The Living Sea of Waking Dreams | Richard Flanagan #AUSfiction

 

I know there is a lot of love for The Living Sea in Waking Dreams out there already. 

It's not that I didn't love it, or even admire what Flanagan was trying to achieve, but it's not easy to read a book where you feel like you're being smashed over the head, not just with a hammer, but with the biggest, heaviest mallet that Flanagan could find, on every single page, at every single turn. With such a convoluted title, I was expecting more nuance and intellectual word play. Instead I got whack after whack of anger.

Flanagan has a lot to be angry about.

Last summer was ghastly for all of us in Australia. The bush fires were the worst we'd ever experienced. Our skies were grey with smoke and ash for month after month. The smell was inescapable, the heat was oppressive, the news catastrophic. It was easy to feel like it was the beginning of the end. Or the end of the beginning.

Writing a book while all of this is happening around you, can take its toll. It can be hard to find perspective. It can be hard not to rave and rant in absolute frustration. It can be hard to resist a good old preachy sermon. Flanagan did not resist.

There was nothing subtle in his story about vanishing body parts, a dying mother and a world in flames. The ghastly siblings, Anna & Terzo, who refused to let their mother die with any dignity or grace, were so implausible, I struggled to spend my time with them. Their brother, Tommy, was much nicer company and more realistically drawn, as was Anna's son, Gus. But then, Tommy was the actual carer. He was on hand in Tasmania to care for their ailing mother, while the other two simply jetted in and out whenever there was a problem to be solved. And Gus' response to a world on the brink of catastrophic climate change is to withdraw into a world of gaming and Youtube videos. 

Flanagan ranted several times about social media and smartphone use. Clearly he is not someone who properly understands these online tools. Nothing about the way his characters engaged with their online world actually reflected anyone I know. He had all the right words, but just like Mr Books & I discussing Tiktok or Snapchat or memes with our boys, we show our ignorance at every turn, much to their amusement.

I feel like I'm the one ranting now!

I didn't not like the book. 

It was an interesting read and an interesting concept, with all the vanishings that nobody noticed, that spoke for, or to, something even bigger and scarier that nobody is noticing either. However I felt no emotional connection to anyone in the story, except pity - a huge amount of pity, in fact - for the undying, lingering, suffering, decaying mother. I found myself talking out loud to Flanagan throughout the book, telling him to get out of the way of his own story.

I love it, though, when I discover the title in the story.

It wasn't enough for Terzo that their mother had not died. It wasn't enough that she lived in her sea of waking dreams. In Terzo's view, she had to live like us, rationally, in a rational universe.

Except of course, Terzo's world, or his idea of living, were not as rational as he thought.

In the end, though, the occasional insights and beautiful writing were not enough for me to rate The Living Sea of Waking Dreams particularly highly. 

It astonished her that he had a view as deeply held felt as hers and yet entirely opposite, and which he held with an equal conviction. And in the face of someone who would not be persuaded by her, she did not seek to see the world for a moment as he saw it but instead was simply angry with him that his world was not her world.

I'm in the process of putting together my best 20 reads of 2020. This one will not make the cut.

Epigraph: 

John Clare | Remembrances

To the axe of the spoiler and self-interest fell a prey;

And Crossberry Way and old Round Oak's narrow lane

With its hollow trees like pulpits, I shall never see again:

Inclosure like a Bonaparte let not a thing remain,

It levelled every bush and tree and levelled every hill

And hung the moles for traitors - though the brook is running still,

It runs a naked brook, cold and chill.

Opening Lines:

1.

Her hand.

2. 

It's impossible to say how the vanishing began or if it was already ended, thought Anna.

Other Opinions:

• The Conversation | 8th Oct 2020 | Tony Hughes-d'Aeth

The brilliance of Flanagan’s story and the deep power of this novel is in our witnessing of the end of the world. The death of Francie opens up a black hole in the family drawing Anna, Terzo and Tommy into its implacable singularity.

• The Guardian | 16th Oct 2020 | Beejay Silcox

The Living Sea of Waking Dreams [is] at its best when it balances its vehemence with its beauty, when it leaves space for the reader to wander and wonder – eucalypt leaves swinging down like “lazing scimitars”; a moth thrumming its “Persian rug” wings.

• Lisa @ANZ Lit Lover found more to like than I did.

UK Cover

I've been trying to take a photo of the beautiful green textured feather design on the hard cover underneath the glossy black dust jacket, that would do it justice. You'll have to take my word for it. It's much more interesting than the dust jacket image. The next time you're in a bookshop, carefully open the jacket and take a peek for yourself.

Stone Sky Gold Mountain | Mirandi Riwoe #AWW

I wasn't sure what to expect when I started Stone Sky Gold Mountain by Mirandi Riwoe. A gold rush story set on the Palmer River in Queensland (an area I did not realise even had a gold rush!) through the eyes of Chinese settlers, sounded intriguing. However, I struggle with blokey books about blokey men doing blokey stuff in the wild - which gold rush/pioneer books can often be - so I tempered my intrigue.

In a number of interviews, Riwoe mentions that she writes of things that move her. 

Naturally, they end up moving her readers too. In fact, her characters get under your skin and become a part of your daily life. You feel like you have inhabited their world. You think about them between reading sessions. You fear for their safety and sanity. You feel their pain and trepidation. You feel their disconnection and isolation. 

Far North Queensland becomes a character too. You could feel the heat, the humidity, the dust and dirt, the unrelenting nature of nature.

During Riwoe's research for this novel, she discovered that Cooktown and the Palmer River area, during the goldrush era, actually had a population that was significantly more Chinese than Anglo. Yet our settler narrative only ever talks about white people exploring and moving into the area. This was the trigger for her story.

The initial inspiration for my work is probably to do with what is of personal interest to me – being Eurasian, I like to write of those who are culturally hybridized or marginalized, and I also like to write of women and feminist issues. AsiaLink: University of Melbourne

From there it was only natural to weave in a story about a brother and a sister fleeing poverty in China, to find their fortunes in the goldrush of Australia. The sister could not safely stay on the goldfields as a woman, so she disguised herself as a boy. The only other women in Maytown were prostitutes or the wives of merchants. (Incidentally, Maytown is also the setting for Thea Astley's story It's Raining in Mango).

Some of the scenes are tough to read, especially the treatment of the Indigenous population by both the whites and the Chinese characters. The women don't always fair much better. The pecking order is clearly described and belies our belief that Australia is a classless society. The British and Chinese early settlers, all brought their own prejudices to bear on their new country; prejudices we are still trying to live down.

Many of the Chinese came to Australia with the sole intention of plundering the gold, making their fortune, then returning home as soon as possible. Getting to know Australia, or fitting in, was not part of the plan. When making a fortune didn't pan out as expected, staying in Australia became caught up in a sense of failure and exile. Australia was not a welcoming place, neither did it feel like home. That sense of disconnect and alienation became a daily lived experience. The isolation could send you mad or into the seedy rooms of the local opium den. The Australian landscape and society never lived up to their memories of China. Yet, as one of the characters made their way home again at the end, they realised how much personal freedom they were giving up by doing so.

Henry Handel Richardson's The Fortunes of Richard Mahony, was in the back of mind as I read Riwoe's goldrush story. Both stories reveal the harshness of this way of life, the sense of discrimination and displacement, the degradation of character and environment, regardless of your country of origin. The dream of striking it rich and the sense of adventure that started such a journey, inevitably ended in heartache and madness. The gold fields were an unforgiving place, full of broken dreams.

Stone Sky Gold Mountain first came to my attention when it was shortlisted for the Queensland Literary Award earlier in the year. I'm glad I tracked it down. It was a fascinating peek into another point of view of early Australia colonialism complete with ghosts, hardship and lawlessness. The violence and injustice was tempered by the tenderness of friendship in unexpected places. Riwoe is an elegant storyteller and she takes you on an unforgettable journey. 

Epigraphs:

• To search for gold was like trying to catch the moon at the bottom of the sea. Taam Sze Pui
• Taam Sze Pui (or Tom See Poy) was a Chinese Australian shopkeeper in Innisfail, Queensland. He spent five (unsuccessful) years panning for gold on the Palmer River goldfields, before working in market gardens and banana plantations, eventually setting up a shop in 1883.
• I wish to inform you that they are only strangers in this land themselves. Many of them have only been here a few moons, and none for more than one of two generations. Jan Chin from a letter to his father in Shanghai, The SMH, 1858

Opening Line:

• Ying dreams of her little brother, Lai Cheng.

Facts:

• Winner 2020 Queensland Literary Award – Fiction Book Award
• Winner of the inaugural ARA Historical Novel Prize 2020.

#AusReadingMonth 2020

Smile & Sisters by Raina Telgemeier

Smile and Sisters have been two very popular books at work with 11-14 year old girls. Now I see why. Raina Telgemeier has created two very personal, engaging stories from two significant events in her pre-teen years. Smile details her rather horrific orthodontic work, while Sisters not only features her relationship with her younger sister, but explores a period of time in her early teen years when their parents marriage was on the rocks.

Most of us have a ghastly orthodontist story from our childhood, but not many readers would be able to take on Telgemeier's lengthy, painful and traumatic experiences in the dental chair. Via her and artwork, Telgemeier shows us the ordinariness of teen life as well as the individual self-consciousness that infects most teens anywhere in the world. She explores image, belonging (I was so glad when she finally moved on from that first group of friends - they were awful) and embracing who you are.

It was a surprisingly touching coming of age story with bucket loads of courage and perseverance.

Sisters wasn't quite as success to my mind. Here Telgemeier explores why her relationship with her sister may have been strained throughout their younger years. It felt believable and authentic, but also a little like she was stretching to find another book.

We've all had those challenging relationships with siblings at different times, when two very different personalities constantly rub up against each in daily family life. Sometimes things improve when you're no longer living together under the one roof; sometimes things don't.

But the thing that can bring you together is shared fear and shared adversity - when you think your parents may be about to split up.

In this case, Raina gave her sister a draft of this story several years prior to publication for approval. She also allowed Amara a chance to share insights into her side of the story.

I'm not normally a big fan of graphic novels, but these two books were easy to read and I really liked the colourful artwork. The simple designs were capable of conveying quite a lot of emotion.

Smile was the winner of the Eisner Award for Best Publication for a Teen Audience in 2011 and a finalist for the Children’s Choice Book Award.

Sisters won the Eisner Award for Best Writer/Artist in 2015.

Books 15 & 16 of my #20BooksofSummer (winter) challenge - drop-in titles
25℃ in Sydney
16℃ in Northern Ireland
I read these books during the July #reversereadathon

Perfect by Danny Parker

Perfect by Danny Parker has been illustrated by award winning illustrator Freya Blackwood.
When Parker found out who had been assigned to illustrate his book, he must have rubbed his hands together with delight and thought, 'perfect!'

Perfect is also the perfect theme for Blackwood. A story that promotes the simple pleasures of childhood is something she is no stranger to,

Her delightful, idyllic drawings add a charm to the everyday happenings of this group of young siblings who eat, play, create, fix, make and imagine the day away together.

The siblings all use their day in age appropriate fashion, according to their developmental stage. We see the older ones helping the toddler and the younger ones trying to copy their big sister.

I love her outdoorsy pictures in particular. They are full of movement, fresh air and warmth (you can almost smell the summers day through the pages).

I'm also a sucker for maps in books - the page showing us the farm, the cove, river and little village is designed to be poured over and explored in detail.

Parker has written a story that extols the freedom and spontaneity of childhood. It's a particular type of childhood that many of us probably don't get to have, but one that many of us idealise as being perfect.

A childhood of sunshine, security and carefree simplicity.

I did ask myself, though, at the end of the book, "where are the parents?"

Nominated for this years CBCA Early Childhood book, Perfect is the perfect lazy, read aloud book to share with your child at the end of another busy day.

My CBCA shortlist post is here.

How Big is Too Small by Jane Godwin and Andrew Joyner

Older brothers can be so mean to their younger siblings.

Poor Sam in How Big is Too Small, is constantly excluded from his older brothers 'big' games with his 'bigger' friends. "You're too small," they constantly remind him.

Playing on his own in his bedroom, Sam has time to reflect and compare....

His big brother is actually smaller than their dad, "next to my dad...my brother is small."

And that ant on the floor is smaller still, yet "an ant is the right size for ants, I suppose."

Sam moves on to compare raindrops and cloud, seeds and trees, buildings and cities...until his big brother interrupts him. Their ball is stuck on the roof and the need someone smaller to scale the trellis.

Godwin could have ended the story there with the usual 'small has its uses too' theme, but she takes her ideas one step further.
On the roof, Sam not only meets a new friend who accepts him for the size he is now, but when they look down at the big brother on the ground, their perspective makes him look small now.

I loved Godwin's rhyming text. It's a pleasure to read out aloud.
Only one word felt out of place because it suddenly made the rhyme obvious and a bit clunky. But maybe, it's just me being picky....

Joyner's illustrations skillfully enhance all Godwin's comparisons and perspectives.
They honour the introspective child who takes notice of the world around him. Close inspection also reveals extra clues to the observant reader.

I predict a 2016 CBCA shortlist nomination for this thoughtful, charming picture book.

The Swap by Jan Ormerod and Andrew Joyner

The Swap tells that age old story of sibling jealousy.

When left in charge to mind her baby brother, Caroline decides to swap her dribbly, annoying brother for another. She tries out a baby elephant, a baby panda & baby tigers.

Unfortunately she experiences problems with all of them - too squirty, fussy eaters, too tiring etc.

By the end, Caroline realises that her baby brother is not so bad after all.

Andrew Joyner's illustrations have an old-fashion cartoon feel. His choice of colour palette ensures all the animals have a friendly, laid-back look. Joyner has added to the humour of the story via the facial expressions and actions of the characters.

The Swap will probably be this year's sentimental favourite for the CBCA nominations as sadly, Jan Ormerod passed away in January 2013.

In 2009 I had the pleasure of hosting a book event with Jan Ormerod and Margaret Wild to promote their latest children's book, Itsy-Bitsy Babies.

While Margaret read the book to the group, Jan drew quick portraits of the children. At the end, she presented the portraits to their delighted parents. It was a very generous surprise which we still talk about today.

Jan signing copies of Itsy-Bitsy Babies.

Jan drawing portraits.

Margaret Wild, me, Jan Ormerod

This Is The Life by Alex Shearer

Hmmmm. I'm not really sure what I'm going to say about this book.

I like the way Alex writes.

I loved the only other book of his I've read - his children's book - The Cloud Hunters.

So I approached This Is The Life with high hopes.

It's a touching story about two middle-aged brothers - one living in Australia; one in the UK. One has been diagnosed with a brain tumour, so the other comes out to help. They discuss treatments, their childhoods and their differing philosophies on how to live a good life.

There were some lovely moments and insights. And there were lots of truisms on the nature of life, death and sibling relationships. But ultimately, I came away feeling underwhelmed.

Which is a pity.
Because when you get to the end, Alex explains that the book is based loosely on the passing of his own brother. "I returned home after my brother's funeral and felt that somehow it was wrong - it was wrong that he should go, should disappear, should vanish without a trace. And so I began to write."