Margaret Atwood has just published her first collection of poetry in over a decade. Dearly (2020) covers a range of topics - love and loss, climate change, language, memory - in an overall sombre tone but with Atwood's wry humour. Ever a keen observer, Atwood writes of the natural world - birds, wolves, leaves, flowers - with admiration and marvel.
Grief is a theme throughout Dearly. Dedicated to her partner, Graeme Gibson, who died in 2019 after more than four decades together, Atwood is now an octogenarian and has lost many people close to her. She writes of loss of memory, ageing and dying.
The title poem is magnificent. The author shuffles through old photographs and remembers the time spent with her beloved partner. It is a heartbreaking tale of loss and remembrance of things past. She writes
Dearly beloved, we gather here together
in this closed drawer,
fading now, I miss you.
I miss the missing, those who left earlier.
I miss even those who are still here.
I miss you all dearly.
Dearly do I sorrow for you.
In the poem 'Oh Children' she laments the future world in which climate change has ravaged the world. She wonders what the world will be like without crickets, birds, mice and moss.
But not all the poems are so sorrowful. In 'Frida Kahlo, San Miguel, Ash Wednesday' Atwood writes of memes and souvenirs bearing images of the artist. In 'Sad Utensils' she describes the absence of the word 'reft' which has fallen out of favour.
Atwood's poem 'Princess Clothing', reminded me of one of my favourite poems, Dorothy Parker's 'The Satin Dress'. She canvasses what a woman should wear - wool? cotton? silk? - to avoid the judgement of others. Ever the feminist, Atwood takes aim at the fickleness of trendsetters and the need to please others, she writes
Oh beware,
uncover your hair
or else they will burn down your castle.
Wait a minute. Cover it!
Hair. So controversial.
Extraterrestrials make an appearance in this collection - 'The Aliens Arrive' is a humorous take on nine late night movies, for example:
The aliens arrive.
They are smarter than us, and carnivorous.
You know the rest.
Whether she is describing her mother asleep 'curled up like a spring fern' (in 'Blizzard'), or passport photos with 'the sullen jacket stare of a woman who's just been arrested' (in 'Passports'), Atwood has a magnificent turn of phrase.
In any collection of poetry there are verses that appeal immediately and others which do not resonate. I often find that I return to poetry collections again and again and find meaning in different verse on each encounter. Poetry is so deeply tied to my mood as a reader that I reach for favourites to help me shift my mindset when needed. In Dearly, there are a handful of poems that will be added to my favourites list for future recitation.
The winner of the 2020 Booker Prize for fiction was announced in a wonderful online ceremony, awarding the £50,000 prize to debut novelist Douglas Stuart for Shuggie Bain.
Set in Glasgow in the 1980s, Shuggie Bain is the story of a dysfunctional family growing up in poverty. Agnes Bain, a single mother trying to raise her children, is addicted by alcoholism. Her children leave the family home in an effort to survive, but her son Shuggie stays. This is the story of mother and child.
I am so thrilled that Douglas Stuart won this year's award. Scotland is deep in my heart and I love novels set there. I have been saving Shuggie Bain to read on my Christmas holidays so I will provide my review at that time.
In the meantime, here is a video of the Booker Prize judges talking about why they chose this novel to win this year.
Septuagenarian widow Vesta Gul is walking her beloved dog Charlie in the birch woods near her home when she stumbles across a handwritten note on the path, pinned to the ground with small black stones. The obscure message sparks the action that propels this novel:
Her name was Magda. Nobody will ever know who killed her. It wasn't me. Here is her dead body.
Vesta looks around and sees no evidence of a body, no clothing, no disturbance that would indicate that Magda is or was nearby. She pockets the note and sets off determined to find out what happened to Magda.
Living the life of a hermit, Vesta has a simple existence without a phone or TV in a cabin by a lake that was once part of an old Girl Scouts camp. She drives into town once a week to stock up on library books and groceries, but has no real social network, spending her time talking to her dog and engaging in imagined conversations with her late husband, Walter. Her efforts to solve the mystery of Magda drive Vesta to the brink of her fragile 'mindspace' as she creates a persona for the victim and a list of potential suspects.
Ottessa Moshfegh's Death in her Hands (2020) is a strange little novel. Written in first person, the author is deep inside the head of her protagonist - an unlikable, unstable, bitter woman - and the reader is never certain what is real and what are delusions. Vesta is a heartbreaking character who has been disappointed throughout her life, and this regret manifests itself in the imagined life she creates for the people around her.
Death in her Hands is cleverly written and easy to read, but I am honestly not sure how I feel about it. My engagement with the novel ebbed and flowed over the few hours I spent reading it. Gripped at the start, about forty pages in I thought about giving up, continued on and became enthralled, and then ended flat and perplexed. While Moshfegh is a talented writer who can weave a multilayered story, I definitely feel something was missing here and wonder what it was all about.
With the American election only one week away, I have been engrossed in following US politics - not just the Presidential race, but down ballot contests which have the ability to influence the direction of the nation for years to come. Perhaps it is my lifelong fascination with America or my poli-sci proclivity, but my curiosity is insatiable.
As I was watching the news about American COVID cases surging, Trump rallies and joblessness, I spotted an unread book on my shelf and knew that it was the perfect time to read it. Over the past few evenings I read Amy Goldstein's Janesville - An American Story (2017), a deep dive into America's industrial heartland and the devastating toll of the global financial crisis.
Two days before Christmas in 2008 the General Motors plant in Janesville, Wisconsin closed its doors. The plant had opened in 1919 and for the better part of a century had churned out automobiles. Generations of families had been employed by the company, or in associated businesses that created parts for the vehicle and services for its workers. With the economy contracting and consumers turning away from larger SUVs, GM was heading towards bankruptcy and the Janesville plant was chosen for closure.
Suddenly over 9000 people were left without work. Some took transfers to other GM plants, and became known as GM gypsies, carpooling to drive over 400 kilometres to Fort Wayne or other midwestern cities where they could work during the week before returning home to their families for brief weekend visits. Others went back to college to try to gain a new qualification in the hopes of restarting in a new career. And many waited - taking low-paid, insecure, temporary work - firmly believing that GM would reopen as it had done before. But the Janesville Assembly Plant didn't, and more business closed including the Parker Pen company (founded in Janesville).
Amy Goldstein, Washington Post staff writer, turns her investigative lens on Janesville and follows several families over the next six years. She documents the devastating impact of the GM closure on individuals, families and the entire community. Goldstein also follows the political fortune of Janesville local Paul Ryan, former Speaker of the US House of Representatives and 2016 Vice-Presidential candidate. There are deep lessons to be learned from the failure of government interventions (auto industry bailouts and retraining programs) which divided this community and gave way to the rise of Trump.
Prior to the closure, GM paid its employees well and, in turn, GM employees were generous in their community, participating in charity drives and supporting various causes. With the loss of their incomes, and their replacement wages more than halved, many ex-GMers found themselves uninsured, their house values shrinking, losing the lifestyle they had been accustomed to. Indeed, many suffered from depression, poverty and homelessness and needed to rely on the many charities they previously supported. One of the most fascinating insights of Goldstein's book, was the failure of programs to retrain retrenched workers, as those who did not undertake the training ended up better off.
Goldstein is a talented writer and compelling story-teller. She writes with empathy and intellect, and avoids being judgemental or preachy. Janesville is ultimately a tale of hope and endurance.
I first heard Amy Goldstein speak at the 2018 Sydney Writers' Festival. At the time I thought her book would be a great companion read to JD Vance's Hillbilly Elegy (2016) and it absolutely is. Both are wonderful books for anyone wanting to understand what is happening in America and why midwest states like Wisconsin are battlegrounds in this election. If you don't have time to read Janesville, PBS Newshour interviewed Goldstein and some of the families she writes about in a brief video available online which I highly recommend.
Muriel Spark's The Driver's Seat (1970) is a fast-paced novella that tosses the reader around so much it causes whiplash, as we attempt to keep pace with an unpredictable woman desperate to be in control of her own destiny.
Lise is a perplexing protagonist. We know little about her: she is in her early thirties; five-foot-six; lives alone; has worked her entire career at an accountant's office; she rarely takes time off. She also has strong views and knows what is and isn't 'her type'.
We meet her at a shop where she is trying on dresses. The sales assistant advises her that the dress she is wearing is made of a new stain-resistant material. At this Lise flies into a rage, tearing off the dress and saying 'get this thing off me. Off me at once'. Lise is insulted and shouts at the sales assistant 'Do you think I spill things on my clothes?... Do I look as if I don't eat properly?' From this interaction, we learn that Lise is prone to big emotions and mood swings. We see this again when she farewells her boss that afternoon for her vacation as she laughs hysterically then erupts in tears. Something ain't right.
Lise is flying to an unnamed city in Europe for her holiday. She boards the plan in her newly purchased dress - 'lemon-yellow top with a skirt patterned in bright V's of orange, mauve and blue' of washable cotton (not stain-resistant). Lise is one for bold, contrasting colours and designs - clothes that cause double-takes of passers-by and murmured comments of other women. She takes her seat on the plane between two men and makes a quick assessment to determine which may be her 'type'.
Just as I was beginning to wonder what this book was about, Spark shocks the reader with the opening to chapter three when we learn that Lise will be found dead the next day. Suddenly, I was hooked. What happened to her?
Over the next 24 hours Lise meets various people, purchases odd souvenirs (a scarf, a blender), rebuffs the attentions of men ('Go away, you're not my type'), and has a number of bizarre encounters. Lise is continually trying to be in control (the driver's seat) but we never know what is going on in her mind. We just understand her to be erratic and self-destructive, making choices that will lead to her death.
I read this book in one sitting, and have mulled it over for the past few days to try and gather my thoughts. I enjoyed many aspects of the writing - Spark's swipes at fashion trends, macrobiotics and religion; her tight turn of phrase and the foreshadowing she uses - but also found it dragged in sections (shopping with Mrs Fiedke). The final chapter where we learn of Lise's end is magnificent.
Ultimately, I am not sure that this book was my type, as I found it a bit uneven, but I am glad I took the ride. Also, I absolutely love the cover on the Penguin Classics version (pictured) - it is perfect.
Earlier this year I was supposed to go on a family holiday to Ireland and the UK. Whenever I plan vacations I compile a list of books to read to accompany and enhance my travels. When my travels were cancelled I couldn't bear to read the long list of Irish and Cornish titles as they only served to remind me of my disappointment.
With overseas travels postponed for the foreseeable future, I revisited the list to find my next read. The historic Jamaica Inn on Bodmin Moor was one of the places we planned to visit on our travels. Writer Daphne Du Maurier had stayed there in the 1930s and it inspired her classic 1936 novel Jamaica Inn.
Mary Yellen grows up in southern Cornwall in a farming community of Helford. When her mother dies, her home is sold and she heads to Bodmin Moor to stay with her mother's sister, Aunt Patience, and her uncle Joss Merlyn, keeper at the Jamaica Inn. At 23, Mary is naive and has no idea what to expect of this remote outpost and her distant family. The coachman who drops her off at the Inn provides a stark warning that this is no place for a girl like her.
Aunt Patience is not who Mary remembered. Once young and vibrant, the ten years she has been a Merlyn has aged her and Patience trembles in fear of her mercurial husband. Uncle Joss is a big man with a fierce temper and a predilection for drink. Almost immediately Mary realises she must get away from this man and take her poor Aunt with her.
The Inn may once have been a place of merriment and sustenance for weary travellers, but now it has fallen into disrepair and disrepute. Many rooms are bare or locked. The only patrons are the rough men who arrive in the wee hours of the night, loading and unloading their wagons. Mary overhears some of their discussions and eventually comes to realise that her Uncle is involved in smuggling and pillaging from coastal shipwrecks.
Mary confides in two men she crosses paths with - a local vicar and her Uncle's younger brother Jem. Whether she can trust either provides much of the intrigue in this novel, and I found myself chastising her for giving away too much information. The pace quickens as the danger builds. Can she and Patience flee? Will she be betrayed by the men she trusts? Will her menacing Uncle get the better of her? Will she catch her death of cold, walking miles on the wet moors?
I loved Du Maurier's depiction of the landscape in this part of the world. The moors, granite tors, rivers, pools and bogs are all described in such a way that the reader is transported and can feel the cold of the howling winds and torrential rains. Du Maurier creates a haunting, gothic atmosphere in the mists and meadows, befitting the terror of this tale.
As a heroine, Mary was plucky, determined and courageous. She comes close to being raped, beaten and killed, but manages to come through - bruised and scarred, but unafraid. I longed for Mary to find a happy independent life away from the substandard men that surround her. While I know what direction she was heading at the end of the novel, I hold out hope that she keeps this courage and determination and finds the happiness she seeks.
Jamaica Inn has been adapted into a 1939 film by Alfred Hitchcock, a television series in the 1980s with Jane Seymour as Mary, and again in 2014 with Jessica Brown Findlay in the lead role.
My reviews of Daphne Du Maurier's My Cousin Rachel (1951) and Rebecca (1938) are also on this blog.
I always look forward to a new Jane Harper novel and pre-ordered The Survivors (2020) so I would get my mitts on it right away.
The main character, Kieran Elliott, grew up in a picturesque seaside town in Tasmania and now resides in Sydney. When he visits his home town with his partner and infant daughter, he is immediately reminded of why he left - Evelyn Bay is full of painful memories. Twelve years earlier, a fierce storm killed Kieran's older brother Finn and another local, and a teenage girl went missing.
On Kieran's first night back in town, a body is discovered on the beach near his parents' home, which disrupts the tight community as it did the day of the fateful storm. While the investigation unfolds, long-held suspicions and hard truths are revealed and deeply buried past traumas bring secrets to the surface.
The novel is filled with interesting characters. Kieran coming to terms with the grief and shame of his past while looking to the future with his young child. His mother, Verity, struggling with her husband's dementia. The outsider, author GR Barlin, who keenly observes all around him. Young Liam, growing up resentful at the absence of his father. Mrs Birch, still searching for her missing daughter.
Jane Harper is a master at portraying the Australian landscape. This new setting of a sleepy coastal town, is brilliantly described from the rugged cliffs, dank caves and sandy beach to the local shops and homes. The reader is immediately transported and immersed in the setting, which is key to this story as the place is intricately linked to those who reside there.
There is a wonderful pace to this novel. The crime happens early on and then the layers of the back story unfurl like the rolling tide. Piece-by-piece the story builds to its climax, with red herrings and diversions in the best mystery writing tradition. The Survivors is definitely an addictive page-turner, solidifying Harper's place as the Queen of Australian crime writing.
In the 1970s and 1980s communities across California lived in terror. In the San Joaquin Valley there was the 'Visalia Ransacker'. Sacramento had the 'East Area Rapist', while Orange County had the 'Original Night Stalker'. In the decades before DNA profiling and centralised crime databases, each county worked independently and there was little sharing of information. It wasn't until DNA testing in 2001, that it became clear all of these criminals were the same man.
Crime writer Michelle McNamara gave this criminal a new name - the 'Golden State Killer'. She sought to explore this cold case in an attempt to help solve it. McNamara wanted to understand how a peeping tom who prowled the suburbs escalated from ransacking and burglary to rape and then increasingly brutal murder. McNamara kept interest in this case alive by launching her TrueCrimeDiary website in 2006 and writing a series of articles about this killer published in Los Angeles magazine.
McNamara's search for the killer is detailed in her book I'll Be Gone in the Dark: One Woman's Obsessive Search for the Golden State Killer (2018). Part police procedural, part true crime saga, I'll Be Gone in the Dark is a fascinating exploration of the mechanics behind cold case investigations. Despite its gruesome subject matter, McNamara avoids sensationalism and is always respectful of the victims and the trauma they experienced.
What makes it a compelling read is McNamara herself and the lengths she went to try to solve this mystery. With Nancy Drew pluck and DCI Jane Tennison's resolve, McNamara investigates thoroughly, interviewing witnesses, visiting crime scenes, combing through thousands of pages of evidence. When she teams up with Paul Holes, Contra Costa County cold case investigator, they make quick progress on the case - ruling in and out suspects, developing a profile and zeroing in on the killer.
McNamara died suddenly in 2016 and her book was completed by writers Paul Haynes and Billy Jensen. Her husband pushed to have the book published, and it ended up as a New York Times Bestseller. There is now also an HBO documentary series about McNamara's investigation.
The final chapter of the book is McNamara's 'Letter to an Old Man' where she writes directly to the Golden State Killer. She tears him down and foreshadows his eventual capture, writing
'One day soon, you'll hear a car pull up to your curb, an engine cut out. You'll hear footsteps coming up your front walk...'
Two months after publication of the book, Joseph James DeAngelo (age 72) was arrested on 24 April 2018 charged with eight murders and later charged with 13 kidnapping and abduction attempts. While he is suspected of committing at least 50 rapes, the statute of limitations has expired on these crimes. To avoid the death penalty, DeAngelo plead guilty to all these crimes, including the rapes, and on 21 August 2020 he was sentenced to life without parole.
While McNamara never managed to identify DeAngelo and died before his capture and arrest, her work undoubtedly raised awareness of his crimes, made him the Golden State Killer, and contributed to his downfall.
The Shortlist was announced today for the 2020 Booker prize. The thirteen titles on the Longlist have been whittled down to this six:
Diane Cook - The New Wilderness (USA)
Tsitsi Dangarembga - This Mournable Body (Zimbabwe)
Avni Doshi - Burnt Sugar(USA)
Maaza Mengiste - The Shadow King (Ethiopia/USA)
Douglas Stuart - Shuggie Bain (Scotland/USA)
Brandon Taylor - Real Life (USA)
This is an interesting shortlist. The judges have bumped Hilary Mantel (thereby denying her the trifecta for her Cromwell trilogy) and have chosen five American/US based authors. While the snubbing of Mantel is one thing, but the over abundance of Americans on the shortlist will likely be the more controversial choice given the decision to allow non-Commonwealth nationalities into the running for these awards in 2014 is still a problematic for many in the publishing industry.
Of all these titles, the ones I am most interested in are the books by Cook and Stuart. The Winner of the £50,000 revealed in November.
Famous actor Arthur Leander is starring as King Lear at Toronto's Elgin Theatre. During a crucial scene he begins to stumble. From the audience, Jeevan rushes to the stage to catch Leander as he falls. The curtain comes down while Jeevan begins CPR on the Hollywood star. At the same time, across town, emergency rooms are becoming flooded with patients, ill with a deadly strain of flu. In the next few hours the world will change irrevocably, as a worldwide pandemic wipes out almost the entire population leaving scattered pockets of survivors.
In April I picked up Station Eleven (2014) by Emily St John Mandel. I was gripped from the moment it began but had to stop as it was all too real, too frightening, too soon. Now, six months into the COVID-19 pandemic, I felt ready to try again. Over the past few days I have been engrossed in this unforgettable novel.
Station Eleven follows the lives of Leander, his ex-wives and child, a young co-star, a friend, the paramedic who tried to save him, and various other survivors of the pandemic. Non-linear, the story is told in switching timeframes - from decades before to twenty years after the world collapsed. We learn about how people adapted to a world without electricity, the internet and modern medicine.
There is so much I loved about this book. Parts of it were set in Cabbagetown - the area of Toronto where I grew up - so deep nostalgia crept in as Jeevan walked along Carlton Street, visited Allan Gardens and spoke of places from my childhood. The Travelling Symphony - a ragtag troupe of musicians and actors - that roam the territories to bring culture to the survivors. To my delight, their motto - 'Survival is Insufficient' - is taken from Star Trek Voyager. The way Miranda pours her heart into creating comic books which link together so many of the characters. The 'Museum of Civilisation' Clark creates, with its defunct technology, to preserve the past. The efforts of a librarian to record the memories of those he meets. All of these intriguing elements add to the richness of the story.
Mandel writes beautifully. She paces the story by packaging the chapters and altering the narrative style. The characters were well crafted and, through them, Mandel raises issues like the vacuity of celebrity culture, the role of technology, the desire to leave a legacy, and the burden of memory. While in the 'After' there were post-apcocalyptic hints of The Walking Dead and Cormac McCarthy's The Road, Station Eleven presents a more hopeful view. Despite the bleakness and the devastating carnage of the virus, human empathy and morality will bring people together and the world can reinvent itself. Just the message we need at this time.
HBO has created a mini-series of Station Eleven which was filming as the pandemic began. I look forward to seeing it when it airs.
The winner of the 2020 Women's Prize for fiction has just been announced, and I am delighted that Maggie O'Farrell has been recognised for her incredible novel, Hamnet.
Women's Prize Winner 2020
A live online ceremony took place with Chair of Judges Martha Lane Fox announcing the winner. Fox said of Hamnet,
“The euphoria of being in the same room for the final judging meeting was quickly eclipsed by the excitement we all feel about this exceptional winner. Hamnet, while set long ago, like all truly great novels expresses something profound about the human experience that seems both extraordinarily current and at the same time, enduring.”
Maggie O’Farrell received the £30,000 prize and the award - ‘Bessie’, a limited-edition bronze figurine - from judge Paula Hawkins in Edinburgh.
I absolutely loved this novel as have the friends and family members I shared it with. I am so pleased that it won and that O'Farrell will get a wider readership as a result. Read my review of Hamnet here.
Many people I know and admire rave about the writing of Rachel Cusk. Each time she released one of the novels in her recent trilogy I would be asked if I had read her work yet. While I had bought the books when they came out, I never felt in the right reading mood. However, for some unknown reason, I decided that now was the time to move at least one off my towering 'To Be Read' pile.
Outline (2014) tells the story of Faye, a woman who travels from her home in London to Athens to teach a summer writing course. While it is narrated by Faye, we know very little about her, as she is only revealed through how she relays the stories of those around her. A keen observer, she entices people to share their stories and we learn about their families, lovers, dreams, careers, passions - while at the same time our narrators shares very little of herself. We learn, over time, that she is divorced and has children, but for the most part she remains elusive.
It begins on the flight to Athens when Faye is seated next to a thrice-married man who reveals key moments from his life story. Along the way we learn about her students, writers and others she meets as she dines, sails, swims, and teaches.
This was a really intriguing book. Cusk is an intelligent writer and I cannot recall another time I have read a book with such an ever-present narrator that I know so little about. Her voice propels the book along, as she shapes the narrative, yet she so rarely gives insight into herself.
It was not until the last section of the novel where it became clear what she was doing. Cusk writes (p240) how one can reveal themselves in the contrast to those around them:
This anti-description, for want of a better way of putting it, had made something clear to her by a reverse kind of exposition: while he talked she began to see herself as a shape, an outline, with all the detail filled in around it while the shape itself remained blank.
Outline is an intriguing novel - smart, perceptive, ambitious and unconventional. It made me keen to learn more about Faye and desperate to travel to Greece! Cusk has followed Outline up with two more volumes: Transit (2017) and Kudos (2018), which I look forward to reading.
Sarah Bailey's debut novel, The Dark Lake (2017), introduces Detective Sergeant Gemma Woodstock and a compelling new series of police procedural, crime thrillers.
Beautiful teacher Rosalind Ryan is found dead on the opening night of the school play she has directed. Her body lies in Smithson's lake, bright red roses strewn around her. Gemma and her partner Felix are assigned to investigate this shocking crime. But Gemma has a secret past with the victim, and a range of other matters she wishes to conceal, which threaten to come to the surface as the police dig deeper into the background of the dead woman and those around her.
I love unlikable protagonists. From the outset I admired Bailey's portrayal of Gemma as a deeply flawed mother, lover, daughter, friend and professional. She is complex and often makes bad decisions. As the novel progresses the two timelines - past and present - provides insight into the interwoven stories of victim and investigator.
This novel has everything I was looking for - an escape, a mystery, a distinctly Australian setting, and compelling characters. Sarah Bailey is part of a new wave of Aussie noir novelists like Jane Harper, Emily Maguire, Chris Hammer. I look forward to reading the next two novels in this series - Into the Night (2018) and Where the Dead Go (2019) - and seeing how Bailey's writing matures and learning what happens to Gemma Woodstock.
Goodreads has been running a summer reading challenge encouraging readers to explore new titles, genres and authors. Of course here in the Southern Hemisphere it has been winter, so while I haven't been out in the sunshine enjoying beach reads, I have had a number of afternoons curled up with a cup of a tea and a good book.
Here's what I read during my winter reading challenge:
Sisters Ann Eliza and Evelina Bunner operate a millinery shop in a poor neighbourhood in New York City. They spend their days manning the shop, attending to the handful of customers, and making paper flowers and other adornments. Living in a small room at the back of the shop, the two sisters have a very small social circle and are well on their way to spinsterhood.
Ann Eliza purchases a lovely clock for her sister's birthday and, in doing so, the sisters befriend Mr Ramy, the clockmaker. Mr Ramy visits the sisters regularly and takes them on outings to Central Park and to visit in a friend of his in Hoboken. Ramy is not particularly attractive or charismatic, but he awakens in the sisters an awareness of how dull and monotonous their lives had become. As Ramy becomes closer to the sisters, a wedge is formed between the two women and their relationship changes irrevocably.
Written in 1892 (published 1916 in Xingu and Other Stories) Edith Wharton's novella showcases the lives of those at the poorer end of the social spectrum. Wharton evokes the era perfectly and is able to capture the desires of the women, especially the secret passions of Ann Eliza.
This is not a cheery, upbeat story. In fact it is downright depressing with these sisters living in poverty, squirrelling away their savings, trying to eke out a living in a basement shop in an undesirable location. What happens to them through their relationship with Ramy is so sad, but there is something about the resilience and determination in Ann Eliza that made this wonderful. Wharton's naturalistic style, the crispness of her prose and her understanding of female longing, come together to craft a brilliant, unforgettable novella.
Wharton's The House of Mirth and The Age of Innocence are among my favourite novels of all time. Bunner Sisters has reminded me of how much I love Wharton, and encouraged me to (re)read more of her work.
Little is known of the inner life of Elizabeth Macarthur, one of the early settlers in Sydney NSW, who arrived in 1789 with her officer husband, John, and young son, Edward. The early days of the colony were recorded by men like Lieutenant Watkin Tench and the few women present barely rated a mention.
But imagine that Mrs Macarthur secretly wrote a memoir, and placed the manuscript in a tin, hidden away in the roof of her home at Elizabeth Farm. What stories would she tell about her six-month voyage from England, her life as a young woman in a remote penal colony, the challenges of her marriage to a volatile husband, and her role in establishing Australia as a leading exporter of merino wool? In A Room Made of Leaves (2020), Australian author Kate Grenville, has transcribed and published the secret memoir of Elizabeth Macarthur, giving voice to a remarkable woman.
Born Elizabeth Veale in Devon, her father died when she was only four years old. Her mother remarried and placed young Elizabeth in the care of her grandfather on his sheep farm where she learned how to count, breed and classify sheep. She married an ambitious soldier, John Macarthur, who sought to make a name for himself in the colonies. From the outset, the marriage was a challenge, as John was prone to an explosive rage whenever he felt slighted. Elizabeth had to use her wits to calm her husband and her charm to retain a decent social standing among the officers and colonists. A Room Made of Leaves takes the reader back to Devon, to explore her first encounters with John Macarthur, her travels to Australia and her experiences as an early settler.
Of course there was no secret memoir, but Grenville found inspiration in the real letters Elizabeth wrote to friends and relations back in England. She made scant reference to her husband in these letters, and Grenville used these gaps to hypothesise Elizabeth's thoughts and desires. Grenville's Elizabeth is a wise, quick-witted, passionate and industrious woman, seeking a home and a little corner, un petit coin, of her own.
I absolutely loved this book and was engrossed in the story from beginning to end. Grenville's writing is delightful, and I particularly enjoyed the way in which she described the landscape, Elizabeth's growing understanding of astronomy and botany, and her willingness to learn about indigenous language and customs. I would recommend this novel to anyone interested in Australian history.
I am now curious to learn more about this pioneering woman and will seek out Michelle Scott Tucker's Elizabeth Macarthur: a life at the edge of the world (2018), and will check out Grenville's The Lieutenant (2007) about William Dawes, astronomer of the First Fleet, who has an important role to play in A Room Made of Leaves.
This week the Longlist was announced for the 2020 Booker prize. The thirteen titles nominated include authors from America, Britain, Ethiopia, Ireland, Scotland and Zimbabwe.
The Booker Prize is always a strange collection of titles, but what I love about the Longlist is that it introduces me to many authors and books I do not know. From last year's Longlist I discovered I read and enjoyed winner Margaret Atwood's The Testaments, Oyinkan Braithwaite's My Sister, the Serial Killer, and John Lanchester's The Wall.
I haven't read any of the books on this year's Longlist yet, so let's take a quick look at the nominees:
Diane Cook - The New Wilderness (USA)
Five year old Agnes lives in a heavily polluted city. Her mother, Bea, wants to save her daughter from the ravages of climate change so relocates to the Wilderness State. Here they live as nomadic hunter-gatherers, in a vast untouched expanse of nature. Agnes grows wilder while Bea cannot fully seperate from her urban upbringing and they grow further apart. This sounds like an intriguing dystopian novel - my favourite kind!
Tsitsi Dangarembga - This Mournable Body(Zimbabwe)
Tambu has left her dead-end job and is now living in an Harare youth hostel. She moves into a boarding house, run by a widow, and takes up work as a biology teacher. Each choice she has to make leads her further away form the future she imagined for herself. This is the third novel which features Tambu, having been the protagonist in Dangarembga's earlier novels Nervous Conditions (1988) and The Book of Not (2006).
Avni Doshi - Burnt Sugar(USA)
'I would be lying if I said my mother's misery has never given me pleasure' - with that opening line, Doshi sets the scene for a novel about a fraught mother-daughter relationship. Tara was a bit of a wild child, running away from her affluent family to pursue a life in a free-love ashram. She dragged her young daughter with her, ambivalent about her role as a parent. Now the daughter is grown and the two women have to reconcile their relationship. This is Avni Doshi's debut novel, and it was published in India as Girl in White Cotton.
Gabriel Krauze - Who They Was (UK)
Set in the public housing tower blocks of North West London, this autobiographical novel is about how to survive the violence of street gangs and drug dealers. It is about how you can escape the past but never truly leave it behind. Krauze was part of this world as a gang member in his early life, and has drawn on his personal experiences for his debut novel.
Hilary Mantel - The Mirror and The Light(UK)
Mantel completes her Thomas Cromwell trilogy with The Mirror and the Light, finishing what she began with Wolf Hall (2009) and continued with Bringing Up the Bodies (2012). The fact that the previous two volumes won the Booker Prize makes her the hottest contender for this year's award. Opening with the death of Anne Boleyn, we follow Cromwell in his final years, during a volatile period in England in the reign of Henry VIII.
Colum McCann - Apeirogon (Ireland/USA)
This novel explores an unlikely friendship between two men on the Israel-Palestine border who are brought together by their shared grief at the loss of their daughters. Israeli Rami's 13 year old daughter is killed by a suicide bomber. Palestinian Bassam's 10 year old daughter is shot by the border police. The novel is written in 1001 fragments of varying lengths which bring the story together like a mosaic.
Maaza Mengiste - The Shadow King (Ethiopia/USA)
Set in Ethiopia in 1935, this novel focuses on women soldiers at the start of World War 2. Young Hirut is adapting to her life as a maid in the household of an army officer. As Mussolini invades the country and Hirut finds herself caring for the wounded, frustrated that she cannot do more. She takes action and inspires women to take up arms against the Italians, and is forced to endure life as a prisoner of war.
Kiley Reid - Such a Fun Age (USA)
African-American babysitter Emira is asked to take a white toddler out so his mother Alix can work. At the local supermarket a security guard accuses the babysitter of kidnapping the child. Humiliated, Emira is furious at her treatment. When Alix steps in to make things right, messy complications arise. The novel explores class, racism, transactional relationships and the challenges of being young adults in the modern world.
Douglas Stuart - Shuggie Bain (Scotland/USA)
Glasgow, 1981. Agnes Bain wants more from life, but when her husband leaves her and their three children she is trapped and descends into alcoholic despair. Her children try to help her, but they must leave to save themselves. Her son Shuggie stays. Stuart's debut novel is a gritty portrayal of a dysfunctional family living rough in the bleak Thatcher era.
Brandon Taylor - Real Life(USA)
Set in an American midwest university town, a young man is studying for a degree in biochemistry. Black, queer, introverted, Wallace has left behind life and all he knows in Alabama. Self-preservation is key to his survival and he builds a wall behind which even his closest friends cannot penetrate. But at the end of summer, Wallace must confront the trauma of his past in order to determine his future. This is Brandon Taylor's debut novel.
Anne Tyler - Redhead by the Side of the Road (USA)
Baltimore, Maryland is the setting for many of Anne Tyler's novels (including the delightful Dinner at the Homesick Restaurant). Self-employed, mid-40 year old Micah is a creature of habit, leading a very structured life. His routine is disrupted when the woman he has been seeing faces eviction and a teenager shows up claiming to be his son. Tyler has a rare talent of capturing ordinary life with wit and empathy. She was previously shortlisted for the Booker Prize in 2015 for her novel A Spool of Blue Thread.
Sophie Ward - Love and Other Thought Experiments(UK)
In this experimental novel, Ward was inspired by philosophical thought experiments. Eliza and Rachel are wanting to have a child and have planned out their future as a family. One night Rachel is convinced that an ant is stuck in her eye, but scientist Eliza dismisses this as impossible. Over ten interconnected chapters, each told from a different person's perspective and based on a different known thought experiment, the two women explore love and life.
C Pam Zhang - How Much of These Hills is Gold(USA)
In the dying days of the American gold rush, two siblings, aged 12 and 11, find themselves orphaned and alone. As Chinese-American immigrants, Lucy and Sam find themselves unwanted in a western mining town. They place their father's body on their backs and set off across the harsh landscape to find a spot to bury him and a place to call home. This is a debut novel by Chinese-American author Zhang.
Despite the over-abundance of American authors, I am really pleased with the diversity of this year's nominees in that more than half of the authors are writers of colour and nine are women. Of all these titles, the ones I am most interested in are the books by Mantel, Cook, Stuart and Ward. I must admit that I am extremely disappointed that Maggie O'Farrell was not nominated for her brilliant Hamnet. I also wish that there were a Canadian or Australian novel to make the cut. I wonder whether the judges will play it safe by choosing Mantel for the win, making it a trifecta for her Cromwell trilogy, or whether they will aim for something unexpected. We shall see.
Here's what the judges had to say about the longlist.
The Shortlist will be announced on 15 September 2020, with the Winner of the £50,000 revealed in November. Better get reading!
Curtis Sittenfeld's novel Rodham (2020) explores what might have happened if Hillary Rodham did not marry Bill Clinton. Would there be a Clinton Presidency? Would Hillary Rodham have a glittering professional career? Would America get its first female President?
In this fictional version of the life of Hillary Rodham, she pursues a different life and career path. While they still meet and are romantically involved while at Yale, Hillary rejects Bill's proposals of marriage because she realises he will never be faithful to her. They part ways and Bill continues on to become Governor of Arkansas, marrying another woman and having a family, while Hillary returns to Illinois to teach law at Northwestern University before running for office herself.
Hillary was always a trailblazer, from her commencement speech at Wellesley to her lifelong advocacy for education and health care. In Rodham, she is complex - intelligent and worldly, empathetic and human, loyal and lonely. Ambitious and determined, along the way Hillary makes some poor decisions which alienate friends and cause a media furore which she must navigate.
Clinton is portrayed as an ego-centric womaniser who has endearing, charming qualities - an electric personality that people gravitate towards. Whereas Hillary is plain and cerebral, and has to fight hard to be heard. Even Donald Trump makes an appearance in his trademark bombastic style.
Even though Rodham is fiction, I found it difficult to fully remove what I already know of the people involved and this was an obstacle when reading as I could never fully immerse myself in the narrative. The early scenes of Hillary and Bill were a delightful romp, but the detailed descriptions of their amorous sex life made for awkward reading.
Sittenfeld makes some interesting choices, including writing it in first person, which allows the author to explore how Hillary might struggle between her private and public personas. She also covers issues of race, gender and ageing in a fascinating way. I particularly enjoyed the way in which female friendships are portrayed, with Hillary's relationships with lifelong friends (and their children) showcasing the importance of these deep, unwavering bonds.
Rodham is a strangely compelling novel and, in truth, while I am glad that I have read it I am not entirely sure how I feel about it. But it has left me wondering... what if?
Since my overseas holiday was cancelled due to the pandemic, I have been escaping through reading novels set in destinations I long to visit. Patricia Highsmith's The Two Faces of January (1964) is set in Greece - in Athens and the island of Crete - and Paris.
American conman Chester MacFarland and his young wife Colette are on holiday in Europe. While in Athens, the MacFarlands realise that their past is catching up with them and they need to quickly move on. A new acquaintance, American ex-pat Rydal Keener offers to help the MacFarlands with new identities and a route out of Athens. The threesome travel to Crete and, over an intense few days, secrets are exposed and tensions rise between Rydal and Chester, with Colette caught in the middle. A showdown at the Palace of Knossos changes the relationship between the two men irrevocably; now determined to blame each other for a terrible crime. A cat-and-mouse pursuit ensues as they head back to Athens and on to France, trying to outrun the police and each other.
I have been on a bit of a Highsmith run lately, having recently read The Tremor of Forgery(1969), This Sweet Sickness(1960), andDeep Water(1957). She has an ability to create a page-turning thriller, with multi-layered characters and fascinating plot devices. In The Two Faces of January I found it intriguing how she explored the dark backstories of Chester and Rydal and their interpretations of their own morality.
A film was released in 2014 directed by Hossein Amini with Viggo Mortensen (Chester), Kirsten Dunst (Colette) and Oscar Isaac (Rydal). Upon finishing the novel I watched the movie, which I greatly enjoyed. The cinematography was beautiful, transporting viewers to 1960s Greece. The film differs from the novel and the climactic end scenes have moved from Les Halles in Paris to the Grand Bazaar in Istanbul. The three actors were brilliant in their portrayals of the Americans abroad.
The winner of the 2020 Miles Franklin Award, Australia's most prestigious literary award, was announced via a live online presentation on 16 July 2020. This year the award and its $60,000 prize went to Tara June Winch for The Yield.
The novel explores the legacy of colonial violence, dispossession, intergenerational trauma and destruction of the natural world. The Chair of the judging panel, Richard Neville said ' In English "yield' signifies what one takes from the land. In Wiradjuri it is "the thing you give to the movement, the space between things: baayanha'. Tara June Winch also won Book of the Year at the 2020 NSW Premier's Literary Award for The Yield.
I am normally terrible at predicting who will win these types of prizes, but this year I nailed it having guessed that Winch would win.
Against the backdrop of the #MeToo movement more novels are expected to explore sexual violence in an attempt to make sense of what is happening to and for women. Kate Elizabeth Russell's debut novel, My Dark Vanessa (2020), was hotly anticipated in the publishing world and tackles this difficult subject matter in an interesting way.
The novel is written in the first person, narrated by Vanessa Wye, alternating between two timelines. In 2000 Vanessa is 15 years old at a prestigious boarding school, while in 2017 she is 32 and grappling with her past.
Vanessa grew up as an only child in a fairly traditional New England family. Her parents sent her to boarding school for its educational opportunities. At school, Vanessa meets Jacob Strane, a forty-something English teacher. Strane shows interest in Vanessa and encourages her creative writing. He introduces her to authors like Nabakov, Plath and Edna St Vincent Millay. Vanessa is delighted with Strane's interest, not understanding that she is being groomed by him. She begins a secret relationship with her teacher, cutting ties with her peers, and becoming more and more isolated. When rumours of the relationship reach school authorities, Strane breaks it off and Vanessa retreats home, shattered.
In 2017, the 32 year old Vanessa is still in touch with Strane. Her life veered off course, having never reached the potential she showed as a teen. She has been unable to settle into a decent job or any regular relationship. When Strane is accused by another young woman, Taylor, of grooming her when she was at school following the same techniques and patterns he used with Vanessa, Vanessa's world closes in on her and she is forced to confront her past.
Russell has crafted an uncomfortable book on an uncomfortable subject. Vanessa is a complex and challenging character who has difficulty in perceiving what was done to her as abuse as she does not want to be victim. Strane is pathetic, rather than creepy. I found it an interesting novel and well worth reading.
Earlier this year I read Lisa Taddeo's Three Women, and My Dark Vanessa very much reminded me of one of the three women, Maggie, and how her relationship with a high school teacher damaged her.
The 2020 Miles Franklin Award shortlist was announced this week, confirming that I am terrible at predicting which titles would make the cut.
The shortlist is:
Tony Birch - The White Girl
Peggy Frew - Islands
John Hughes - No One
Philip Salom - The Returns
Carrie Tiffany - Exploded View
Tara June Winch - The Yield
I had expected Birch and Winch to make the list, but did not anticipate the others. Despite my poor track record, I reckon Wiradjuri author Tara June Winch will take the prize. She has already received the NSW Premier's Literary Award - Book of the Year, Christina Stead Prize for Fiction for The Yield.
Julia Baird's luminous book Phosphorescence (2020) was just the tonic for life during the pandemic. When the world is in peril and life feels out of control, our resilience is tested. Focussing on our internal happiness - the light within - we can navigate dark days and come out the other side.
It is difficult to describe this book as it is so many things. The first quarter is on nature - the awe and wonder that is all around us if we stop and take time to observe. Part two is about telling the stories of our own lives and accepting our imperfections. The third section is on friendship and how vital relationships are. The last quarter is on paying attention, savouring joy, finding our inner strength.
Baird's book is intensely personal as she reveals her experiences with cancer and the difficulty she had as a mother of young children while undergoing surgery and recovery. She found solace in the sea through her early morning ocean swims with a group of women who meet at Manly. She shares stories of her life in New York, her university days, and the friends she has made along the way.
I have previously read Baird's stunning biography Victoria the Queen(2017) which showcased her talents as a researcher, writer and historian. In Phosphorescence she uses these same skills but adds an element of memoir which draws the reader in.
I was talking with colleagues the other day about the good things about life during the pandemic. We spoke about slowing down, making time to connect and reignite relationships, revisiting hobbies, and finding joy in life's simple pleasures. These are things I want to carry into my post-pandemic life, along with the lessons of finding awe and wonder I was reminded of when reading Phosphorescence.
Jess Hill won the 2020 Stella Prize for her remarkable book See What You Made Me Do, an investigation into the causes and impacts of domestic abuse.
The premise of Hill's investigation is to move away from the 'why don't you leave?' question so often asked of women, to focus on why men perpetrate acts of violence and control on their families. Hill asks:
Why does he stay? Why do these men, who seem to have so much hatred for their partners, not only stay, but do everything they can to stop their partner from leaving?
Prior to reading this book, I thought I had a good understanding of domestic abuse, through my gender and legal studies and my work. But I see now that I had a limited comprehension of how pervasive the issue is and how destructive its impact. See What You Made Me Do was enlightening on so many levels.
Hill's deep investigation lead her to interview survivors, police, lawyers, judges, social workers and more. In doing so she paints a picture of domestic abuse as a national tragedy for which there is a lack of political will to address. The family court system hinders women facing domestic abuse. The safety net - shelters, hotlines, services for women and children - has been depleted by funding cuts and cannot keep up with demand.
A large part of the problem of course is that domestic abuse is hidden behind the walls of a family home. Far more pervasive than physical violence is coercive control. Hill writes:
Domestic abuse is not just violence. It's worse. It is a unique phenomenon, in which the perpetrator takes advantage of their partner's love and trust and uses that person's most intimate details - their deepest desires, shames and secrets - as a blueprint for their abuse.
The chapter on the impact of domestic abuse on children was heartbreaking, but the chapter on Aboriginal women and children (Dadirri) was devastating as Hill argues that colonisation brought domestic violence to Aboriginal communities - 'It was a type of violence introduced to Australia like an invasive species.'
I was reluctant to read See What You Made Me Do given the heavy subject matter. However it is such an important, powerful book it should be mandatory reading for every elected official and all who work in the police and judicial system.
