Moby-Dick | Herman Melville #Classic

Well, I did it!
My seven-month #slowread of Moby-Dick is officially done and dusted.
If you've ever wondered if you should make the time to read this classic chunkster, then I say yea!
And I cannot recommend highly enough the #slowread approach.
Moby-Dick is improved and enhanced by taking your time.

The Atlantic | Aug 20, 2013 | David Gilbert

You cannot read this book for speed. It is designed for the long haul, the chapters never too long, naps seemingly built into the text. It is, dare I say, a voyage.

My journey through Moby-Dick has been one of various obsessions.
Early on, I got caught up in articles written to celebrate the 200th birthday of Melville. Why is this book so beloved and so reviled at the same time? Why is it considered so great by so many?

After I started reading, I went off on a Herman Melville obsession. I needed to know as much about the man himself. His life, his purpose, his influences. Biographies and articles were scoured. Who was this man and what were his obsessions? What was he trying to achieve in writing Moby-Dick? What were his demons? Was he Ishmael or Ahab? What was his legacy?

“Melville died in New York on September 28, 1891, blissfully unaware that, in the years to come, so many people would leave the hyphen out of 'Moby-Dick.”
― Richard Armour, The Classics Reclassified.

Then I got caught up in the religious symbolism.
I had read a lot about his religious background and the number of biblical references through-out Moby-Dick, but I became more and more surprised (and curious) about the growing number of negative comments about Christianity in the book. What was going on here? Was this a personal tug-o-war between faith and how it was practised? What did Melville believe? Was this a crisis of faith? Or was this someone abandoning his strict childhood doctrine for a more modern, scientific, humanist approach to life?

And so, through all the thick mists of the dim doubts in my mind, divine intuitions now and then shoot, enkindling my fog with a heavenly ray. And for this I thank God; for all have doubts; many deny; but doubts or denials, few along with them, have intuitions. Doubts of all things earthly, and intuitions of some things heavenly; this combination makes neither believer nor infidel, but makes a man who regards them both with equal eye.

Themes became my next obsession as I researched all those allusions and metaphors about lines, threads and weaving. The repetition of life, from unknown beginning to unknown end. The Loom of Time. Who was controlling or designing the fabric of life? Which led to digging deeper into fate and destiny and free-will.

Is Ahab, Ahab? Is it I, God, or who, that lifts this arm? But if the great sun move not of himself; but is an errand-boy in heaven; nor one single star can revolve, but by some invisible power; how then can this one small heart beat; this one small brain think thoughts; unless God does that beating, does that thinking, does that living, and not I.

Shakespearean influences captured my imagination next. From the mad fools to the prideful tyrants. Amusing ditties and stunning word-play. The influence on Melville was obvious.

It was a clear steel-blue day. The firmaments of air and sea were hardly separable in that all-pervading azure; only, the pensive air was transparently pure and soft, with a woman's look, and the robust and man-like sea heaved with long, strong, lingering swells, as Samson's chest in his sleep.

And, it's funny.
That's something they don't always tell you about Moby-Dick.
So many of the stories and set-pieces are designed to be ridiculous, amusing or ironic. Ishmael is often (unknowingly) hilarious. Pip plays the fool. Stubb and Flask are funny.

Think not, is my eleventh commandment; and sleep when you can, is my twelfth.

However, by the time I reached the end of this epic journey, where we only had 3-4 chapters that actually featured Moby Dick in action, I realised that this was a book all about the journey. It's about all the stuff we learn about ourselves and the world as we travel through it. It's about working out our purpose in life. It's about obsession.

Moby-Dick is full of all that marvellous big picture stuff that you can really mull over, often hidden amongst all the details. And there were LOTS of details. One of Ishmael/Melville's purposes in life was to gain and show off share knowledge!

Although by the end, we come to understand that Moby-Dick is actually Ishmael's grief memoir. It was his way to honour the memory of his friends and colleagues who went down with the Pequod.

The advantages of the #slowread were numerous.

It gave me ample time for research, it made the 'tricky' chapters easier to digest, and I was able to read other books in and around it.

But the main benefit was how it created a richer, deeper, more immersive reading experience - one that I will never forget. Within that, was those 'tricky' chapters. I came to realise that all those tedious-seeming chapters on whale facts were actually a chance for Ishmael/Melville to offer up a bit of life wisdom/philosophy. If I had been doing my usual #fastread I would have missed most of these moments and therefore missed a huge part of the beauty and fascination of this story.

For instance the chapter we were all warned about - Chapter 32: Cetology - finishes (eventually!) with Ishmael/Melville comparing his book on whales to the grandeur of Cologne Cathedral that took centuries to complete,

For small erections may be finished by their first architects; grand ones, true ones, ever leave the copestone to posterity. God keep me from ever completing anything. This whole book is but a draft—nay, but the draft of a draft.

What an undertaking! What a vision! What a colossal insight into the mind of Melville!

Chapter 60: The Line - a chapter seemingly all about rope - finishes with,

All men live enveloped in whale-lines. All are born with halters round their necks; but it is only when caught in the swift, sudden turn of death, that mortals realize the silent, subtle, ever-present perils of life.

Deep, huh? And one of Melville's favourite themes - are our lives dictated by fate, destiny or chaos? Do we have free-will or choice or is everything pre-determined?

These little zingers sneak into almost every chapter. If I'd been skimming, I might have missed them. And it's all these little zingers that are at the heart of this story. They give us a peek into Melville's mind - all his doubts, insecurities and foibles are on show. It feels like he threw everything that he had into this book. Mind, body and spirit - he gave us everything - all his flaws and his magnificence. To take as we will.

Writing this book was an act of courage.

It takes another act of courage to read it.

A big thank you to Reese, Rick, Denise, Laurie, Katherine, Ruth, Deb, Lisbeth, Chris, Meredith, Silvia, Fanda, Marian, Sharon and Lisette for your company over the past 7 months. It's easier to be brave in a crowd.

The linky will stay open until the weekend for any final Moby-Dick posts.

Good-bye, and good luck to ye all - and this day three years I'll have a hot supper smoking for ye in old Nantucket. Hurrah and away!

Junior Fiction - the rest!

Following on from my recent post featuring several fabulous Australian junior fiction titles, I thought it was time to venture further afield to see what the rest of the world (or at least the US, UK and Japan) were doing in this field.

The Afterwards is a new story by U.K. poet A. F. Harrold, illustrated by Emily Gravett, the well-known picture book illustrator. Like so many books for kids these days, the story explores friendship, death and loss. It is quite dark at times and some children may find the 'other world' that our young protagonist is able to visit quite creepy in much the same way that Neil Gaiman's Coraline's 'other mother' is creepy. But the ending is positive with a focus on living in the moment, honouring those you loved and being present.

Dear Professor Whale by Megumi Iwasa and Jun Takabatake (illustrator) wasn't quite as sweet and charming as Yours Sincerely, Giraffe, but it still highlighted the importance of friendship, kindness and belonging via the old-fashioned means of communication, letter writing.

The action centres around the reviving of the Whale Point Olympics. The older Olympians are honoured and revered while the youngsters are encouraged to engage in friendly competition and teamwork rather than winning gold medals at all cost.

The empathy message may have been laid on a bit thick this time round, but it's hard to take offence when it's so well-meaning and good-natured.

Front Desk by Kelly Yang is for the older end of the junior fiction spectrum - probably 10+ and is loosely based on her own experiences as a new immigrant to the States in the early 1990's. Yang wanted to tell her son about how she grew up and what it was like being an immigrant. In a letter at the front of the books she says,

I grew up in a motel. I didn't have any toys or nice clothes. My parents were struggling...and life was very, very hard for us; it was hard for everyone in our motel, from the immigrants we hid at night to the guests who stayed by the week, folks who got mistreated by the police and were stuck in the same sad cycle of poverty.

I had been searching for a way the right way to tell my son all of this, a way that didn't scare him, but inspired him....Draft after draft, I dug deeper and deeper until the shame and pain and joy of my childhood were so open and exposed, it scared me.

For such a hard won story, it reads lightly and easily. Diversity is celebrated, as is a strong sense of family and friendship. Belonging, perseverance and hard work are standards held up for admiration. Disadvantage and racism are sadly also on show and not just from the American population, Yang also subtly shows the tensions between mainland Chinese immigrants and Taiwanese Chinese.

One of my new favourites though is Louisiana's Way Home by Kate DiCamillo. Her writing is stunning as always and Louisiana is a delightful, spunky creation. Suddenly, without explanation, Louisiana is on the run with her Grandma. What follows is a journey of major self discovery as Louisiana learns some painful home truths and discovers just how strong and resilient she really is.

We all, at some point, have to decide who we want to be in this world. It is a decision we make for ourselves. 

Forgiveness, hope and courage are DiCamillo's calling cards - they shine very brightly in this tender, bittersweet story. And it wouldn't be a DiCamillo story if we didn't also learn about the kindness of (some) strangers (although don't get me started on the grandmother!)

Perhaps what matters when all is said and done is not who puts us down but who picks us up.

I'm starting to loose track of ALL the princesses-turned-monster-fighting-superheroes in The Princess in Black series by Shannon Hale but #6 and the Science Fair Scare is still full of all the fun, derring-do, go-girl attitude of the earlier stories.

It's hard NOT to be charmed by these sassy young things with their alter-ego monster-fighting persona's. But I guess at some point, I'd like to see these girls (& the dashing young Goat-Boy) come out from behind their masks and let the world see who they really are all the time.

Book 6 feels like a transition point. Everyone now seems to be 'in' on the secret and it would be nice if the girls didn't have to pretend to be pretty, prim princesses in public any more.

I love junior fiction at this time of year. It's entertaining, easy reading. But they're not always light on topic or emotional impact. These books feature BIG themes with BIG heart. They are books that can be enjoyed by adults just as much as the younger people in their lives. There is way more to junior fiction than the Wimpy Kid and Dork Diaries, and I for one, am very grateful for that!

Australian Junior Fiction Catch Up

The run into Christmas and the silly season, leaves me tired, frazzled and depleted most years. This year I'm attempting a calmer, kinder approach. As a first line of defence I started interspersing junior fiction reads amongst my regular reads several weeks ago. I've been saving all the interesting looking ones for months now, so that I would have something 'just right' for this time.

Great junior fiction is the perfect antidote for the general madness and mayhem of the silly season. It's (usually) light and easy to read, sometimes interspersed with delightful illustrations and (usually) full of wonderful language. And almost all writers for younger people feel duty bound to end with hope. Bad and sad things may happen to their characters along the way, but there is always hope and wonder and love.

The Slightly Alarming Tale of the Whispering Wars by Jaclyn Moriarty is book 2 in her newly named Kingdoms and Empires series. The name of the series didn't make an appearance on the first book, so I was curious to see what this might mean for book 2 and any future books.

I loved Book 1 The Extremely Inconvenient Adventures of Bronte Mettlestone by Jaclyn Moriarty and had very high hopes for this one, so I was a little disconcerted to read the first few chapters with no Bronte in sight.

What was going on?

Where were we?

And who were all these new people?

The first couple of pages of this generously illustrated book show us maps of the various kingdoms within this world. Some of these names were familiar from Book 1, but other than the whispering element, nothing else seemed familiar.

TSATOTWW begins in the little town of Spindrift where we meet two groups of kids - one group from the orphanage, the other from an expensive, exclusive boarding school. A friendly sporting rivalry between the two schools quickly blows up when one of the children suddenly disappears. The Whisperers have kidnapped another child.

A tentative alliance is formed, a plan of rescue is hatched and Bronte makes an unexpected reappearance. Mystery, adventure and a little bit of magic is the name of the game.

I love this series for mature 9+ readers a lot and I hope that Moriarty has many more books planned for the Kingdoms and Empires. Due to the different time frame and setting in this book, it could be read as a stand-alone story, but you'll want to go back to see how Bronte came into the story in the first place. It was a savvy move by Moriarty to expand the horizons and history of this series to include the entire kingdom and I look forward to seeing where and when we end up next.

Inheritance by Carole Wilkinson is for slightly older readers - more 11+ through into the early teen years. It's a fabulous time slip story set in country Victoria.

Nic has been left by her dad at her Grandad's old homestead property while he goes off with his band to play the cruise ship circuit. With no wi-fi, no friends and loads of attitude, Nic starts exploring the big old home one room at a time. Eventually she discovers a locked room with no key in sight.

A fortuitous toe-stub whilst swimming in the dam and an old letter in a copy of Pride and Prejudice changes everything. Nic discovers dark secrets about her family history that have carry-over effects onto today's local history and her own family story.

Wilkinson weaves in indigenous issues, women's rights and early settler history into this engaging yet thought-provoking time travel story.

The Adventures of Catvinkle by Elliot Perlman is now top of my delightful dog story pile. Officially this is a book about a cat - the secret loving, baby shoe dancing, flying cat, Catvinkle, but it is also just as much about her new found friend (shhh! don't tell anyone that a cat and a dog are friends!) Ula the dalmatian.

Set in Amsterdam, Perlman (you may know him from his adult books, especially Seven Types of Ambiguity and The Street Sweeper) has turned the bedtime stories he used to tell his kids into a charming animal story for us all to relish.

There are LOTS of things to adore about this book, but the most endearing are the voices of Catvinkle and Ula. Perlman has got inside the heads of these two animals and they speak and act just as I imagine a cat and dog of these types would speak and act if they could!

The thing these three fabulous books share is complexity. The authors do not talk down to their young readers, they use interesting language, create nuanced, believable characters and they take you on a journey that is utterly compelling.

And then there is The Bad Guys Episode 8: Superbad by Aaron Blabey.

Personally, I'm getting pretty tired of their antics by now, but they continue to entertain and get 5-7 yrs old excited about reading, so I'm not going to complain too much.

After an excursion into outer space, then back in time to the dinosaurs, we are firmly back in the present with our world being taken over by the evil Mr Marmalade and his evil alien forces. And it wouldn't be the modern world without a female team of warriors to assist our bumbling bad guys.

In Superbad we learn that Agent Fox is actually part of a much larger, well organised group called The International League of Heroes. Her colleagues include Agent Kitty Kat, Agent Hogwild, Agent Doom, and Agent Shortfuse. They all have special talents and skills and they mean business. They help the Bad Guys learn control of their new super powers...until Marmalade turns up and throws everything into chaos...again!

Six Bad Guys' trading cards are in the back of the book, with 6 more promised to come in book 9. Blabey is onto a good thing, and he knows it!

Episode 1 The Bad Guys
Episode 2 Mission Unpluckable
Episode 3 The Furball Strikes Back
Episode 4 Apocalypse Meow

The Neverending Story by Michael Ende

I have a vague recollection of seeing the 1984 movie version of The NeverEnding Story in my late teens. It was a bit too juvenile for my sophisticated, desperate-to-be-grown-up self at that time, so other than a shaggy white flying dragon and a boy clinging to its neck, I remember nothing. And felt no need to know any more.

Until a copy of the book fell into my hands recently & I decided to add it to my #20booksofsummer (winter) list as a bit of light relief.

Die unendliche Geschichte was published in German in 1979 by Michael Ende, a prolific and very successful children's writer. He was born in 1929 in Bavaria to a surrealist painter and a physiotherapist. In 1935 the young family moved to Munich to live in an artistic community. But in 1936, his father's work was declared 'degenerate' by the Nazi's forcing him to work in secret.

The young Ende experienced bombings and compulsory membership in the Hitler Youth before being drafted into the Volksturm in 1945. However, the story goes that he tore up his papers and joined a Bavarian resistance movement for the remainder of the war instead.

After the war, he dabbled in poetry, acting and play writing. His first novel, Jim Knopf was published in 1960. However 1960's Germany was not a good time to be writing escapist literature. Post-war Germans were all about political commitment and realism; feeling undervalued he moved to Italy to live. It was here that he wrote The Neverending Story.

He went on to write 30 books before his death in 1995. Ende was a human rights activist, anti-rearmament and a campaigner for peace.

His influences included Rudolf Steiner, Rainer Maria Rilke and a life-long fascination with Japan.

The Neverending Story is a fantastical fairy tale, full of imaginative wish fulfilment. Each chapter begins with a letter of the alphabet, which must have a been a challenge for the translator, Ralph Manheim. The first half of the book sees motherless, unloved Bastian Balthazar Bux reading a story about another land in grave danger of disappearing into Nothingness. The protagonist appears to be a young warrior/hero called Atreyu with his faithful horse Artax and a luckdragon named Falkor. The story appears to be a lesson on imagination, the nature of lies, power and purpose.

This is where the movie ends.

Ende felt that this adaptation's content deviated so far from the spirit of his book that he requested that production either be halted or the film's title be changed; when the producers did neither, he sued them and subsequently lost the case. Ende called the film a "gigantic melodrama of kitsch, commerce, plush and plastic" (Ein "gigantisches Melodram aus Kitsch, Kommerz, Plüsch und Plastik").The film only adapts the first half of the book, and consequently does not convey the message of the title as it was portrayed in the novel. (Wikipedia)

I can see why Ende was upset. At this point the story did not feel 'neverending'. It was a tremendous fantasy about courage and truth, but it wasn't until the story moved onto Bastian's entry into the fantasy world that the cyclical nature of the story became apparent. Suddenly the tone shifted from imagination to creation. Pure escapism and wish fulfilment surrounded Bastian as he gradually learnt to be careful what you wish for. Bastian transformed himself from a dumpy, unloved, fearful boy into a strong, handsome, brave protagonist. It took him the rest of the story to realise that the real meaning of a well-lived life is love, memory and being true to yourself.

The Neverending Story is a classic quest story that will delight fantasy-loving readers of any age.

Book 11 of #20BooksofSummer (winter)

Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami

I like to think that I have taken my 'what to read whilst travelling' choices to an inspired level of brilliance, but I really outdid myself with our recent trip to Japan. Reading Murakami in Japan now feels like the ONLY place to read Murakami!

Not only does the usual Murakami weirdness make sense when you're actually in Japan, but you also realise just how important the environment is to Murakami and his characters. His descriptions of the trees, forests, waterways and urban spaces are everywhere as you move around the country. As are the crows.

In this case, the boy named crow is a mentor to our young protagonist, Kafka Tamura, perhaps an alter ego, a Japanese Jiminy Cricket. Whatever crow is or isn't, right from word one, Murakami is flagging that symbolism, mythology and psychology will be our prime concerns in Kafka on the Shore.

In Japanese mythology, crows are seen as a sign of 'divine intervention in human affairs' (wikipedia). Western mythology tends to associate the crow with bad news or as a harbinger of death. They're selfish, spread gossip and neglect their young. And they're everywhere in Japan. They sit on telegraph wires, fence posts and roof tops. You often wake up to their cawing, even in the city.

Cats are the other creatures that dominant not only Murakami stories, but many Japanese stories, yet curiously I didn't see one single cat in three weeks, let alone a talking cat! The opposite of the crow, cats are creatures of good luck, although still often associated with death and hauntings.

Silence, I discover is something you can actually hear.

There is no denying that Murakami is on very intimate terms with kooky.

If the talking cats weren't enough, a cameo appearance by Johnny Walker and Colonel Sanders of KFC fame might tip you over the edge. A reference to the (fictional) Picnic at Hanging Rock as an example of another group loss of consciousness event caught my eye. Did Murakami know that it was an urban myth? Is that what he was implying about his own story? The sense of mystery and other-worldliness was certainly a shared atmosphere between the two stories.

I was also amazed by truck drivers who suddenly became classic music afficiandos, quiet librarians who turned out to be sex fiends and sex workers who quoted philosophers. What's not to love? The kookiness gets under my skin and into my head. Just like what happened to me with his previous books.

1Q84 is still roaming around in my head, Colourless Tsukuru less so, but it's still a memorable book experience.

Things outside you are projections of what's inside you, and what's inside you is a projection of what's outside you. So when you step into the labyrinth outside you, at the same time your stepping into the labyrinth inside. 

One of the really enjoyable aspects to reading Murakami in Japan is the place names. Suddenly they really mean something. Most of the action in Kafka takes place in Takamatsu on the island of Shikoku. 

We didn't get to Shikiko with this visit, but we did see one of the huge bridges, from a distance, that joins Shikoko to Honshu and we spent some time at the station that is the interchange for the JR line that goes to Takamatsu. Seeing the name of the city featured in my book up in lights suddenly grounded this surreal story into reality.

This is only my fourth Murakami (see my Author Challenge tab for details) so I'm not sure I can safely name all his common themes and ideas, but there are a few that I've clocked. Going into the woods/fear of getting lost, weird sex, talking creatures, dreams, random jazz references, loneliness and silence. And for me, the reader, there is an over-riding sense of bewilderment (WTF was that about?) as well as an overwhelming sense of wanting more (whatever it was a think I like it!) 

I'm caught between one void and another. I have no idea what's right, what's wrong. I don't even know what I want anymore. I'm standing alone in the middle of a horrific sandstorm. I can't move, and can't even see my fingertips.

Murakami doesn't wrap his stories up with a neat, tidy bow or resolve many of the story lines. This should be totally frustrating...and it is, but somehow you love being kept in the dark and confused at the same time. Perhaps it's the likeable characters? Or perhaps it's the not so subtle way he plays with your head? Or perhaps it is the hope that the next book he writes will bring you one step closer to understanding this maddening man and his ability to suck you into his world. 

Every one of us is losing something precious to us....Lost opportunities, lost possibilities, feelings we can never get back again. That's part of what it means to be alive. But inside our heads - at least that's how I imagine it - there's a little room where we store those memories.

Image source

Murakami likes to do the whole books in books thing. Kafka's backlist was an obvious start -The Castle, The Trial, Metamorphosis and In the Penal Colony in this case. But he also referenced The Arabian Nights, the complete works of Natsume Soseki, a book about the trial of Adolf Eichmann (I can only assume it was Hannah Arendt's Eichmann in Jerusalem), Electra by Sophocles, The Tale of the Genji and 'The Chrysanthemum Pledge' in Tales of Moonlight and Rain by Ueda Akinari.

So many tangents, so many connections, which one should I tackle next?

The Shepherd's Hut By Tim Winton

The Shepherd's Hut is Tim Winton's much anticipated latest novel. I am a fan, but with reservations. I loved Cloudstreet and Dirt Music but hated The Riders (it has the dubious honour of being one of my very first DNF books). Breath was good but a bit blokey and Eyrie was okay, but a bit blokey. I adore his children's picture book illustrated by Karen Louise called The Deep. And his essays in The Boy Behind the Curtain were truly luminous.

So I entered The Shepherd's Hut cautiously.

The first 20 or so pages were a struggle for me. I know that there are awful dad's out there, I know what they can do. I used to be a teacher, I've assisted some of those families in negotiating the quagmire of domestic violence over the years. But I don't feel the need to read about such sad, brutal things.

So I struggled with the first part of the story where we experienced Jaxie's dysfunctional relationship with his father. I thought, I can't do this.

Later that night, I tried again.

Without spoiling anything for anyone, Jaxie was on the run and suddenly we had a full-on road trip/survival story underway. Unusually for Winton, there wasn't a beach in sight, as Jaxie headed inland to the scrubby, salty desert areas of WA.

Some readers might find Jaxie's vernacular hard going. It annoyed me at the start, but I think I'm at an age when teenager-speak is annoying in whatever form it takes! But once Jaxie hit the road, the voice became more considered and thoughtful, and was perhaps meant to reflect the influence that Fintan had on him. If you disliked Huck Finn or Lincoln in the Bardo because of the local dialect, then steer clear of this one too. The swearing may also put off some readers.

Fintan was the ageing priest that Jaxie stumbled upon in the bush. We don't know why he's living a life of exile, but there were obviously some issues around the priesthood and the Catholic Church that Winton was exploring here. I'm still not sure what they were.

The same goes for Winton's well-known concern about toxic masculinity. He discusses it in detail, but what is the solution?

Because it's also #ReadIreland month over at Cathy's blog, I thought I would highlight the Irish character in Winton's story. Fintan, the priest is described by Jaxie like this,

I never did know what to make of Fintan MacGillis....He was Irish, he told me that straight up. But I never found out what it was he done to get himself put there by the lake, what kind of person he was before....He was one of them geezers been out on his own so long he talks to himself all day....You had to sort through all these bent up words to figure which was bullshit and which was true. What I mean is he made a lot of noise but sometimes he didn't say much. With that accent of his and the way he said things fancy and musical, it was like camouflage and you knew deep down he'd been doing this all his life, hiding in clear sight.

The Shepherd's Hut is not an easy read, but, in the end I found it to be a worthwhile encounter.
It's not quite a coming of age story because the becoming part was still to happen and it's not quite a road trip story as Jaxie's journey was nowhere near done. It was more like a vignette, a moment in time, a snapshot in time.

I'm not sure I learnt anything new or gained any insights into domestic violence, the lost and lonely or survival, but I can see an action-packed, fast-paced, gritty movie on the horizon!

Eyrie by Tim Winton
Dirt Music by Tim Winton
The Boy Behind the Curtain by Tim Winton
The Deep by Tim Winton

Facts:

• Longlisted for the 2020 International Dublin Literary Award.

Once Upon A Small Rhinoceros by Meg McKinlay

Once Upon A Rhinoceros is my kind of picture book.

As a child I dreamed of setting off into the big, wide world to explore. I've always wanted to see what there was to be seen. I couldn't wait to be grown up so that I could finally just go.

Small rhinoceros has the very same dream; she wants to see the world. She patiently waits until the time is right, and as you can see by the glorious cover designed by Leila Rudge, she succeeds.

She sailed on...through the woolly wild of winter and the smooth sweep of summer...to faraway lands and beyond.

On her return home, her family and friends are happy to see her, but unimpressed by her tales...all except for one quiet voice who asks,

'Did you get lost?'

'Many times.'

'And was it...wonderful?' 

'Oh yes!'  

Oh yes indeed!

With themes of independence and freedom, pushing the boundaries of what is considered 'normal' and daring to be different to fulfil your heart's desire, Once Upon A Small Rhinoceros will charm you and inspire you in equal measure.

Meg McKinlay has written some of my favourite books for teens and children, including the CBCA award winning A Single Stone, No Bears and Ten Tiny Things. She has a wonderful blog post describing her creative journey with this particular story here.

Leila Rudge adds collage elements to her pencil, paint and paper 'hand snipped' illustrations. She has written and illustrated the wonderful CBCA Notable book Ted, the very popular CBCA shortlisted book, Gary as well as No Bears with McKinlay.

#AusReadingMonth
#AustralianWomenWriters Challenge

Lincoln in the Bardo by George Saunders

I was feeling a little cautious about reading Lincoln in the Bardo. Anytime I had heard someone talk about the book, they would mention the ghosts, the many, many voices and the grief. It sounded like it might be hard work or a bit too clever for its own good.

Fortunately, though, a reading copy recently came my way at work. And I was tempted.

Bardo is the transitional phase after death and before ones next rebirth when the consciousness is no longer connected to the physical body. After trawling the internet I found a copy of The Tibetan Book of the Dead that allowed me to see inside. It gave me one of those ah-ha moments - the  fragmentary multi-voice story telling format that Saunders used throughout his book, reflected the format used in this Buddhist classic.

Saunders made use of this device for both the historical and the ghostly sections of the book. I found it to be effective and affecting how he combined the fragments to make a kind of cohesive narrative whole.

I also wanted to know if the primary sources quoted by Saunders during the historical record sections of the novel were real or fictional. I found this review by Maureen Corrigan from earlier in the year that answered that question for me.

One thing bothers me about this extraordinary novel — more of a question, really, than a quibble. Throughout Lincoln in the Bardo, Saunders intersperses chapters packed with quotes from historical sources. He gives citations for these historical sources and some are legit — like Doris Kearns Goodwin's book on Lincoln, for instance. But other sources are made up. All the historical passages are tossed together indiscriminately. 

It's not like Saunders is doing anything new here: novelists have been playing with historical narrative since the term "postmodern" was invented. But, I wonder if just in the past couple of months, our taste and tolerance for this kind of melding of fact and fiction has diminished?

There was a brief chapter early in the book, that I believe Saunders used deliberately to play with this idea about what is fact and what is fiction. His historical sources are talking about the moon the night of the White House dinner when Willie was extremely ill. Some recalled the 'beautiful moon', 'the brilliance of the moon' or 'the golden moon', while others remark that 'there was no moon that night', or 'a fat, green crescent hung above' or 'the night continued dark and moonless' or 'the full yellow moon hung among morning stars'.

When I read this section, I was reminded of the comment often made by police officers about the fickle nature of eyewitness accounts when at the scene of a crime, and how all the witnesses will describe the victim and the perpetrator in completely contrasting terms. The unreliability of our memories only intensifies as more time goes by.

Perhaps Saunders is trying to say that even primary sources cannot be trusted to tell the 'whole truth and nothing but the truth'?

The Lincoln Family 1861 - Willie is seated at the front.

The ghosts in Lincoln in the Bardo are certainly not to be trusted. They're still very attached to the idea of their physical bodies. They have failed to grasp that they are in fact dead as they spend their time in bardo going over and over the thing that led them to this point. Knowledge and acceptance is what finally allows them to pass over with a 'matterlightblooming phenomenon' into the great unknown.

This will be a book that divides its readers. The many voices and the blurring of fact and fiction will annoy some and delight others.

I was one of those delighted.

The scenes of Lincoln's grieving were so very touching as were those featuring Willie coming to terms with his own death. Ultimately, Lincoln in the Bardo is a story about letting go. Letting go of the one you loved and letting go of the life you once lived.

Lincoln in the Bardo has been longlisted for this year's Man Booker Prize.

Yours Sincerely, Giraffe by Megumi Iwasa

One of my recent #readathon reads was the delightfully eccentric Yours Sincerely, Giraffe by Megumi Isawa. When my eyes started to get tired and words began to blur on the page, the simple but fun illustrations from Jun Takabatake were just the eye candy I needed.

The premise of the story is simple - Giraffe is bored. Until, that is, he spots a sign on a tree from an equally bored pelican who has decided to start up a postal service, 'willing to deliver anything anywhere'!

Giraffe decides to write a letter. He gives it to pelican with the instruction 'give it to the first animal you meet on the other side of the horizon.'

What follows is a rather absurd, but oh so charming tale of mistaken identity and misunderstanding as giraffe and his new penpal, penguin, try to imagine what each other look like and what it would be like to live on the other side of the horizon.

For teachers and parents, the added bonus with Yours Sincerely, Giraffe is the chance to discuss letter writing, difference and perception with your emerging reader. It's also a fabulous book to read aloud together.

New Zealand based Gecko Press have become renown for their promotion of unconventional, diverse and humorous books for children. These include Rose Lagercrantz's My Happy Life books and Ulf Nilsson's Detective Gordon series. Yours Sincerely, Giraffe is another quirky addition.

Journey to the River Sea by Eva Ibbotson

I started the Journey to the River Sea by Eva Ibbotson as part of my #readathon session. I had a lovely 15th anniversary edition of this modern day classic, complete with gorgeous blue butterfly. The following day I woke up with a terrible head cold and struggled to work, before realising that I was going to need a couple of days at home in bed to actually get better.

Journey to the River Sea became the perfect easy, delightful read to see me through my first day of feeling miserable at home.

This book was a pleasure in and of itself, but it also brought back so many lovely memories of other favourite childhood characters. Our orphaned heroine, Maia upon hearing that she was being sent to the Amazon to live with cousins she had never met, channelled her inner Jane Eyre, when she gave herself this stern talking to,

Fear is the cause of all evil, she told herself but she was afraid. Afraid of the future...afraid of the unknown. Afraid in the way of someone who is alone in the world.

Followed up quickly by an Anne Shirley-esque remark, 'And after that I don't know, but it's going to be all right.' Maia is courageous, funny and intelligent - the kind of child, we all wish we had been more like (well, at least, the kind of child, I wish I had been like).

There's the forbidding but ultimately lovable governess who provides Maia with thoughtful care, fun and inspiring life advice just like Mary Poppins or Professor McGonagall. The Little Lord Fauntleroy aspect is explored via Clovis, the very homesick and unwilling theatrical orphan boy. The mean twins are Nellie Olsen, John Reed and Veruca Salt all rolled into one (well, actually two, but you know what I mean!) And the lost boy, living with the Indians, has a touch of the Huck Finn's or Peter Pan about him.

Journey to the River Sea is historical fiction with heart. Set in 1910 England and Manaus on the banks of the Negro River in Brazil, Ibbotson gives us a tale of belonging, bravery and being true to yourself. There's also a treasure trove of gorgeous geography and anthropological treats along the way, with references to Humboldt, sloths and butterflies, just to name a few.

Highly recommended for mature 10+ readers and all lovers of fine children's literature.

My post for One Dog and His Boy from 2011 - when my reviews were short, sweet & simple.

Rockhopping by Trace Balla

Rockhopping is Trace Balla's follow up book to Rivertime with Clancy and Uncle Egg once again getting ready to head off an eco-adventure.

I love these books a lot.

I love their gentle pace and laid back attitudes.

I love their environmental credentials and back to nature ethos.

I love their attention to details.

I love their emphasis on problem solving, responsibility and being capable.

I love their zen-like, go with the flow, be in the moment philosophy.

But most of all I love how these books remind us that we are all a part of nature. Our natural environment is affected by our interactions with it whether we live in the city or the country.

As Balla says in the Teacher's Notes produced by her publisher, Allen & Unwin,

When you stop trying to get anywhere and just be, a whole world of wonder can open up to you. And when you stop going with a plan and follow the flow, you may find a world of unexpected opportunities revealing themselves to you. The more you look the more you find out. It’s also about realising we are part of the natural world, rather than separate to it, and that we are not alone, but surrounded by other life. Themes of growing up and realising what we are capable of are also explored.

Rockhopping is also respectful to the indigenous tribes of The Grampians (Gariwerd) in Victoria. Balla uses traditional names and common names for places as well as referring to aspects of Aboriginal culture throughout the book.

Commonsense, logic and thorough preparation are also applauded. There is a page of items that Clancy and Egg collected before they went off on their adventure. Practical handy survival tips are interwoven into the story at various points.

Balla adds an historical perspective to one of the sections. Day five shows a timeline with Clancy and Uncle Egg discussing the value of a good walking stick on a big bushwalk. The timeline then shows the same stick being used by a logger, a goldminer, a Chinese market gardener, a squatter and a Jardwadjali woman to dig.

Several trips to the region were integrated into ongoing discussions with local indigenous elders which helped Balla ensure that the local knowledge was authentic and up to date.

Balla received lots of support from local elders. She said in an interview on Reading Time that,

Milipiri Elder Wanta Jampijimpa has given me encouragement to keep doing these stories, that he says are about ‘reading country” and giving hope. Renowned environmental educator David Suzuki has also given me encouragement about my books inspiring kids to be in nature. These two elders encouragement points to passing on wisdom that we often lose sight of in our modern, often urban culture.

Rockhopping has been shortlisted for this years CBCA Younger Readers award.

Florette by Anna Walker

Anna Walker's whimsical water colour illustrations appeal to my inner child. Last year the CBCA award winning Mr Huff captured my attention while the gorgeous storm-tossed Peggy won my heart a couple of years before that.

Florette is another urban story about moving and adjustment and finding home wherever you are. Environmental concerns are addressed as Mae takes us on a nature journey in her new city - we experience first hand the impact of nature on our moods and attitudes. We also see the importance of having a passion, expressing your creativity and keeping busy as ways of helping us to adjust to change.

From small beginnings much bigger things can grow. You just have to start. And that small start can lead to friendship, good health and happiness.

Walker taps into an emotional truth as well as the gentle innocence of childhood in each of books. I predict another CBCA nomination ahead for Florette.

A Most Magical Girl by Karen Foxlee

Karen Foxlee has a way about her.

Her words weave magic. She draws you in, she makes you believe, she makes you feel brave.

A Most Magical Girl follows an ordinary, everyday Victorian girl, who, rather like Harry Potter, suddenly finds herself in a magical world. Her role is to fulfil the prophecy as the 'youngest and most able member of the Great and Benevolent Magical Society' to assume the role of 'Valiant Defender of Good Magic'.

The sinister Mr Angel has other ideas, of course!

Annabel is rather annoying to start with.
Privileged, pampered and totally unprepared for her new life, she spends a lot of the first section bemoaning these changes. Annabel is the epitome of the reluctant hero.

However, as the danger escalates, and Mr Angel's darklings turn London murky and foggy, Annabel finds that bravery and resilience are required. With a good heart and a clear head (and a couple of faithful companions), it turns out that Annabel is capable of great and daring things indeed!

To be honest, I didn't love A Most Magical Girl as much as Ophelia and the Marvellous Boy, but Ophelia was pretty special, and pretty hard to top.
However, AMMG is a lovely, magical ride, with lots of action (especially in the second half of the book). Foxlee's characters are memorable and believable. And Annabel's journey towards courage is inspiring.

Highly recommended for mature 10+ readers.

Do Not Say We Have Nothing by Madeleine Thien

For four days I've been trying to write a review that would do this rich, engrossing, mosaic of a book due justice.

It wasn't so much writer's block as writer's muddle.

There was soooo much to say! I couldn't even decide which lens or which perspective to choose?

Because I was enjoying Do Not Say We Have Nothing so much, I began researching stuff before I had finished reading.

I looked up the classical pieces of music conducted by Glenn Gould* that Thien mentioned throughout the book (Bach's Goldberg Variations and Sonata for Piano & Violin no 4) and listened to them as I read the book.

I researched the politicians and artists who were real people. He Luting (1903 - 1999) was a real composer and he really did say 'shame on you for lying' when hauled before a televised interrogation during the Cultural Revolution.

I researched the L'Internationale** to find out the various interpretations of the phrase that Thien used in her title.

I simply couldn't get enough of this book - I wanted to know more, delve deeper. I wanted to totally immerse myself in the reading experience.

On the surface, this is a story about a Chinese composer called Sparrow and the things that happened to him and around him during his lifetime. A lifetime that encompassed the extraordinary events from the Chinese Revolution to Tiananmen Square.

However, Thien weaves in many threads and motifs, until we have a story within a story, across three generations and two continents. She plays with recurring themes, copies of copies and the cyclical nature of history.

Music is a big part of the story and I found her descriptions of the creative process and the interpretation of music mesmerising.

Equally mesmerising, but in a horrifying way, was the astounding use of double-speak by politicians and revolutionaries during the Great Leap Forward and the Cultural Revolution in China.

Thien showed some of the effects of 'self-criticism', 'struggle sessions' and 'denunciations' on the creative mind as they learnt to silence their talents and learnt to live without their language.

One of the major themes developed throughout the story was the life of homosexuals in China*** during the Mao years. Sparrow and Jiang Kai obviously had an intense loving relationship that could not be realised openly. One had to become a hard-line revolutionary, destroying art and lives, while trying to protect his friend from within, who eventually fled the country. While the other stayed, gave up his career as a composer, married and worked in a radio factory of the governments choosing.

Later on, Sparrow's daughter, Ai Ming, also developed very strong feelings for her female neighbour during the heightened times surrounding Tiananmen Square.

Thien intertwined mathematics, etymology, translation, calligraphy, memory, disappearance, loss, free-will, and the nature of time seamlessly. There were moments of humour and moments of pathos.

I have read some reviews that felt Do Not Say We Have Nothing was too wordy. Not for me. I loved every single moment and thoroughly enjoyed the multi-layered, enchanting nature of Thien's loquaciousness.
However this book will not be for everyone.
Hopefully this review will help you decide whether it's for you or not.

Do Not Say We Have Nothing is a keeper for me. I plan to reread this one day and I will be devastated if this book doesn't win one of the book awards that it is currently shortlisted for (Booker and Giller Prizes as well as the Canadian Governor General's Literary Award).

Below are some of the results of my research (thank you wikipedia):

• The Chinese Soviet Republic (1931-1937) adopted a 19th century French socialist worker's song called L'Internationale** as their anthem. There was a line in the original (Nous ne sommes rien, soyons tout) that according to Wikipedia could be translated as 'we are nothing, let us be all'.

• Qu Qiubai translated a version of this song from Russian into Chinese in 1923 which changed this line to mean 'Do not say that we have nothing.'

• To my mind, the Chinese version has a sense of martyrdom inherent in its phrasing. They are being watched and judged by others who say they have nothing. Whereas the English translation seems to resound with solidarity and a proactive intent.

• The anthem later became a rallying cry for the students during the Tiananmen Square protests of 1989.

• Glenn Gould* (25 September 1932 – 4 October 1982) was a Canadian pianist. He became famous for his interpretations of Bach's music. His methods of recording, splicing, mixing and editing his performances in the studio caused controversy at the time. Critics questioned the authenticity of his work and made claims of imitation. More delicious multiplicity on Thien's behalf.

• Historically China, was tolerant of sexual experimentation and same-sex couples. However in 1949***, homosexuality was declared to be a sign of Western bourgeois decadence and vice by the Communist Party. 

• Treatment of homosexuals during the Cultural Revolution was harsh, many were humiliated in public and some were executed. They were forced into heterosexual marriages and all LGBTQ art and culture was destroyed. However, all sexual activity and discussion was considered lustful and decadent during this time. Personal choice was not important. Affairs, sexual freedom and even sex education in schools were all considered enemies of class. Neutral gender clothing was promoted and monogamy expected.

• Some of the books read by the characters during the story - David Copperfield by Charles Dickens and Notes From the Underground by Fyodor Dostoevsky. Friedrich Schiller's On the Aesthetic Education of Man, Kang Youwei's Book of the Great Community and Border Town by Shen Congwen.

• Thien was born in Vancouver. Her mother was born in Hongkong and her father was born in an ethnic Chinese area of Malaysia. They met whilst studying in Australia. The immigrated to Canada in 1974 just before Thien was born.

Little People Big Dreams

The Little People Big Dreams series is published by Frances Lincoln Children's Books.

Written by Maria Isabel Sanchez Vegara and translated into English by Emma Martinez, this biographical series featuring iconic women for young readers is set to capture our hearts and imaginations big time.

Starting with Coco Chanel and Frida Kahlo earlier this year, we can look forward to seeing Amelia Earhart and Maya Angelou (written by US author Lisbeth Kaiser writing her first children's book) next month and Agatha Christie and Marie Curie early next year.

I see on Goodreads that Vegara also has a Spanish edition of Audrey Hepburn that I hope we see translated into English very soon.

Vegara is from Barcelona. According to the Quarto webpage, she aims to "combine creativity with learning, aiming to establish a new and fresh relationship between children and pop culture."

Coco Chanel is illustrated by Ana Albero. She grew up in Spain, studied art in Paris and is now based in Berlin. Using graphite and coloured pencils, Albero's illustrations reflect her graphic art experience with Biografiktion, which features comic-style stories about real people. (One of her previous projects was on Abba - I would love to see a Little People, Big Dreams treatment about that!)

Having read many, many bio's on Chanel over the years, I can tell you that her story here has been romanticised and sanitized to suit its intended young audience. Something that Chanel, the mistress of reinterpretation, would approve of wholeheartedly.

The moral of Chanel's story is that being different is okay.

Frida Kahlo is illustrated by Gee Fan Eng, a Malaysian based illustrator.

Difference, or 'specialness' is one of the main themes again, although Kahlo's courage and determination is also stressed. Her ability to overcome and persevere against such extreme adversity is one of the truly inspirational elements to her story. As Kahlo was famous for saying, 'viva lavida' - live life!

Thanks to an exhibition currently on display at the Art Gallery of NSW, the Frida book has been spotted everywhere.

(My post about my visit to the Kahlo - Rivera exhibition is here).

We have had a copy in our window display at work for over a month now.

I love hearing young kids walk by and exclaim loudly to their slightly bemused parents, "that's Frida Kahlo!"

As someone who happily courted and collaborated in projecting a very specific image of herself out into the world, I'm sure Kahlo would be delighted to see the cult of Frida (Los Fridos) continues through a new generation of devotees on the other side of the world.

Both books contain a timeline at the back to give the young reader a little more detail.

Thanks to the research I did for this post, I am now following several new illustrators on Instagram.

A Single Stone by Meg McKinlay

One of the things I love about the CBCA shortlist is that, each year, it encourages me to read books that I may not have taken the time to get to otherwise.

A Single Stone is one of those books that I'm delighted to have taken the time to discover.

Every girl dreams of being part of the line – the chosen seven who tunnel deep into the mountain to find the harvest. No work is more important. 

Jena is the leader of the line – strong, respected, reliable. And – as all girls must be – she is small; years of training have seen to that. It is not always easy but it is the way of things. And so a girl must wrap her limbs, lie still, deny herself a second bowl of stew. Or a first. 

But what happens when one tiny discovery makes Jena question the world she knows? What happens when moving a single stone changes everything?

I confess that the cover art and blurb didn't really draw me in initially. However, as I read through, the strength and beauty and appropriateness of the cover grew on me.

McKinlay's writing, though wowed me from start to finish.

I almost felt suffocated by claustrophobia as she described the girls tunnelling for mica in the first few pages.

And I immediately felt an affinity for her practical, thoughtful protagonist, Jena.

This is not a YA novel full of teen angst and teen issues (those stories are great for teens and those still in touch with our inner teen).
A Single Stone is much, much more than that. It is an engaging, engrossing novel with the universal themes of belonging and personal self discovery.

McKinlay has created a rich, believable post-disaster community doing what they have to, to survive the new conditions in which they now find themselves.

The ending was satisfying and felt right within the context of the story. Personally I would have enjoyed a little more dramatic tension and conflict around the role of the Mothers and the belief that the mountain was somehow giving advise and directives.

Both these points (societal conformity vs personal responsibility and our belief systems) would make for fabulous class discussions and McKinlay does provides plenty of provocations around these ideas to promote a healthy debate.

By the end, I realised that A Single Stone was more of a mature junior fiction book than a YA story.

Therefore I highly recommended it to 10+ readers and all lovers of a satisfying, well-written story.

• Winner, Queensland Literary Awards: Griffith University Children’s Book Award, 2015
• Winner, 2015 Aurealis Awards: Best Children’s Fiction
• Shortlisted, 2016 CBCA Book of the Year Awards: Older Readers Category
• Shortlisted, 2016 NSW Premier’s Literary Awards: Patricia Wrightson Prize for Children’s Literature
• Shortlisted, Victorian Premier’s Literary Awards 2016: Writing for Young Adults
• Shortlisted, 2016 Adelaide Festival Awards for Literature: Young Adult Fiction Award
• Shortlisted, West Australian Young Readers Book Awards: Younger Readers

My CBCA shortlist post is here.