The Last Migration | Charlotte McConaghy #AUSfiction

 

Charlotte McConaghy has written an intense, emotional story about the effects of mass extinction in The Last Migration. I don't normally quote the back blurb of the book, but in this case it so aptly describes the book, I'm really not sure I can top it.

The Last Migration is a wild, gripping and deeply moving novel from a brilliant young writer. From the west coast of Ireland to Australia and remote Greenland, through crashing Atlantic swells to the bottom of the world, this is an ode to the wild places and creatures now threatened, and an epic story of the possibility of hope against all odds.

Our protagonist, Franny Stone, clearly has some major issues going on her personal life, and we can see that she is using this search/hunt/journey to run away from her problems of perhaps find closure. However, McConaghy slowly reveals that her personal issues are actually interwoven into the plight of the migrating birds.

The story is quite angst-ridden and there were times when I wanted to shake Franny into a more sensible, rational frame of mind as she crashed from one scene to the next in her search for personal redemption. But then, I guess it can be hard to be sensible and rational when faced with the reality of a mass extinction of an entire species and the existential loneliness that this climate crisis implies for all of us!

There was a dreamy quality or an otherworldly aspect to this high seas adventure that held the urgency and dramatic tension of the sea voyage at bay. For this reader, they were a welcome relief from the harsh descriptions of life on a small boat in a big sea!

McConaghy references several other authors and poets throughout her book. They are books her characters have read or quote from. I'm always fascinated by this occasional tendency of authors and I like to make a list for future reference. 

Here we Colm Toibin, Mary Oliver (and her poem on geese), Lord Byron, Edgar Allan Poe, Percy Shelley, John Keats, Margaret Atwood, and Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel Garcia Marquez.

I love the ending of Mary Oliver | Wild Geese in particular and share it below.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting -
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

The other thing that fascinates me is covers and titles. 

Above I have the Australian title and cover.

Below are the cover and title for the USA, a proof copy and Germany. All three of which I prefer way more than the Australian cover. I don't know why so many Aussie covers insist on using a human figure. They turn me off for some reason. 

As an aside, I had been feeling very negative about the new Richard Flanagan, The Living Sea of Waking Dreams. Partly thanks to my experience with his previous book, The Narrow Road to the Deep North, but also in part to the submerged face of a woman on the cover! However, when I finally picked it up, I discovered that underneath the off-putting face dust jacket is a gorgeous leaf-textured hardcover book and inside is a story that has me completely engaged. Needless to say, I have discarded the dust jacket.

But back to The Last Migration.

I feel the Australian title best describes the story as Migrations suggests that there is more than one migration, when clearly the story is highlighting the very last migration of the Arctic terns. Although now I think about, it could be a plural to allude to the migration or journey taken by our protagonist as well. Hmmm, interesting.

US cover and title

US proof cover?

German cover and title

Eco-dystopian (environmental end of the world as we know it stories) or climate fiction are not everyone's cup of tea, but I have become a bit of a fan, if you can call a mere handful of titles, a fan. The Overstory by Richard Powers is an absorbing, epic climate fiction novel well worth your time, while The Rain Heron and Flames, both by Robbie Arnott are eco-dystopian and also firm favourites of mine. Margaret Atwood's Oryx and Crake trilogy is also eco-dystopian as well. 

Epigraph: Rumi

Forget safety.

Live where you fear to live.

The entire passage reads: “Run from what’s comfortable. Forget safety. Live where you fear to live. Destroy your reputation. Be notorious. I have tried prudent planning long enough. From now on I’ll be mad.”

Opening Line: 

The animals are all dying. Soon we will be alone here.

Favourite Quote:

there is meaning, and it lives in nurturing, in making life sweeter for ourselves, and for those around us.

#AusReadingMonth
#Australian Women Writers

The Pull of the Stars | Emma Donoghue #HistoricalFiction

 

After reading a number of slow, reflective reads lately, I needed something a bit easier and faster. The Pull of the Stars fit the bill nicely. It was easy to read, even with the rather detailed 1918 midwifery and autopsy scenes that left me gasping and wincing in sympathy!

In keeping with my current Plague Lit phase, this is a book about the 1918-19 influenza that devastated the entire world as World War One was coming to an end. 

The book charts three days on the maternity/fever ward in a hospital in Dublin, Ireland, with Nurse Julia Power and her young volunteer, Bridie Sweeney. The hospital is extremely understaffed, and Nurse Power is working a room barely bigger than a cupboard with just enough space for three beds. Power has already had the fever and recovered, as is now considered immune.

Donoghue weaves in all the rumours and myths that surrounded the Spanish flu including it being a 'miasma' coming off all the dead bodies from the war in France, a religious judgement about said war, the consequence of so many people travelling or 'milling about across the globe', or an alignment or influence of the stars (hence the name of the book).

My reading tended to focus on the points of connection or similarity between then and now. On her way in to work, Power notices 'so many shops shuttered now due to staff being laid low by the grippe...many of the firms that were still open looked deserted to me, on the verge of failing for lack of custom.'

There were the contrarians who didn't like having their personal freedoms curtailed for the greater good and therefore, chose to believe that the effects of the flu were being exaggerated. There was suspicion about government propaganda and oodles of old wives tales about how best to prevent catching the flu - from using eucalyptus oil, carrying raw garlic in your pocket or around your neck, gargling brandy, eating an onion a day, carrying rosaries and other charms and amulets.

The science was not as quick as it is now, but facts about the nature of the Influenza constantly changed and evolved as more research and tests were done. As now, this added to some people's confusion and allowed conspiracy theorists to thrive. The Spanish flu was referred to by numerous names such as the great flu, khaki flu, blue flu, black flu, the grippe, or the grip, the malady, and the war sickness.

The government propaganda signs were confusing, contradictory and often laughable. 

A new foe is in our midst: panic. The general weakening of nerve power known as war-weariness has opened a door to contagion. Defeatists are the allies of disease.

The public is urged to stay out of public places such as cafes, theatres, cinemas and public houses. See only those persons one needs to see. Refrain from shaking hands, laughing, or chatting closely together. If one must kiss, do so through a handkerchief. Sprinkle sulphur in the shoes. If in doubt, don't stir out.

The Government has this situation well in hand and the epidemic is actually in decline. There is no real risk except to the reckless who try to fight the flu on their feet. If you feel yourself succumbing, report yourself, and lie down for a fortnight. Would they be dead if you stayed in bed.

The Pull of the Stars was a great holiday read (I read it in two days lying on the beach). I learnt probably more than I ever need to know about certain birthing matters and I was curious to learn about the colour phases of the flu's development - from red to brown, to blue, to black, that Donoghue used to create her chapter headings. Overall, an engaging read with plenty of parallels to our times.

Facts:

• Donoghue is Irish born but now lives in London, Ontario, so The Pull of the Stars will probably appear on many of the Canadian literary prizes starting with this year's longlist for the Scotiabank Giller Prize.
• On her website, and in her author's notes at the back of the book, Donoghue said,

A personal note: I began this novel in October 2018, inspired by the centenary of the Great Flu of 1918-19, and I delivered the final draft to my publishers in March 2020, two days before COVID-19 was declared a pandemic. In researching the Great Flu, one fact that leapt out at me was that women before, during and for weeks after birth were particularly vulnerable to catching and suffering terrible complications from that virus. I’ve put into this story some of the labour dramas of women I know (and one of my own), and all my gratitude to frontline health workers who see us through our most frightening and transformative experiences. I could have set The Pull of the Stars anywhere, but I went for my home town of Dublin partly because Ireland was going through such a fascinating political metamorphosis in those years, and because I wanted to reckon with my country’s complicated history of carers, institutions and motherhood.

 

• Dr Kathleen Lynn (a secondary but memorable character) was a real life rebel doctor whose worked focused on the well being of infants and their mothers.
• Bridie's back story, as well as that of one of the young mum's in the ward with Nurse Power, were based on real life events as told to the 2009 Ryan Commission and discussed in this article here.

Other Books by Donoghue:

• Slammerkin
• Room 
• Sadly Frog Music was a DNF

Previous Plague/Pandemic Reads: 

• The Plague | Albert Camus
• The Stand | Stephen King
• Oryx and Crake | Margaret Atwood
• Year of Wonders | Geraldine Brooks

Current Plague Reads:

• Journal of a Plague Year | Daniel Defoe
• A Distant Mirror: The Calamitous 14th Century | Barbara Tuchman (non-fiction)

Up Next:

• Intimations | Zadie Smith (non-fiction)
• Pale Horse, Pale Rider | Katherine Anne Porter

Plague/Pandemic Books On My Radar:

• Station Eleven | Emily St John Mandel
• Blindness | José Saramago
• The Last Man | Mary Shelley
• The Ghost Map: The Story of London's Most Terrifying Epidemic—and How It Changed Science, Cities, and the Modern World | Steven Johnson (non-fiction)
• Nemesis | Philip Roth
• Love in the Time of Cholera | Gabriel Garcia Marquez
• The Years of Rice and Salt | Kim Stanley Robinson
• The Dog Stars | Peter Heller
• The Children’s Hospital | Chris Adrian
• Severance | Ling Ma
• The White Plague | Frank Herbert
• The Passage | Justin Cronin

The Good Turn | Dervla McTiernan #AWW

Police procedural is not my usual fare, but sometimes book club leads me down a path I wouldn't choose for myself, yet it turns out okay in the end. I very nearly used the 'not enough time' excuse to not read this book, but a recent rainy weekend gave me a chance to check it out. I was curious to see if I could read the third book in a detective series and still follow what was happening (it's a question we often get asked at work - for this series and many others).

I can happily say that The Good Turn can be read as a stand alone story in it's own right, although the main detective, Cormac Reilly obviously has some relationship issues that get played out over the other two stories (The Ruin and The Scholar). 

Galway is the Irish city at the centre of this story featuring a young Garda, Peter Fisher who gets caught up in a case of office politics and corrupt cops. The story is pretty straight forward, but the two main characters in this drama are very likeable (I hope McTiernan creates more appearances for Fisher. I enjoyed watching a young officer learn the ropes).

Not sure what else I can say really, without giving away the story. 

McTiernan's style is easy to read and pretty gentle. She's not an advocate of the red herring (unlike Agatha Christie), there is very little blood, guts and gore and absolutely no intense forensic detail (a big plus in my books!) In fact, it felt like a cross between an episode of The Bill and Ballykissangel. Again, that's a good thing. There was a gentleness, or a kindness inherent in The Good Turn. Even though there were bad cops and bad guys, the general tone was one of people trying to do their best, sometimes in tough situations.

I enjoyed my time in McTiernan's world well enough, but cop books are just not my thing. I don't feel the need to read any more, yet I can see how these books and this author could attract a following. 

McTiernan was an Irish lawyer who emigrated to Australia after the GFC. With two young children, she chose to work part-time and write, eventually securing a publisher, and now a TV deal. She lives in Perth, WA with her young family. I noticed that Garda Peter Fisher mentioned, in passing, something about moving to Australia when he was feeling disaffected with his career path - perhaps McTiernan is laying the ground work for a spin-off detective series set in Australia? I'm sure her fans would be delighted.

The Heather Blazing | Colm Tóibin #Begorrathon

Oh, this was utterly delicious. Deliciously melancholy, if that's a thing.

The Heather Blazing is the story of Judge Eamon Redmond, and the loss and grief that has defined his whole life. Tóibin writes these rather sad, introspective characters so well. Like Nora Webster, you're left wondering, if perhaps Eamon's first person story is missing an important piece to the puzzle of his life. There are hints, in his relationship with his wife and children, comments they make about his distance, lack of loving gestures and affection, that suggest he wasn't an easy to person to live with. Eamon also struggles with his emotional life, constantly afraid to show his true feelings. Taught from a young age to stay on the sidelines, always watching but not included in the adult decisions being made around him. Seeking solace in solitude, books and walking.

Eamon's sad, lonely childhood affected his ability to show the people in his life that he cared. We, the reader, can feel his emotional pain and see how much he loves those around him, but we can also see that it's all internal. Eamon thinks and feels and deliberates, but he doesn't express or show or share.

The frustrations of his wife and children are tangible, but Eamon is powerless to change.

The political and environmental story line that ran alongside Eamon's story was almost an allegory, with shifting political allegiances and houses slowly crumbling into the sea. The inevitable march of time and natural forces beyond our control reflecting Eamon's faltering progress through his own life.

I also learnt a bit about the history and differences between Fianna Fáil, Sinn Féin and Fine Gael.

Donaghmore, Wexford County, Ireland

Highly recommended to anyone who loves their Irish Lit to be gentle and thoughtful.
#Begorrathon2020
#ReadingIrelandMonth2020

Brooklyn
Nora Webster

Actress | Anne Enright #Begorrathon

I have to ask straight up - who is Norah's father? Could you work it out? I wasn't sure. There didn't seem to be any repercussions or exposition after the reveal. Was it all about the #metoo element? But since you kind of figure that out for yourself very early on, it wasn't so much a shock revelation, but a quieter 'I thought so' moment. I'm confused.

Anyway, let's put that all that aside for now and talk about the lovely, lovely writing in Anne Enright's Actress. I loved her descriptions of Norah and her mother, the famous Katherine Odell, her observations of daily life and her empathy for the thinking of a 21 yr old.

• We had the same way of blinking, slow and fond, as though thinking of something beautiful.
• I think I mentioned that my mother was a star. Not just on screen or on the stage, but at the breakfast table also, my mother Katherine O’Dell was a star.
• The boiling eggs chittering against each other and along the metal bottom of the pan.
• My life felt like an imitation, and I was terrified it might become the real thing.

Actress was an fascinating story but there were many times when it felt rather like trying to drive a car and forgetting to put it into gear. The engine was revving sweetly, but we were going nowhere! Which is maybe why I felt the father revelation late in the story was more of a frustration than anything else. I was waiting patiently for a burst of speed that never happened.

I enjoyed my time in Enright's hands, but it's not the best example of her work.

#Begorrathon2020 #ReadingIrelandMonth2020

Epigraph:

• 'the more I applauded, the better, it seemed to me, did Berma act.' In Search of Lost Time

Enright Reviews:

• The Green Road -  my favourite Enright to date. 
• The Gathering

Tollund Man by Seamus Heaney

In my previous post, about The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller, I referred to Heaney's poem about the bog man found in Denmark in the 1950's. To find out how Tollund Man and Achilles go together in my universe, you'll have to read the post.

As always, though, I'm fascinated by the stories we tell ourselves about our past and how they inform our present day concerns. Seeing the Irish Troubles through the sacrificial death of an Iron Age man is just one example.

Photo by Krystian Piątek on Unsplash

THE TOLLUND MAN
I

Some day I will go to Aarhus
To see his peat-brown head,
The mild pods of his eye-lids,
His pointed skin cap.

In the flat country near by
Where they dug him out,
His last gruel of winter seeds
Caked in his stomach,

Naked except for
The cap, noose and girdle,
I will stand a long time.
Bridegroom to the goddess,

She tightened her torc on him
And opened her fen,
Those dark juices working
Him to a saint's kept body,

Trove of the turfcutters'
Honeycombed workings.
Now his stained face
Reposes at Aarhus.


II

I could risk blasphemy,
Consecrate the cauldron bog
Our holy ground and pray
Him to make germinate

The scattered, ambushed
Flesh of labourers,
Stockinged corpses
Laid out in the farmyards,

Tell-tale skin and teeth
Flecking the sleepers
Of four young brothers, trailed
For miles along the lines.


III

Something of his sad freedom
As he rode the tumbril
Should come to me, driving,
Saying the names

Tollund, Grauballe, Nebelgard,

Watching the pointing hands
Of country people,
Not knowing their tongue.

Out here in Jutland
In the old man-killing parishes
I will feel lost,
Unhappy and at home.

Given that it's Anzac Day in Australia, where we honour the fallen and remind ourselves about the sacrifices made by those who have gone before, 'lest we forget', this seemed like an appropriate poem for the day.

We have an entire world history of sacrificing our loved ones to the gods, to war, to causes beyond our ken. Will we ever learn the lessons?

Jennifer @Holds Upon Happiness posts a lovely Poem for a Thursday each week. I'm enjoying sourcing poems from my recent reads to join in with her as I can.

It might seem sacrilegious to finish a post about war and sacrifice with football, yet surely, our love of sport, is just another example of conflict and sacrifice just played out on a smaller field and with less carnage.

So Go the Mighty Bombers!

Normal People by Sally Rooney

I'm heart broken.

And I may just have read my most favourite and best book for 2018.

Sally Rooney has written a gut-wrenching, painfully poignant love story about two young damaged souls that will stay with me for a very long time. In Normal People she has captured perfectly all the angst, insecurity and missteps that dog any young relationship. Especially when the two young people involved are still trying to work out their own issues leftover from their childhood.

Marianne had the sense that her real life was happening somewhere very far away, happening without her, and she didn’t know if she would ever find out where it was and become part of it.

Rooney explores the misconceptions around 'normal' and the anxieties we inflict on ourselves in our attempts to belong, to not stand out from the crowd or to be different. On the outside both Connell and Marianne look like they have 'normal' enough family lives. But Connell is being raised by a young single mum and doesn't know who his father is (his mum has said she he has happy to discuss it with him, but he doesn't want to know).

Marianne is also being raised by a single mum (and an older brother), but her father died a number of years ago. Her family is wealthy and except for a dad, seems to have it all. Connell's mum cleans house for Marianne's family. They avoid each other at school, but strike up intense conversations in Marianne's kitchen, as Connell waits for his mum to finish.

Connell is one of the popular, sporty kids at school, who hides just how clever he is to fit in. Marianne doesn't bother hiding how smart she is and doesn't try to fit in. She actively goes about being different, disdainful and fiercely independent.

Normally, I wouldn't be drawn to a tortured romance between two YA's. I had more than enough of that in my own YA years! But this is not your normal YA love story. Rooney gets deep into the heart of this relationship. She teases out each painful nuance and she takes you on this emotional journey that feels very real and very authentic.

We soon learn that Marianne's dad was a violent, unpleasant man. Her mother and brother have dealt with their pain around this by identifying with the perpetrator. They now give back a weird, messed up mix of psychological and physical abuse to Marianne, the only one who has rebelled against this way of living a life.

And as time goes by, we realise just how insecure and anxious Connell really is once he leaves his home base to go to uni. Spending his childhood trying so hard not to stand out, now means that he doesn't know how to stand on his own two feet in the bigger world.

This is a torturous journey, a train-wreck at times, but I couldn't put it down. I cared for both of them, even as I wanted to shake them into perfect understanding. All those things unsaid, assumed and misspoken that so often plague young love (and many older loves that I know) are explored in agonising detail. My heart is broken, but there is hope.

Normal People deserves the buzz it's getting. We all need to be reminded, at times, how important it is to tell those we love how we really feel.

• Longlisted for the 2018 Man Booker
• Shortlisted for the 2018 Costa Book Award
• Longlisted for the 2020 International Dublin Literary Award.

William Trevor Last Stories

It's very sad to think these are the very last William Trevor short stories ever. Except I still have so many of his earlier books to read as well as the short stories he wrote after 1993 (I have a copy of his HUGE Collected Stories from 1993. It took me nearly two years to read and savour all the short stories it contained. I cannot imagine how long it will take me to get through Vol 2 of his Selected Stories published in 2010.)

The ten stories in this collection may not be the finest examples of Trevor's abilities, but there was enough here to remind me why I love his writing so much.

Human emotion, introspection, deception, betrayal, loneliness, loss, melancholy and courage were just some of the words I jotted down as I read these stories. Most of his characters were marginalised or living life on the sidelines. They were often vulnerable and confused.

Many of the stories also felt unresolved, vague and unsatisfying rather than complete and replete. I wasn't as deeply moved by these stories as I remember being by the ones in the 1993 Collected Stories and I missed the ah-ha moment or the reader reward at the end.

Yet some of the phrases shone out brightly with an authenticity of emotion and a sharp reality -

Between childhood and the death there was a life that hadn't been worth living.

She knew she was living in the past, that the past would always be there, around her, that she was part of it herself. 

It was only after reading Trevor's obit, that I realised that several of his stories have been turned into movies or TV shows. I must hunt them down.

I also found an article in The New Yorker 2016, called William Trevor's Quiet Explosions that described perfectly the way he had with characters and what it was I found to be missing at times from his last ten stories.

Trevor’s characters do not like to reveal themselves, and what is left unsaid holds as much weight as what is expressed. He is, above all, an author of human consciousness, and many of his stories end as a character becomes aware of the sacrifice he has made in order to shoulder guilt and shame, and to make way for the possibility of hope. It is in these moments of revelation that the most ordinary life takes on a kind of grandeur.

 I enjoyed spending time in Trevor's world again, but if you've never read any of his work before, then I suggest you start with his earlier work, fall in love with what he does, then come back to his final stories to say your fond farewell.

William Trevor: 24 May 1928 – 20 November 2016

The Unicorn by Iris Murdoch

My intention this year was to read through my handful of Iris Murdoch books with Liz @Adventures in Reading for her #IMreadalong. She's reading all of them, one a month, in chronological order. I only have to slot in five books, but so far I've been woeful at sticking to her schedule. Fortunately Liz has been very gracious about allowing me to join in whenever I get around to reading the book and reviewing it.

The Unicorn was the book to read for May. In my defence, it only came into my possession in June, after seeing The Unicorn and the Lady tapestry exhibition at the Art Gallery of NSW. At the time I didn't believe that there was any direct correlation between the tapestries and the book, except for the word unicorn, but upon reflection I can see some shared symbolism.

The six tapestries are thought to represent the five senses plus a sixth one representing the soul or morality. It is undecided whether the woman in this final tapestry is putting away her jewels into a casket, or taking them out. Is she putting away the symbol of earthly pleasure, desire, free will and sexual pleasure or is she a virgin about to embrace earthly, carnal pleasures for the first time, knowingly and deliberately?

The unicorn 'is also the image of Christ' according to Max, but in courtly tradition a unicorn symbolises purity, chastity and knowledge. Hannah as unicorn makes quite a bit on symbolic sense, although once I read that Hannah had a 'plentiful mass of red-golden hair' I began to imagine she looked more like the unknown, mysterious lady in the tapestries. A woman who didn't know whether to embrace or push away her desires.

Certainly one of my desires was satisfied by the very appealing Vintage Classics cover by Liam Relph. The various shades of green soothed and agitated me at the same time. The darkened castle, the tempestuous waves, the fading light all added up to a heightened sense of mystery and menace.

The incredible landscape of County Clare was the very first thing that struck me as I started reading. The land is described by Murdoch as appalling, God-forsaken, dreadful, grotesque and sublime. Her protagonist, Marion finds the 'vast dark coastline repellent and frightening. She had never seen a land so out of sympathy with man.'

The Burren, County Clare

Marian had read about the great cliffs of black sandstone. In the hazy light they seemed brownish now, receding in a series of huge buttresses as far as the eye could see, striated, perpendicular, immensely lofty, descending sheer into a boiling white surge. It was the sea here which seemed black, mingling with the foam like ink with cream.

The Cliffs of Moher, County Clare

The sea was a luminous emerald green streaked with lines of dark purple. Small humpy islands of a duller paler green, bisected by shadows, rose out of it through rings of white foam. As the car kept turning and mounting, the scenes appeared and reappeared, framed between fissures towers of grey rock which, now that she was close to it, Marian saw to be covered with yellow stonecrop and saxifrage and pink tufted moss.

Poulnabrone Dolmen, County Clare

The landscape had become a trifle gentler and a little dried-up grass, or it might have been a tufted lichen, made saffron pools among the rocks. Some black-faced sheep with brilliant amber eyes made a sudden appearance on a low crag, and behind them rose the dolmen against a greenish sky. Two immense upright stones supported a vast capstone which protruded a long way on either side. It was a weird lop-sided structure, seemingly pointless yet dreadful significant.

Looking, views and scenes are the predominant theme of The Unicorn. Everyone spends the novel looking in mirrors or out windows, and of course, the main house is call Gaze Castle. But other than the gorgeous, dramatic scenery, I'm not quite sure what we're meant to actually 'see'.

Maybe what I'm beginning to see is that Iris Murdoch had some issues of her own. I'm not sure that she liked people very much and she certainly didn't have a very high opinion of relationships. At least loving, healthy, adult relationships don't seem to feature in her books very often, but then, where's the story in that!

Perhaps the 'seeing' and 'gazing' going on here is all internal - navel gazing and psychological musings. The book that Marion reads with Hannah early on is called La Princesse de Cleves. I had to look this one up to find that it was a French novel published anonymously in 1678 and according to wikipedia, 'is regarded by many as the beginning of the modern tradition of the psychological novel'. It's a story of seclusion, spurned lovers, fidelity (or the lack thereof) and suffering. Another connection!

Seclusion, strange love and suffering certainly abounded in The Unicorn, as well as existential angst, confinement and a vague hint of domestic violence. Our characters also played a tug of war with the power of choice and non-choice and imprisonment versus freedom. Yet it's the potential of story (especially the stories we tell ourselves) to transform, inspire and escape that drives our characters to their various fates.

Another reference that had me reaching for google was that of Ate. 'Ate is the name of the almost automatic transfer of suffering from one being to another.' Max goes on to explain his thoughts more until he suggests that Hannah might be 'a pure being who only suffers and does not attempt to pass the suffering on' thereby ending the cycle or the power of the Ate.

Ate is the Greek goddess of mischief, delusion, ruin and folly. It can also refer to the action of the hero that leads to their downfall or death - the very first case of pride cometh befall the fall! And of course, The Unicorn has it's very own and very literal fall.

I'm sure there's also lots of stuff to be explored around Murdoch's continued use of the sea, the bog, the giving of dresses and jewellery, the situation of the two houses, all the donkeys and fish references and the seal. Hopefully when I go to visit Liz's review page after posting this, I'll find some more answers, or at least ask some better questions!

I should also read the Introduction again. I tend to skim it before starting to pull out a few of the main themes to help me on my way. Occasionally this backfires, when I accidentally read a spoiler, but mostly I can see them coming and skip over that section, until I can come back to it when I finish the book. One of the things I did get from the Intro by Stephen Medcalf, was Murdoch's fascination with Plato and Simone Weil (French philosopher, mystic and political activist 1909 - 1943). Two more things for delve into before reading my next Murdoch.

Of the three Murdoch's I've read so far, this has been my favourite. It had a vague Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier feel to it (that would be that Gothic thing I guess!)
I loved the melodrama and sense of menace and suspense that built up throughout the novel. It was eerie and creepy and disturbing as the characters became more and more insular and introspective. Love became twisted and bent out of shape. But there was always hope. As Effie said,

Love holds the world together, and if we forget ourselves everything in the world would fly into a perfect harmony, and when we see beautiful things that is what they remind us of.

Too bad he was delusional and delirious at the time!

Under the Net

Flight From the Enchanter
#IMreadalong

Liz's The Unicorn round-up post.

This was my latest #CCspin and book 18 of my #20booksofsummer (winter) challenge.

The Green Road by Anne Enright

I finally got around to reading The Green Road thanks to Cathy's #ReadIreland Month. It has been sitting on my TBR pile since 2016.

Over my years of blogging, I've come to realise that writing a rave review about a book I really enjoyed, if not loved and adored, is actually harder to do, than writing about those books that are fine reads but didn't quite reach the heights of ecstasy or move me into speechlessness.

The Green Road was such a wonderful, engaging, poignant read after a bout of books that were fine stories mostly which had failed to move me or delight me. I wonder if it was a coincidence that this bout of books were all written by men? By the end of the Winton, I felt an overwhelming sense of desperation to read a book written by a woman. Either way, I'm left feeling rather bemused about how to write an adequate response that does this glorious book justice.

The story of the Madigan family is a slight story in someway. There is no major crisis or earth shattering family secret. The Madigan's are just a regular family with the usual (in Irish terms) problems, misconceptions and issues.

We start with a series of stories seen from the perspective of each of the four children, Constance, Dan, Emmet and Hanna. We see the fall out of Dan choosing to leave home (for the priesthood, which causes his mother to take to her bed for a week!) via the baby sister's eyes. Ten years later we see him again in New York - a failed priest still coming to terms with his sexuality. The other brother makes his way to Africa as a UNICEF field worker whilst the eldest daughter has stayed in Ireland, married well, had a clutch of children and is battling with her weight. We cycle back to see Hanna, now all grown up, not quite making it as an actor, with a baby of her own and an alcohol problem.

Each of these chapters could almost be a story in their own right. Enright has the ability to weave a sense of place into each chapter so thoroughly, that shifting onto the next one is a little jarring at the start. Ardeevin, County Clare is vividly drawn, as too is AIDS ravaged New York and the hardships of Segou, Mali. Each sibling has attempted to find their own place in the world, their own sense of purpose, all the while their mother's voice and their childhood angst rings in their ears.

Their tale is the usual family tale of coming to terms with the image of your mother as you experienced her as a child, against the mother you wished she had been with the woman she really is. Rosaleen is annoying, at times manipulative and perhaps not quite grown up and at peace with her childhood. In other words, she's a regular woman trying to deal (or not) with her own issues as she brings up a family.

Enright writes with compassion, humour and insight. Like real life, nothing is wrapped up in a tidy bow, for the simple reason that the story goes on. One way or another, we always go on.

The second half of the book centres around Christmas 2005, when all the siblings come home together for the first time in a very long time. The catalyst? Their mother has just declared she is ready to sell the family home. And the Green Road of the title? It's a local road that leads through the fields of County Clare to the beach,

Fanore, Burren, County Clare

This road turned into the green road that went across the Burren, high above the beach at Fanore, and this was the most beautiful road in the world, bar none, her granny said -famed in song and story - the rocks gathering briefly into walls before lapsing back into field, the little stony pastures whose flowers were sweet and rare.

The Green Road was shortlisted for the 2016 Baileys Women's Prize for Fiction, longlisted for the 2015 Man Booker Prize and shortlisted for the 2017 International Dublin Literary Award and the Costa Book Award.
Enright won the Kerry Group Irish Fiction Award for 2016.

#ReadIreland18

#Begorrathon18

Midwinter Break by Bernard MacLaverty

I picked Midwinter Break from my TBR pile to read for Cathy @746Books #ReadIreland18 month. It is a staff pick at work thanks to one of my colleagues, so I was looking forward to it. But I failed to engage.

There was lots to like about the story. I enjoyed the time that Stella and Gerry had wandering around Amsterdam. I enjoyed their cute couple moments - the kiss in the lift, the little in-jokes and intimacies that can only occur over time and with love. It was sad seeing this obvious once-love being destroyed by Gerry's alcoholism.

He wasn't an abusive, violent drunk. There was no need to be scared of Gerry or to fear him. He was a bumbling, deceptive, in-denial drunk. He was sloppy and mocking and selfish.

It was interesting to see how the major event in their marriage - Stella being shot whilst pregnant - was a turning point for all of them, in such different ways. After she had recovered, and the baby survived as well, they made the decision together to leave Ireland for the safer option of Scotland. However, at the time of the shooting, Stella vowed and said a prayer,

Spare the child in my womb and I will devote the rest of my life to YOU.

She viewed the survival of her son as a miracle that had to be atoned - a spiritual debt that had to be repaid - by good deeds, to improve the world through kindness and justice and equality.

Gerry simply saw Stella's survival and the birth of Michael as the miracle,

To him her presence was as important as the world. And the stars around it. If she was an instance of the goodness in this world then passing through by her side was miracle enough.

The tragedy being that he was just pissing all that goodness away.

Normally I don't mind jumps between various times and events, but it felt clumsy here. I kept losing my way. And the very worse thing that can happen to me when reading a book happened at the half way mark - I realised I was bored.

I skimmed through the last half hoping for my very own bookish miracle, but it failed to recapture my imagination.

Sad, but true.

#begorrathon18
#ReadIreland18

Stories & Shout-Outs #15

Happy St David's Day! Dydd Gŵyl Dewi!

The 1st of March is the National Day of Wales.

You may be wondering why someone in Sydney would care about such things?

My name is the first give away - Bronwyn (although my variation is a masculine Anglicized take on the traditional Welsh spelling of Bronwen).

My mother's ancestors are the next clue. 

My grandmother's maiden name was Llewellyn, although less salubriously, it was her grandfather who first came to Australia...as a convict (he stole a copper pot).

My Pop had closer Welsh ties.

His dad immigrated to Australia (from Llantrissant via the California goldfields) in the late 1800's.

We are still in touch with the children and grandchildren of his siblings back in Wales.

But all of that is but a distraction from my purpose today.

My purpose today is to get back on blogging track.

I had hoped that life would be a little calmer this year, but so far, the first two months of 2018 have been so crazy busy, my head is threatening to spin right off!

I've always said that I would rather be busy than bored, but I little more downtime wouldn't go astray.

Reading time is okay, but blogging time has taken a real hit.

The #LesMisReadalong is a constant joy.

A chapter a day #slowreading is perfect for me right now, my ability to join in group chats and tweets waxes & wanes though.

With that in mind, I'm proud to announce my upcoming participation in two more reading events.

The 1st of March is not only St David's Day and the first day of autumn (by the calendar) in the Southern Hemisphere, it is also the beginning of #ReadIreland month.

Hosted by Cathy @746books and Niall @Raging Fluff, the idea is to read books by Irish authors.

I posted a survey on twitter asking which one of my Irish writers I should read this month...and the winner was Bernard MacLaverty's Midwinter Break.

#readireland18 

#begorrathon18

I also have a tome of William Trevor's short stories that I might be tempted to dip into again.

If I have time, I may even squeeze in The Green Road by Anne Enright.

April sees the return of one of my all time favourite readalongs -

 #Zoladdiction hosted by Fanda @Classiclit.

I love Austen in August, but my love affair with JA began long, long before blogging and readalongs.

Whereas my love affair with Zola began thanks to Fanda's Zoladdiction month.

I am now trying to read the Rougon-Macquart books in order.

Chronological or Zola-preferred though?

In the end the decision was made easy for me.

Chronologically, book 2 is La Curee or The Kill. I have a copy of this on my TBR pile.

Book 2 for Zola was Son Excellence Eugène Rougon. A book I have yet to source.

Which brings me nicely to the (ongoing) discussion over at The Classics Club about what actually makes a classic. Lots of stimulating thoughts about the nature of time and generational relevance, forgotten classics, who decides what is a classic in the first place, the role of women and translated works...just to summarise quickly. 

I can feel another response percolating away (I wrote a post about this a number of years ago).

Now I just have to find the time to write it!

Will you be joining me/us in any of these challenges?

Or have you found something else to pique your interest right now?

Dubliners by James Joyce

Dubliners by James Joyce was my selected book for the latest Classics Club #CCSpin.

This was my first attempt at reading Joyce, who I felt somewhat nervous about tackling, so I felt fortunate that my first would be a slim volume of short stories.

Over the years I have read quite a bit of Irish literature.

From the glorious short stories of William Trevor to Anne Enright and Colm Toibin's painful stories about growing up in Irish families.

I also read Frank McCourt's desperate coming of age memoir, Angela's Ashes when it first came out.

Furthermore thanks to writers like Roddy Doyle, Emma Donoghue, Colum McCann, Sarah Moore Fitzgerald I appreciate that the Irish seem to have this weird love/hate thing going on with misery, bleakness and grinding poverty.

All this is to let you know that I knew what to expect from Joyce as far as godforsaken, woeful Irish stories goes. Joyce even declared it as his intent in the afterword written by J.I.M. Stewart in the back of my copy of Dubliners -

My intention was to write a chapter of the moral history of my country...I have written it for the most part in a style of scrupulous meanness.

Joyce was very successful in realising his intent!

I have no problem with stories that highlight the miserable existence of the human experience. I don't need everything to be rosy and positive and uplifting. But right now, misery stories are not working for me no matter how wonderfully well they are written.

And so I struggled my way through Dubliners.

I felt completely weighed down by words and phrases like -

mourning mood

agitated and pained

melancholy (Joyce's favourite word in this collection)

morosely

note of menace

dull resentment

tears of remorse started to his eyes

full of smouldering anger and revengefulness

coloured with shame and vexation and disappointment

he was outcast from life's feast

It was relentless and hopeless and just so joyless. Even the elegantly wrought sentences were tinged with such sadness and despair that it made me wonder how on earth the Irish continue on with anything at all!

Her dress swung as she moved her body and the soft rope of her hair tossed from side to side.

My eyes were often full of tears (I could not tell why) and at times a flood from my heart seemed to pour itself into my bosom.

He had dismissed his wife so sincerely from his gallery of pleasures that he did not suspect that anyone else would take an interest in her.

Writing appreciation 5/5 but personal enjoyment only 3/5.

How did you go with your CC Spin book?

My previous spins were - 

#1 The Magnificent Ambersons with Cat @Tell Me A Story.

#2 Tess of the D'Urbervilles with JoAnn @Lakeside Musings & Several Four Many.

#3 My Cousin Rachel.

#4 The Brothers Karamazov with Bree who also read a Dostoyevsky novel for this spin. I gave up on this chunkster about halfway through, then I lost the bok during our move earlier in the year...serendipity, I say!

#5 The Odyssey with Plethora of Books. This one was a bit of a cheat as I had started it for another readalong, but struggled to finish. I added it to my list to motivate me to finish it. When no. 20 spun up it seemed like the gods had decreed it so!

#6 No Name by Wilkie Collins with Melbourne on My Mind.

#7 Silent Spring by Rachel Carson with Booker Talk - my first classic non-fiction spin.

#8 Vile Bodies by Evelyn Waugh has been my one and only dud Spin read so far.

#9 The Great World by David Malouf my first Australian classic spin.

#10 A Far Cry From Kensington by Muriel Spark.

#11 So Big by Edna Ferber with Christy where we both experienced the joy of rediscovering a forgotten award winning classic.

#12 Dubliners by James Joyce.

Brooklyn by Colm Toibin

Usually, I prefer to read the book before I see the movie, but in this case our hot summer weather beat me to the punch.

Last weekend was hot, humid and very unpleasant. My family of boys were absorbed by all things pre-season soccer, so I escaped the heat and the testosterone and sought out the cool, dark comfort of our local cinema.

I watched Brooklyn and Carol back to back. It was heaven on a stick!

Both movies were heart-achingly fabulous for very different reasons and I came away determined to read both books as soon as possible.

I have decided to use this experience to test the pros and cons of seeing the movie before reading the book.

There is no doubt that books offers up much more detail and that most movies have to cut, condense or merge scenes, dialogue and even characters.

Brooklyn is no different.

As I was reading the book, I quickly discovered that Eilis and Rose were not the only siblings - they had three brothers who had moved to England to get to work.
Later, at work in Brooklyn, Eilis talks about the nylon sales and the subtle prejudices at play when black women are encouraged to shop in the store. No such scenes existed in the movie.
There was also an uncomfortable vague lesbian scene with Eilis and Miss Fortini during the bathing suit scene that didn't make it into the movie.

However, the movie provided an emotional depth that I found missing in my reading of the book. I found Toibin's writing to be so subtle and nuanced, that I didn't really enter into Eilis' emotional state in the same way I did as when I was watching the movie.

Perhaps the movie images stole my ability to emotional connect with the written words? I already had Eilis' face, especially her expressive eyes, in my head. Those images were very powerful and Toibin's words alone were not enough to capture all the emotional states I experienced in the cinema.

The movie also taught me how to enunciate Eilis' name correctly. Her lovely Irish name is pronounced Ay-lish.

I've included the movie-tie-in cover because this particular scene in the movie was wonderfully moving & added to the romantic nature of the movie interpretation. It was not one based on the book.

The book ending was more about Eilis and her personal freedom. It was a declaration of independence - rooted in her past but heading forward into her future. It was hopeful and empowering  and practical rather than romantic.

Two further points.

During Eilis' first Christmas in Brooklyn, she helps Father Flood feed the homeless. At the end of the meal one of the men sings a traditional Irish song. It's a poignant scene in both movie and book. The movie scene depicts all the characters feeling homesick and nostalgic.

Whereas the book scene is more about Eilis - each time the singer reaches the chorus he looks at her "managing to suggest even more that he had not merely learned the song but that he meant it."

The chorus ma bhionn tu liom, a stoirin mo chroi can be translated as "if you'll be mine, be mine, oh treasure of my heart". It's easy to imagine that these hard-living, lonely men saw in Eilis the embodiment of all they loved and remembered as being good about Ireland.

Secondly, Nora Webster.

Towards the end of Brooklyn, when Mrs Lacey is telling Eilis about all the people who have visited in the wake of the funeral, she mentions Nora.
I love how authors connect their books and their characters.
After reading Nora Webster I had heard that the story was based loosely on Toibin's own childhood, which now makes me wonder if Eilis' story is also loosely based on someone he knew. Especially since Mrs Lacey reappears in the early chapters of Nora Webster chatting about life in Brooklyn and Eilis and Tony.

At the end of Nora, I declared my desire to read more Toibin. I'm glad I listened!

My review of Nora Webster.

Brooklyn won the 2009 Costa Book Award and was longlisted for the Man Booker.

Back to Blackbrick by Sarah Moore Fitzgerald

It's Monday, but I have nothing new to add to this blogging week.

Life is still crazy, busy.
And I'm still reading Testament of Youth & The Brain's Way of Healing.

ToY is extraordinary - moving & desperate, beautifully written, but it's a slow, thoughtful read and I usually only manage to read a couple of chapters in one sitting.

Friday night, though, found me tired & emotional. I needed something easier to read so I pulled out a slim teen book, Back to Blackbrick to slide me gracefully into the weekend.

I've finally had some time to write its review tonight.

You are now seeing the sum total of my reading and blogging week!

I hope your week has been more bookish & bloggish than mine.

When I first read Fitzgerald's The Apple Tart of Hope last year I knew I had found a new-to-me author to love and enjoy.
Part of that enjoyment involves tracking down the backlist.

Back to Blackbrick (first published in 2013) is her first book and I fervently hope and pray that there are plenty more to come. But right now it is true for me to say that I love everything that Fitzgerald has ever written!

Back to Blackbrick grew out of Fitzgerald's experience with her own father's Alzheimer's diagnosis. In her afterword she writes,

"the magic of writing is that you start out being dominated by your own experiences and feelings, (but) you end up being able to occupy other people's heads and hearts....They have helped me to remember that no-one who has loved you ever really goes away."

To this end she has created a lovely time-slip story that deals with young Cosmo's distress as his beloved grandfather slips into memory loss.

Curiously, the actual time-slip section of the book doesn't work as well as the current day story line. The character of Cosmo remains strong throughout, but the younger grandfather is less convincing. I found myself skimming through the time-slip section very quickly. Perhaps because I've read A LOT of time-slip books over the years it takes something stunningly different to grab my attention.

As with Apple Tart there are some mature themes - this time death, grief & loss, sexual harrassment & teen pregnancy. But just like Apple Tart, Blackbrick is infused with hope, love & memory.

Highly recommended for mature 12+ readers.

The Gathering by Anne Enright

As regular readers of my blog already know, I read fairly widely and ecclectically. But, my default position is historical stuff (fiction, non-fiction, bio) and I do love a good character piece.

I love getting under their skin; I love walking around in their shoes. I don't necessarily have to like them, but I do have to care enough to want to know what will happen to them.

I also love it when authors use great words or create a beautifully turned phrase. I love it when authors use local dialogue that lets me into their world. I love it when they spin a good yarn. I love it when an author makes me believe; I also love it when I trust them enough to suspend that belief.

I love books that delve into the deep, dark recesses of our minds, hearts and souls. I love being taken on an interior journey, where to understand the character and/or the author, I also have to check into my own beliefs, opinions & feelings. I love exploring truth, lies and memories.

I got all of this and more, during my reading of The Gathering.

This is not a happy story with lots of external action and feel-good moments, but it is funny & sarcastic in a very Irish kind of way.

"I realised, too, that I was not in love with him, but condemned instead to a lifetime of such false intensities, 

that I would have to love each man I slept with in order not to hate myself."

The Gathering is about grief, the peculiar dysfunction within large families and memory.

Watching Veronica struggle with her grief is painful. Watching her circle the family stories of what really happened and what didn't, is frustrating. Watching this large, sprawling, Irish family gather together to mourn is heart-breaking as they bump up against each other, bruise from old wounds, create new ones & struggle to support & care for each other.

The Hegarty's remind me of Tolstoy's great opening line in Anna Karenina, "all happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way."

The Gathering was the winner of the 2007 Booker Prize.

Nora Webster by Colm Tóibín

Nora Webster was the book that gave me back my reading mojo, as well as being the book I read during the Dewey 24 hour readathon last weekend.

Nora is a gentle, insightful interior journey. Told entirely through Nora's eyes, we experience her feelings of grief and loss after the death of her husband.

We feel her isoaltion, her confusion & her 'otherness' as she tries to come to terms with her new world order.

We see her struggle to (re)connect with her four children, her sisters and aunt. We see her manage the family finances, go back to work, start singing lessons and redecorate. Slowly signs of independence and enjoying her new-found freedoms begin to creep in. But there's always a catch - missing Maurice.

Missing their old life together, missing his comforting presence, their conversations, their easiness together, the sharing of a life.

The back of the book hints at "great moral ambiguity". I will need a reread to tease out these subtleties I think.

Nora has problematic relationships with pretty much everyone around her, but we only ever see and hear her perspective.
Initially, we're drawn into feeling sympathy and empathy for her grief and loss, but as the story progresses we realise there are unspoken 'issues'. Perhaps her self-absorption after Maurice's death is not just a response to grief, but a long time pattern of behaviour?

There is so much silence in this story, so much left unsaid, so much to read between the lines.

I grew up in sunny Australia in a working class Protestant family, but I know that coldness. I know that silence. Families do that to each other. They keep each other at arm's length, they keep secrets, they protect their privacy and they leave a lot of things unsaid...for all kinds of reasons. People really do walk on eggshells around family members for fear of their emotional response.

Nora Webster was a heart-breakingly, tender, disturbing read. I for one will be reading much more Colm Tóibín.

Dewey's 24 Hour Readathon

Every year for the past 5 years I have missed the start date for the Dewey 24 Hour readathon!

Even though I follow them on fb, twitter & insta...I still miss it...and I almost missed it again this year.

Thanks to my mini reading & blogging slump of late, I haven't been as active as I usually am in the blogging world (maybe it's a Spring thing that occurs each year, which might explain why I miss it every year!?)

Anyhow...I've snuck in (at #901) with a few hours to spare this year...so, I'm in!

I've just signed up and checked the starting times (Sydney EST is 11pm tonight).

I have several books languishing by my bed that I would really like to finish & I'm going to use this as my incentive to do it. I'm also hoping to jump start AusReading month by knocking off two Australian books early.

In an attempt to keep things simple, I will use this post for updates.
I will check into twitter as I can (all my SM tags are in the top right hand corner for you to follow if you choose).

1. What I Talk About When I Talk About Running by Haruki Murakami

Memoir, 180pgs (I will be starting on pg 61)

2. Golden Boys by Sonya Hartnett (Australian)

Literary fiction, 238 pgs (I will be starting on pg 47)

3. Nora Webster by Colm Tóibín

Literary fiction, 311pgs (I will be starting on pg 20)

4. The Forgotten Rebels of Eureka by Clare Wright (Australian)

Non-fiction, winner 2014 Stella Prize, 474 pgs (I will be starting on pg 236)

5. Stone Mattress by Margaret Atwood
Literary fiction, short stories, 268 pgs

Courtesy of Jenna (The Relentless Reader)

Opening Meme:

1. What part of the world are you reading from today?

I'm in Sydney, Australia.
Which means my start time is 11pm Saturday - most of my readathon will actually fall on my Sunday 19th October.

2. Which book in your stack are you most looking forward to?

I think Nora. Curiously I've been going through a phase of reading books about death, loss and grief this year, so this one should fit that theme.

3. Which snack are you most looking forward to?

I have a Sunday afternoon tea planned with (book loving) friends - I'm making the date loaf and another friend is bringing the Adriano Zumbo macarons - delicious. Lots of good book talk guaranteed.

4. Tell us a little something about yourself.

Oh bother, this question always stumps me!
How much is a little? How much is too much? What would you find interesting?

5. If this is your first readthon what are you most looking forward to?

I'm hoping this will help me get over my weird reading/blogging 'whatever' phase.

***************************************************************************************************************************************************

Update:

Hour 1  (11pm - midnight)

40pgs of Nora Webster

Hour 2 (midnight - 1am Sunday 19th October)

20 mins of SM before Zzzzzzzzzzzzz

Hours 3 - 9 (1am - 8am)

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
& lots of very weird dreams thanks to too much SM use before bed!

Hour 10 (8am - 9am)

Woke at 8:15am; Glorious Spring day in Sydney town
15 mins of SM

Quiet house - Mr Books & youngest at a soccer game already, eldest still in bed.

Showered, hung out the washing, updated blog post.

Hour 11 (9am - 10am)

Breakfast on the balcony with Murakami - read pgs 61-78 (17 pgs)
Take pics for Instagram & twitter.


Hour 12 (10am - 11am)

More dreaded domestics, procrastinate, go for a mid-morning walk, buy some salad stuff for lunch, stop for a coffee, SM


Hour 13 (11am - 12pm)

Made dateloaf.
Read Murakami pgs 78 - 96 (18pgs)

Total pgs read so far - 75!
Hmmm time to pull my finger out!


Hour 14 (12pm - 1pm)

Back on the balcony being distracted by the yacht race on the harbour & Mr Books wanting a chat!
Read Nora pgs 60 -78 (18 pgs)


Hour 15 (1pm - 2pm)

BBQ lunch with family
Read Murakami from pgs 96 - 106 (10 pgs)
Head out to afternoon tea with friends (& dateloaf #nomnom)


Hours 16 - 19  (2pm -6pm)

Afternoon tea


Hour 20 (6pm - 7pm)

Read Murakami from 106 - 111 (5 pgs)
Planted new basil & chilli seedlings - watered garden
Read Nora from 78 - 84 (6 pgs)


Hour 21 (7pm - 8pm)

Chat with Mr Books
Read Nora from 84 - 104 (20 pgs)
Dinner preparation

Total pgs read so far - 134!


Hour 22 (8pm - 9pm)

Dinner & clean up
Read Nora from 104 - 111 (7 pgs)


Hour 23 (9pm - 10pm)

Bubble bath
Read Nora from 111 - 135 (24 pgs)


Hour 24 (10pm- 11pm)

Read Nora from 135 - 174 (39 pgs)

Grand Total - 204 pgs read in 24 hrs.

End of Event Wrap-Up:

I am truly amazed and fascinated by all the things that distracted me from reading today. It has been a curious study in all the big & little things that make up my regular day. 

I thoroughly enjoyed meeting so many new folks (on Twitter esp) & seeing what people were reading.

But the best thing of all is how much I am enjoying the 2 books I read today.

Two very different styles & content, but totally absorbing. 
My reading mojo is back!

Thanks to all the lovely hard-working folk at Dewey's 24 hour readathon for managing such a big event so smoothly, enthusiastically & graciously.

I'm so glad I finally got to join in my first readathon. 
Next time I will add an audio book to my list so I can 'read' whilst cleaning, gardening, walking, cooking, resting etc.
 
I certainly haven't set my bar very high for next time, so there is only one way for me to get next readathon.

Onward and upward!

And now goodnight from Down Under.