My Reading Year 2021

Like so many people, I had hoped that 2021 would be a better year. Unfortunately, the pandemic continued impacting all aspects of life. In the second half of 2021 I spent several months at home in lockdown. While this kept me safe from COVID, it was a drain on mental health and wellbeing. With a stressful job, in perpetual crisis-mode, I found it hard to concentrate and take my usual pleasure in reading. But I muddled through.  Fiction was my saviour - transporting me to new places and introducing me to new characters to escape the drama of real life.

My reading goal for 2021 was 30 books with a focus on fiction, which I achieved by reading 31 titles this year. When planning for 2021 at the start of the year, I did not really name any specific titles, which served me well as I went wherever my interests took me.  Instead I used the reading bingo card I created to help me diversify my reading and my achievements are highlighted below. 

B	I	N	G	O
Set during Wartime	Retelling of  another story	Novel in  Translation	Poetry  Collection	Women's Prize  Longlister
Lesser known book  by a Famous Author	Essay Collection	Set in the Future	Booker Prize  Longlister	About a non-Western  world leader
Debut  Novel	19th Century Classic	Published in 2021	Biography  or Memoir	Set in Space or at Sea
Short Story Collection	Australian Literary  Prize Longlister	Current Affairs / Politics	Protagonist  is over 50	Coming of  Age Story
Pre-19th Century  Classic	First Novel in a Series	Book on the  1001 List	Fiction Based on a True Story	Written by a  male author

So here's what I read in 2021:

Fiction

This year I continued my interest in feminist retellings of ancient myths which I started with Madeline Miller's Circe in 2020. During lockdown I read two novels by Pat Barker back-to-back. The Silence of the Girls is the fascinating story of Achilles told from the perspective of his slave, Briseis. The Women of Troy continues this story, giving voice to the women left behind when Troy falls. Can't wait for the next instalment.

Mid-year I discovered the Simon Serrailler series by Susan Hill. The Duchess of Cornwall has an online book club and I noticed on her instagram account that one of the books her club was reading was the first Serrailler novel, The Various Haunts of Men, which I had never heard of. So I tracked down a copy and soon fell down the rabbit hole, reading the first three novels in rapid succession. I am now taking a short break after The Pure in Heart and The Risk of Darkness, but will undoubtedly resume my reading of the Serrailler series in 2022. 

I read some books that I have had for ages, including John Fowles' The Collector, Edna O'Brien's August is a Wicked Month, and Patricia Highsmith's The Price of Salt.   Other works of fiction I enjoyed included Tana French's The Searcher, Raven Leilani's Luster, Matt Haig's The Midnight Library, Joyce Carol Oates' short story collection The (Other) You, and Emily St John Mandel's The Glass Hotel. 

After my 2021 hiatus from reading books authored by men, I finally got around to reading the two Chris Hammer books I had been looking forward to. Silver and Trust conclude the Martin Scardsen series. While neither lived up to the promise of Scrublands, I enjoyed reading both novels. In the new year I will read his next book Treasure and Dirt.

Award longlists provide me with much reading inspiration. From the Stella Prize Longlist I read Intan Paramaditha's The Wandering and absolutely loved the winning title, Evie Wyld's The Bass Rock. One of the highlights of the year was reading Susanna Clarke's Piranesi - winner of the 2021 Women's Prize for Fiction - a uniquely brilliant story. From the Booker Prize Longlist, I really enjoyed Klara and the Sun by Kazuo Ishiguro.

This year there were a handful of incredible novels that made a lasting impact that I have most often recommended or gifted to friends. Tara Moss' The War Widow is a wonderful crime novel featuring a plucky heroine, set in postwar Sydney. I loved this book and look forward to the next instalment. Two other Australian novels I enjoyed are Hannah Kent's Devotion and Emily Maguire's Love Objects - both of which I have thought about a lot since reading. But my most favourite novel of the year has to be Still Life by Sarah Winman. I absolutely lost myself in this epic tale of a group of misfits who form a family together in Florence. 

Non-Fiction

This year I didn't end up reading as much non-fiction as I normally do, having prioritised the escape of fiction. But what I did read, I thoroughly enjoyed.

I began the year reading an amazing work of non-fiction by journalist Louise Milligan. Witness covers Milligan's investigation of sexual assault and child sexual abuse cases through the court system and how victims are treated. This was a thought-provoking, compelling book which should be essential reading for police and the legal profession.

Kate Ellis' memoir of her time in Parliament, Sex, Lies and Question Time, was fascinating. The timing of publication was impeccable, with the allegations against members of Parliament and the March for Justice. An important book from someone who made a difference during her time in office. 

Two books I was really looking forward to, by authors I really admire, didn't hit the mark for me. Sarah Krasnostein's The Believer was hit-and-miss, and while I loved certain stories, others didn't resonate. Tegan Bennett Daylight's collection of essays, The Details, was also uneven and missing something for me. But I am glad to have read both.

Dolly Parton's Songteller - My Life in Lyrics was joyous, especially when accompanied by the audiobook where her stories were interspersed with song. I have huge admiration for Dolly - as an artist and a humanitarian. A look back on her life through her songwriting shows how she raised awareness about difficult issues.

Finally, my reading year would not be complete without at least one Helen Garner. How to End a Story, the third volume of Garner's diaries. This volume chronicles the downfall of her marriage and her growing success as a writer. 

While I really appreciated all the non-fiction I read this year, if I had to choose one favourite, without hesitation I would select Sean Kelly's The Game -  A Portrait of Scott Morrison. This is a fascinating, well-researched exploration of our Prime Minister and what has happened to our country. A must-read for anyone who cares about politics, ethics and the state of the nation.

Best of 2021
I read so many great books this year. I loved and highly recommend:

• Pat Barker - The Silence of the Girls
• Susannah Clarke - Piranesi 
• Sean Kelly - The Game: A Portrait of Scott Morrison
• Emily Maguire - Love Objects
• Louise Milligan -Witness 
• Tara Moss - The War Widow
• Sarah Winman - Still Life
• Evie Wyld - The Bass Rock

If I had to choose my absolute favourites, I would pick Sarah Winman's Still Life (2021) and Sean Kelly's The Game (2021).  

Writer's Block

The third volume of Helen Garner's Diaries, How to End a Story (2021) covers the years 1995-1998. During this time she continues her work as a writer in the aftermath of the success of her book The First Stone (1995). 

In her previous volume of diaries, Garner commenced an affair with the married V (author Murray Bail) and eventually married him. It is a very uneven relationship - love, joy and companionship mixed with periods of intense jealousy and disappointment.  V is in the process of writing his Miles Franklin Award winning novel Eucalyptus (1998) and his work takes precedence. He prefers to write in silence at home, requiring Helen to rent rooms elsewhere to pursue her writing. She edits his work, provides constructive feedback, and supports him as he crafts this novel. In contrast, he is secretive, solitary and demanding. 

She captures the creative differences between them in her diaries as follows: 

'I say that since we've been together our lives have been arranged in such a way as to facilitate only his work needs: that he's an imaginative writer and needs seclusion in order to write, so we've got things set up domestically to create the best possible conditions for this. On the other hand, I'm a writer who works off and is nourished by the events of daily life, which means our living arrangements actively work against what I need...' (p 143-144)

V has an artist friend X and spends increasing amounts of time with her. V compartmentalises X and his wife, keeping them away from each other and telling them both untruths. Garner attends a psychologist in an effort to reconcile her feelings, which V finds threatening. He also dislikes her writing in her diary, fearing he will be written about. As she learns more about his infidelity, Garner becomes increasingly erratic and self-doubting. 

Meanwhile, Garner is troubled about her work. She continues to write reviews and various pieces for publication, but feels she has lost her ability to write fiction. The betrayal by her husband - the lies more than the infidelity - has impacted her in so many ways. Through her diaries she reflects upon the sadness and isolations feels, and finds the strength she needs to face up to the truth. 

These diaries again show Garner's genius as a writer. She is frank, fierce and witty. Garner writes with such immediacy and intimacy that one cannot help but feel connected to her. 

My review of Garner's previously published diaries also appear on this blog:

• The Yellow Notebook (Diaries 1978-1987)
• One Day I Will Remember This (Diaries 1987-1995)

The Pretender

I've never understood the appeal of Scott Morrison, Australia's 30th (current) Prime Minister. He always seemed like the guy who would say anything to get ahead. He would waffle and continually change his position, later denying he had done so. He would shut down questions of accountability (e.g. not talking about 'on water matters') and point fingers at others, never taking responsibility for anything. 

During the past year my disregard for Morrison has boiled over into a genuine rage. The list of his failings has grown: his bungling of the vaccination roll out; his mixed messaging on COVID precautions; his disgraceful behaviour in light of the Britney Higgins allegations; his refusal to stand down Christian Porter; his shameful treatment of asylum seekers; his failure to evacuate people from Afghanistan; his endangering stance on climate change; his unwillingness to curb the dangerous COVID misinformation stemming from his ranks; and on and on. 

I picked up Sean Kelly's The Game: A Portrait of Scott Morrison (2021) in an effort to try to understand the man behind the smirk. What drives him? What does he actually believe in? How did he get to where he is?

Kelly's book is divided into three parts: The Man; A Country; A Time. The first section explores Morrison and the image he has crafted for himself as a man who makes curry once a week, follows the Cronulla Sharks, and loves his family. As Kelly writes, 'so few details, but such talkative details' (p46), with Morrison continually adding 'Go Sharks!' to every media encounter. But these details were crafted to convey an image of Morrison as Mister Middle Australia - a family man, rugby follower and a man who embraces multiculturalism and domesticity (even if only once a week).

The section on the country contextualises Morrison's leadership against the backdrop of increasing calls for recognition of First Nations people and his refusal to acknowledge the harm the celebration of Australia Day causes. As the member for Cook, Morrison represents the Sutherland Shire where the Cronulla riots took place in 2005 - altercations between Anglo-Australians and those with Middle Eastern backgrounds. The way in which Morrison speaks of this and similar conflicts is to 'ignore the more troubling narrative and then replace it with one that vindicates ordinary Australians' (p159). 

'A Time' focuses on the period of Morrison's prime ministership and the events that have tested his leadership, including the devastating bushfires, the coronavirus and violence against women. In each instance Morrison had the opportunity to demonstrate empathy, vision, action - and he failed. During the fires, he famously didn't 'hold a hose'. With the pandemic he started well, declaring the pandemic, locking down our big island and injecting stimulus into the economy, but failed to follow through with the long term protections of vaccines claiming it wasn't a race. On women, Morrison has been utterly tone deaf (despite having a wife and daughters, thereby somehow relating to the matter) and negligent in his failure to address deeply entrenched cultural issues. 

This week Morrison showed more of the same, with an increasingly reckless and irresponsible approach to governing. His shameless pandering to the minority - in which he has declared COVID an individual responsibility and equated mask wearing to slapping on sunscreen and a hat (lest sunburn be contagious!)  - and his push back against any form of government intervention, shows that we are in for a bumpy election campaign. Further, his photoshoot at the site of the horrific accident in Tasmania in which several children were killed, was shameless opportunism. 

Sean Kelly is a brilliant researcher and intelligent writer. He has painted a portrait of the enigmatic Morrison as someone who has manufactured a character for himself - 'Scomo' the average Aussie bloke - who views politics as a game of winners and losers. Morrison continually wins this game as he changes the rules to suit himself, but in doing so he erodes the democracy he is sworn to protect.  Kelly dispels Morrison's claims that he was utterly blameless for the ousting of Malcolm Turnbull, showing this to have been a pattern throughout his career.  More importantly however, Kelly turns the gaze back to ourselves - after all, we elected Morrison - and our role in creating him. It is an insightful biography of an elusive figure and a critique of the myth of Australia. 

The Game did not make me view Morrison in a more favourable light, but it did help me understand how his prime ministership is possible. It also confirmed what I had suspected all along - Morrison is a pretender, playing a game, and unless we act to make change - we all lose. With an election looming, let's hope voters see past the pork barrelling, slogans and sledging and make a change for the better.

The Rising Tide

The third instalment of Susan Hill's Simon Serrailler series -  The Risk of Darkness (2006) picks up where the previous novel concluded.  In The Pure in Heart, Serrailler was investigating the disappearance of a nine-year old school boy, but all trails ran cold and the book ends without a resolution in the case. 

In this novel, DCI Serrailler is called to Yorkshire where a similar child abduction has just taken place. Could this be the same perpetrator? Can his knowledge help the local police?  Is there enough evidence to link these cases? Once a suspect is caught, can they solicit a confession?

Meanwhile, back in Lafferton, someone is distributing vile racist leaflets. Women are being approached by a grieving man who thinks they are his deceased wife.  Local priest Jane Fitzroy learns her mother has been violently attacked in her own home in London. The darkness seeps in everywhere. 

Hill continues to flesh out the characters - particularly the Serrailler family - and there is a building sense that change is upon them all. Simon is rather aloof and unhappy. He toys with the feelings of the women in his life, and is at a crossroads in his career. His sister Cat Deerbon tries to keep him in check, and can reach him in a way that no one else can. Cat is struggling with the pressures of work and family life and contemplating a significant sea change. Sergeant Nathan Coates is about to have a family and is thinking about leaving Lafferton. Jane Fitzroy is wondering if she has made the right choices in her life. 

Like in Hill's previous Serrailler novels, there are many threads running through this story and she uses her characters to provide a commentary on social issues - inequality, health care, gentrification, poverty, tabloid media.  Some of these characters are genuinely heartbreaking; Eileen Meelup and Natalie Coombs in particular are both mothers in parallel struggles to understand their daughters. I would have liked a little more detective work in this novel to flesh out the crime aspects of the tale.

While it won't appeal to everyone, I find this a strangely compelling series. Part crime drama, part police procedural, part domestic fiction, it defies being placed in a single category.  I like the way Hill builds the story through the characters, and through them presents an interesting meditation on family, longing and loss.  This novel ends somewhat abruptly, but is set up for the next book in the series. I look forward to continuing this series and am pleased that I still have so many more to read.

My reviews of other novels in this series are available on my blog:

• The Various Haunts of Men (Serrailler #1)
• The Pure in Heart (Serrailler #2)

Enduring Love

Australian author Hannah Kent is well known for conducting extensive research to infuse her novels with authenticity as she writes about distant lands and historical settings. For her latest novel Devotion (2021), she transports readers to Prussia in the 1830s where we immerse ourselves in a Lutheran community in the village of Kay.

The narrator of Devotion is Hanne, a teenage girl who lives with her parents and twin brother Matthias. Hanne is uniquely in tune with nature; the trees speak to her. While all the other girls in the village are focused on courtship and marriage, Hanne has no interest in local boys. She prefers to be alone, among the forest. Then she meets Thea and their connection is so deep that seemingly nothing can come between them. 

The Lutheran community in Prussia was persecuted under King Frederick William who sought to outlaw many traditions and rites. Pastor August Kavel led an exodus of the 'Old Lutherans' to South Australia where they would settle and form the towns of Klemzig and Hahndorf. Kent uses this history in her novel, as the villagers of Kay plan to depart their home for a new life in an unfamiliar land. 

The families board the Kristi to voyage to Australia.  Like so many migrants, they face many dangers on their journey to freedom; over cramped quarters, insufficient stores, inclement weather, sickness and disease. When the ship arrives in Adelaide, all aboard have been changed by their travels. 

Kent follows these families as they begin to establish their community in a new, harsh land. They encounter the local Peramangk people and those villagers who are open to learning from them discover life-saving skills. 

Devotion is a story of love and loss. While readers come to know and care for many characters in this community, it is the the deep, unbreakable, connection between Thea and Hanne and the obstacles they face that form the heart of this the novel. But the story is not predictable and Kent makes some brave choices in how she tells their tale.  

As one comes to expect from this author, Devotion is a beautifully written book filled with prose that borders on poetry. Kent describes the natural world in such vibrant and lively prose one cannot help but become engrossed in it. While not my favourite of Kent's novels, it is highly recommended.

My reviews of Hannah Kent's previous novels Burial Rites (2013) and The Good People (2016) are also available on this blog.