ for heel’; ‘ridicules’ for ‘ridiculous’) kept dragging me out of the narrative. I kept thinking how much better this book could have been with effective proof reading and editing.
Ms Ollman’s (first) autobiography is both a snapshot of the times in which she grew up and a deeply personal account of her life. She’s since written and published a second autobiography: ‘Cry’ (described on her website as ‘The tears of A Girl From Birkenhead A 'No-Holds' barred version of the original 'Girl from Birkenhead'.). I have also read this and will review it shortly.
If you read this book, be prepared to experience a range of emotions. If you can ignore the grammatical and word choice issues, there is a story which is sometimes heartbreakingly sad and sometimes wryly amusing. I finished this book, and immediately picked up ‘Cry’.
‘Have you ever had a memory from years ago that you hadn’t previously thought about since?’
In her opening to this book, Ms Ollman explains that she le‘Have you ever had a memory from years ago that you hadn’t previously thought about since?’
In her opening to this book, Ms Ollman explains that she left a lot out of her first autobiography ‘A Girl from Birkenhead’ and this book is a ‘no holds barred’ account of her life. She also notes that those of us who have read the first book will already know some parts of her life story. So, this book is perhaps more of a revision than a sequel.
Because I chose to read this book immediately after ‘A Girl from Birkenhead’, the areas of overlap were clear to me. I noticed that Ms Ollman changed the given names of some of her family members in this book, but not consistently. While writing this book may well have provided the catharsis she was seeking, editing and proofreading would have helped the reader.
This is a difficult book to read, with its mentions of abuse and family difficulties. Readers who are triggered by mention of sexual abuse (in particular) should proceed with caution. It is part of Ms Ollman’s story.
While I was amazed to read that Ms Ollman ‘ taught Julia [her granddaughter] to read at 10 months’, my own reading difficulties were compounded by many of the same grammatical and word choice issues that confronted me in the first book. I wish Ms Ollman would edit her work (or have it edited) before publication. Some readers may think this is a minor quibble, especially as context usually makes the meaning clear.
Ms Ollman wrote this book to show herself as a survivor rather than a victim, and I wish her all the best for the future. It takes courage to confront the past, and to try to move beyond it.
In these twenty short stories, ranging in length up to thirty-two pages, Ms Tan takes us on journeys where smart ovens can help lonely peopleWhat if …
In these twenty short stories, ranging in length up to thirty-two pages, Ms Tan takes us on journeys where smart ovens can help lonely people (at least for a while) and where a homeless man makes his mark with a ballpoint pen.
These are quirky stories, often darkly disturbing. Clever, compact, and compelling.
My favourite was ‘Pang & Co. Genuine Scribe Era Stationery Pty Ltd.’ I am not sure why, except that I wanted to enter the pages to talk to the homeless man.
I liked the cleverness of ‘Smart Ovens for Lonely People’, and the quirkiness of the worlds Ms Tan creates (albeit briefly) for her characters to inhabit.
Who would not want a cat shaped smart oven?
If you enjoy unusual short stories, then I can recommend this collection.
‘She could – almost – have been one of The Survivors.’
Kieran Elliott, his partner Mia and their daughter Audrey return to the small Tasmanian coastal ‘She could – almost – have been one of The Survivors.’
Kieran Elliott, his partner Mia and their daughter Audrey return to the small Tasmanian coastal town of Evelyn Bay to help Kieran’s mother Verity pack the family home for a move. Kieran’s father, Brian has dementia and needs nursing home care.
Returning to Evelyn Bay is not easy for Kieran. His brother Finn and another man died here in a storm twelve years ago. A girl went missing that same day. Tough memories for Kieran, especially as some blame him for the men’s deaths.
A body is discovered on the beach. The body of a young woman working temporarily in Evelyn Bay. Who killed her, and why? Who was the last person to see her alive? This new tragedy brings memories of the old tragedy to the surface. And Kieran is struggling with his own memories, with the guilt he feels over the death of his brother, and responsibility for his parents’ grief which is reinforced when his father sometimes mistakes him for his brother.
Ms Harper brings the setting to life: the wildness of the Tasmanian coastal weather, the insularity and divided opinion of a small community under stress. The characters are well-drawn, their grievances and challenges are real. The current investigation raises questions about the old tragedy. And the conclusion took me by surprise.
This is Ms Harper’s fourth novel: I’ve enjoyed them all, but this is my favourite.
In this book, sisters Kate Forsyth and Belinda Murrell set out to learn more about their great-great-great-great grandmother Charlo‘Who is Charlotte?’
In this book, sisters Kate Forsyth and Belinda Murrell set out to learn more about their great-great-great-great grandmother Charlotte de Waring Atkinson (1796-1867). The sisters had heard enthralling stories about Charlotte and her family: stories that had passed through the generations for over 150 years. Surely, along the way and in the telling, these stories had become romanticised, embellished, and exaggerated. Isn’t that the way of most oral family history?
When I first heard about this book I was intrigued. I had never heard of Charlotte or her book: ‘A Mother's Offering to Her Children by a Lady Long Resident in New South Wales’ (published in 1841). It was the first children's book to be published in Australia and was a collection of instructional stories arranged in the form of a dialogue between a mother and her four children.
Part biography, part personal journey, part re-discovery of family history, this book serves (at least) two purposes. First, to try to find out more about Charlotte the woman, who sailed to New South Wales in 1826 to take up a position as a governess, and secondly to try to provide context for Charlotte the author.
As I read this book, I was delighted by the way in which Belinda and Kate were able to work together and were able to travel with their own daughters, to learn more about their family history. Charlotte met several challenges in her life, including being widowed early with small children, making a disastrous second marriage, having to fight to retain her children. This is a very personal journey through nineteenth century attitudes, customs, values, and law.
While the authors (and readers) can only speculate about some of Charlotte’s choices, she comes across as determined to do the best she could to look after the interests of her children and to equip them for adult life. Certainly, creativity seems to have passed through her descendants.
This is not a straight biography, nor is it purely fictional. It is a blend of fact, of imagination, of impressions gained by research and travel. As Kate writes: ‘We are taking historical fact and framing it within our own personal lives, creating what might be called a hybrid memoir.’
I enjoyed the book and I imagine I would have enjoyed it even more if I was a family member. And I have discovered that ‘A Mother’s Offering to Her Children’ is available as a digital text through the University of Sydney Library.
‘When you were three days old, I took you from the newborn nursery in Mercy Hospital, Pittsburgh, in America.’
In middle age, Nella Pine learns that sh‘When you were three days old, I took you from the newborn nursery in Mercy Hospital, Pittsburgh, in America.’
In middle age, Nella Pine learns that she is not who she thought she was. She grew up, thinking she was the daughter of Eve Gilbert, a widow who had left her grief behind in the USA to establish a new life in Australia. But when Eve dies, she finds a letter. Eve Gilbert was a nurse, called Ruth Miller, who stole baby Naomi from the newborn nursery and fled to Australia.
Why? What can Nella do with this information? Can she find her birth family? Where does she fit? What about baby Naomi’s family in Pittsburgh?
So many questions to consider while reading this contemplative short novel. What would Nella’s life have been, if she had grown up with her sister Leah and her parents Deborah and Paul? What compelled Ruth to take Naomi and change both their identities?
There are other stories woven through this narrative: Alex (once Nella’s husband) with his own experience of lost identity; Leah who always believed that Naomi would make contact; and Deborah whose world changed forever when Naomi was stolen.
I finished this book wondering about the different paths that lives can take. The shocking theft of one child, the forced adoption of another. The ripple effect of an action on so many lives. How do we know who we are, how do we find our place in the world? What is the balance between nature and nurture?
This is a novel I will reread. It is an extraordinary story, beautifully presented, full of complex questions.
‘You give each other the stories. They haven’t been lost.’
‘Looking out over an ebb tide from the back verandah was like watching God paint stripes.’
The house-sitting gig in Piama on the Queensland coast does ‘Looking out over an ebb tide from the back verandah was like watching God paint stripes.’
The house-sitting gig in Piama on the Queensland coast does not pay much, but it gave Clementine (Clem) Jones a convenient excuse to leave Katinga once certain facts about her past became known. It is supposed to be a temporary move. The local Australian Rules Football club want her back after her success in coaching them to their first premiership win. But Clem does not think she will return to Katinga. And, while she considers her future (including a lucrative job in Melbourne), she is helping her friend Helen with a campaign to save the endangered white throat turtle. The turtle’s habitat will disappear if a planned new port development goes ahead.
After Helen is found dead at the foot of a cliff, the police consider her death suicide. Clem does not agree and sets out to find out what happened to Helen. And there are plenty of suspects: many of the people in Piama want the port to go ahead. The mayor and some businessmen see profits, while others would welcome the money they would receive for their properties.
Clem’s life and her investigation are both enhanced and complicated when one of her Katinga football stars (an ex-convict, himself in a spot of bother) joins her.
Clem takes quite a few risks (nothing new here) as she tries to find out what happened to Helen. Who would benefit from her death? And why did Helen include some puzzling conditions into her will?
I like Clem: she’s a flawed, focussed hero trying to work through some personal challenges while trying to ensure that Helen’s death is properly investigated. She’s feisty and brave and occasionally foolhardy. Can she uncover the truth? And will she accept what looks like a very attractive job back in corporate law? What about Katinga?
A terrific second instalment in Ms Thornton’s Clementine Jones mystery/thriller series. What will happen next?
Highly recommended.
Note: My thanks to NetGalley and Text Publishing for providing me with a free electronic copy of this book for review purposes.
‘Talk is where everything starts. And they know it.’
A peaceful rebellion in Manchester, England in 1819 leave Sarah McCaffrey and her brother Sam orph‘Talk is where everything starts. And they know it.’
A peaceful rebellion in Manchester, England in 1819 leave Sarah McCaffrey and her brother Sam orphaned. They move to London where their involvement in a failed rebellion in 1820 leads to Sam being hanged for high treason and Sarah fleeing for her life. Sarah finds herself aboard the Serpent bound for New South Wales.
‘She was alone, at the edge of everything.’
But when the Serpent is wrecked off the Gap, Sarah is the only survivor. She awakens in the infirmary and, as Sarah Marin, starts a new life. Molly Thistle, ex-convict, and local entrepreneur employs Sarah. And Sarah soon becomes an important part of Molly Thistle’s empire. However, Sarah’s past threatens to catch up with her.
Ms Keneally has drawn from historic figures and events to create this engrossing tale of fiction, including the Peterloo Massacre (Manchester 1819) and the wreck of the Dunbar (in 1857). Sarah is idealistic, courageous, and strong. In New South Wales, her idealism is tempered by realism as she comes to realise that rebellion is not the only way to effect social change.
I enjoyed this novel, with its well-defined characters and focus, both in the UK and in New South Wales, on a range of early 19th century social issues.
In this novel, Ms Grenville reimagines aspects of the life of Elizabeth Macarthur, the wife of John Ma‘Dearest, he said, and I was immediately wary. ‘
In this novel, Ms Grenville reimagines aspects of the life of Elizabeth Macarthur, the wife of John Macarthur. In her reimagination, Ms Grenville discovers a secret memoir written by Elizabeth Macarthur, one which brings her out of the shadows.
First, a few facts. Elizabeth Macarthur (1766-1850) was born on 14 August 1766 in Devon, England, daughter of Richard Veale, farmer, and his wife Grace. She married John Macarthur in October 1788. In June 1789 he joined the New South Wales Corps and Elizabeth and their son Edward (born in March 1789) accompanied him when he sailed to take up his position in the colony. Mrs Macarthur’s letters to her family written during the journey to New South Wales are one of the outstanding records of early voyages on convict transports. John Macarthur (c1767-1834), soldier, entrepreneur and pastoralist was a prominent figure in colonial Australia.
Around these facts (and others) Ms Grenville portrays Elizabeth Macarthur as a passionate woman who learns how to manage marriage to an opinionated and ruthless bully.
‘As I copied out his words I noticed that the word we never appeared. In Mr Macarthur’s lonely cosmology, there was no such pronoun. Only me, myself, I.’
While I read this novel and enjoyed the imagined Elizabeth Macarthur’s view of and opinions about the role of women and colonial settlement, aspects made me uneasy. How many people will read this novel and believe it is fact instead of fiction, despite Ms Grenville’s disclaimer? Despite my unease, I enjoyed the opportunity to view colonial settlement through a different perspective.
‘Down beside the river I had a spot of my own, where now and then I could slip out of the skin of Mrs John Macarthur. It was screened by bushes that framed a view up and down the stream: another airy room made of leaves.’
I suspect that the real Mrs John Macarthur will always remain elusive. We know of her from her letters, written within the strictures of the society of the time. But the person behind the letters? Ms Grenville presents us with some interesting possibilities.
Leah and Eve are identical twins, living in Melbourne. Leah has been in a relationship with Grant for six ‘Identical twins, two very different women.’
Leah and Eve are identical twins, living in Melbourne. Leah has been in a relationship with Grant for six years: they are about to have a celebratory anniversary dinner, and Leah is expecting a proposal. But Grant breaks off their relationship without explanation. Leah is devastated. And her job is not going so well either.
Eve is married to Sean and has identical twin daughters: Harriet and Ava. But Eve is dissatisfied. She is strict with her daughters, distant from Sean, and spending less and less time with her family. Eve convinces Leah to attend her best friend’s 40th birthday party in the Dandenong Ranges. It is a costume party, and the two of them are identically dressed. But neither of them will make it to the party, and lives will be changed forever.
A spur of the moment decision leads to secrets. And secrets have a way of snowballing and damaging those they are intended to protect.
There are a couple of improbable twists in this novel, but I became some engrossed in the story I really did not care. The main characters are well developed, and I kept reading wanting to know how it would end. I finished the novel satisfied.
This is the first novel I have read by Ms Guy. I will add her others to my reading list.
Note: My thanks to NetGalley and Amazon Publishing UK for providing me with a free electronic copy of this book for review purposes.
Set in Iron-Age Britain, Ailia of Caer Cad has been in a self-imposed exile since her village was destroye‘I had a title to bear. I had a war to win.’
Set in Iron-Age Britain, Ailia of Caer Cad has been in a self-imposed exile since her village was destroyed by the Romans. But she realises that she has a role to play if the free tribes of Albion are to resist the Roman attack and retain their ties to the land. Ailia is the Kendra of Albion, and after ending her exile, she seeks out the chieftain Caradog.
Ailia arrives at Llanmelin as a Journeywoman, but her minimal training with the Mothers has not equipped her to handle Caradog’s Journeyman, Prydd. Prydd barely tolerates Ailia, while Caradog is not initially interested in her advice. But when Ailia hears Caradog’s Songman, Rhain, she realises that she may have more influence as a Songwoman.
‘Whatever story we remember will determine what endures. This is your purpose. There is no other.’
Those of us who studied history know how this will end in fact, but in this fiction, I was free to dream. Ailia has difficult choices to make. With a touch of fantasy, Ms Tampke brings Iron-Age Britain to life. I was swept up in the story and have added ‘Skin’ to my reading list.
‘The time has come to collate my notes and make them available to the world.’
Set in the Hunter Valley of New South Wales, this novel involves two time‘The time has come to collate my notes and make them available to the world.’
Set in the Hunter Valley of New South Wales, this novel involves two timelines, two women, some intriguing family mysteries, and a map.
In 1880, Evie Ludgrove went missing from her home at the Yellow Rock estate without a trace. Her father had been obsessed with Dr Ludwig Leichhardt, and when The Bulletin magazine offered a £1,000 reward for proof of where he met his fate, Evie was determined to work it out. She had her father’s papers to draw on, as well as information in the archives of the Royal Geographical Society. Evie set off on her secret mission but was never seen again.
In 1911, Letitia Rawlings arrives at the Yellow Rock estate to advise her Great Aunt Olivia of a family bereavement. Letitia, driving her Model T Ford may appear to be independent, but she has some problems of her own. Her brother has died suddenly, and she is not happy with her mother’s plans. But Letitia finds that things at Yellow Rock are not exactly as her mother has portrayed them. And when she finds a map in her grandfather’s study, she wonders if she can solve the mystery of Evie’s disappearance.
I really enjoyed this novel, with its interesting female characters (especially Great Aunt Olivia) and its mysteries. There is a touch of romance as well.
If you enjoy Australian historical fiction with strong female characters, with family mysteries to puzzle and with a hint of romance, I can recommend ‘The Cartographer’s Secret’.
Note: My thanks to NetGalley and Harlequin Australia for providing me with a free electronic copy of this book for review purposes.
In 1907, Perth woman Alice Mitchell was arrested for the murder of five-month-old Ethel Booth. Alice Mitchell, a nurse and m‘How did it come to this?’
In 1907, Perth woman Alice Mitchell was arrested for the murder of five-month-old Ethel Booth. Alice Mitchell, a nurse and midwife, had been registered since 1903 with the Perth Local Board of Health to take charge of infants. Babies were boarded at her premises in Edward Street in East Perth while their mothers worked to support themselves and pay for their children’s care.
‘How could so many infants die in the care of one woman without anyone becoming concerned?’
The case came to light after Mitchell was reported by a constable on duty in the neighbourhood when she casually mentioned during a conversation that she had a child lying ill in her house but could not afford a doctor. The police called Dr Davey to attend a 10-month-old child who was in “an exceedingly emaciated condition”. While at the house Dr Davey noticed another baby, Ethel Booth, in a similar condition. Both children were taken to Perth Public Hospital, but little Ethel died the next day.
Ethel Booth was not the only baby to die in Mrs Mitchell’s care. Corporal O’Halloran investigated the names and addresses of the parents included on the (incomplete) register Mrs Mitchell was required to keep as well as details from the State Registrar’s office and was able to compile a list of thirty-seven infants who had died in Alice Mitchell’s care between 190l and 1907. There may have been others.
‘I keep them for a living. I don’t keep them for the love of the thing.’
But who else was involved? In this book, Ms Budrikis writes of the social conditions in Perth at the time, of the factors that lead to Mrs Mitchell operating a baby farm, and of Dr Ned Officer and Miss Harriet Lenihan. The case raised questions about how so many infants could die, in apparently squalid conditions.
Dr Officer was the doctor who, apparently, provided regular oversight of the children in Mrs Mitchell’s care. He also signed many of the children’s death certificates. Miss Lenihan was the Lady Health Inspector responsible for inspecting the premises where the babies were kept on a regular basis. Dr Officer emerges from the trial unscathed, while Miss Lenihan is vilified.
And Mrs Mitchell? The trial concluded on 13 April 1907 and the jury found her guilty of manslaughter and she was sentenced to five years hard labour. The case led to legislative changes to protect the welfare of children.
In her Afterword, Ms Budrikis, while wondering about this case writes:
‘Clearly something went terribly wrong to cause the death of so many babies and young children in one household. The death rate among the infants in Alice’s care was far higher than the already-high rate amongst other “boarded-out” children.’
I found this a difficult but important book to read. And I wonder what really happened.
I did not know what to expect when I picked up this beautifully presented book. Marlee Silva, author and host of Tiddas4Tiddas, has brought together tI did not know what to expect when I picked up this beautifully presented book. Marlee Silva, author and host of Tiddas4Tiddas, has brought together the experiences of several Indigenous women and girls, Rachael Sarra has surrounded the stories with colourful, vibrant artwork.
The stories are inspiring: full of hope and courage, as well as recognition of the difficult reality of life for many Indigenous people.
Two things stood out for me. The first is the need to share the success stories. It is the success stories that will provide the positive role models and inspire others. The second was this reflection on Australia Day:
‘It is important to stress, though, I will still feel unable to celebrate Australia on any day, if the date change isn’t accompanied by a change in attitudes and actions.’
It is obvious, isn’t it? So obvious that most of us have missed this critically important issue. What are we celebrating, and why?
There are thoughts about identity and belonging, about connection to culture. Different experiences. And there is this perspective:
‘For a lot of women, but particularly women of colour or other minority backgrounds, imposter syndrome is something they face every day when they find success in what they do, or step out from the expectations broader society has of them. It refers to an overwhelming sense that you don’t deserve to receive recognition or praise or to have opportunities you’ve received or be on particular platforms.’
How many of you can relate to this?
Be inspired, and don’t forget to share your success stories.
‘Most Australians born before 1960 can remember the widespread vaccination campaigns that were initiated against polio with first the Salk, then Sabin‘Most Australians born before 1960 can remember the widespread vaccination campaigns that were initiated against polio with first the Salk, then Sabin vaccines.’
I do remember the vaccination campaigns against polio, I remember standing in a queue in Launceston, Tasmania with my father and my brother to receive the Salk vaccine. This memory sticks in my mind: my father was not a man who did much standing, and he was never a man who enjoyed queuing. My father was a polio survivor. He contracted the virus in 1951, not long after his 21st birthday. He struggled to walk again, and he never recovered the strength he lost.
Before I read this book, I was aware of the work of Sister Elizabeth Kenny. She was viewed as a hero in my home: treatment based on her methods is what got my father walking. But I did not know her methods were considered controversial. I read with interest (and sadness) about the ‘more orthodox’ methods used and supported by Dr Jean Macnamara in which limbs were not mobilised. I read about the resistance Sister Elizabeth Kenny received to her methods (especially in Australia), and I read about the backgrounds of both women.
‘Elizabeth Kenny shook the complacency of the medical establishment which firmly believed that muscles affected by the poliovirus remained frail and vulnerable for a lengthy period , and that gentle movement of limbs in the early stages of paralysis was dangerous.’
Many of those who survived polio were left with degrees of disability: June Middleton in Victoria, Australia (1926 - 2009) spent more than 60 years in an iron lung, while many survivors who walked did so with the aid of calipers. The world was even less accommodating of disability then than it is now.
I also read about the development of the Salk and Sabin vaccines. And was reminded of the need for vaccine development ‘to hasten slowly’ when reading about a defective vaccine in the USA in 1955 which resulted in 40 000 cases of polio, leaving 200 children with varying degrees of paralysis and killing 10. I hope that those working on a vaccine for COVID-19 are mindful of these lessons.
While this is a book about a particular disease and the people who suffered from it, there are lessons relevant to all pandemics. Polio vaccination remains as important today as it did when my brother, father and I queued in Launceston sixty years ago.
‘There remains no cure for polio.’
My thanks to Janine Rizzetti whose review of this book led me to read it.
‘Dolores wasn’t the name her mother had given her when she arrived in the world. Feet first.’
We meet Dolores outside a convent in June. She is sixteen‘Dolores wasn’t the name her mother had given her when she arrived in the world. Feet first.’
We meet Dolores outside a convent in June. She is sixteen, she is ill, she falls, she is taken in. Who is Dolores, and where did she come from?
‘When does Dolores’ story begin? From the first memory and then again from each variation of that same memory that comes after. Dolores was always reaching towards her past. Cold hands grasping in the dark. She was always gesturing, somewhat slyly, towards her future. If anything, her story must start somewhere in the middle.’
We never learn Dolores’s real name, even though we spend quite a bit of time with her in the past. Dolores is not (and will not be) the first young woman to be beguiled by the first young man to show her attention. But Angelo’s interest is transactional rather than romantic, and then he offers Dolores to others. Dolores becomes pregnant, Angelo abandons her and does not answer her calls.
‘How many times did she call before his phone was switched off? Twenty, maybe more.’
Dolores travels to her cousin in Seville.
‘In another hemisphere, on the other side of the world.’
We never know where Dolores came from. This part of the past is not shared with us. It is enough to know that Dolores made an escape (of sorts) although I wonder if her mother suspected her pregnancy and agreed to let her visit her cousin (and persuaded her husband to agree) after Dolores’s cousin paid the airfare. I wonder, but it is not an important detail.
In the convent, Dolores seems to find some comfort in the rituals. It is a small convent with elderly nuns, with a few novices seeking to take vows. She remembers the past and seems to be ignoring what is ahead. But there are dangers, even in a convent.
And the ending? What choice does Dolores have? What does she want to do?
I read this in one sitting because I needed to know how it would end. I felt sorry for Dolores. I wanted to know those parts of her story hidden from us: the dreams and ambitions of the young woman we only know as Dolores. I wanted to know what her future might hold. Would she return to (and remain in) the convent?
This is Ms Curtis’s first book, and what a powerful story it is. Highly recommended.
‘It strikes me that this is what strangers do. Make offerings before stepping over the threshold of another’s house. That is what we are now.’
Ten shor‘It strikes me that this is what strangers do. Make offerings before stepping over the threshold of another’s house. That is what we are now.’
Ten short stories about time. About living and remembering, about recounting events. Set across the world: different locations, different people with different experiences. I read each story, take it in, imagine what came before or what might happen next. The people (and events) become real.
How does Ms Rowe do this?
‘Sinkers’ took me to the Snowy Mountains, where the drowned town of Adaminaby lies under Lake Eucumbene. And reminded me of the other drowned towns of Jindabyne and Talbingo. But it is not the landscape which held my attention in this story (familiar as it is) but the impact on people.
‘Chavez’, a longer story, took me into the world of an agoraphobic woman looking after her neighbour’s dog. It is meant to be for a short period only, but events elsewhere in the world have an impact.
Returning to the first story, ‘Glisk’, I learn that a ‘glisk’ is a Scots word meaning glance or a twinkling. And in this story, there are two events which take place in an instant and which are important in the life of Fynn, whose story is being narrated by his half-brother Raf. Lives are changed, defined, and sometimes destroyed by such moments.
People move across the world, into and out of the lives of others. Relationships and perceptions evolve. Time is not static, nor is it linear. I have mentioned three stories and perhaps they are my favourites for now. But when I reread these stories, and I know I will, my focus may shift.
‘This is not what we do. This is not how we get close to each other, by making ourselves seem defective enough to safely befriend.’
If you enjoy beautifully written self-contained short stories that invite you to think, then you may enjoy this book as much as I did.
Jennifer (JC-S)
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