Tag: review

Annie — 
Invisible Women by Caroline Criado Perez and A Single Thread by Tracy Chevalier

I’ve been on several weeks holiday and have divided my time between gardening, socialising and unpacking a house after a recent move. Oh, and I’ve found some time for reading.

Invisible Women is a rousing call to action that addresses a glaring blind spot in the data collection that increasingly dictates our lives: information about women. Across a whole range of issues, from transportation to work, medicine to machines, women’s experiences are not being tracked and therefore not being accounted for. As a result, half the world risks consequences that range from frustrating to fatal as we traverse a world that is not built for us. Criado Perez writes in an engaging and readable style, with appropriate sarcasm and humour balancing the rage that is induced by her comprehensive attack on the many gender gaps in our knowledge. The economic, social and medical costs of excluding such a large portion of humanity are drawn starkly and I hope that the recent awarding of the Royal Society of Science prize means that this book engenders future change.  

Speaking of invisible women, Tracy Chevalier’s latest novel, A Single Thread, kept me entertained and fascinated by a group of women often forgotten in history: the unfortunately named ‘surplus women’, who lived between the wars in the UK without men to give them substance or protection. One such woman, Violet, moves to the town of Winchester to escape her difficult mother in an attempt to strike out on her own. She becomes involved with a group of ’broderers’ at the cathedral, who are working on a large scale project to fill the pews with kneelers and cushions. Chevalier skilfully brings to life a range of characters who demonstrate the limited options available to women of the time, but who manage to make their mark in spite of the unfavourable circumstances. A deeply enjoyable holiday read that has enough meat to take to your book club. 

Charmaine — 
The Erratics by Vicki Laveau-Harvie

I don’t know if this happens to you but I am having a period of not reading as much as usual. I know it will pass and meanwhile I’m listening to lots of book podcasts. But I did read Vicki Laveau-Harvie’s Stella prizewinning book, The Erratics. This is the memoir of a family that is dominated by a narcissistic personality disordered mother, although was not diagnosed until very recently. Vicki returns home to Canada following 18 years of estrangement from her parents. The visit is preceded by her mother being admitted to hospital after a fall. Vicki and her sister arrive to find their father in very poor health. Despite their mother’s charismatic and compelling personality – she tells astounding lies – they take the opportunity to ensure that their mother does not return home again. Well this is a tragic story of the devastating impact that this mother has wrought on her family, but it is told with some humour and spareness of detail.

Kate — 
Irma Voth by Miriam Toews and Ducks, Newburyport by Lucy Ellmann

I stayed up all night reading Irma Voth by Miriam Toews and now I’m at work in a daze, still in the strange and wonderful and distressing world of Irma. A customer ordered in this book and then lent it to me saying she think I’d like it and I think I may honestly have found my new favourite book. Irma is nineteen and her family is part of a Mennonite community camp. She is quietly rebellious, astute and hilarious in her perception of the world. She marries an outsider Mexican man, unacceptable to her family and is moved to a house nearby. There is an empty expansiveness of the Chihuahuan desert scrublands in Mexico. Her husband soon tells her she is a bad wife and leaves. Irma is lost and aimless until a chaotic film crew arrive, with idealistic plans to make a film about Mennonites. She is drawn in to their artistic life and ideas. As her role as translator for the lead actress leads her to experiment with her view of the world as she deliberately translates incorrectly and drives her own narrative. While the book is subversive and humourous, the oppressiveness of her Mennonite family is not ignored. She literally runs for her life with her sisters to Mexico and begins to start a new life there. This book is such a unique and compelling story of finding your own way and overcoming adversity. I already miss Irma!

I’m also chipping away at Ducks, Newburyport by Lucy Ellmann, a contender for the Man Booker prize this year. It is 998 pages and is written in eight sentences. I didn’t know this when I started it and it took me a while to notice. An Ohio housewife who was once a teacher, but after recovering from cancer, now bakes pies at home and takes care of her family, is our company for these eight long sentences. This compelling and witty book experiments with what stream of consciousness writing can do and made me think about how sculpted narrative usually is. I enjoy the honesty and immediacy of this structure and feel like I’m in an intimate space with the narrator. I suppose it’s close to being inside someone else’s head. The narrator jumps from subjects erratically and tackles things such as cinnamon rolls, a good time to plant nasturtiums, the Black Lives Matter movement, the death of her mother and the fact that apparently teenagers check their phones 2000 times a day. Ducks, Newburyport is an original and refreshing read. I would recommend to people who are usually drawn to writing and characters over plot. I am totally hooked – will report more next month. 

Annie — 
Dark Emu by Bruce Pascoe and The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood

This month I’m getting to two books that I should have read long ago and am (somewhat unsurprisingly) being blown away by these modern classics. 

Bruce Pascoe’s Dark Emu has been running off the shelves

 ever since it was published in 2014 and has recently been given new wings with the publication of a version for younger readers. It is an incredible investigation of Aboriginal political, social and agricultural practices pre-contact with Europeans and Pascoe draws on the diaries, letters, illustrations and photographs of early settlers to craft his argument. What he uncovers is a vastly different picture to the hunter-gatherer narrative that we have been taught in schools. Rather, the Indigenous population of this country were farming, fishing and managing the land using a wide array of sophisticated engineering techniques.

While these practices alone place First Nations people further along the evolutionary track than many people give them credit for, they were also building large, robust structures and maintaining a peaceful and democratic governance across this vast land. European settlers deliberately ignored or obscured the facts to lay better claim to a land that they wanted for their own financial gain – and have laid waste to in the successive 250 years. However, Pascoe’s account is far from bitter as he urges all Australians to accept and acknowledge the wisdom of his ancestors so that we can start to repair some of the damage done by colonisation. Full of fascinating stats, facts and anecdotes, Dark Emu is a remarkable work of scholarship and one that all Australians should read.

The other book that I’m shamefully late to the party on is Margaret Atwood’s classic, The Handmaid’s Tale. Prompted by the upcoming release of the sequel this month, I’ve finally taken the plunge. As with all books that stand the test of time, Atwood’s misogynist dystopia feels strikingly relevant as women are segregated from men (for their own good, of course) and stratified into the roles of Wives, Handmaids or Marthas – all of which are preferable to the unmentionable fate of the ‘Unwomen’. Bodily autonomy, reproductive rights, language, power and class are all skewered by Atwood in her typically nuanced fashion. Just like Orwell’s 1984, the tone is oppressive and ominous, even though we experience the day-to-day reality of the characters rather than a broader picture of society. Atwood’s dark humour, superb characterisation and masterfully painted scenes keep the book bearable, even as our heroine walks deeper into a forest full of danger. I can’t wait to get back to it and then dive straight into the sequel when it arrives! 

Carly — 
Liarbird by Laura + Philip Bunting

The white lie is a tricky skill to master, lucky for Lyrebirds they learn to lie from the day they hatch. They are the best in the bush at fibbing, faking, fabricating and fake-news creating. Laura and Philip Bunting’s newest offering, Liarbird, is their most hilarious book yet. Philips’ soft, bold illustrations and sophisticated palette combined with Laura’s witty play on words will have adults and children laughing together from page one. Familiar characters Koala and Kookaburra, join Liarbird to tell the classic tale of The Boy who Cried Wolf with a Jon Klassenesque dry humor from books like, This is not my Hat. Just when you are almost convinced that lying is a necessity in life, disaster strikes and Liarbird is left cleaning up his mess vowing to tell the truth and nothing but the truth. What could possibly go wrong? A laugh out loud book with a subtle message for the media-information age generation.

Kate — 
The Yield by Tara June Winch

I was blown away by Tara June Winch’s debut novel Swallow the Air (2006), so when The Yield was released this month I was eager to get have it in my hands. This story is told through three narratives and periods of time. August Gondiwindi is returning to Country after living overseas for over a decade when her Pop dies of cancer. There’s Pop, reflecting on his memories of growing up in a mission and learning about his culture later in life, by writing a Wiradjuri-English dictionary. These connected stories are interspersed with the letters of a nineteenth-century missionary, Reverend Greenleaf. From these three narratives we learn about the place the Gondiwindi family live; Prosperous House in the fictional town of Massacre Plains. We learn about the history and the treatment of Aboriginal people and the development of the mission. We learn about Pop’s experience of growing up in the mission and cut off from his culture. He recalls learning the old ways later in life, of being taught language, ancient farming practices, stories and dance. These parts of the story are beautiful and poetic and I was often brought to tears with the images of connection to land and spirits. When August arrives home, she quickly learns that her Nan is being evicted and a mining company are taking over the land. Similarly to Too Much Lip, childhood heartbreak and cultural loss are developed alongside environmental devastation and native land title. 

In her review of The Yield, Yugambeh author Ellen van Neerven says Winch’s use of Wiradjuri “decolonises the throat and tongue”. She asks: What does contemporary use of language look like? What can it offer us in our lives? What can it do for the overall health of our country? These questions and many more are raised in The Yield, a poetic and powerful novel that I have learnt greatly from and I urge everyone to read! 

Annie 
Fleishman is in Trouble by Taffy Brodesser-Akner and The Yield by Tara June Winch

I’ve been reading lots of great forthcoming fiction at the moment, in preparation for the end of the year, but here are two that are out at the moment that I’ve particularly enjoyed. 

Fleishman is in Trouble is a highly accomplished debut novel from the New York Times staff writer, Taffy Brodesser-Akner. We follow Toby, a middle-aged doctor who is diving back into the world of dating after his protracted divorce. His phone is running hot with dates, but when his tween children get dropped at his door and his ex-wife is off the grid, he has to reassess his options. Blisteringly funny, tongue-in-cheek and surprisingly honest about the state of modern relationships, Brodesser-Akner weaves plenty of home truths into this book about marriage, responsibility and friendship. 

Closer to home, Tara June Winch’s third book The Yield is a beautifully rendered portrait of a grieving family and a changing town. August Gondiwindi is returning to her hometown after a decade in Europe for the funeral of her beloved grandfather. The place she returns to is in peril – mining corporations and greed threatening to remove the land from under their families’ feet for a second time. As she reconnects with family and old friends, August is hunting for closure. Interspersed with her story, we are given Albert Gondiwindi’s own account through a dictionary of the reclaimed Waradjuri language and the diaries of a German minister who established Prosperous Mission, where Albert grew up. This is a luminous novel about history, heritage, ownership and the power of language and story. The Yield would make a great book club pick!

Jess
Jim’s Book: The Surprising Story of Jim Penman Australia’s Backyard Millionaire by Catherine Moolenschot

Most Australians know Jim, his face graces arguably one Australia’s best known brands. But as I discovered through reading this fascinating biography, I actually knew pretty much nothing about him, in fact Jim isn’t even his real name! Jim’s book tells the story of both Jim the man and Jim the business, both tales are equally fascinating and at times astounding. Jim never set out to become one of Australia’s most successful business people, in reality his business evolved as a vehicle to enable him to continue to pursue his academic research, which focuses on the rise and fall of civilisations throughout history and Jim devotes a large part of his personal wealth to this continuing research. It’s often said that truth is stranger than fiction: although at times Jim’s Book reads like a quirky bestseller with a colourful main character, Jim Penman is one hundred percent real and he is one of the most interesting and memorable characters that I have read about for a long time.

Kate 
Three Women by Lisa Taddeo

I’ve been enchanted by Lisa Taddeo’s book Three Women, a work of investigative journalism unlike anything I’ve read before. Taddeo spends eight years with three women, getting to know them and researching their sex lives and desire. We learn about their formative experiences and how they came to be where they are today. In some ways these stories are ordinary, they could be anyone, but each woman has a defining element in her sex life. Maggie had a relationship with her high school teacher, Lina has cheated on her husband with her first love and Sloane and her husband are swingers. The way Taddeo traces how early experiences informed what follows reveals interesting insights into desire and power. I’m particularly interested in how systemic control has shaped the lives of many of these women. This element is both revealing and frustrating. The balancing of frustration with seduction and delight makes for an impressive and highly enjoyable read!

Annie 
City of Girls by Elizabeth Gilbert and Magic for Liars by Sarah Gailey

I’ve been reading a couple of incredibly fun books that have transported me far from dreary Adelaide.  

Elizabeth Gilbert’s City of Girls is a fizz and bubble of a book which centres female sexuality and joy. Vivian Morris is blissfully rich (and blissfully unaware of the fact) when she moves to join her theatre director aunt in New York City in 1940, at the ripe age of nineteen. Obsessed with glamour, clothing and her own reflection, she is also blissfully ignorant of the violence that is threatening to encroach upon her newfound freedom. Wickedly funny and delightfully debauched, Gilbert’s sentences are luminous as always and the characters are authentic and lovable. This book will get you high kicking with abandon while you knock back all manner of strong drink – a marvellously pleasurable read to be enjoyed without a shred of guilt.

Like most people, I’m a sucker for a good cover, and I think this one is a real doozy! Magic for Liars is a gritty crime novel that takes place in an academy for magical teens and the book is just as fun as it sounds. Washed up PI Ivy Gamble is called in to solve the grotesque death of one of her estranged twin’s colleagues and she immediately becomes enamoured with the lifestyle and promise that Osthorne Academy appears to offer. This is no Hogwarts; Osthorne is filled with real teenagers who would rather turn their magic to creating indelible graffiti or float vulgar shaped clouds past classrooms. But as Ivy begins to unravel the mystery, she also reveals the dark secrets that lie beneath the Academy’s facade – and also the family truths that she has tried for so long to keep under wraps. Complex, witty and dark, this is a great read for anyone who has enjoyed Ben Aaronovitch’s Rivers of London series or Lev Grossman’s The Magicians. 

Kate
Convenience Store Woman by Sayaka Murata

Two sittings with this little gem is all it took to race through Keiko’s intriguing world. Keiko does not live her life the way others think she should. As a child, she doesn’t get along with other children and doesn’t seem to understand basic social rules. When she gets a job in a convenience store when she’s 18, it seems she’s finally figured it out. We meet Keiko when she’s 36 and still works at the same convenience store, and she loves it. She lives and breathes being a store worker and marvels at the sounds, smells and routine of the shop. It is in this role that Keiko has found her life purpose, but feels pressure from her family and friends to have bigger aspirations. It is a strange and funny journey we go on with Keiko as she wonders about what to make of her life and if her connection to a convenience store is enough. This is a very touching story about finding ones place in the world. 

Annie 
Queenie by Candice Carty-Williams and Things in Jars by Jess Kidd

This month I’ve been reading two novels with
lovably quirky protagonists. 

Queenie is a funny, honest and sometimes heartbreaking novel about a young woman trying to find her feet in the world. The titular Queenie is vivacious, neurotic and recently dumped. She launches into the world of dating with an open mind, but quickly discovers that modern relationships aren’t as straightforward as they may seem. And perhaps she has to resolve her personal baggage before she takes on anyone else’s? 

I have read and enjoyed both of Jess Kidd’s previous novels, and her new one is no disappointment. It follows the Victorian lady detective, Bridie Devine, as she tries to track down a lost child – who may or may not be a merrow (a relation of the mermaid). The first problem is that her father doesn’t want Bridie to tell anyone what’s missing. The second problem is that she is being haunted by the ghost of a boxer … and he has developed a crush on her. Delightfully creepy and strangely tender, Things in Jars is based in Victorian-era London but people with thoroughly modern characters. Fans of The Essex Serpent and The Rivers of London series will enjoy this fantastic historical romp. 

Charmaine
Frankissstein by Jeanette Winterson 

Jeanette Winterson has been one of my favourite authors since the late 80s when I was given a copy of The Passion. I was totally amazed at this magical fairy tale and have read most of what she has written since. Later this month her new book Frankissstein will be published and this one is a must read (I haven’t loved everything that she has written). The story is set in two time frames. One in 1816 when Mary Shelley is writing her story about creating a non-biological life-form. The other in Brexit Britain where a young transgender doctor is falling in love with a prestigious professor who is leading the debate on Artificial Intelligence, another character is launching a new generation of sex dolls and in America, men and women who are medically and legally dead have used cryogenics but are waiting to return to life. The writing is daring, funny and pacy – the issues are provocative and timely. 

Kate
Lost Children Archive by Valeria Luiselli

I’m enjoying reading this book slowly, taking time to research and write down quotes along the way. I haven’t read like this for a while and it’s a pleasure to be so interested and in the moment with a book. Lost Children Archive follows a family of two sound-artist’s and their children from New York City to the Apacheria, the regions of the US which used to be Mexico. The parents are working on their own projects and have become distant from one another while in their own worlds. The father is working on a project about the history of the Apaches, retracing the steps of the last Native Americans conquered by European settlers; and the mother is working on a project archiving undocumented children travelling between the border of Mexico and the US.

As they travel, it feels as if you’re part of the family holiday with all the food stops, motel decor, quibbles in the car, map reading mishaps. It is a work-focused family travel trip, told through the lens of capturing moments through sounds. Alongside this narrative is that of undocumented children travelling from Mexico to the US border, hoping for safety, but facing the brutality of a system that doesn’t want to help them. The comparison between the children in the car and the children travelling without adult protection is an obvious but powerful one. The narrator wonders if it’s ethical to make art with someone else’s suffering and I’m not sure she finds an answer, but I think this book succeeds in humanising the border crisis and in turn, humanising the readers, so often desensitised by the news.