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Mazel Tov by J.S. Margot
In 1987, J.S. Margot was a mini-skirted university student, and she took a job as a tutor to a family with four children. There would be nothing remarkable about that story, except that the Schneider family were Orthodox Jews, and their household was a world entirely unfamiliar to her. Her memoir, Mazel Tov, traces the strange nature of their relationship, right through to the present day. Though Margot has previously written five novels, this is her first book of non-fiction, and the first to be translated into English. The translation was undertaken by Jane Hedley-Prôle, and the fine folks at Pushkin Press were kind enough to send me a copy for review.
I was expecting a cutesy strange bedfellows read, full of funny anecdotes about culture clash and sweet moments of revelation. Mazel Tov is nothing like that. It’s a reserved, but provocative, account of family and religion, and also language, politics, marriage, history, and oppression. The children of the Schneider family are curious, but pious, and in many ways end up teaching Margot more than she teaches them.
When We Were Vikings by Andrew David MacDonald
Zelda is 21 years old. She lives with her older brother, Gert, and she’s obsessed with Vikings. Not the TV show, or the football team – literal Vikings, the Norse people who kicked around Northern Europe up until the 11th century. Zelda’s a little bit different, and she knows that, but she’s figured out how to get by in the world. Then, she figures out that Gert has made friends with some not-nice people who are getting him to do not-nice things for money… and she decides to take matters into her own hands, the way her Viking heroes would. Simon & Schuster were kind enough to send me a copy of When We Were Vikings for review.
Despite dealing with some very dark themes (trigger warnings for violence, abuse, and rape), this is a surprisingly charming and endearing novel from debut author Andrew David MacDonald. Zelda’s differences make her awkward and difficult to deal with at times, but she’s also earnest, enthusiastic, and caring. I liked that MacDonald told her story tenderly, without making Zelda a spectacle or an object of pity. When We Were Vikings is never condescending, always compassionate, and achieves the perfect balance between drama and humour. This is a must-read if you’re in the mood for an uplifting story about what to do when life deals you a shitty hand.
Get When We Were Vikings here.
Going Dark by Julia Ebner
By day, Julia Ebner is a journalist and a research fellow, working at a counter-extremism think tank that monitors the activity of radical groups right across the spectrum. You’d think that after a long day at work, she’d want to come home, put her feet up, and binge-watch ’90s sit-coms. But, no: Ebner spends her spare time going undercover in the online world of extremists, taking on secret identities to gain access to the darkest corners of the internet that you can imagine. She shares her experiences in Going Dark, and Bloomsbury was kind enough to send me a copy for review.
The question nagging at the back of the mind of anyone who picks up a book like this is “could I become radicalised online and not even know it?”. The scary answer is: probably. We have all felt as lonely and hard-done-by as the people that Ebner finds in groups for trad-wives, in-cels, jihadists, and white supremacists. She goes above and beyond to provide this multi-dimensional view of online extremism, but shows remarkable restraint in not sensationalising the subject matter. Everyone should read Going Dark, if for no other reason than what you don’t know can hurt you.
Get Going Dark here.
the lactic acid in the calves of your despair by Ali Whitelock
It will come as no surprise that Ali Whitelock’s follow up to and my heart crumples like a coke can is every bit as glorious, gory, witty, and wonderful as you hoped it would be (and then some). I never cease to be amazed by this poet’s incredible talent to tickle, tantalise, delight, and devastate. Personal favourite from this collection has to be NOTES from the six week course entitled: ‘a beginner’s guide to writing poetry’, but an honourable mention must go to if you have no eyes where do the tears go?, and (of course) the poem that became a viral sensation during the Australian bush fires earlier this year, this is coal don’t be afraid. Ali Whitelock continues to give ’em hell, and it’s an honour to watch her do it.
Get the lactic acid in the calves of your despair here.
The Temple House Vanishing by Rachel Donohue
Twenty-five years ago, a teenage student of Temple House vanished, along with her enigmatic and charming art teacher. In the (roughly) present day, a journalist with a childhood connection to the girl decides to investigate. She uncovers multiple stories of unrequited love, artistic passion, obsession, fantasy, and betrayal. That’s the premise of The Temple House Vanishing, the debut novel from Irish writer Rachel Donohue. The fine folks at Corvus (via Allen & Unwin) were kind enough to send me a copy for review.
It might sound like your standard girl-goes-missing mystery/thriller, but Donohue manages to use a well-worn plot to interrogate all manner of very literary themes: class, religion, jealousy. I was particularly taken with the way she presented the ramifications of our collective obsession with true crime. The Temple House Vanishing starts with a bang (major trigger warning), then simmers, until it boils over once again in a dramatic conclusion. It’s a must read for fans of Picnic At Hanging Rock, or The Secret History.
Get The Temple House Vanishing here.
The Great Pretender by Susannah Cahalan
How can we distinguish sanity from insanity? It’s a personal question for Susannah Cahalan, who was destined for a psychiatric institution before a doctor corrected her misdiagnosis and saved her life. It was also the life’s work of a psychology professor, David Rosenhan, who published an explosive study back in the 1970s. He set out to prove just how little we know about how to diagnose and treat mental illness, by having eight “sane” people committed and testing the flawed and arbitrary system of psychiatric diagnosis first-hand. That study had huge ramifications for the provision of mental health treatment, right through to the present day… but can we trust its findings?
Now, don’t mistake The Great Pretender for a anti-psychiatry conspiracy-theorist beat-up. In fact, it is a clear-eyed examination of a turning point in the history of mental health care, in the style of Susan Orlean or Jon Ronson. Cahalan has done the legwork, chasing shadows and ghosts through the annals of the asylums, trying to establish the veracity of Rosenhan’s claims. This is a must-read for anyone affected by mental illness (which, as we know, is pretty much everyone… isn’t it?).
Get The Great Pretender here.
The Love That Remains by Susan Francis
Susan Francis’ self-declared “obsession” with writing about the truth began with her search for her biological parents. She was privately adopted as an infant, and with her adoptive mother declining in late-stage Alzheimer’s, she went looking for answers about her past. Along the way, she found Wayne, the love of her life. Don’t make any snap judgements or assumptions, though: the story that unfolds in The Love That Remains is not the one that you’d expect. The fine folks at Allen And Unwin were kind enough to send me a copy for review.
These events – finding and meeting her birth parents (“Finding My Past”), and finding and meeting Wayne (“Finding Love”) – unfold in the first two parts of the book. The third part (“Finding Myself”), is something different entirely. In it, Francis discovers new truths that challenge everything she thought she knew about the man she married. She’s forced to confront uncomfortable questions: how well can we ever really know a person? Where are love’s bounds? Should we seek out our past to find peace, or focus on the present? The Love That Remains will be a great late-summer read for any fan of Liz Gilbert’s memoirs, with an interest in the big Ls (love, loss, and lies).
Get The Love That Remains here.
Fauna by Donna Mazza
Fauna is perhaps best classified as “eco-gothic speculative fiction”, but that’s a bit of a tongue twister. It falls somewhere between feminist dystopias, like The Handmaid’s Tale, and contemporary Australian climate fiction, like Dyschronia. In it, Donna Mazza imagines a too-near speculative future where a company, Lifeblood(R), offers huge incentives for women to join an experimental genetics program splicing non-human DNA into embryos for in-vitro fertilisation. My thanks to Allen & Unwin for this review copy!
I can’t tell you too much about the plot of Fauna, because – as is the way with speculative novels – most of the impact comes from the slow unveiling of the truth. What I will say is that it grapples with big themes (the nature of personhood, motherhood, grief, yearning, and reckoning with one’s deal with the devil), and it will surely spark a lot of debate at book club!
I Choose Elena by Lucia Osborne-Crowley
Every book lover I know, at some time or another, has sought solace in a book. I Choose Elena, a long-form literary essay from Lucia Osborne-Crowley, explores that impulse at its very extreme. For over a decade, Osborne-Crowley suffered horrific, debilitating symptoms stemming back to a sexual assault in her teens. Now, she expands upon her struggle to come to a place where she could choose what defines her: the actions of a violent man, the illness of her body, or the joy and wonder she found in the works of writers like Elena Ferrante. As the title might suggest, she chooses Elena. Allen & Unwin were kind enough to send me a copy for review.
You don’t need to be familiar with Ferrante (or any other of the dozens of writers Osborne-Crowley references) to find yourself deeply immersed and irrevocably moved by this story. It’s not often that a book will bring me to tears, even less so a literary essay, but this one did (more than once): tears of anguish, tears of fury, tears of gratitude. I Choose Elena is a must-read for fans of Fiona Wright, Gabrielle Jackson, and Bri Lee.
Get I Choose Elena here.
The Bass Rock by Evie Wyld
Evie Wyld’s new novel, The Bass Rock, stretches across centuries to examine the various forms of violence visited upon women by men. There are three protagonists: Sarah, in the 1700s, accused of being a witch and forced to flee into the woods; Ruth, navigating a new home, a new husband, and a new family in the wake of WWII; and Viv, in the present day, forced to reckon with the weight of inter-generational trauma and dysfunction. In their shared setting, the west coast of Scotland, their connections emerge gradually and deftly, like the weaving of a spider’s web. The fine folks at Penguin (Vintage Books) Australia were kind enough to send me this copy for review.
It’s hardly an easy read, disturbing at times, in line with Wyld’s comment that she “writes around things that scare her”. The shifts in perspective are disorienting by design, and each scene is painted so vividly that one can practically smell the salty sea air. Unsettling, uncanny, and unforgiving, there is an eerie timelessness to this story that will stick with you long after you’ve turned the final page.
Get The Bass Rock here.
Jane In Love by Rebecca Givney
A romantic comedy for book lovers, and just in time for Valentine’s Day! Imagine that Jane Austen travelled through time to the present day, and fell in love. Would she stay, knowing that choosing love meant erasing herself from literary history? Or would she go back, knowing that it meant missing her chance at a happily-ever-after? That’s the premise of Jane In Love, the debut novel of Sydney screenwriter and filmmaker Rebecca Givney. The fine folks at Penguin Books Australia were kind enough to send me a copy for review.
This probably isn’t one for the Austen purists. I mean, I’m only a casual fan, and even I was a bit perturbed by Austen as the boy-crazy love-hearts-for-eyes type of heroine, and also by the relative absence of her sister, Cassandra, from the narrative (given her importance in Austen’s “real” life). Still, this was a delightful, warm, and easy read that seamlessly merged the 19th and 21st centuries – definitely a great bookish gift for your historical-fiction-loving Valentine.
Get Jane In Love here.
In The Dream House by Carmen Maria Machado
A blurb that promises a book “revolutionises” a genre, especially one as saturated as memoir, seems quite literally unbelievable. But I’m here to tell you the truth: Carmen Maria Machado has done it with In The Dream House. It is an intimate, horrifying, beautiful, defiant, heartfelt, multi-dimensional account of her formative – and abusive – love affair with a partner she calls only “the woman in the Dream House”. I am extremely grateful to the fine folks at Serpent’s Tail and Allen & Unwin for sending me this copy to review.
This is a Rubik’s cube of a book, examining the subject from every possible angle, twisting and turning upon itself until all the edges line up. Some of the chapters are fragments, some are longer recollections, some mine the depths of pop culture and literature and art and critical theory in search of representation. I gulped this book down greedily, like a strong drink at the end of a particularly hard day.
Get In The Dream House here.
American Dirt by Jeanine Cummins
From my review on Primer: American Dirt is already shaping up to be the most divisive book of the year. On the one hand, it’s been heralded as The Grapes Of Wrath for the 21st century. It’s Oprah’s first book club pick of 2020, and Ann Patchett has said she’ll “never stop thinking about it”. On the other hand, critics have derided the author, Jeanine Cummins, for misrepresenting cultures and experiences that are not her own, and proliferating “trauma porn”. So, which is it? A masterpiece, or a mangled mess of misappropriation?
Get American Dirt here.
Big Lies In A Small Town by Diane Chamberlain
I’m not too big to admit when I’m wrong (it’s rare, but it does happen). I took one look at Big Lies In A Small Town and thought “ugh, another domestic thriller pot boiler, snooze”. Lies are the new Girls in book titles, after all. But, once again, there’s something to that whole not-judging-a-book-by-its-cover thing. Many thanks to the fine folks at Macmillan for sending me this copy for review, and inadvertently keeping me humble…
The story centers around a Depression-era mural: the woman commissioned to paint it (who disappeared under mysterious circumstances), and the woman charged with restoring it for installation, nearly eight decades later. Big Lies In A Small Town is fictional, but the town of Edenton and the themes Chamberlain explores (race, privilege, and opportunity) are very real. Don’t skip past this one at the airport – it’s worth it!
Pssst: Christine at The Uncorked Librarian featured my write-up of Big Lies In A Small Town in her fantastic round-up of books set in North Carolina here!
Get Big Lies In A Small Town here.
Shark Arm by Phillip Roope & Kevin Meagher
The first line of Shark Arm sets it up beautifully: “On 25 April 1935, a 4.4 metre tiger shark – caught one week earlier off the coast of New South Wales – horrified onlookers at a Sydney aquarium when it vomited up a human arm.” This is one of the most bizarre and unlikely true crime stories in recorded Australian history, and this new book turns every stone in an attempt to get to the truth of the decades-old cold case. Allen & Unwin were kind enough to send me a copy for review.
The “shark arm”, as it obviously became known, led police down a rabbit hole of smuggling, insurance fraud, and – not one, but two – grisly murders. Though it’s presented in classic true crime fashion, complete with glossy photograph inserts, Shark Arm is the perfect read for Aussie history buffs, particularly those with a keen interest in law enforcement bungles.
Get Shark Arm here.
Such A Fun Age by Kiley Reid
Such A Fun Age is the debut novel from American author Kiley Reid. It might look like a sweet summer read, but underneath lurks a serious critique of race, class, and good intentions. The fine folks at Bloomsbury were kind enough to send me a copy for review.
Emira is a young woman still struggling to find her feet. As she stumbles through her twenties, she makes ends meet with a baby-sitting job, employed by the feminist advocate and “personal brand” Alix. One night, at a supermarket, Emira is pulled up by security, suspected of kidnapping the young (white) child in her charge. The whole incident is filmed by a witness, Kelley, but he swears to Emira that he’ll never release the footage. As love blooms between Emira and Kelley, she discovers that he and Alix are connected in a way she never could have predicted. Each has their own account of their history, and their own opinions about what’s best for Emira’s future…
Get Such A Fun Age here.
Rabbits For Food by Binnie Kirshenbaum
Bunny lives in New York. She’s 43 years old. She’s a writer. She’s a middle child. She’s married to a zoologist, named Albie. She has a cat named Jeffery. She also has depression. Rabbits For Food is split into two parts: the events that lead up to her breakdown on New Year’s Eve 2008, and her experiences in the psych ward of a prestigious mental hospital after the fact. The fine folks at Allen & Unwin were kind enough to send me this edition from Serpent’s Tail for review.
Bunny is flawed, no doubt about it, but she is also wry, sarcastic, and extremely endearing. I’m almost certain I’ve already found one of my best reads of the year. Before I was halfway through Rabbits For Food, I knew I wanted to press it into the hands of all of my friends. If you have a dark sense of humour, and appreciate searing insight into the ridiculousness of social niceties, this is the book for you.
Get Rabbits For Food here.
The Strangers We Know by Pip Drysdale
The Strangers We Know is the new domestic drama-slash-thriller by Pip Drysdale. Simon & Schuster were kind enough to provide a copy for review, and it was just the ticket for taking my mind off this stifling summer heat!
Charlie and Oliver had the perfect meet cute, a whirlwind romance, and a happy marriage… until one night, Charlie joins her single friends for a girl’s night out, and the unthinkable happens: they’re swiping through her best friend’s Tinder matches, and Oliver’s profile comes up. The story quickly spirals into a world of DIY detective work, danger and intrigue. I really loved how Drysdale showed that the kind of forensic online investigation so commonplace in 21st century relationships isn’t all that different to tracking down a criminal. This is the perfect thriller for readers who generally prefer rom-coms.
Get The Strangers We Know here.
A Tall History Of Sugar by Curdella Forbes
In the late 1950s, shortly before Jamaica seizes independence from colonial rule, an infertile couple finds an infant in a basket made of reeds, among a tangle of sea grape trees by the water. They name the child Moshe (Moses), and A Tall History Of Sugar tells his story, an epic romance that sweeps generations and continents. The fine folks at Allen & Unwin were kind enough to send me a copy for review.
This book – the fifth work of fiction from Jamaican writer and professor of Caribbean literature Curdella Forbes – interrogates what it means to be “other”. The narrative is a game of snakes and ladders, and the seemingly-omniscient narrator’s interest in Moshe’s story is revealed as the story moves two steps forward, one step back. A Tall History Of Sugar would be a great pick for fans of Elena Ferrante or Gabriel Garcia Marquez, or anyone else seeking a slow-burn love story to see them through the holidays.
Get A Tall History Of Sugar here.
The Starless Sea by Erin Morgenstern
From my review on Primer: Erin Morgenstern has been off the grid for years. After the tremendous success of her debut novel, The Night Circus in 2011, she withdrew to the woods of the Berkshires with no internet access. There, beyond the reach of her dedicated fans and demanding critics, she set about writing her follow-up novel: The Starless Sea.
Morgenstern’s self-imposed exile has produced a book that is as singular in style as her first, a novel that is set in the contemporary world but branches off into the realms of the mythical and magical. She offers a modern twist on classic fantasy, an elaborate quest narrative for the 21st century.
Get The Starless Sea here.
Damascus by Christos Tsiolkas
I loved Christos Tsiolkas’s 2008 novel The Slap (so much so that I named it one of my must-read books by Aussie authors), but I knew just looking at the blurb of Damascus that it was going to be very different: “a work of immense power and epic scope, taking as its subject nothing less than the events surrounding the birth and establishment of the Christian church”. Allen & Unwin sent me a copy for review, and I was happy to take a giant leap out of my comfort zone.
I’m a big ol’ heathen, so I didn’t have a lot of religious context for what was happening. To me, it almost read like a historic dystopia. But I think that made it all the better, for me to appreciate the poetic language and visceral imagery and raw emotion that Tsiolkas used to depict this world. What I’m saying is you don’t need to be a Christian, or familiar with the historical aspects of Christianity, to read Damascus (and it might actually be better if you aren’t).
Get Damascus here.
Island On The Edge Of The World by Deborah Rodriguez
Island On The Edge Of The World is just as bright and colourful as its cover! In it, four very different women come together to do the impossible: find a lost child, and a missing mother, in Haiti. My radar is set to ping at anything that smells like a white-saviour story, but Rodriguez does the work to show a multitude of perspectives and emphasise the importance of self-determination and respect for countries and people in need. I’m really impressed with the way that Deborah Rodriguez managed to take some really heavy themes and issues and turn them into a fun summer read.
The fine folks at Bantam Books were kind enough to send me a copy of this one for review, and I think it would be a great book club pick – especially because this edition includes discussion questions, Haitian recipes, and a guide to ethically helping Haitian people in the back.
Get Island On The Edge Of The World here.
Beauty by Bri Lee
If you were to stand naked in front of a mirror right now, in full fluorescent lighting, what would run through your mind? Would you be brave enough to put those thoughts on a page, and send that page out into the world? That’s what Bri Lee has done in Beauty—a literary essay (longer than a think-piece, shorter than a book), and the fine folks at Allen & Unwin were kind enough to send me a copy for review.
In the first half, Lee gives a candid account of her experience of disordered eating (and, by extension, her disordered thinking about food and body). She details the money she spends on various beautification endeavours, and her difficulty to reconcile the idea of self-improvement without self-loathing. Then, in the second half, she looks at how thinness has become an ethical imperative, she starts to explore the racial intersectionality of the beauty ideal, and she takes aim at the hypocrisy of women’s media and their symbiotic industries. I am HERE FOR IT!
This is an intimate and laudably honest account of what it means to strive for a beauty (read as thinness) ideal. I devoured it in a single sitting.
Get Beauty here.
Find Me by Andre Aciman
We all know that happily-ever-afters aren’t realistic… that doesn’t stop us demanding sequels when authors leave us hanging on an ambiguous ending! Find Me is the continuation of Oliver and Elio’s romance as depicted in Andre Aciman’s 2007 novel Call Me By Your Name. The fine folks at Faber Books were kind enough to send me a copy for review.
The story picks up ten years after the original ended. Aciman’s writing is still dripping with passion, the emotions of the characters are still intensely felt and rendered, but it’s not quite as suffocating as Elio’s youthful infatuation. This is more of an extended epilogue to Call Me By Your Name than an actual sequel, and I’m not sure how it would read as a stand-alone, but Aciman still manages to weave a beautiful story (or, really, stories) of all-consuming love. And there are no loose ends dangling at the end of this one – the story is done!
Get Find Me here.
The Eighth Life by Nino Haratischvili
No matter what they say about our shortened attention spans, the days of the sweeping multigenerational epic are not over. The proof is in the pudding: The Eighth Life by Nino Haratischvili recounts a crucial period in history, the rise and fall of the Soviet Union, through the lives of one exceptional family with a magical recipe for hot chocolate. Scribe has published the English translation for the first time in Australia, and they were kind enough to send me a copy for review.
This translation is the fine work of Charlotte Collins and Ruth Martin (#namethetranslator!). Most reviewers liken Haratischvili to none other than the master of the epic, Leo Tolstoy. I must agree; in fact, I’d say her writing falls smack bang in the middle of the Venn diagram between Tolstoy, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, and Elena Ferrante. I couldn’t honestly call The Eighth Life an “easy” read in any sense, but it is a deeply worthwhile one. Your heart will swell, get torn to pieces, then stitched back together again; you’ll feel part of the Jashi family, with all the joy and devastation that entails.
Get The Eighth Life here.
If the chocolate-y elements are what draws you in, you might want to check out my round-up of the best books for chocolate lovers here.
Guest House For Young Widows by Azadeh Moaveni
The wives, widows, and children of IS fighters are currently languishing in refugee camps; we’ve all seen the footage on the evening news. That’s what makes Guest House For Young Widows by Azadeh Moaveni a particularly timely read, and Scribe was kind enough to send me an early copy for review. In it, a seasoned Middle East reporter explores the questions at the heart of the crisis: what would make a woman leave a cosmopolitan life to become an ISIS bride? Where do we draw the line between victim and conspirator? Is it possible to empathise without being complicit?
Guest House For Young Widows challenges you to see these women as humans, not monsters, subject to the same foils and foibles as the rest of us. They reside in the shades of grey between “good” and “evil”, the liminal space that it’s more convenient for us to forget. Their stories are unique, and yet, strangely relatable.
So many of the young people in this book were frustrated by broken promises of radical change. Are there lessons we can learn here, say, for the Climate Strikers that aged politicians have failed to mollify? Perhaps. I suggest you read it and find out for yourself.
Get Guest House For Young Widows here.
Girl by Edna O’Brien
Girl is a fictionalised account of the experiences of one of the young women captured and held by Boko Haram in Nigeria. O’Brien imagines the events of 2014 through the eyes of her narrator, Maryam. She dedicates the book to the mothers and daughters of North East Nigeria, and according to her acknowledgements, she spent quite some time in the area, researching and developing this novel in consultation with their communities. Faber Books sent me a copy for review.
The prose is blunt and staccato, and at times seems detached; perhaps this is a deliberate attempt on O’Brien’s part to echo a dissociative traumatic response, along with strange shifts of tense and point-of-view within chapters, sometimes within paragraphs. The story’s conclusion shows that escape, rescue, and homecoming weren’t necessarily the happy affairs that the media might have had us believe. Still, I struggled to get past the friction of a privileged older white woman writing the story of a young woman of colour, particularly a story so emotionally and politically charged. It is an interesting read side-by-side with other #ownvoices and non-fiction accounts, but perhaps not one to be read in isolation.
Get Girl here.
The Weekend by Charlotte Wood
The Weekend is the hotly-anticipated follow-up to Charlotte Wood’s 2016 Stella Prize-winning The Natural Way Of Things, and Allen & Unwin were kind enough to send me a copy for review. The story is set on one Christmas weekend, but it’s far from a cozy Christmas read. Four women—Wendy (the academic), Jude (the perfectionist), Adele (the bohemian), and Sylvie (the peacekeeper)—have been friends for decades. But now, Sylvie is dead, and the remaining three are charged with cleaning out her holiday house and readying it for sale.
It’s wonderful to see the complex interior worlds of older women reflected in contemporary fiction, to see the lives of women in their seventies represented as something other than simply “over”. This would be a great book club pick! It will inevitably bring up a Sex And The City-style debate: “which one are you?”. (I like to think I’m a Wendy, but I worry that I’m a Jude at heart.) A must-read for the fast approaching Aussie summer…
Get The Weekend here.
Bruny by Heather Rose
Set in a too-near future, Bruny is part political thriller, part family drama, part love story. The protagonist, Dr Astrid “Ace” Coleman, is a UN conflict resolution expert, called back to her homeland of Tasmania to sort out some brouhaha about a bridge. Okay, that might be understating it a bit: the state and federal governments have combined forces to build a bridge between Tasmania and the tiny offshore island of Bruny, a $2 billion project, and someone has just blown part of it up. Yikes.
This is Rose’s fifth adult book, and it’s very (very!) different to her last, The Museum Of Modern Love, which won the Stella Prize in 2017. It’s not a straight mystery thriller, in that Rose isn’t following the formula of a hard-boiled detective chasing up clues and red herrings, but it’s not a highbrow literary offering either. It sits where the political and the personal intersect, and meditates mostly on the wheeling and dealing of politics, the complexity of modern life. Rose leaves no stone unturned, she covers it all: agriculture, economics, stability, jobs and growth, environmentalism, family, loyalty, betrayal, corruption, power…
Get Bruny here.
Act Of Grace by Anna Krien
From the blurb: “These characters’ worlds intertwine in a brilliant story of fear and sacrifice, trauma and survival, and what people will do to outrun the shadows. Crossing the frontiers of war, protest and cultural reconciliation, Act Of Grace is a meditation on inheritance: the damage that one generation bestows upon the next, and the potential for transformation.” Full review forthcoming on Keeping Up With The Penguins!
Get Act Of Grace here.
Bone China by Laura Purcell
From the blurb: “Consumption has ravaged Louise Pinecroft’s family, leaving her and her father alone and heartbroken. But Dr Pinecroft has plans for a revolutionary experiment: convinced that sea air will prove to be the cure his wife and children needed, he arranges to house a group of prisoners suffering from the disease in the cliffs beneath his new Cornish home. Forty years later, Hester Why arrives at Moroven House to take up a position as nurse to the now partially paralysed and almost entirely mute Miss Pinecroft. Hester has fled to Cornwall to try and escape her past, but surrounded by superstitious staff enacting bizarre rituals, she soon discovers that her new home may be just as dangerous as her last…”
Get Bone China here.
She Said by Jodi Kantor and Megan Twohey
From my review on Primer: She Said is the “untold story” of what it takes to bring accusations against powerful men to light, and the revelations that forever changed the way we understand power and harassment in the #metoo era. Kantor and Twohey don’t simply paint a portrait of Harvey Weinstein as a monster (though they have plenty of evidence to do just that). They know you know that story. You’ve read the details over and over: the bathrobes, the hotel rooms, the massages, the potted plants. Instead, they examine the social mechanisms—the company policies and the power-brokers and the “boy’s club”—that enabled a monster to thrive, unrestrained and without consequences, for decades. “Must-read” doesn’t even begin to cover it…
Get She Said here.
Never Have I Ever by Joshilyn Jackson
Never Have I Ever is set in Pensacola, Florida, where Amy Whey hosts a monthly book club. She’s exactly what you’d expect in a “suburban mom” protagonist, and she loves her sweet-and-wholesome family more than anything. Her perfectly normal life of simple pleasures is all up-ended, however, when a Cher-lookalike stranger, Roux, shows up to book club, and a modified game of Never Have I Ever opens a can of worms. Raven Books (Bloomsbury) was kind enough to send me a copy for review.
This is one for the Liane Moriarty fans. It felt very The Husband’s Secret-esque, just not quite as compelling. Don’t come in expecting a lot of bookish chat; that part of the plot is over and done with quite quickly, and you’ll learn more about scuba diving than you will about running a book club.
Get Never Have I Ever here.
The Breeding Season – Amanda Niehaus
When a scientist turns to writing poetry and fiction, I can’t help but sit up and pay attention: the merging of oil and milk is too fascinating to resist. Amanda Niehaus, author of The Breeding Season, reconciles her two worlds in this literary debut (kindly sent to me by Allen & Unwin for review). It is a story of all-encompassing grief, intensely poetic and full of natural imagery and metaphor. Niehaus brings together all kinds of binaries: art and science, grief and hope, birth and death.
I’m worried that The Breeding Season will be pigeonholed as “women’s” literature (vomit), because it deals with the grief of losing a child and relationship rifts. Let me tell you, it investigates the male role and experience just as much as the female one—it just so happens that the author is a woman. Fight the patriarchy, and buy this book for a man in your life for Christmas.
Get The Breeding Season here.
Pain And Prejudice – Gabrielle Jackson
Women’s anger is felt, understood, and reflected in this jaw-dropping new book from Gabrielle Jackson, Pain And Prejudice. Braiding together memoir and science, she explores the ways in which social structures—particularly the medical system—have under-served and oppressed women, keeping them sick and in pain, for far too long. Allen & Unwin were kind enough to send me a copy for review.
Jackson is a journalist; in 2001, she was diagnosed with endometriosis, and then, in 2015, adenomyosis. She has spent years researching these conditions, and the broader medical system in which they are studied and treated. From Plato’s wandering womb to the present day, she unpicks the complex social history that has got us to this point. “Women are socialised to believe their pain is normal,” she says, and she wrote Pain And Prejudice to give voice to the silent suffering of centuries.
You can read an extract from Pain And Prejudice here.
Get Pain And Prejudice here.
The Testaments – Margaret Atwood
From my review on Primer: “It’s no understatement to call The Testaments the most anticipated book of the year, perhaps even the decade. Not since Harry Potter have we seen such fervour. The Testaments begins 15 years after Offred’s final scene in The Handmaid’s Tale. Gilead is no longer a burgeoning state, finding its feet. Now, an entire generation of children raised under its strict established regime, with no memory of the old world, are coming of age. A compelling must-read (and must-re-read) celebration of resistance.”
Get The Testaments here.
The Dutch House – Anne Patchett
From the blurb (Bloomsbury): “Told with Ann Patchett’s inimitable blend of humour, rage and heartbreak, The Dutch House is a dark fairy tale and story of a paradise lost; of the powerful bonds of place and time that magnetize and repel us for our whole lives.”
Get The Dutch House here.
You Daughters Of Freedom – Clare Wright
You Daughters Of Freedom is out now in paperback! From the blurb (Text Publishing): “For the ten years from 1902, when Australia’s suffrage campaigners won the vote for white women, the world looked to this trailblazing young democracy for inspiration. Clare Wright’s epic new history tells the story of that victory—and of Australia’s role in the subsequent international struggle—through the eyes of five remarkable players…”
Get You Daughters Of Freedom here.
The Man That Got Away – Lynne Truss
From the blurb (Bloomsbury): “It is summer in Brighton and the Brighton Belles are on hand to answer any holiday-maker’s queries, no matter how big or small. The quickest way to the station, how many pebbles are on the beach and what exactly has happened to that young man lying in the deckchair with blood dripping from him? Our incomparable team of detectives are back for another outing in the new instalment of Lynne Truss’s joyfully quirky crime series.”
Get The Man That Got Away here.
The Unforgiving City – Maggie Joel
From the blurb (Allen & Unwin): “Colonial Sydney in the final weeks of the nineteenth century: a city striving for union and nationhood but dogged by divisions so deep they threaten to derail, not just the Federation, but the colony itself. There are chasms opening too when a clandestine note reaches the wrong hands in the well-to-do household of aspiring politician Alasdair Dunlevy and his wife Eleanor. Below stairs, their maid Alice faces a desperate situation with her wayward sister.”
Get The Unforgiving City here.
The Turn Of The Key by Ruth Ware
I’d seen The Turn Of The Key by Ruth Ware billed as a modern-day Turn Of The Screw. Now, I’m not a Henry James fan (far from it!), but that description drew me in: it’s a story ripe for adaptation! A governess alone with weird children in an isolated house, complete with bitter housekeeper, mysterious caretaker, and unexplained bumps in the night? Yes, please! Penguin Random House Australia was kind enough to send me a copy for review.
It’s a very contemporary take, but the supernatural elements keep it in Turn Of The Screw territory, away from your Girl On The Trains and your Gone Girls. It was chilling, more than outright scary, and the twists kept coming right up until the final page. I’m not one for the supernatural or the paranormal—I find the natural, normal world to be quite enough to deal with, thank you—but I still found myself creeped out.
The Mosquito by Timothy C. Winegard
If you like your non-fiction niche, but comprehensive, I’ve got the book for you! Text Publishing was kind enough to send me a copy of The Mosquito, by Timothy C. Winegard, for review. I wish they’d sent a reminder to warn everyone in my life that they were about to get hit with a barrage of mosquito-related fun facts.
Only female mosquitos bite. Of the 108 billion people who have ever lived on this planet, mosquitoes (or, more accurately, the viruses and parasites they carry) have killed nearly half—52 billion. Do you know how elephants defend themselves against the mosquito’s bite? You’ll find the answer in Chapter 1, and it will surprise you.
Get The Mosquito here.
The Gap by Benjamin Gilmour
The front cover of The Gap by Benjamin Gilmour promises the story of “a paramedic’s summer on the edge”, and it delivers! See, The Gap is the name of a notorious suicide spot, a clifftop at Sydney’s Watson’s Bay, and for the summer of 2008, Gilmour worked as a paramedic based out of the nearest ambulance station. This is his memoir, and Penguin Random House Australia was kind enough to send me a copy for review.
Again and again, he circles back around to The Gap, where 50+ people die by suicide each year. The paramedic’s job is usually to talk them down, sometimes to help with retrieving a body, or informing loved ones. Gilmour wrote this book, from his detailed notes and diaries, at the urging of fellow paramedics, who want to open a conversation about suicide and mental health in this country.
Get The Gap here here.
Sanditon by Jane Austen
It might sound strange to call a book written in 1817 a “new release”, but this new edition definitely casts a different light on Sanditon and Jane Austen’s body of work leading up to this final, unfinished, manuscript. Oxford University Press was kind enough to send me a copy for review. Evidence abounds of the attention to detail we’ve come to expect from Oxford World Classics: a well-researched author bio, high production values, a note on the text, a full chronology of Austen’s life and work, and generous explanatory notes. All told, this is a wonderful, fresh take on Austen’s most experimental and poignant work.
Get this new edition of Sanditon here.
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