Adult Fiction – Page 2

The life of elves – book review

July 29, 2016 by Karen Comer 5 Comments

I have never written a book review before I’ve finished reading the book. But I found myself thinking so much about this book, The life of elves by Muriel Barbery, that I wanted to write about it, even though I have about a third of the book still to read. And I really want to talk about it with someone who has read it – so if that’s you, please let me know in the comments!

This book – is not for everyone. It’s probably a sign of a good book when it’s so divisive. Some reviewers thought it was too airy fairy, over-written, confusing and vague. Others loved it.

I’m in that category. The language is beautiful and evocative. The characters are described with so much detail, so much empathy and such originality. Read this description about Rose –

Certain women possess a grace given them by virtue of an increase on the female essence – as the result of an echo effect which, by making them simultaneously singular and plural, allows them to be manifest both in themselves and in the long lineage of their kin; if Rose was a woman of sky and rivers, it was because the river of those who had come before her flowed inside her, through the magic complicity with her gender that went beyond mere blood relation; and if she dreamed of travel, it was because her vision cut through space and time and connected the border territories of the female continent – whence came that transparency rendering her light and elusive, and that fluid energy whose source was somewhere far beyond herself.

I mean, really! That paragraph above is one sentence.

I forgot while reading this that Muriel Barbury wrote this book in French, so I am reading the English translation by Alison Anderson. When you consider how beautiful the translation is, imagine both how talented the translator is and how stunning the original must be.

Muriel Barbury is a reclusive French novelist, whose second novel, The elegance of the hedgehog, was a best-selling book in Paris and New York.

This story of elves and girls in one sense is a classic tale of good versus evil, with good being in the form of two small orphan girls who have never met. They are both surrounded by adults who care for them, even though they are not related to the girls. Maria lives on a farm in France, Clara has come from the mountains in Italy to Rome. Both the girls have special abilities, which they must rely on to fight opposing forces.

I was struck by the descriptions of the land in France, and how it shaped the people. Here’s a fabulous description of a farmer’s sons – descriptive words about people – irascible, joyful, affable linked to the land – rocks, granite, cliffs.

These two fine young lads looked after the farm under the regency of their irascible old man, and they were joyful and solid as rocks; it was a wonder to see such affable characters being watched over by a commander whose granite self sporadically crashed and shattered at the foot of these cliffs of joyfulness, his own sons.

While I was reading, I felt that I couldn’t wait to read it again – yes, a strange thing to think while still reading a book for the first time! But I’m looking forward to reading it a second time because I felt I had lots of gaps in my understanding of the story, yet because I trusted the writer that she would tell a magnificent tale, I was prepared both to suspend disbelief and to skim over the gaps, trusting that all would be revealed.

That trust between a writer and reader is vital, I believe. As a reader, you want to trust that your time is a worthy investment in this particular writer’s book. So many books, so little time – I want this book to intrigue me, offer me escapism, show me how language can inspire and evoke feelings, hold up a mirror to my own life, show me a character to lead the way… There are as many reasons for reading as there are readers.

Well, this book offered me a tale of good against evil, an evocative setting which was closely connected to the characters, a dream-like, myth-like story, all told with language so beautiful I would stop after reading a paragraph, stare into space and consider it before moving on. And all this with still a third to go! Plus the sequel – still to be published.

This is probably the vaguest book review I’ve ever written. I would recommend picking it up in a bookstore and flicking through a few pages. If that appeals to you, you will love it. If you’re not intrigued by a few pages, then it’s probably not for you. Too many books, too little time – choose another book.

I’m curious to know whether this sounds like a book you might enjoy or whether it’s too ‘elvish’ for you.

Interview – author Natasha Lester

May 24, 2016 by Karen Comer 12 Comments

I read Natasha Lester’s latest book, A kiss from Mr Fitzgerald, over two nights and sneaked in half a chapter here and there. Evie is a fascinating character in her own right, but when you add her culture – 1920s New York, medical school and the Ziegfeld Follies – you add another layer to her character.

Natasha is also the author of What is left over, after and If I should lose you, both contemporary novels. Natasha is a generous blogger – she blogs about her writing process and the books she’s reading, with many useful tips for writers. As a reader, I’m always interested in Natasha’s video bookclub chats to find some new stories to read and as a writer, I’m keen to learn as much as I can from Natasha’s tips. I’m grateful she has agreed to be interviewed for my blog!

KC: For any readers who haven’t heard about your book, can you tell us what it is about?

NL: A Kiss from Mr Fitzgerald is about Evie, whose mother wants her to marry the handsome and wealthy boy next door. But, it’s 1922 and women are just starting to work and to live away from their families and to earn their own money. Evie thinks she might like to do this too, rather than marry immediately, and a horrific experience of helping a woman give birth in secret by a river, makes Evie determined to put her science classes to good use and to be one of the first women to go to medical school.

It’s a battle though: society and her parents are scandalised by her decision, the medical school isn’t eager to admit more women to its ranks, and Charles, the boy next door, isn’t sure he wants to marry a woman who is doing something so unconventional. So, Evie has to decide: does she follow her dream and risk losing everyone she loves, or does she become like her mother, content to spend her days on embroidery and afternoon naps?

KC: Evie is such a likeable character – she’s privileged and hardworking, ambitious and kind-hearted, naïve and later a little hardened. She’s also a Zeigfeld Follies girl and a medical student! What did you do to get to know Evie and develop her?

NL: The first thing I did was just write the first draft, to see what her story was and what kind of person she might be. Then I did a lot of research into the Ziegfeld Follies and the experiences of the first female medical students and this showed me how tough and stubborn and uncompromising she would need to be, how much of herself she would have to be willing to give up in order to chase after her dream. I re-wrote the book with this in mind, making her more determined, but also showing her courage: that she was afraid and lonely but she kept going because she wanted to help women, and she knew that there was nobody else who would do what she’d set out to do. So she evolved very organically, taking shape with each draft and with the research, which is the way I like all of my characters to emerge.

KC: The setting is almost like a character – what did you do to research New York in the 1920s?

I went to New York a couple of times—the first time I got stuck in Hurricane Sandy, which was an awful experience so I had to abandon all hopes of research. I went back a few months later and had a wonderful time in the archives of Columbia Medical School, sifting through the lecture notes from one of the first females to go through the school.

I also went to the New York Public Library’s Theatre on Film and Tape division at the Lincoln Centre and pored over boxes of wage sheets, programs, letters, and photographs about the Ziegfeld Follies, which Evie joins in order to support herself through medical school.

And I walked the streets of Greenwich Village and the Upper East Side, two locations which feature heavily in the book, and where much of the architecture is the same as it would have been when my characters walked the streets in the 1920s. I studied 1920s transport maps to be sure my characters caught the right trains, a memoir of a female ambulance surgeon, and books and articles about the obstetric practices of the time.

KC: I loved how the sibling relationships between Evie and her sister Viola were mirrored by the relationship between the two Whitman brothers, Thomas and Charles. Did you set that up deliberately or did that theme emerge as you wrote the book?

NL: I’d wanted to write a book about two sisters from the outset, and I also had the idea of them living next door to two brothers, and that one of the brothers would end up with the sister nobody expected him to. The rest of it emerged out of the writing: I always find that I start out with the vaguest of ideas and, somehow, in putting words down on the page, the real story behind the idea emerges.

KC: How long did it take to write your book, and what was your process? How many drafts did you work on?

NL: It took about 2 years, not that I was working on it that whole time. When I wrote the first draft in 2013, I still had a 3 year old who wasn’t at school, as well as my 5 and 7 year olds who were. So I wrote during his nap time only and, that year, I wrote the first draft and at least 2 more redrafts. Then, the next year, my son was in Kindy two days a week and I had more time to work on it. By then, I knew I had an agent who wanted to represent the book, but I needed to do another substantial re-write on it. Once that was finished, in late 2014, it was pitched out to publishers.

KC: Did you have any difficult moments during the writing of this book? What made it difficult and what helped you to continue on?

NL: The most difficult thing was thinking it would never be published, and wondering what I would do if it was rejected, and I could no longer justify being a writer. I love writing, and couldn’t imagine doing anything else. But I knew I was taking a huge risk: changing genre, which would mean changing agents and publishers and that, to pull off all 3 of those things was almost impossible. But the thing I’ve learned over the years is that you can’t let any of the self-doubts stop you from writing. You have to sit down and write anyway. So I made myself keep going, despite the fact I was so worried that moving from contemporary fiction to historical fiction might not be the most sensible thing to do! It was what I wanted to do, however, so I just had to go with my gut.

KC: What did you love most about writing this book?

NL: The actual writing. It was the most fun and joyful writing experience I’ve ever had. I loved every minute of it and couldn’t wait to get back to it everyday. I thought about the book constantly. I loved the research, loved evoking the setting of 1920s New York, loved exploring Evie’s character, loved getting the world of the Ziegfeld Follies onto the page, loved exploring the way birthing and obstetrics has changed so much in less than 100 years. And I especially loved making Evie a fighter, who did whatever she could to push against the views of society and the men in charge who thought what she did was preposterous.

KC: A Kiss from Mr Fitzgerald is such a visual book – I can see it as a movie! Who would you like to see play Evie if your book became a film?

NL: This is such a hard question because I hardly ever watch films and so I’m hopeless with remembering actors’ names. If Cate Blanchett was younger, I could easily see her as Evie – although Cate Blanchett is so amazing she could probably pull of being a girl in her early twenties!

KC: How do you manage to stay present for your family and also absorb yourself in your writing? I’m looking for tips, please!

NL: I’m not always present! My family knows that I’m apt to nod my head at them with a glazed look on my face which means I’m thinking about my book and not listening to them at all! What I try to do is to carve out time, and to let them know that I’ve carved out those times. So, when I’m in the middle of a structural edit and need to work on weekends, I’ll let them know that in advance so they understand Daddy is the one in charge and that they need to ask him all their questions. I find that the more I communicate with them about what I’m doing, the prouder they are of me and my books, and so the less they mind if I need to work; they understand that I’m working for a certain amount of time and I will come and play a game with them at the time I’ve promised.

KC: I know your next book is due for release next year. Can you tell us anything about it?

NL: My next novel, due to be published in 2017, begins in England on the last day of the first world war. The main character, Leonora, suffers a huge loss which forces her to move to New York. The book is about the start of the cosmetics industry, and Leonora’s role in taking the lipsticks she used to make in her father’s chemist shop to the women of New York. At the same time, she has to change the way society thinks of cosmetics: that they shouldn’t only be worn by movie stars and ladies of the night but that they can be worn by ordinary women too. Part of the book takes place in the years 1919-1922, and then skips ahead to August 1939, in the month before the second world war.

Thank you, Natasha! Natasha has written a prequel to A kiss from Mr Fitzgerald – so if you’d like to meet Evie, it’s available as a free download here.

Be Frank with me – book review

March 15, 2016 by Karen Comer 6 Comments

The cover of this book matches the inside of the book exactly – this is how I would imagine Frank, one of the main characters, to look like.

Be Frank with me is Julia Claiborne Johnson’s debut novel, and it’s a brilliant one. Allen and Unwin, the publishers, even put a sticker on my copy – Read it. Love it. Or your money back. I can see why they were so confident.

It’s such a fabulous premise – Mimi, a reclusive novelist, who wrote a Pulitzer prize-winning book at nineteen and hasn’t written a word since (hello, Harper Lee!) now needs to write a book in order to pay some bills. Her publisher sends her Alice, a twenty-four year-old publishing assistant, to live with her, keep her on track with her writing, look after the household and look after Mimi’s nine-year-old son, Frank.

Yet Mimi can be rude to the point of malicious towards Alice, and Frank, although engaging, is eccentric, off-beat and not at all a typical boy. Here’s an example of his conversation with Alice:

“So, Frank, you must love school. You know more than most grown-ups I’ve met.”
“The other kids say I’m retarded.”
“I thought they said you were crazy.”
“They say that, too.”
“They’re probably mad because you’re smart and make good grades. Kids are stupid like that. The teachers love you, though, right?”
“I’ll tell you what my mother says teachers don’t love,” Frank said. “Being corrected.”
Sheesh. “You don’t do that, do you?”
“Only when teachers make factual errors.”

Add a good-looking piano teacher with his own hidden problems into the mix, plus an accident or two, and you have a page-turning book.

I can see this book as a movie – Frank’s costumes are extraordinarily gorgeous, the dialogue is snappy and entertaining, the Bel Air setting lavish and Frank and Alice are so likeable.

I thought that a few aspects of the plot were set up to mislead the reader, and then fizzled out but overall, I loved this book. I sincerely hope that Julia Claiborne Johnson – unlike Harper Lee or Mimi – writes more than one or two books.

P.S. Thanks to everyone who left comments on my last post for a BIG Kids magazine giveaway. The lucky winners are Renee, Vanessa and Lyn – I will be in contact with you!

Ten Australian summer quotes

February 23, 2016 by Karen Comer 4 Comments

Last week of summer, and it’s hot. Of course, being Melbourne, summer may not finish until the end of March or it could feel like winter next week. But right now, it’s summer.

Because my children’s novel is set in Melbourne in February and March, I am spending a bit of time this week to write down quick notes on summer. That sweaty patch on the back of your thin cotton dress, after you’ve been sitting in a basketball stadium for an hour. The hot heads of my kids when I collect them from school in the afternoon. The distant sound of kids’ laughter rising above the splashes from the pool. Hot pink nail polish peeking from turquoise sandals. My kids complaining about going to bed ‘when it’s still light, Mum!’ City filled with girls in barely-there strappy dresses. Boys wearing shorts of every clashable pattern imaginable. The sweet, fruity taste of homemade mango ice-cream.

I found these ten passages from books both old and new, which provide a diverse way of describing the Australian summer. I’ve added the title of the book, the author and the publication date at the very end of the post, in case you want to play a guessing game.

The heat was excessive. Every window and door were open, and the balmy, almost imperceptible, zephyrs which faintly rustled the curtains and kissed our perspiration-beaded brows were rich with many scents from the wide old flower-garden, which, despite the drought, brought forth a wealth of blossom.
She is putting on her new bikini that she nicked from Grace Brothers last week. She is rubbing coconut oil into her legs. She is smearing gloss on her lips.
Outside, the property is yellowed and browned from summer. The only green is in the beds immediately around the house. Even the leaves on the eucalypts, the silver strinybarks and lemon scented, are dulled from the heat and the dust.
I still suffered greatly from the heat, and on hot bright nights would smear my skin with citronella, take a rug, and go and lie on my back on the lawn.
Will you look at us by the river! The whole restless mob of us on spread blankets in the dreamy briny sunshine skylarking and chiacking about for one day, one clear, clean, sweet day in a good world in the midst of our living.
It’s almost the end of February and instead of getting cooler the weather gets more humid as the days go by. Because of the heat, the only thing I was looking forward to at Nonna’s place was the swimming pool.
Saturday afternoon was the great afternoon of the week in Plymouth Street. The factory girls washed their hair and did it up in perforated aluminium curlers, put on old print dresses with sagging necklines and torn pockets, and sat on the peeling, cocoa-coloured balconies of the tenements, beating off the flies and saying: ‘Gawd, ain’t it hot!’
In January days stretch out
With lots to do and find
We feel the sand, we tie the bait
We swim, we play, we stay up late
And no one seems to mind.
A time for games and sunny weather
Mum and Dad and us together.
It’s too hot, but I like the way the heat makes my arms feel like they’re full of warm oil, and sweat runs down them in sheets soaking the sides of my singlet.
Lunch was lazily discussed close to the water, after which they lay about on the bank and talked of many things. Nobody was inclined to move, for the heat, even at the river, was very great; a still, thunderous day, on which no shade could keep out the moist heat, that seemed, as Wally put it, “to get into your very bones and make them lazy.”

Did I miss any quintessential summer books? Did you match any quotes with titles or authors?

1. My brilliant career, Miles Franklin, 1901. 2. Closed for winter, Georgia Blain, 1998. 3. In the quiet, Eliza Henry Jones, 2015. 4. Tirra Lirra by the river, Jessica Anderson, 1978. 5. Cloudstreet, Tim Winton, 1991. 6. Looking for Alibrandi, Melina Marchetta, 1992. 7. The harp in the south, Ruth Park, 1948. 8. All through the year, Jane Godwin/Anna Walker, 2010. 9. All the birds singing, Evie Wyld, 2013. 10. Mates at Billabong, Mary Grant Bruce, 1911.

The diver’s clothes lie empty – book review

February 19, 2016 by Karen Comer 12 Comments

This is the first time I’ve read a novel written in second person. I’ve read a couple of short stories written this way, and I’ve attempted to write one myself and failed miserably. The tutor in my online short story class and several of the other students told me it just didn’t work.

Cate Kennedy wrote a fabulous short story, ‘Dark roots’ in her short story collection of the same name about a woman who started seeing a much younger man.

For a while now, you’ve avoided looking at yourself in the full-length mirror in the bathroom by neglecting to put the ventilation fan on. You hurry to dry yourself and get out of there before the mirror unsteams. Life, if we hold it up to the light, contains many of these foolish rituals. Like the one you notice lately where you always turn off the bedside lamp before you slide into bed with him, and the way you don’t wear your glasses at the movies.

Danielle Wood wrote the prologue ‘The good mother’ in her Mothers Grimm in second person.

So your partner moves out, just as your maternity leave expires. Your plan had been to go back to work part-time, but now that you’re a single mother you have to work full-time to afford childcare for two kids. The economics of this confuse you, but you’re too busy thinking about how you’re going to manage to worry about that as well.

Danielle told me in one of her writing classes that the secret to writing in second person was to make sure you were saying something specific to a specific someone.

It makes sense, doesn’t it, because often in conversation we use second person. ‘So you know how easy it is to forget where you put your keys? If you’re driving the other car and you don’t put the keys in the door pocket when you strap the kids in? Or if you’re wearing clothes with no pockets? That’s when it happens to you – you forget where you put your keys.’

Even though it’s not often used in novels, it’s still a familiar kind of voice. Or maybe it’s just me, talking to myself!

The diver’s clothes lie empty by Vendela Vida is a novel written completely in second person. It’s about a young woman who is travelling by herself and has her passport, money and identification stolen as soon as she arrives at her hotel in Casablanca. This is the catalyst for a series of events which take her further and further away from her life as she knew it.

I couldn’t help but like the main character, even though I wanted to yell at her for being so gullible. A perfect character – flawed and loveable.

The writing style drew me in, deep into her day-to-day dramas living without identification in a foreign country and also deep into her past which is gradually revealed.

You are picturing yourself at seventy, looking back on your youth. You will remember that you were young once, that you were thirty-three. You were in a movie in Casablanca. Now that you are on the cusp of being a full-fledged adult, as you now see adulthood, your youth has been documented. Your youth will be defined by the events of the last several months.

If you are looking for something different to read, then this book might be for you.

Read any other short stories or novels written in second person? Does this style appeal to you?

Thank you, SP, for this Christmas present – great choice!

Stella list for 2016

February 12, 2016 by Karen Comer 8 Comments

The Stella longlist for 2016 came out this week, and it is a fantastic list of wonderful books by Australian women. So if you are a reader or belong to a bookclub or want to support Australian female authors, this list is for you!

The Stella Prize was set up three years ago to shine a light on contemporary Australian female writers, and showcase diversity and cultural change. It includes fiction and non-fiction books. Previous winners have included Carrie Tiffany for Mateship with birds (2013), Clare Wright for The forgotten rebels of Eureka (2014) and Emily Bitto for The strays (2015). As for the judges’ criteria – ‘the winning book will be excellent, original and engaging.’

The Stella prize is named after Stella Maria Sarah ‘Miles’ Franklin who worked hard during her lifetime to write and promote Australian literature, and left funds for a literary prize in her will.

This is the longlist for 2016. The shortlist will be announced on March 10, and the Stella Prize awarded on April 19.

The women’s pages by Debra Adelaide
The other side of the world by Stephanie Bishop
Panthers and the museum of fire by Jen Craig
Six bedrooms by Tegan Bennett Daylight
Hope Farm by Peggy Frew
A few days in the country: And other stories by Elizabeth Harrower
A guide to Berlin by Gail Jones
The world without us by Mireille Juchau
A short history of Richard Kline by Amanda Lohrey
Anchor Point by Alice Robinson
The natural way of things by Charlotte Wood
Small acts of disappearance: Essays on hunger by Fiona Wright

I have read three of the twelve shortlisted books – The women’s pages, The other side of the world and The natural way of things – and enjoyed all three of them. Think I will read Hope Farm soon because my friend Carolyn who is a prolific and savvy reader told me she had read and enjoyed it, and also Six bedrooms, a short story collection because I am a short story writer. Then I’ll see whether I can read the others throughout the year!

If you are interested in women writers, Nicole Melanson has a fabulous blog at Word Mothers with regular interviews with women writers. I love reading about how these women fit in writing among jobs and family, seeing photos of their writing spaces and reading about their journey to publication. It’s also a great place to find some new books to read. I admire the wide variety of authors and genres Nicole provides.

Have you read any of these Stella books? Do you have a prediction for the winner? Or do you have any favourite women writers for Nicole to interview?

98 and counting …

December 29, 2015 by Karen Comer 9 Comments

This year I have kept a tally of the books I have read. With three days to go until the end of the year, I am up to number 98, and I have every intention of reading my way to 100 books by midnight 2015. Silly isn’t it, to think that 100 books is somewhat better than 98?

At the Sydney Writers’ Festival this year, Anne Buist – who writes under the pen name Simone Sinna and who is married to Graeme Simsion, author of The Rosie Project – told an audience of 500 that she usually read about 200 books a year. There was a collective gasp, then silence as we all took in this amazing accomplishment.

I do read a lot of children’s fiction, and some of those books are reasonably slim. It always takes me longer to read non-fiction as I need to focus more to understand the content rather than enjoy a story.

I’m grateful to all my friends and family who give or lend me books. Big thanks to the family members on both sides who gave me wonderful books for Christmas – thanks C and SP!

Below is a list of my favourite adult fiction books I’ve read this year. I’ve added a link if I’ve reviewed the book earlier and I’ve tried to give a mini book review here in a couple of words because it’s holidays and I’m feeling a little lazy!

Burial rites by Hannah Kent – gripping, original – account of the last woman hanged in Iceland in 1829.

In the quiet by Eliza Henry Jones – heartbreaking, evocative – a family in grief after their mother and wife dies, narrated by the dead woman who is able to observe her family.

The natural way of things by Charlotte Wood – stirring, original, unsettling, horrifying – ten woman are imprisoned in the middle of nowhere for past sexual experiences.

Goldfinch by Donna Tartt – detailed, gripping, sad, 800 pages long – the story of a thirteen year-old boy who is caught up in a horrible event which is the catalyst for the next decade or so of his life.

The invention of wings by Sue Monk Kidd – compelling, detailed – account of a southern American family caught up in slavery riots and changes.

Big little lies by Liane Moriarty – hilarious, perceptive, page-turning – story of three women with children at the same primary school, with themes of bullying, domestic violence, friendship.

The eye of the sheep by Sofie Laguna – sad, beautiful – told through the eyes of a small boy – themes of family violence and family love.

The beast’s garden by Kate Forsythe – gripping, horrifying, page-turning, evocative – set in Berlin during WWII, a love story.

Mothers Grimm by Danielle Wood – original, thought-provoking, perceptive – four ‘long’ short stories with a modern take on fairy tales, centred around the idea of the ‘good’ mother.

The women’s pages by Debra Adelaide – interesting, detailed, quiet – a story within a story, focuses on details of women’s lives in different generations.

After rereading my list, I’ve noticed that most of my favourite books are on the serious side. There’s the horror of war, imprisonment, children’s fears, death, grief. I would read all of these books again – for the story and for appreciating the writing craft. I love a page-turning book, where I care about the characters so much that I want to find out what happens to them. I am probably – definitely – guilty of cooking a late dinner for my kids or staying up way past my bedtime, thanks to the wonder of these books!

Perhaps there might be a book here which would make perfect summer reading for you or perhaps you have read some of these books, too? Let me know in the comments if you have a favourite book for 2015 that I could read for 2016.

Stories within stories

November 10, 2015 by Karen Comer 4 Comments

I read two books this week which had stories within stories, and saw a musical on Saturday night which had a story within a story. I love it – stories are fabulous enough but a story within a story is pure magic! Let me explain.

Miss 9 put Angelica Bank’s Finding Serendipity on my bedside table with a note saying, ‘Mum, you really should read this – it is so good.’ It is so good because it is about a writer called Serendipity and her daughter Tuesday. When Serendipity goes missing from her writing room, Tuesday decides she needs to be as brave as Vivienne Small, the heroine in her mother’s children’s book series. So she ends up having an adventure within the pages of her mother’s books and meets her mother’s character, Vivienne Small, confronts Vivienne’s antagonist and writes her own story. Real life taking place inside the pages of a book. As with all fantasy books, this works because the characters are strong and true and believable – so I was more than happy to follow Tuesday in her magic adventures. I loved the mother-daughter relationship – Serendipity is a famous writer, a magical adventurer herself and also a typical worrying mother. But she does eventually trust that Tuesday can look after herself. I am looking forward to reading the second book, A week without Tuesday, and the third book is coming out next year. Angelica Banks is the pen name of Tasmanian writers Danielle Wood and Heather Rose. I attended two writing workshops with Danielle a couple of months ago. Warning – if Miss 9 is invited to any birthday parties for nine or ten-year-old girls over the next few months, this book will be the birthday present!

Then I read The Women’s Pages by Debra Adelaide, another mother-daughter story, which alternates chapters between Dove, who has recently buried her adoptive mother and is feeling lost, with an abandoned job and no family now. The alternative chapters are about the story Dove tentatively starts to write, with no experience of writing. Dove writes the story of Ellis, a young woman living in the 1960s, who feels trapped in the conventional life of being a wife and mother. I don’t want to spoil the ending, but I will say that Wuthering Heights also features in this book as well, so that’s another story within the main story. This story reminded me again of how limited the choices were for women in the 60s. This book is a quiet one – there’s lots of thinking and reflection and small moments. It would be a fabulous read for a bookclub because the rich themes of mothers and daughters and babies and adoption and Emily Bronte and family secrets and women’s choices offer so much to think about.

Then on Saturday night I saw the musical City of Angels, about a writer living in Los Angeles in the 1940s, adapting his book for a Hollywood screenplay. Half of the play focused on the ‘real’ world of the writer – the actors wore coloured clothes. The other half of the play showed the characters from the screenplay – dressed in black and white. To add to the complexity, some of the characters from the ‘reel’ screenplay were based on the characters in the ‘real’ life of the writer. And then to add to that complexity, the actors played dual roles, often the ‘real’ life person and then the ‘reel’ character from the screenplay. The orchestra was fabulous, the jazz singing soul-stirring, the script witty and the plot so very clever. One of my favourite moments was when the writer, typing away at his typewriter in an argyle patterned yellow and brown vest with matching socks, was forced to write some really terrible lines, as directed by the film producer. The main ‘reel’ character, a fabulous womanising detective delivered the terrible line, and then turned to look at the writer as if to say, ‘Mate, you’re kidding me?’ This happened just before intermission, and in the second half, the ‘real’ writer mixed with the ‘reel’ characters.

Unfortunately, the show only went for four nights and it’s finished now, so I can’t recommend that you go and see it!

Stories within stories, characters living lives as real and authentic as their creator – this has been my theme for the week and I am trying to apply it to my own life, to make the kid characters in my book seem as real as the three kids in my home.

The beast’s garden

September 25, 2015 by Karen Comer 2 Comments

The beast’s garden
Kate Forsythe
Vintage Books
2015

The story: Ava is a young German, living in Berlin during the Second World War. She is deeply concerned about her closest friends, who are Jews, and does what she can to look after them. She marries a Nazi officer, Leo, in order to save her father. Ava abhors everything Leo supposedly stands for, but falls deeply in love with him at the same time. As Ava does what she can to support an underground resistance movement, she gradually discovers that Leo is not as he seems – he is doing his part to stop Hitler. Their lives, along with their friends and family, descend into madness and chaos, as the war progresses. Ava uses all her courage and intellect to help Leo out of the brutality of war.

The highlights: ‘Ava fell in love the night the Nazis first showed their true faces to the world.’ Fabulous opening sentence! This book is about Ava’s personal story juxtaposed with World War II, and the first sentence captures all of that.

The horrors of the concentration camps, where Ava’s friend Rupert spent most of the war, are detailed with bleak, horrifying imagery. I dreamt one night of concentration camps in the middle of reading The beast’s garden. I’m not sure whether concentration camps and constant references to homeless and hungry Germans are a highlight but Kate Forsythe is such a wonderful storyteller that the painful details are a necessary part of the World War II imagery. I only studied World War history from an Australian perspective at school, and then through Jewish history at university. To see German history through the eyes of those against Hitler is a unique vantage point.

‘… the newly arrived prisoners looked around. Long rows of wooden huts. High concrete walls. Coils of barbed wire. Machine-gunners in watchtowers. Endless rows of hollow-eyed prisoners in striped uniforms. And by the wall, a heap of dead naked men, stiff as driftwood, stacked in a neat pile, head to feet like sardines.’

All of the characters are strong, and many of them show the difficulty in being caught between standing up for their country and standing against their country’s leader. Anger and passion in equal doses.

‘Ava had to deflect their suspicions somehow. She tried to imagine she was a good Nazi wife. She’d be overawed to be here at Goebbels’ private residence, and dazzled by all the uniforms and medals. She’d be ambitious for her husband, and disappointed that he had lost his job at the Abwehr. She’d worship the Führer and believe all the propoganda that said Germany was winning the war. She’d want a piece of the glory and the booty.’

Kate Forsythe uses the Grimm Brothers’ fairy tale The singing, springing lark, which is the original story of Beauty and the beast. Ava is Beauty – but she has the lark’s voice as she studies singing at the conservatory. And without giving the ending away, it is Ava who does the rescuing in the end, just like Beauty who follows the lark to rescue it. You don’t need to know ‘The singing, springing lark’ to appreciate this book but it’s an interesting way to understand the structure.

I have to admit, I kept sneaking away from the kids after school to read half a chapter here and there. I did the same thing with Kate Forsythe’s Wild Girl and Bitter Greens – they were just so good!

Have you read The beast’s garden or any of Kate Forsythe’s other books?

Burial rites

September 15, 2015 by Karen Comer 2 Comments

Burial rites

Hannah Kent

Picador, Pan Macmillan Australia

2013

The story: Agnes Magnúsdóttir, a young Icelandic woman is destined for execution for murdering two men in 1829. The story of exactly what happened leading up to the night of the murders is told in a few ways – official letters, short poems, witness testimonials, and then Agnes’ viewpoint as well as an omniscient narrator. This allows us to empathise with Agnes but also understand the other characters as well. The daily life of those living on farms in Iceland, the weather and the vastness of the land all contribute to the backdrop of Agnes’ story.

The highlights: I was drawn in by the storytelling, by the action in the present as well as Agnes’ recollections, told to the young Assistant Reverend sent to save her soul before her death. Hannah Kent shows us Agnes the murderer at the beginning of the novel, and slowly, slowly, we gain empathy for Agnes as we hear her childhood story of abandonment and her work history on many different farms in Iceland. The past and present weave beautifully together – there isn’t any sense of awkward dialogue or intrusive backstory.

This book does not offer any hope or fairytale ending. I found it a compelling read because I wanted to know Agnes’ story, and I wanted to know the truth of what happened on the night of the murders, even though Agnes believes there’s ‘no such thing as truth.’ She told Reverend Tóti, ‘I’ve told the truth and you can see for yourself how it has served me.’

Hannah Kent calls her book ‘a dark love letter to Iceland’. I found the descriptions of Iceland and its people really intriguing – the weather and the distance between farms – no wonder Agnes told Magrét, ‘Loneliness threatened to bite you at every turn.’

I listened to Hannah present at the Emerging Writers Festival in Melbourne last year. She was part of a panel presenting their top five tips for writing. Her account from her blog can be found here. Love, love, love all her tips – that’s why I bought Burial Rites that day. I knew a writer with so much perception would be worth reading!