I got over halfway through before admitting that I just couldn’t go on with this. I’ve rarely encountered a main character with less personality or agI got over halfway through before admitting that I just couldn’t go on with this. I’ve rarely encountered a main character with less personality or agency. Naomi doesn’t know anything about herself, doesn’t SAY anything about herself, just drifts along on the tide of events without ever expressing any desires or needs or opinions. It’s intensely difficult to care about what happens in her boring affair with a married man when she doesn’t ever seem to want to do any of the things she does. I don’t see the ‘coruscating new voice’ here, I barely got a sense of voice at all....more
The kind of story that find redemption in its dramatic ending, not quite a twist because it was heavily foreshadowed. Until the major incident near thThe kind of story that find redemption in its dramatic ending, not quite a twist because it was heavily foreshadowed. Until the major incident near the end I was underwhelmed, and although Mildenhall deals well with intensity and grief and pain it frustrates me when everything leads up to one point rather than being about the journey. ...more
It kept getting recommended to me when I looked up Genevieve Novak but this sort of fluff is a bit too much for me. Neat and tidy and it has a lot of It kept getting recommended to me when I looked up Genevieve Novak but this sort of fluff is a bit too much for me. Neat and tidy and it has a lot of recipes in the back, I’m just not a big cozy fan. The Australianness of it was fun, but you should read Crushing by Genevieve Novak instead, in my opinion. ...more
Outstanding, heartbreaking, and gloriously compelling, I never knew anything about this book before someone suggested it as a companion for our book cOutstanding, heartbreaking, and gloriously compelling, I never knew anything about this book before someone suggested it as a companion for our book club, and I was blown away. ...more
Light and pleasurable, a little bit of tension but ultimately a happy story of people making their lives better. I finished it very quickly but I can Light and pleasurable, a little bit of tension but ultimately a happy story of people making their lives better. I finished it very quickly but I can clearly imagine Phoebe’s quiet West Footscray life and Suze’s scruffy Fitzroy sharehouse. A lovely book about Melbourne and families and weird brains and friendship and love....more
Started with no real expectations, this one hooked me real quick with the messy-but-self-discovering main character who actually learns from her mistaStarted with no real expectations, this one hooked me real quick with the messy-but-self-discovering main character who actually learns from her mistakes and makes better choices and chooses friends over men. I finished it in a few hours over a couple of commutes and I thought it was wonderful. ...more
Secondary book club book for May, a delightful little piece of Australiana by someone who, as Bruce Beresford says in his foreword, had no real experiSecondary book club book for May, a delightful little piece of Australiana by someone who, as Bruce Beresford says in his foreword, had no real experience with the people she was writing about. The child of a wealthy and influential family, St John sketches the outlines of several solidly middle-class women who are variously disappointed, run down, and excited by their lives. Some of them have prospects, others have wit and spirit and humour, others still have a dark night of the soul to weather. Happiness, this book might as well say, is often a matter of perspective as much as it is of circumstance.
A hopeful book, and one that doesn’t shy away from the plight of women in late 1950s Australian society, but that also doesn’t remove their agency from them. In many ways this book reminded me joyfully of Bobbin Up, Dorothy Hewitt’s gorgeous little gem about working class women’s lives in a much more poverty-ridden area of Sydney during the same period. Both are eminently worth reading for the same reasons: a slice of real life, a hot Australian summer strongly evoked, hopefulness where you might expect despair. Really enjoyable!...more
Complex and competent, touching topics that are very close to my own life experiences handled deftly and with care, although the people here all feel Complex and competent, touching topics that are very close to my own life experiences handled deftly and with care, although the people here all feel on the verge of breakdowns most of the time.
It’s a style that can pall for me, this constant state of misery and longing and desperation that most of the women here live in, as if this is the only way to tell women’s stories: image obsession, eating disorders, fear of standing out, settling for what’s expected rather than what you want, and vice versa. Nobody really wins, here. And yet it isn’t depressing, per se. It’s challenging, complicated, hard to stomach, but it feels worth it to read a genuine attempt to capture the lifestyle of the world’s most isolated city.
I said to someone as I read, god it’s nice to read Perth written by someone with style and confidence and something to say. ...more
Liminal Australian Gothic, the familiarity of the suburbs combined with the oldness of things - houses, streets, sheds, cars, parks, cuttings. Old raiLiminal Australian Gothic, the familiarity of the suburbs combined with the oldness of things - houses, streets, sheds, cars, parks, cuttings. Old railway lines and tunnels long defunct, weed-filled land and normal median strips with old trees and fresh cut grass. Neighbours whose names you don't know and so you make one up for them. Male violence, female anger, youthful anticipation. The threat of storms and summer heat rising up from roads and fences.
This book was so good, for all these reasons and because of the way it always felt like something otherworldly was going to happen and yet really it was just about not understanding the world you've always inhabited. But then, there were always those rumours about seeing something strange down in the cutting......more
Calm, meandering, ponderous, insightful, meaningful and meaningless. About family and language and communication, the stories people tell about themseCalm, meandering, ponderous, insightful, meaningful and meaningless. About family and language and communication, the stories people tell about themselves and each other, the way people treat themselves. About the foreignness of tourism and how that can be someone's whole life. ...more
It was fine, as an experiment in meta storytelling. The characters were very bland and I didn't care about or suspect any of them, which I never wouldIt was fine, as an experiment in meta storytelling. The characters were very bland and I didn't care about or suspect any of them, which I never would have put up with if it was a straight murder mystery. But since there was the layer of 'author writing the story I'm reading' to it, I accepted that the murder mystery wasn't the main point.
The emails from Leo were the only parts that provoked any kind of reaction from me, and this was noticeable in its absence from the rest of the characters. He started out slightly creepy and became consistently worse and more menacing as he went on. The only parts I found myself speculating about were his. Maybe this says more about me as a reader, but I honestly couldn't tell you a defining characteristic of any of the other characters in this book.
The parts that compelled me to continue were the meta structure bits: I wanted to find out what was up with Leo and how that section of story was going to turn out. I think she slipped a lot into very short emails and effectively built a tension in 'reality' that she failed to do in the novel her character was writing. I wish those parts were longer or more developed. ...more
I enjoyed the start of this book, but the more time you spend in Marlowe's head, the more irritating her experience becomes. She spends a whole page fI enjoyed the start of this book, but the more time you spend in Marlowe's head, the more irritating her experience becomes. She spends a whole page frantically questioning herself about once a chapter, which I started to skim because it was such a boring construct that just padded page count. Gone Girl level twists abound, without Gone Girl level tension. Marlowe reads like a fifteen year old throughout, although I suppose the final twist means the whole rest of the tale was told falsely. That doesn't make it better though!
Curious experiment in wish fulfilment and a sort of attempt at magical realism without committing. Plum never learns anything about himself and just rCurious experiment in wish fulfilment and a sort of attempt at magical realism without committing. Plum never learns anything about himself and just runs away from all his problems continually and very irritatingly, and yet he ends up solving most of his problems with multiple deus ex machinas.
His imaginary friends don't make much sense in any context, since he doesn't know who any of them are and didn't seem to have any background of white dude lit reading. And his real(?) friends who he meets by chance are all suffering from various ailments that make Plum's life better, eg being a billionaire and being a paraplegic. ...more
I kept describing this to people and it sounded dreadful: awful misogyny, sexist cops, statutory rape, physical rape, hostile workplaces. And yet it rI kept describing this to people and it sounded dreadful: awful misogyny, sexist cops, statutory rape, physical rape, hostile workplaces. And yet it really wasn't terrible. Well plotted and with enough pace to stay interesting, I think the weakness as a crime novel comes from it trying to also be a story about lesbian attraction and the social dangers therein.
Sybil is surrounded and harangued by men. Her ex husband Tony, her obsessive stalker Terry, the all-round horrible Bill. None of them seem to actually know her or like her, but all of them are flame-drawn to her beauty and her cold demeanour. They all have a desire to conquer her and keep her, just to show the others that they can. Terry follows her everywhere and tries to move in with her constantly, and Bill has boasted to half the school of all the filthy things he's done with her.
The women in Sybil's English department aren't any better. Even the one time you think sisterhood might reign supreme over Terry's alarming stalker behaviour, Edwina turns out to have been setting up Sybil for a surprise shock-jock tv interview. Who's a poor fiery redheaded beauty to trust?
I often say that stories about male violence and dominance told by women feel much less stressful than those told by men. Women understand that other women live with the knowledge of that threat every day, whereas men seem to see it as a dramatic event that can be resolved.
Claire McNab has captured fascinatingly the lives of women living in an inherently misogynistic culture. Nobody is concerned about a male teacher dating and discarding all the attractive girls at this high school, and the cops even note that 'the girls here are stunning, and they're not kids'. Nobody bats an eyelid at Terry demanding that Sybil go straight home after school and call him, or his announcements that he follows her because he loves her and he has a right to know where she is. Nobody cares that Bill has told half the school that Sybil's desperately in love with him, and the other half that she's fucking him nightly. This is his best friend's ex-wife, mind you.
The women in the department snark and bitch at each other constantly, and yet they go over to each other's houses after work like they're pals. The media, the education department, the police all bend over backward to please the famous father of the murder victim, who wants to clear his son's name of interfering with schoolgirls despite knowing that he got one of them pregnant. This is normal life for Australian women in the 80s, and it seems like Sybil's only escape is her unwanted, unexplainable, but very well-drawn attraction to Carol Ashton, popular police inspector.
Here's where the plot needed to make a choice. For a book only 200 pages long, there wasn't enough space to explore both a burgeoning same-sex relationship as well as a gory murder mystery. McNab tried to do both, and achieved quite a lot in that short space, but she needed either more pages or less complications to truly succeed.
Working class literature is such a difficult thing to find. As almost always, this one is not written by its subjects, and so it's filtered through thWorking class literature is such a difficult thing to find. As almost always, this one is not written by its subjects, and so it's filtered through the lens of the middle class private schoolgirl from suburban Perth who moved to Sydney out of class-guilt and begged to be put in the worst factory her Communist party handlers could find.
Yes, she may have only been playing at the game of poverty, but she captured her workmates and neighbours with genuine care and a brilliant eye.
This is a novel of dozens of women and the struggle of working class life in 1950s Sydney. It is quintessentially Australian: rough, funny, no-nonsense, tender, aspirational, viscerally hot and sweaty. They have husbands, children, mothers, friends, neighbours, landladies, and bosses to contend with. Life is hard, but they have to live through it anyway.
The peek into their lives we get is framed by two things: the flyover of Sputnik, that Communist icon, as it sparks conversations about the Russian future, the future of the workers, the future of technology.
And the threat of a downturn in the manufacturing industries that litter inner Sydney and employ so many of its citizens. Talk on the radio of layoffs, agreed with the unions who spend more time with the bosses than the workers, the constant fear of not keeping your head above water, the ease with which people are fired for not doing enough overtime, all of these are captured with frightening reality.
Yes, Hewett may have been too optimistic about the future of communism in Australia, but even if her outcomes are too hopeful, her story and the points it makes are beautifully put together, and it strikes home.
Later: I've just watched this documentary made in 1969 about the slum housing of St. Ann's in Nottingham, and it strikes such a similar chord to this book (damp notwithstanding) that it deserves a link....more
Loading...
