The Penelopiad | Margaret Atwood #Novella

 

Independent Scottish publisher Canongate Books brings together some of the world’s finest writers, in the Myth series, each of whom has retold a myth from various cultures in a contemporary and memorable way. The project was conceived in 1999 by Jamie Byng, owner of Canongate, who hopes that 100 titles will eventually be published in the series.

Authors in the series include Karen Armstrong (A Short History of Myth), A.S. Byatt (Ragnarok), David Grossman (Lion's Honey), Natsuo Kirino (The Goddess Chronicle), Alexander McCall Smith (Dream Angus), Philip Pullman (The Good Man Jesus and the Scoundrel Christ), Ali Smith (Girl Meets Boy), Michel Faber (The Fire Gospel), Victor Pelevin (The Helmet of Horror), Jeanette Winterson (The Weight), Su Tong (Binu and the Great Wall), Milton Hatoum (Orphans of Eldorado), Klas Östergren (The Hurricane Party), Dubravka Ugrešić (Baba Laid an Egg), Salley Vickers (Where Three Roads Meet), and of course, Margaret Atwood with The Penelopiad.

The Penelopiad was one of the first books published in this series, in 2005. Simply put, it's the story of Penelope as she waits for the return of Odysseus. But this is Margaret Atwood at her best, so much, much more is going on once you enter this world.

Penelope is dead and 'living' out her time in the underworld. From this place of eternal wandering, she decides to do some story-telling of her own, to set the story straight. Her story is interwoven with the voices of her very own Greek chorus - the twelve maids hanged by Odysseus on his return.

Our various mothers | Spawned merely, lambed, farrowed, littered, | Foaled, whelped and kittened, brooded, | hatched out their clutch. | We were animal young, to be disposed of at | will, | Sold, drowned in the well, traded, used, | discarded when bloomless. | He was fathered; we simply appeared 

Why were they hanged? What crime did they commit? What was Penelope's role in their downfall?

Atwood teases out these questions as she explores the roles of women in Ancient Greek life (and the many similarities to modern life) in verse and in prose. 

I was a kind girl...I knew I would have to have something to offer instead of beauty. I was clever, everyone said so...but cleverness is a quality a man likes to have in his wife as long as she is some distance away from him. Up close, he'll take kindness and day of the week, if there's nothing more alluring to be had.

The role of patience, waiting and the appearance of submission hide the reality of women's lives lived away from the male gaze. The friendship and jealousy, the camaraderie and gossip that makes up one's daily life, when one has nothing else to do.

There are many misunderstandings and many conversations misconstrued. Stories and myths are created to cover up deceit and misadventures. Where the truth lies, nobody really knows. Not even Penelope, in the end. Or the maids. All they know is that they were murdered and that their 'most pitiable end' has gone down in history unremarked and uncontested.

It pays to be conversant with The Iliad and The Odyssey, to appreciate where Atwood has used original narrative or woven in her own interpretation. Every word is wrought with an older meaning which leads back to the original stories. However the snarky, sardonic voice is pure Atwood!

I loved every minute with this novella and I plan to reread it at some point (maybe when I finally get around to reading Emily Wilson's translation of The Odyssey).

First Lines: 

• 'Now that I am dead I know everything. This is what I wished would happen, but like so many of my wishes it failed to come true.'

Favourite Quote:

We had no voice,
We had no name,
We had no choice,
We had one face,
One face the same

Have you read any of the other Myth series books?

Can you recommend which one I should try next?

I'm leaning towards Jeanette Winterson and A. S. Byatt at this point.

#NovellasinNovember

#MARM2020

A Fairy Tale Revolution

The series, A Fairy Tale Revolution, consists of four picture books from Vintage Classics, that 'remix and revive' well-known fairy tales and give them a modern, feminist twist. Featuring four amazing UK authors - Jeanette Winterson, Kamila Shamsie, Malorie Blackman and Rebecca Solnit - flexing their authorial muscles in a new format.

Like most fairy tales, however, they are not really designed to be read with or by very young people. Fairy tales are cautionary tales offering up dire consequences to those who do not take heed. They're stories created to keep you safe by alerting you to the dangers of jealous partners, controlling partners, death, grief and loss. They warn you of the consequences of selfish behaviour, greed, laziness, arrogance and self-indulgence.

The old tales, pre-Disney, do not mince words. 

If you don't pay attention, you could end up dead. You could be eaten by a wolf, enslaved, lost forever in the forest, cast out of your community, orphaned or maimed. Sometimes it was a stranger you had to beware, but even way back when, everyone knew that the biggest danger lurked much closer to home. 

Domestic violence and the awful way that families can treat each other have always been the main causes for concern in fairy tales. Dressing them up as a story, only took away some of the power and pain. The Brothers Grimm struggled with this harsh image of family life, changing many of the original stories from being about mothers to stepmothers, and fathers to devils, to soften the blow.

Wicked, cruel, selfish mother-figures and strict, controlling, violent father-figures haunt the pages of most fairy tales. Obsessive husbands, manipulative wives, lying, lazy children - families were viewed as toxic danger zones. Safe families could change at the drop of a hat, or the death of a parent. The big, bad world was full of injustice and inequity. 

These were adult stories designed to frighten and instruct. There were always consequences, but not necessarily the ones you would expect. They urged you to be vigilant. Fairy tales highlighted some of the evil, wicked and unfair practices that exist in our world.

Most of the modern retellings sanitise these older tales. The lazy little pigs don't get eaten by the wolf, they merely run to the next house. The wolf doesn't get boiled alive, he jumps out the window and runs away. Cinderella's stepsisters don't lop off parts of their feet to fit into the slipper, birds no longer peck out their eyes. The consequences for being lazy, inept or selfish are watered down. Our darker selves are ignored or discounted, while all the bad stuff is removed, onto an 'other'. The modern retellings take away the morals embedded in the old tales about our own personal development, our dual natures, the good and bad inside us all. All the bad is put out there, away from us. The lesson now is that we're all fine just as we are. The bad people are out there, out of our control, but nothing to do with us. We don't have to change, we just have to be cautious and keep out the baddie (other).

Many years ago I devoured Bruno Bettelheim's The Uses of Enchantment. I was fascinated by the idea of children returning to a story over and over again to satisfy some inner conflict. I saw this in my teaching career all the time. Certain stories resonated with some groups and individuals in a very deep way. They had to be read multiple times over an extended period of time, until the need was met.

These stories were always the 'darker' ones. Stories that were considered scary or sad. Stories where someone died, got lost, faced down a fear or suffered a major disappointment. Books like Koala Lou, Dogger, Harry the Dirty Dog, The Spooky Old Tree, The Deep, The Gingerbread Man (where the GM got eaten by the fox), The Hobyahs, The Story About Ping, The Giving Tree, A Lion in the Meadow, and The Story of Ferdinand.

When I was a child, I was obsessed with two particular fairy tales - Snow-White & Rose-Red and Rumpelstiltskin. Bettelheim, observed that fairy tales about siblings often “stand for seemingly incompatible aspects of the human personality.” There was also something in there about trust, and appearances being deceiving and our wild natures that haunted me as well. While Rumpelstiltskin taught me about the perils of bragging, and making bad decisions and why it's important to name the evil forces acting upon us, to take away their power. 

Much of Bettelheim's research has been debunked in more recent times, but his ideas about the darker elements in stories, their psychological impact and how they resonate with children, still holds true. 

These new retellings of Cinderella, Bluebeard, Hansel and Gretel, and The Ugly Duckling are deep, dark and delicious. They are adult stories dressed up in picture book form. 

Jeanette Winterson in Hansel & Greta turns the known story into an environmental tale of greed, destruction and wickedness. Her word play is delicious and witty. This was probably my favourite story of the four.

Malorie Blackman gives us the very modern Blueblood complete with video surveillance and mobile technology. Nia Blueblood is the great-great-great-great-great-granddaughter of Bluebeard. She is a vigilante outing men who have abused other women and gotten away with it...until now. This was dark and shocking and subversive. I loved it!

Kamila Shamsie's Duckling, is a disturbing tale about body-shaming, fear of the other and bullying. The fate of the outsider, the refugee, and the loner are considered in this sad tale of belonging and being true to yourself.

Cinderella Liberator by Rebecca Solnit maintains a more traditional structure until Cinderella and the Prince just become good friends who help each other to be their best selves. Transformation, asking for help and helping others are the main themes. Economic independence and liberation from traditional roles are seen as being good things for both sexes. 

All four stories share feminist twists that delight the reader. At least, they delighted this reader. They also feature woodcut illustrations in the style of Arthur Rackman, by Laura Barrett. Check them out, I think you will love them too.

The Dictionary of Lost Words | Pip Williams #AUSfiction

 

Many years ago, the year 2000 to be precise [I know this because], I read and loved Simon Winchester's The Surgeon of Crowthorne: A Tale of Murder, Madness and the Love of Words. Curiously and more sensationally, it was retitled The Professor and the Madman: A Tale of Murder, Insanity, and the Making of the Oxford English Dictionary for the US and Canadian market. Either way it was an utterly absorbing story about the chief editor of the first Oxford English Dictionary, John Murray and one his more colourful contributors, a US army surgeon imprisoned in the lunatic asylum in Crowthorne, Berkshire.

At the time I didn't think about how male dominated the story was. What else could one expect from a story written about the period of time from 1879 - 1915 (the years that Murray worked on the OED before his death on the 26th July)?

Thankfully Pip Williams didn't leave it at that!

One of the main consultants and contributors to the OED was historian Edith Thompson (1848-1929), originally brought in because for her knowledge of historical terms. However, by the C and D volumes she was also proofreading and sub-editing, providing thousands of quotations, along with her sister, Elizabeth Thompson.

Edith, or Ditte, is one of the real characters in Williams fictional story of the early days of the OED. Ditte is the godmother of our fictional protagonist, Esme. Williams weaves Esme's childhood habit of sitting under the sorting table in the Scriptorium, while her father worked above, into an explanation for how and why the word 'bondmaid' came to be missing from the first real-life edition of the OED.

I spent ages searching the internet for more information or a photo of Edith Thompson, but except for a few small notes on the OED contributors page, there was nothing but this one slip in her handwriting. 

These postcard-sized slips, devised by Murray, were used to collect, collate and organise all the words that came in from contributors all around the world. Pigeon holes lined the walls of the Scriptorium (the rather fancy name given to the shed at the bottom of his garden where he worked) where all the slips were sorted in alphabetical order. Every word and quotation was checked and double-checked for relevance, historical accuracy and usage. Many words instigated long debates between the three main editors as they disagreed over what was colloquial, crude or jargon. 

Many words were left out of the dictionary. Each word had to have a history of use and written quotes to back it up. If a word was in daily use, but had no written record it did not get used. Therefore the OED became a dictionary of the words that educated, literate men (and a few women) used and wrote throughout English history.

William's story turns the lens back around to the everyday words that women and the working classes used, as we watch Esme gather and collate her own dictionary of the words not included in the OED. 

Given the time frame spanned in this story, the women's suffrage movement and the effects of WWI also feature throughout. We experience both through the eyes of Esme. Both events provide her with even more opportunities to collect words that might otherwise be lost.

The Dictionary of Lost Words is a wonderful, rich historical fiction that I thoroughly enjoyed reading. I'm grateful that my book club gave me a good reason to finally pick this book up. My only quibble is that I failed to feel a deep emotional bond to any of the characters. I was completely absorbed by the story and the ideas, but I was curiously unmoved by the drama of their daily lives. First person narratives can do that to me sometimes, especially when the narrator is so reserved and quiet.

This book has left me with a thirst to know more about James Murray and his family. All of his eleven children helped work on the dictionary at various times, especially, his fourth daughter, Rosfrith, who spent most of her life working on the dictionary. I'm very grateful to Williams for highlighting the lives and work of the women who were involved in the creation of the OED. 

I'd also be keen to read more about Edith Thompson and her sister. Please let me know if you know of any such books, articles, texts.

Favourite Quote: 

The Kaurna are the Aboriginal people who called this land home before this great hall was built, and before English was ever spoken in this country. We are on their land, yet we do not speak their language. 

Favourite or Forget:

• Definitely a favourite read right now, but I suspect it won't stick in my mind by the time I come to compile my favourite reads of 2020.
• Why?
• Not enough emotional impact.
• But I will ALWAYS be fascinated by the origin story of the OED.
• The various titbits about how the Scriptorium worked will stay with me a long time.
• If I ever get to England again, a trip to 78 Banbury Rd, Oxford, will be on the cards.

Rodham: A Novel | Curtis Sittenfeld

What a fascinating premise!

What a fascinating story!

What an amazing story teller!

Rodham: A Novel is hard to define, and even harder to classify or deconstruct. What is real and what is fiction is the thing that haunts you the whole time you're reading this story. At least it did for me.

The idea of sliding doors, alternate histories or the road not taken have always intrigued me, so it was only natural that I would be sucked into Curtis Sittenfeld's world, where Hillary Rodham refused to marry Bill Clinton.

Living on the other side of the world, my understanding of the nuances of American politics is basic, though. I suspect a lot of the references to real life stuff passed me by. Especially once we moved into the alternate story of a single Hillary, forging a career path unhindered by a husband or children (sorry Chelsea). I didn't know enough about what Hillary Clinton actually did do, to know how different things were for Hillary Rodham. Was that youtube video in Ohio something that really happened? Did she really go on a cooking show and was there some gaff about baking cookies? 

So I had to read the book assuming that the basic relationships were based on reality (with family, friends, colleagues, senators, media and backers etc), but that the paths they took were changed by her third 'no' to Bill. 

I assumed that all the conversations were purely imagined and the sex scenes nothing but fantasy! Please let the sex be nothing but fantasy. It was like reading about your parents having sex. You know they probably did it, but you definitely do not want to know any of the details. Ever!

After reading a couple of other reviews (Susan @The Cue Card and Girl With Her Head in a Book) I believe that being on the other side of the world and far removed from many of the incidents and people referred to, I did miss some of the cleverness and the humour. I spent a lot of time worrying about what was real and what wasn't. And I certainly found the middle section of the book rather dry and dull, as only stuff about politics can be dry and dull to the outsider.

It wasn't until we got to Trump and more recent times, that I was able to appreciate the changes that rippled out from that third 'no', to bring Rodham to her third run at the presidency in 2016. It was highly amusing seeing Trump's own words being used against him here, to support Rodham against her long-ago ex, Bill Clinton, who was running against her in the Democratic nominations. With Trump's support, Rodham was able to move into the White House on her own terms!

One of the things I really enjoyed about the book, was the thinking involved in Hillary's decision to leave Clinton back in the 70's. For two pages, Sittenfeld's shares the internal dialogue of a woman torn by her love for a man and her growing concern about his philandering ways. Should she stay and accept his wandering eyes (and hands and lips and penis) or should she go? Should she stand by her man or put her own needs first? Which choice could she live with? 

In the book, she decides (with Bill's support) that she should go her own way. This changes everything (and sometimes) nothing for both Hill and Bill. 

Sittenfeld said in an Esquire article in May 2020,

it's really thinking about fate versus free will and the butterfly effect and how potentially small choices that any of us make can have... Do they have huge consequences, or does our life resemble itself no matter what small choices we make?

I'm not sure that I believe in fate, or soul-mates or even that everything happens for a reason. Even though my life story with Mr Books could be held up as a perfect example of all three. In the end it's the stories we chose to tell ourselves about our lives that make all the difference.

In real life Hillary chose to stand by her man, warts and all. The love they felt for each other was strong enough to get them through the tough times. The compromises made, were ones they chose to live with. They embraced the life they made together. I don't imagine that they have ever imagined different lives for themselves than the one they have lived through together. They do not seem to be the kind of people who live with regrets.

Sittenfeld has not imagined a world of regret either. Instead, she has cleverly shown us how a completely different life might be possible. How bit by bit, experience by experience, it's possible to evolve into someone else if another path was taken.

I found Rodham to be fascinating in a voyeuristic kind of way, sympathetic in a very human way and fun and delicious in a rather daring kind of way.

Book 2/20 Books of Summer Winter

Miss Brill | Katherine Mansfield #1920Club

Miss Brill is a short story by New Zealand author Katherine Mansfield. It was first published in Athenaeum on 26 November 1920 and later included in The Garden Party and Other Stories (1922). 

I knew I wouldn't have the time or reading energy to tackle a novel published in 1920 for this week's 1920's Club with Kaggsy and Simon; so I chose a short story (or two). Just a little dipping of the toes into the bohemian waters of 1920!

Until I read this story, I knew very little about Mansfield's rather short and tragic life. I had thought that I might find a story which referenced WWI and the Spanish Flu that swept around the world in 1919, little realising that Mansfield had enough health concerns of her own to go on with. In December 1917, she was diagnosed with tuberculosis at the age of 29. She was dead five years later.

For someone so young, she managed to leave behind a huge body of work, mostly in the form of short stories, book reviews and letters. She grew up in a 'socially prominent family' in Wellington. Her childhood included a few years finishing off her schooling in Europe. She returned to NZ and started writing seriously, but found the 'provincial life' not to her liking and in 1908 she moved permanently from NZ to London.

She enjoyed a bohemian lifestyle in London, having relationships with men and women, as well as meeting Virginia Woolf and D H Lawrence. There was a miscarriage, a couple of on again/off again marriages, eventually resulting in her mother cutting her out of her will.

Her beloved baby brother was killed in Ploegsteert Wood, Belgium, 6th October 1915 causing her to feel nostalgic about their childhood in NZ. Her reminiscences eventually lead into a prolific period of writing.

She died on the 9th January 1923 and was buried at Cimetiere d’Avon, Avon, France.

But let's get back to poor Miss Brill.

Her story may be short, but it packs a punch. Miss Brill is an ageing, unmarried woman who lives quietly on her own, her only pleasure is walking around the Jardins Publiques to people watch. The story opens with a sense of excitement and anticipation. The long winter is over; the new Season is begun. Miss Brill brings out her fox stole from storage for the occasion. She freshens it up, brushing it's fur, and rubbing the life back into it.

She heads out feeling smart and self-contained.

But, as you learn to expect from Mansfield, there is an underlying sadness or melancholy that swells up when you (or Miss Brill) least expect it.

By the end of this short story, Miss Brill is confronted to see how others perceive her. She goes from feeling like all the world's a stage with everyone a player, including herself, to realising that she is a figure of ridicule, on the outside of a brand new world dominated by youth.

Loneliness, isolation and illusion. Themes that have taken on a new meaning in our own brand new coronavirus world.

Thank you to Kaggsy and Simon for hosting the #1920Club.

My other Katherine Mansfield posts:

• Miss Brill (1920)
• The Wind Blows (1920)
• Psychology (1920)

Excellent Women | Barbara Pym #ComfortRead

I'm struggling to write reviews at the moment (my Covid Chronicles posts are the writing exception), but I am slowly reading through a few books. One that I've just finished is Some Tame Gazelle by Barbara Pym. It was her very first book published in 1950. I was curious to see what I had to say about her other books, that I had read quite a while ago. 

Turns out it was seven years ago!

I posted my first Barbara Pym review on the 4th June 2013. It was for Excellent Women, her second novel published in 1952. I give you a revised peek into a gorgeous book and a beautifully conceived reading week below.

I am a recent convert to the charming world of Pym.
By recent, I mean just 3 days ago! 

Barbara Pym has been on my radar for a while though. But it wasn't until I joined in The Classics Club Their Eyes Were Watching God sync reading two months ago that I made the first move. 

My copy of Their Eyes Were Watching God is one of the designer collection put out by Virago Modern Classics. I loved it so much (book and cover) that I researched to see what other titles were still available in the range.
Excellent Women was one of them...so I snapped it up.

It has been sitting on my bedside table for two months now tempting me with it's delicious cover by Orla Kiely. When I saw that Thomas at My Porch and Amanda at Fig and Thistle were hosting a Pym reading week in honour of her 100th birthday I saw it as a sign to finally give in to temptation. 

I'm so glad I did. 

Excellent Women has turned out to be a charming, drawing room period piece full of grace and at times, quite biting humour. 

I've seen many references that compare Pym's writing to Jane Austen.
As a long-time Austen fan I can see the similarities - the humorous observations, the details describing the lives of women in the particular period that the two women wrote of. But Austen's ability to weave her plot lines, dialogue and characters into such tight, dare I say, perfect stories is a stand out difference. 

Perhaps Mildred is the post war Charlotte Lucas with a choice of two Mr Collins'. Except Mildred, unlike Charlotte, has more options - Mildred does not have to accept Julian or Everard (if they ever make an offer that is). Mildred can work, she can be independent, she need never be a burden on siblings or nieces and nephews. 

I see Pym's gentle, everyday stories of 'good' women fitting more into the Anita Brookner and Alice Munro writing style.

All four authors share the ability to show us the quotidian events that affected their characters in the times that they lived. 

I keep coming back to this point, because I often read reviews that complain about the lack of feminist rhetoric in Austen and Pym in particular. But that's not the world their characters lived in. Their women were strong, intelligent (mostly) and loving (usually). Their opinions and ideas were based on the world they lived in. They accurately reflected their class, their education and their experiences. 

Mildred's gentle, loving church upbringing meant that she was never going to be one of the bra-burning generation. Some of the most poignant moments in Excellent Women are when Mildred is forced to come face to face with more modern ideas and people. She is the classic fish out of water. 

Mildred was part of that large group of women who remained unmarried after WWII due to the tragic loss of so many (marriageable) men. She worked, lived independently, dreamed her romantic dreams, but ultimately developed a pragmatic, busy and self-contained life to disguise any loneliness or despair that might have crept in. She accepted her lot in life with grace and forbearance.  

I lived a single, fiercely independent life for 18 years (before finding my very own Mr Knightley/Captain Wentworth). I know the joys and freedoms of single life and I also know it's downsides. I know the private deals you make with yourself.

Mildred's experience is authentically drawn by Pym. My heart aches for Mildred - her determination to make the best of things is heart warming and heart breaking in the same breath. 

There is definitely more Pym on my horizon.

And indeed there was!

An Academic Question on the 8th June 2013
Jane and Prudence on the 8th July 2013

High Rising | Angela Thirkell #ComfortRead

Given these weird and scary times we now live in, Angela Thirkell seems like the only sensible option! Her gentle social satire, quintessential British humour and lightness of touch in the face of adversity is not only comforting but inspiring.

High Rising is the first book in a 29 book series, the Barsetshire Chronicles, a homage to Anthony Trollope’s Chronicles of Barsetshire books. Barsetshire is a fictional English county used by both authors for their cast of characters - mostly gentry and clergy - to run around in.

Thirkells’s light, amusing, romantic stories are given an added extra something when we take into account that most of the early books in particular, where written contemporaneously. The WWII books were written as they were living it, without knowing when or how it would end, how many lives would be lost or what sacrifices they might be called on to make as a society. Doubt and fear underlie every action in these books. Yet you cannot live every single moment of every single day like that. Daily life continues, even though it’s different to ‘before’. New things become normal, hardships are sudden and unexpected. But carry on, you must. And if you must carry on, then you might as well do it with as much good grace and humour as you can.

High Rising takes place in 1933. Events are unfolding in Europe that will have profound effects on this world one day. We know that, but Thirkell and her delightful, charming characters do not. They are still in the grateful to have survived The Great War phase. Their quiet, domestic arrangements have not been impacted by the wild, crazy 20’s or the Depression. They’re enjoying the new freedoms and new emerging technologies that make their daily lives easier. Getting electricity put in for the first time or even a telephone, having the bathroom plumbed or a new motor car. These are the great advances of society to be celebrated and enjoyed.

It’s hard not to feel nostalgic about this innocence today.

Laura Morland is a wonderful creation. Independent, caring and very practical. She embodies resilience and strength of character. A widow with four boys, all but one grown up and out in the world, she earns her way by writing frivolous romances.

She was quite contented, and never took herself seriously, though she took a lot of    trouble over her books. If she had been more introspective, she might have wondered at herself for doing so much in ten years, and being able to afford a small flat in London, and a reasonable little house in the country, and a middle-class car. The only thing that did occasionally make her admire herself a little was that she actually had a secretary. 

I hope to see a lot more of Laura in the future.

The Feel Good Guide to Menopause by Dr Nicola Gates #AWW

I started reading perimenopause/menopause books back in 2015 after noticing changes to the way I was experiencing my body.

Five years later, I'm still waiting. Still wondering, and wishing it was all over.
Most of my friends seem to be there. Many of my friends didn't even know it was about to happen; it just happened. They were just suddenly done.

I read The Feel Good Guide to Menopause early last year and have been dipping in and out of it ever since. I'll be going along fine for months, then suddenly a weird phase or another weird symptom will pop up. I'll pull out this book, find the appropriate chapter and realise that I've simply ticked off yet another marker along the way. It would seem that I am determined, in my usual uber-conscientious way, to complete this journey by going through every single stage!

Dr Nicola Gates is an Australian neuropsychologist and psychologist, 'working with adults to improve brain health, cognitive function and mental wellbeing.' She has written an easy to read, stage by stage book. She focuses on the facts, health and hormones. She helps you to check your attitudes and smashes assumptions and myths. Sleep, sex and self-care are all covered as are all the various options available to women once they actually stop. I look forward to reading those sections more thoroughly one day!

If you're one of the lucky 10% that experienced no symptoms, then you can skip this book. For the rest of us, books like this (and Jean Kittson's more humorous one linked below) are a god-send. They save you from having to run to the doctor every single time you notice something odd happening. They help you to realise you're not alone or weird. And they help you to see that a positive, proactive attitude combined with a good dose of humour does actually help for some of it.

It can be rather frustrating to realise how little is still understood about this phase of a woman's life. So much of the information and advice is trial and error, often met with a shrug of the shoulders. It doesn't help that each women will have a completely unique experience.

Peri-menopause and menopause, are entirely unpredictable. The experience of our mothers is no guide either. The start and nature of our periods throughout our lives also has no bearing on their fluctuation and cessation.

Not knowing what will happen or when is a curious state of affairs when it comes to your body. Books like this give you back a little bit of control.

As an aside, the first chapter, entitled Her-story, was a fascinating insight into how religion and medical bias has kept the female experience in the dark for so long. It has only been in the last DECADE that serious research into hormones and hormonal changes in women has even occurred. With the time lag between research and practice to general public awareness, we are still years away from knowing what is really going on in the bodies of half the population! Part of Dr Gates aim in writing this book was to close this gap.

It's time to start talking ladies!

I can also highly recommend You're Still Hot to Me by Jean Kittson.

Girl, Woman, Other | Bernardine Evaristo #BookerWinner

I'm still trying to catch up on posts leftover from my magnificent Christmas reading binge.

Girl, Woman, Other: A Novel by Bernardine Evaristo is the final one. It is certainly not the least though. In fact, it very nearly overtook The Yield as my favourite book for 2019.

What stopped it from doing so?

Mostly time.

I have lived with and loved The Yield for many months now. It's wonderfulness has been a part of me for a much longer period of time than Girl, Woman, Other. It also has the advantage of being home grown. Poppy's very special Indigenous language dictionary is another stand out feature that I think about often.

But this is about Girl, Woman, Other and it definitely deserves it's own time in the sun to shine.

The twelve interconnected stories about growing up, living, working and loving in London by mostly black British women of various ages, had me hooked from the very first voice, Amma. Via these women, Evaristo talks about feminism, double standards, gender, racism, sexism and ageism.

The twelve chapters read like twelve separate portraits, with Evaristo revelling in the characterisations of each and every one. Her loose-flowing poetic prose was full of vitality and complexities. I was engrossed by each and every story, not wanting them to end, but then getting caught up in the next biography and wondering how they might interconnect.

The diversity and otherness suggested by the title, was explored on many levels. Part of my enjoyment came from reading such a fresh perspective and experiencing a reality different to my own. Note to self, read more diversely in 2020 (most of my 2019 reading was Australian and Indigenous).


Evaristo, herself, said:

I wanted to put presence into absence. I was very frustrated that black British women weren’t visible in literature. I whittled it down to 12 characters – I wanted them to span from a teenager to someone in their 90s, and see their trajectory from birth, though not linear. There are many ways in which otherness can be interpreted in the novel – the women are othered in so many ways and sometimes by each other. I wanted it to be identified as a novel about women as well.

Finally, I will tackle the co-winning of the Booker Prize with Margaret Atwood's The Testaments. I have read both and enjoyed both, but Girl, Woman, Other is by far the richer, more interesting and certainly the more original of the two. Labelling a book 'the best novel of the year', obviously leaves things very open to individual interpretation, but to my mind, Girl, Woman, Other stands head and shoulders above any of the others shortlisted for the 2019 Booker Prize and deserved to win in it's own right.

Facts:

• Joint Winner of the Booker Prize 2019
• Shortlisted for the Gordon Burn Prize 2019
• Named one of Barack Obama’s Favourite Books of 2019

The Testaments by Margaret Atwood

My work has been a bit crazy this year. And during August and September it was hectic and full of changes. So a lot of the hype surrounding the sequel to The Handmaid's Tale passed me by. I saw some excited chattering on blogs, twitter and goodreads. I heard some of the discussion around it's long-listing for the Booker Prize before publication date. And I caught a fleeting glimpse of the embargo breach by Amazon.

But until the day before the Booker announcement, I hadn't really given The Testaments much thought. Obviously I wanted to read it. I usually love Atwood's stuff and I LOVED The Handmaid's Tale. But it would have to be twenty years since I last read it.

When I first read it in my twenties it made me furious (in that good bookish way when a book excites your passions). A reread, a few years later in my early thirties, confirmed that it could still enrage me (in that good bookish way when a book can get under your skin).

Sadly, I missed the recent Elizabeth Moss tv adaptation of the book.

My plan had been to reread The Handmaid's Tale prior to starting The Testaments. I was in no hurry; knew I would get around to it one of these days, so I just let it sit in the back of my mind for later on.

Until Monday afternoon last week, when my new boss asked me who I thought would win the Booker. I had been so busy, I hadn't even clocked that it was that time of year again. Not having read any of the shortlist, all I could go on was my gut feel that Atwood would win. Her book had the hype, her writing was guaranteed to be good and it seemed like the safe option.

Tuesday morning.

I was up early, getting ready for work, thinking a million other thoughts about all the things I needed to prioritise at work that day. As I sat down to eat breakfast, I glanced at twitter and suddenly realised that the Booker Prize was about to be announced. I quickly found the facebook feed so that little old me, all the way across the other side of the world on a completely different day, could watch the Monday night announcement in London, live! Don't you just love technology.

And joint winners!

Didn't see that coming at all.

Without even thinking about it, I raced up to my bedroom, grab The Testaments from beside my bed and read the first chapter before work.

Any thought of rereading The Handmaid's Tale first went straight out the window - my justification being to see if one could read The Testaments without having any, or much knowledge of the first. I was going to offer myself up as a reading guinea pig!

So what did I remember about The Handmaid's Tale after all this time?

None of the names for starters, except that the Handmaids were named after the man - 'Offred' 'Ofthomas' etc. The handmaids were basically baby making machines. For some reason the wives were not able to produce healthy babies of their own. Religious ritual was evolved to make the baby making thing palatable. I remember that, in the end she (the main character, the titular Handmaid) must have escaped, or at least her story had got out, as she was being studied in a future history class or symposium. I remember that it was religious fanaticism that created Gilead, that this regime was still fairly new as people could remember a time before. I remember thinking that the parallels with our times were frighteningly familiar - which is the trademark of all truly good sci-fiction writing - to make it just enough like our world to make it seem possible. I recall that our Handmaid, either rediscovered her old boyfriend or established a new connection with a driver or guard or someone who helped her plan her escape. I believe the ending was deliberately unclear about the success of this mission. I loved it. It was feminist and very critical of the role religion plays in keeping women in their place.

What were my initial reactions as I started The Testaments?

Firstly I was confused by the names. I couldn't remember if any of these people had been in the first book. Aunt Lydia? Commander Kyle? Not sure.

But I was soon delighted to discover that this didn't matter very much, as what I was getting here was the back story that filled in all the gaps. Via various narrators we saw how Gilead was created, how the rest of the world responded to this change as well as various hints and rumours about the story surrounding our earlier Handmaid and what happened to her and her baby.

I've read that some people have been disappointed or underwhelmed by Atwood's latest offering, but I thoroughly enjoyed being back her capable hands.

It didn't move me as strongly as I recall being moved by The Handmaid's Tale. This book felt less political, less feminist, less concerned with religion, less personal and dare I say, less urgent. Perhaps the chorus of voices diluted the power that I experienced with the first Handmaid's story. Maybe I've mellowed with age. Perhaps Atwood has. Or it could be a simple as the purpose of the story. The Handmaid's Tale asked questions and left lots unanswered. The gaps allowed for supposition, insecurity, fear and doubt. The Testaments tidied all of that up. And without giving away the ending, the homage to the first book at the end of the second, was satisfying and offered a number of pleasing resolutions.

Naomi @Consumed by Ink and Marcie @Buried in Print are hosting Margaret Atwood Reading Month in November that will include a readalong of The Handmaid's Tale and The Testaments. I'm the rebel who will be reading the books in reverse order as I'm hoping to squeeze in a reread of The Handmaid's Tale along with ALL the other blogging commitments I have on my plate for November!

To finish up, I want to bring to light a little known Aussie connection to Atwood. Well, I didn't know this - perhaps you did?

In the Sydney Morning Herald on the 16th Feb 2019, Nick Bryant wrote,

Her connection with the Sunshine State comes from her second husband, the novelist Graeme Gibson, whose father emigrated there from Canada in search of a friendlier climate and cleaner air. "Every time we got invited to Australia we would go up to Brisbane to visit the rellies," she says, laughing. "His mother and his grandmother were from there." 

Longlisted for The Giller Prize 2019

Three Women by Lisa Taddeo

Three Women by Lisa Taddeo is one of those books of the moment, and one that I have actually managed to read during it's moment! And I can see why so much buzz has attached itself to this book.

It's about sex, desire and what it means to be a woman, told from the perspective of three women that Taddeo has spent years and years getting to know. Years and years of trawling through diaries, text messages and legal documents. Years and years of interviews with the three women and their family, friends and colleagues.

It's an extraordinary, personal and universal journey.

One can recognise aspects of one's younger self in each of the women - their thinking, their actions, the external forces that have influenced them. Fortunately most of us (I think) are spared the traumatic episodes that have come to define the lives of the women in this book. Most women I know have had icky episodes in their lives, but another group of women, live with much larger, darker secrets. This is a book about those women.

'And there but for the grace of god go I' was a common refrain that ran through my mind as I read this book. My family has used this phrase all my life, so much so, that we now abbreviate it to a simple 'there but' and the rest of us then automatically, silently, finish the phrase in our heads.

These women were on the other side of this phrase.

Most young women just want to be loved for who they are, messy bits and all. Getting a boyfriend can become such a huge part of our teen years. This desire can often lead to bad choices being made. These young women just want to be accepted, they want to belong. Like boys of the same age, they often want to break out from their parent's world. They want to experiment, have fun and dabble with bad boys, good boys, girls, whoever will show them some love and affection and desire. They want to find their power, even as they can have it taken away by others or as they give it away not realising what it is that they have. The trouble is the trouble that can happen to girls during this phase is often devastating. The double standard still exist and these girls bear the brunt of social scorn, ridicule and censure.

After almost binge reading the first half, I had to put this book aside for awhile. I was starting to feel impatient and annoyed - at the women in the book, at the world we live in, at men who take advantage, at foolish young girls who make bad choices, at families who don't take better care of their teenagers.

A couple of weeks later, I jumped in again. Once again I was utterly absorbed by Taddeo's amazing story-telling  - but there was also a part of me that was repulsed. The roller coaster ride of compulsive empathy followed by pulling away with annoyance was quite exhausting. Exhilarating and exhausting.

So what did I learn?
Or what did I get out of this all-consuming reading experience?

Firstly, that it is possible to find a book utterly engaging, authentic, intricate, insightful, thoughtful, supportive and non-judgemental, yet aggravating at the same time.

Secondly, that it's possible to describe a book as narrative non-fiction at its finest and utterly pointless at the same time. I say pointless, not because I think these women and their desires are pointless, but because I'm not quite sure what Taddeo was hoping to do with the book.

Thirdly, what you get out of this book, will depend on which lens you view it through. A feminist lens will leave you feeling enraged. A diversity lens will leave you feeling disappointed. A psychoanalytical lens will appreciate Lisa's ability to get her three women to reveal so many intimate details about their lives, but I'm not sure anyone of these women could be considered archetypes. A Marxist lens will see class and social inequalities confirmed by the different desires that drive these women.

Finally, I learnt that the beginning, middle and the end of a book can produce very different reader responses, in just the one reader! It was exhausting at times, at other times I empathised and recognised certain universal thoughts and beliefs and at others I wanted to shake them all until I could make them see sense, take control of their lives and stand up for themselves.

I also wondered if the one thing these three women had in common were parents, who despite loving their children, were somehow absent or guilty of not paying close enough attention. Whether it was alcohol, mental illness or emotional distance. As Taddeo says is her Prologue,

how much of what I thought I wanted from a lover came from what I needed from my own mother. Because it's women, in many of the stories I've heard, who have a greater hold over other women than men have.

This is not another book that blames women for the problems of other women. It's rawer than that. And more encompassing. It's life;

the beast of it, the glory and brutality. [The] blood and bone and love and pain. Birth and death. Everything at once.

Three Women was my latest book group choice. It generated lots of discussion, although no-one was prepared to be the first to talk about her desires! And maybe that's why Taddeo wrote this book - as a way to provoke a group of women into talking about desire, love and sex.

The Widows of Malabar Hill by Sujata Massey

The Widows of Malabar Hill by Sujata Massey is exactly the type of cosy crime I enjoy reading on a cold, rainy wintery weekend.

Much like the UK series about Maisie Dobbs and the Australian series by Kerry Greenwood about Phryne Fisher, Massey has created the Indian version of these smart, pioneering 1920's women who have the ability to be in the right place at the right time to solve crimes.

Sujata was born in England to parents from India and Germany. She now lives in the US, which may explain why I often felt that the Indian nature of the story was technically correct and well researched, but didn't always feel authentic. I spent most of the book feeling like a tourist, on the outside looking in. I will be curious to hear how one of my fellow book clubbers felt about this though, as she actually grew up living on Malabar Hill in the 1960's.

At times, I had a few quibbles with the 'show don't tell' aspect of Massey's writing and I didn't always feel like I was in 1920's India. Sometimes the dialogue felt awkward and stilted as well. It may have been an accurate reflection of the self-conscious, uneasy tensions that exist when two different classes try to communicate but I'm not sure that's where the problem lay.

However, I cannot deny, that as an easy to read, cosy crime story, The Widows of Malabar Hill was a winner. It has a likeable protagonist in Perveen Mistry and an exotic setting. Being based on versions of a true story gives the book another tick in its favour.

Mistry's backstory was interesting, but at times felt contrived. Perhaps it was all the 'telling' going on rather than showing, revealing and letting the reader get there themselves. Certainly the reader doesn't have to do anything other than just read, Massey does all the work. Despite all the descriptions, I have no residual visual image of the characters or the place. The historical element also felt rather loose. I had to keep reminding myself it was meant to be the 1920's.

I obviously had some technical issues with the writing, but ultimately I enjoyed the story and will probably read the sequel The Satapur Moonstone at some point. You may be surprised to hear that, after all the issues I had with this book, but sometimes a book is just for reading. And sometimes a book leaves you with enough of a warm glow, to make a dreary wintery weekend a little brighter.

Favourite or Forget: I suspect this will fade from my memory fairly quickly.

Food:

My edition comes with a few recipes (of meals eaten throughout the book) at the back. I'm keen to try the Malabar Spinach and Eggs one day.

Preparation Time: 20 minutes
Cooking Time: 10 minutes
Serves: 2 as breakfast or 4 as part of a dinner
Difficulty: Easy

Here’s a moderately spicy recipe that is a Parsi classic. Malabar spinach, also known as water spinach or poisaag, can be found at Asian grocers and farmer’s markets. Large leaf spinach or swiss chard is a good substitute. You’ll need a wide frying pan with a lid to prepare this dish.

Ingredients:

• 2 tablespoons canola, safflower or sunflower oil
• 1/2 cup chopped onion
• 4 curry leaves (optional)
• 2 teaspoons grated fresh ginger
• 1 minced garlic clove
• 5 diced Roma tomatoes, or one large tomato
• 3 tablespoons chopped fresh coriander
• 1/2 teaspoon turmeric
• 1/4 teaspoon chilli powder
• 1 bunch of Malabar spinach, or substitute greens
• salt to taste
• 4 eggs

Method:

1. Heat oil in a wide, deep skillet over medium-low heat. Add onion and optional curry leaves and sauté until onion is translucent.
2. Add the ginger, garlic, tomatoes, coriander, turmeric, and chilli powder. After the tomatoes are broken down, about two minutes, add the spinach and a few tablespoons of water. Cover with lid and cook for 5 to 7 minutes over low heat, until the spinach is soft. Add salt to taste.
3. Use a large spoon to make 4 depressions in the soft cooked greens. Break an egg over each of these depressions.
4. Cover the pan again. If the lid has a curve on its underside, invert the lid and pour a couple of teaspoons of water into the curve. This addition of water heightens the steaming effect as the eggs poach under the lid. Remember to keep the temperature very low.
5. Peek at the eggs after 3 minutes, and if they are almost set, serve.

Two nights later:

I made an Aussie version of Malabar Spinach and Eggs using bok choy and broccolini. It was perfect for one of our 800 Fast day meals. It was also delicious and the spice mix was great for warming us up on a cold winter's evening.

Facts:

• Cornelia Sorabji was the real life inspiration for Perveen Mistry
• Winner of the Agatha Award
• Winner Mary Higgins Clark Award
• Winner Lefty Award for Best Historical Mystery
• Nominated for the Harper Lee Prize for Legal Fiction

17/20 Books of Summer Winter

Sydney 21℃

Dublin 20℃
Weekend Cooking with Beth Fish Reads

The Silence of the Girls by Pat Barker

I've had a lovely run of Homeric stories retold from a feminist perspective this year - Madeline Miller's Circe and The Song of Achilles, and now Pat Barker's The Silence of the Girls.

After Miller's wonderful, rich storytelling, I was looking forward to seeing what Barker would come up. I was thrilled that her story was going to be told from Briseis' point of view, as I enjoyed the brief glimpse that Miller gave me into a possible story for her in The Song of Achilles.

Briseis, the wife of the King of Lyrnessus, Mynes is one of the women and girls captured as spoils of the Trojan war. She is given to Achilles as a war trophy, but becomes a disputed object between Achilles and Agememnon which leads the reader into the central crisis in Homer's The Iliad.

Barker doesn't shy away from the sexual nature of these transactions. The women and girls knew they were going to be enslaved, raped and abused. Knowing this, I'm not sure why more of them didn't leap from the top of the tower, like Barker described two young women doing early on, as the Greeks crashed through the front gate.

Maybe there wasn't that much difference between their husbands and their new masters? Or perhaps the violence wasn't as horrific as I imagined and Barker suggested? Maybe a form of love or tenderness bloomed between master and subject? Perhaps the Greeks were looking for the comforts of home not more violence?

We will never really know, which is why I'm so fascinated by these modern retellings.

However, in the end, Barker's was a fairly straight version of events as originally told in The Iliad.

I enjoyed the first person narrative of Briseis, but found the occasional third person narrative from Achilles point of view very clunky. There only worth was to highlight just how objectified the women in the camp were to the men. They were sexual objects for barter and to show off. Barker showed these men as being unable to remember the names of the women that they took to their beds on a regular basis, dismissing their words, their presence and their humanity.

I also struggled with the language. Barker's writing style abounded in cliches with her characters often behaving in implausible ways. The dialogue in particular was banal and didn't seem to lead anywhere or show anything. I was disappointed to say the least.

So for now, this ends my run of Homeric retellings with a feminist twist. I still have Margaret Atwood's The Penelopiad to look forward to one day and Gareth Hinds graphic novel adaptation of The Iliad on my TBR pile...maybe the next readathon?

Favourite Quote: I didn't underline one single phrase or sentence.

Favourite or Forget: Forgettable.

Facts:

• Costa Novel Award 2018 Shortlist
• Women’s Prize for Fiction 2019 Shortlist
• Longlisted for the 2020 International Dublin Literary Award.

9/20 Books of Summer Winter
Sydney 19℃
Dublin 18℃

Circe by Madeline Miller

I recently read and loved The Song of Achilles, and couldn't really understand why I had waited so long to read a book that was so obviously designed to appeal to my reading temperament. Ancient Greek mythology, historical fiction, women's issues and award winning book all packed into one delightful package.

I was determined not to make the same mistake with Madeline Miller's second book, Circe.

Eight years in the making, for the early fans of The Song of Achilles, Circe would have definitely been worth the wait. I discovered a rich, engrossing, fabulous ride into the Ancient Greek world of gods, goddesses, nymphs and legends all told from the perspective of the daughter of the sun god Helios and the ocean nymph, Perse.

Circe, the nymph of potions and herbs, has long fascinated me thanks to a visually stunning painting by J. W. Waterhouse that I spotted in one of my early visits to the Art Gallery of NSW gift shop. A print of Circe Invidiosa has been hanging on my wall ever since.

I love the colour of the liquid in the bowl as it flows into the sea (that I now know was used to turn the beautiful naiad, Scylla into an ugly, deadly monster) and I love the look of incredible intent and purpose on Circe's face. This is a woman who will not be crossed or deterred from her course. Beauty and power, good and bad reside in her actions. I've always wanted to know what she was thinking about at this moment.

Miller gives me options to ponder. 

I moved straight-backed, as if a great brimming bowl rested in my hands. The dark liquid rippled as I walked, always at the point of overflow, yet never flowing.

Circe Invidiosa (1892) - J. W. Waterhouse

Telling the well-known and much loved story of Odyssey's travels via a feminist lens is not new. Pat Barker went there recently with The Silence of the Girls and Margaret Atwood has also been there with The Penelopiad, which, like Penelope herself, is still waiting patiently on my TBR. (I'm sure there are more examples, but I'm too tired to search them out tonight). 

I enjoy these modern interpretations of ancient stories. A lot. 

Back in my twenties I dabbled wit a few Marion Zimmer Bradley retellings - The Mists of Avalon and The Fall of Atlantis in particular. But don't get my started on my Arthurian obsession!

The ancient myths and legends were guideposts for the people of the time to help them to explain the world they lived in, gave meaning to their lives, validated their experiences and entertained. Generally this world was a world of men.

Our lives now are far more equal, balanced and diverse. Acceptance and openness are the norms we have come to expect in our lives and in our literature. No longer is, humbling women the chief pastime of poets. As if there can be no story unless we crawl and weep.

Miller has reclaimed the role of women in this world of men. They are not just put there to be the playthings of men. Their lives are not to be judged or explained by men alone. 

With this retelling, Miller has turned a somewhat chest-thumping, male-ego excursion into adventure and boastful escapades (The Iliad) into a more human, more authentic and more possible version of events simply because it considers more than one perspective.

In these modern retellings women have active roles, they have agency over their life choices and they have their own opinions and ideas.

I, for one, rejoice at this modern turn of events. And I wait with baited breath for Miller's next venture into this ancient world.

Favourite Quotes:

That is one thing gods and mortal share. When we are young, we think ourselves the first to have each feeling in the world.

Every moment mortals died, by shipwreck and sword, by wild beasts and wild men, by illness, neglect and age. It was their fate...the story that they all shared. No matter how vivid they were in life, no matter how brilliant, no matter the wonders they made, they came to dust and smoke. Meanwhile every petty and useless god would go on sucking down the bright air until the stars went dark. 

Favourite Character: Circe, naturally.

Favourite or Forget: One of my best reads this year so far. It was gorgeous, epic and enchanting! I'm very disappointed that Circe did not win The Women's Prize this year.

Facts:

• Longlisted for the 2020 International Dublin Literary Award.

5/20 Books of SummerWinter

Sydney 16℃

Dublin 18℃

My Sister, the Serial Killer by Oyinkan Braithwaite

What a hoot!

I wasn't expecting a neo-noir comedy from such a grim title, but I had some genuine laugh out loud moments throughout My Sister, the Serial Killer. Oyinkan Braithwaite has written a punchy, sharp, witty story that blew in like a breath of fresh air in this year's Women's Prize shortlist.

One of the reasons why I love to read the various shortlists and longlists is for the surprises they throw up - for the books I would probably never read otherwise. Not because I have anything in particular against said books, but simply because there are so many books out there and I can only read so many. We all make decisions about what books we usually choose to read. We have preferred genres, topics, writing styles, We have pet interests and passions that guide our choices. We're influenced by book clubs, pretty covers, word of mouth, bookseller recommendations and publicity blurbs. Our mood, phase of life and even the weather all impact on our reading habits. Every good book that crosses our path, feels like a little miracle of good luck and serendipity.

So many good books (or otherwise) slip under our radars. But getting a major book award nomination suddenly elevates a book into the wider public gaze. Bloggers blog about them, papers publish interviews and reviews and the authors suddenly appear on podcasts, morning TV programs and get invited to writer's festivals.

The cover and title of My Sister, the Serial Killer caught my eye when it first appeared on our shelves at work. It sounded intriguing, but contemporary noir thrillers are not my usually high on my reading agenda. It took being shortlisted for it to actually make it's way onto my TBR pile. And it took just finishing a rather intense, lengthy book and feeling in the need for a shorter, lighter, palate cleansing read for me to pick it up this week.

It was an utter delight from start to finish.

I loved the rhythmic, snappy language. I loved both sisters, despite their obvious flaws (they reminded me of Elinor and Marianne Dashwood with one being the reserved, careful, responsible sister and the other being carefree, careless and impulsive). I loved the humour that hid much darker secrets and disturbing childhoods. I also really enjoyed the glimpses into daily life in Lagos and the customs and traditions of modern life in Nigeria.

What appeared to be a light, easy read actually concealed much tougher issues behind it's shiny exterior. The effects of domestic childhood abuse on subsequent generations and the serious psychological pain it leaves were addressed subtly as too were the specific issues that women face in Nigeria (including child brides).

Favourite Quote:

I know better than to take life directions from someone without a moral compass.

Favourite Character: The eldest sister, Korede. I love her assessment of the situation. She describes, her younger, killer sister, Ayoola as being "completely oblivious to all but her own needs" and "she is incapable of practical underwear". Her obsessive cleaning habit and precise organisational skills tell their own story,

The things that will go into my handbag are laid out on my dressing table.

Two packets of pocket tissues, on 30-centiliter bottle of water, one first aid kit, one packet of wipes, one wallet, one tube of hand cream, one lip balm, one phone, one tampon, one rape whistle.

Basically the essentials for every woman. 

Favourite or Forget: No need to reread this one, but thoroughly enjoyed it and will look out for whatever Braithwaite does next.

Fascinating Facts:  I first came across the tradition of ten year anniversaries to commemorate the passing of loved ones in Amor Towles' A Gentleman of Moscow. I was surprised/curious to see that it was also a part of Nigerian life. I hadn't heard about this custom before but it sounds like such a healthy thing to do.

It has been ten years now (since our father died) and we are expected to celebrate him, to throw an anniversary party in honour of his life.

Even if your relationship with the dead person in question was problematic!

Facts:

• Longlisted for the 2020 International Dublin Literary Award.
• Shortlisted for the Women's Prize for Fiction 2019
• Longlisted for the Man Booker Prize 2019

Book 2/20 Books of Summer (winter)
I finished this book on Tuesday when it only reached 14℃ in Sydney. We had wind coming off snow in the mountains and rainy, grey skies. It was a miserable day perfect for curling up with a good book. On Tuesday Dublin reached a balmy, summery 12℃!

Memories of the Future by Siri Hustvedt

Memories of the Future by Siri Husvedt has lived with me for a few months now. The slowness of my reading is in no way indicative of any lack of enjoyment on my behalf. It is, however a thoughtful, intelligent read, that requires some active participation. Something I could only do when not completely exhausted after work or double-booked, triple-booked on the weekends.

My early feelings and thoughts about the book were contained in this post from last month - Starting a New Book... I won't repeat myself, so if you'd like a brief synopsis of the story, and a poem by Elsa, I'll wait here for you to catch up.

In this particular book, the book you are reading now, the young person and the old person live side by side in the precarious truths of memory

What the 23 yr old SH wrote and what the 61 yr old SH remembers are often two very different things. Hindsight gives a shape to what is shapeless as you live it.
The things that have stayed with her as important are not always the things she recorded in her journal. I am interested in understanding how she and I are relatives.
The story changes, adjusts to new experiences. Memory is not only unreliable; it is porous.
And sometimes there are shocks waiting in the wings to floor you. Sometimes memory is a knife.

This is the stuff I love. I even did a similar thing myself in my thirties when I read through my old travel journal from 1991. Even after a decade, the things I remembered were different to what I recorded at the time. I wrote another journal comparing my record with my memories. As I wrote, I was also being written.
I should hunt it out to see what it looks like twenty years later again.

We are all wishful creatures, and we wish backwards too, not only forward, and thereby rebuild the curious, crumbling architecture of memory into structures that are more habitable.

Sadly, though, somewhere after the halfway mark of Memories of the Future I lost my way. All the sideline stories (the crazy neighbour Lucy Brite, the story within the story that she wrote in her twenties...) stopped being interesting to me, even as they began to take up more and more of the story telling space. Every story carries inside itself multitudes of other stories.

It all got too much in the end - too rambling, too meta and curiously, not enough Elsa.

There was one brief passage towards the end about the Marcel Duchamp porcelain urinal debate, where ID, the Introspective Detective says,

The preponderance of scholarly evidence has long been on the side of the Baroness, you know. One, we have the letter Duchamp wrote to his sister, Susanne, two days after the urinal was rejected. It was discovered until 1982. In it he wrote. 'One of my female friends who had adopted the pseudonym Richard Mutt sent me a porcelain urinal as a sculpture.' Two we know that a newspaper reported at the time that the artist Richard Mutt was from Philadelphia. The Baroness was living in Philadelphia at the time. Three, we know that it wasn't until after the Baroness and Stieglitz were both dead that Duchamp assumed full credit for the urinal.... 

Duchamp stole it, all right. It doesn't even resemble the rest of his work.... 

Fountain doesn't fit in. But the museums haven't changed the attribution.

Marcel Duchamp, 'Fountain', 1950 (replica of 1917 original), porcelain urinal, 30.5 x 38.1 x 45.7 cm
Philadelphia Museum of Art 125th Anniversary Acquisition, gift (by exchange) of Mrs Herbert Cameron Morris,
1998-74-1 © Association Marcel Duchamp/ADAGP. Copyright Agency, 2019

Marcel Duchamp
Fountain, 1950 (replica of 1917 original)
porcelain urinal
© Association Marcel Duchamp/ADAGP. Copyright Agency, 2019

And as luck would have it, from the 27th April until 11th August my local Art Gallery of NSW is hosting The Essential Duchamp exhibition, with the urinal in question on full display. I wonder if the 'replica of 1917 original' is enough to cover his bases?

Favourite or Forget: Not a favourite in the end, but still keen to read more by Hustvedt.

Favourite Characters: IF IS and ID

Favourite Quote:

My first moments in my apartment have a radiant quality in memory that have nothing to do with sunlight. They are illuminated by an idea....I was twenty-three years old...

This took me straight back to my own 23 yr old self, living alone for the first time in a new town, starting my career, on the brink of my adult life, excited, full of anticipation and hope and plans and the love, the 'radiant quality' I felt for my first, slightly dingy, older style townhouse on the wrong side of the tracks.

Books in Books:

• Don Quixote 
• Balzac
• The Great Gatsby
• Proust
• Sherlock Holmes
• Gogol - Dead Souls
• Baudelaire - The Flowers of Evil
• Laurence Sterne - The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy
• Plato - Apology
• Baroness Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven
• Socrates
• Smolett - The Adventures of Peregrine Pickle
• The Metamorphosis
• Chaucer
• Milton - Paradise Lost
• Alice's Adventures in Wonderland
• Finnegan's Wake
• Simone Weil "imagination and fiction make up more than three quarters of our real life."
• Great Expectations
• John Ashbery
• Michael Lally
• Thomas Wyatt
• Shakespeare
• John Donne
• John Clare
• Emily Dickinson
• Thomas Moore
• Sylvia Plath
• Alan Turing
• Mary Shelley - Frankenstein
• etc - there were many more but you get the jist!