Two Clumsy Hands

“as Australian as a yellow box tree” – The Canberra Times, 1962

Gubba is preparing to celebrate its centenary and its history as a goldrush town. But there are two factions in Gubba – the wealthy ‘woolocracy’ with their social pretensions and the ordinary townsfolk who are just after the peaceful life.

Pretty young Eden Dutton gets caught up in the feud – her brother wants to make the town a centre for tourism and ‘picnic races’ – but her heart seems to be fighting for the opposite side. Young prospector Greg Millard isn’t her family’s idea of the right type of bloke, but the Hon. Ralph Tenterden certainly is.

And then a surprise discovery brings a change when it was least expected and upsets all the townspeople’s plans.

(Allen & Unwin publishers synopsis)

I really wanted to love this book. It had all the right ingredients: small-town Australia, an eclectic mix of quirky characters, a romance, gum trees and farms and swimming in rivers all to the backdrop of 1960’s social upheaval. Unfortunately, it nearly became a DNF, twice – once for boredom, then for distaste. However, each time, a day or so later, I felt compelled to continue and now that I’ve finished I feel a strange, fond nostalgia for it.

The story starts off well. We meet a few characters and they are portrayed vividly, with humour and that recognisable ‘Aussie’ pioneer, salt-of-the-earth spirit. Cusack’s writing is lovely. The haze of dust, the smell of the wool-shed, the thrill of a moonlight dance. Her descriptions of the old farms, houses, the town and the bush are wonderfully evocative.

However, no sooner does the story take off that it slows down again as we meet a bunch more characters and their backstories…multiple backstories for some of them. It seems Cusack wants us to meet every Gubban and know their life stories inside and out. It went on a bit.

Then the young, beautiful, bright hope of the social set, Eden arrived and it became interesting again. The pace picked up, the dialogue sparkled and things began to happen. Such as THE party. It was the 60’s afterall so I shouldn’t have been shocked, but there were a couple of scenes Cusack wrote that didn’t sit well with me. That was the second DNF.

I picked it up again as I really did want to know what happened in the end and I was rewarded with a delightful, very funny and surprising final fifty pages.

Upon its release, a reviewer in The Canberra Times “praised its setting while being a little less impressed with its overall worth as a novel” and I would entirely agree with this. I rarely review books I don’t love, but there is so little out there about this book that I didn’t want it unmentioned it all. It certainly isn’t without merit and if you’re interested in 20^th century rural Australia then it’s worth a read.

Dymphna Cusack (1902 – 1981) was a prolific writer, outspoken social reformer, republican and prominent anti-nuclear activist. She travelled extensively whilst suffering ill health for most of her adult life, being diagnosed with multiple sclerosis three years before her death. She firmly believed that ‘the pen is mightier than the sword’ and used her writing to promote her beliefs, often courting controversy. She collaborated with Miles Franklin on ‘Pioneers on Parade’ in 1939 and her most well-known piece of work ‘Come in Spinner’ in 1951 with Florence James.

I found my 2^nd edition, dust-jacketed copy of Picnic Races in a second-hand bookstore, but print-on-demand copies can be purchased here.

“In love we find out who we want to be. In war we find out who we are.”

The Nightingale is a beautifully crafted historical novel about two sisters, separated by their differences and brought together by war. Their experiences during the Nazi occupation of France force them to see each other, and themselves, in a completely new and forgiving light. I love sister stories, and this one had me gripped from the first page and staring into space for quite a few moments after the last page.

I haven’t got on board with any of Hannah’s previous novels, which is why I hesitated (for two years) in picking up The Nightingale.

I do enjoy historical fiction as long as it doesn’t get bogged down in detail or become a slave to small, insignificant facts. I want to be moved by truth, but also the story. That sometimes means using creative licence to evoke a particular emotion. I bring this up as Hannah has been criticised for lack of research, unrealistic narrative and clichéd writing. For, example, I read three reviews where the readers were annoyed because Vianne and Antoine, on their postman/school teacher wages, could not have realistically afforded their picturesque property. But, their lovely home and garden added a beauty to the novel and provided a contrast to pre-war and occupied rural France, so it didn’t bother me in the slightest.

I enjoy a good time-shift and Hannah deftly handled the moving between past and present, ensuring that I was invested enough in the present to care about the past. It was clear and added to the story seamlessly rather than jarring like some time-shift books can be.

I thought Hannah’s language for the most part was wonderful and evocative. It was a little flowery in parts, and there were clichés, but the storyline moved along nicely, the characters were engaging and their inner and outer development was well done. It was a reflective read and I often found myself wondering what I would do in a given situation. I think that was probably Hannah’s intention.

The Nightingale will stay with me for some time. I have immense appreciation for authors who can take harrowing true stories and weave them together with fiction to create a journey that leaves us asking questions of ourselves. The novel was tied up perfectly with an ending that, even though I did see coming, was hugely satisfying.

Kristin Hannah, keep writing stories like these and we can put aside our past differences.

You can read more about Kristin Hannah’s books and current projects at her website.

“…among the whisperings and the champagne and the stars.” F. Scott Fitzgerald

The Great Gatsby has been on my TBR list since dinosaurs roamed the earth. The 2017 Back to the Classics challenge finally prompted me to take it off the shelf. I feel completely unqualified to write a review about a book so well-read and discussed and adapted to film no less than five times. What else could I possibly contribute? I found myself spending a lot of time thinking about the social context of the story. That’s where its fascination lies for me.

The Great Gatsby is written beautifully and evokes the restless energy of the jazz age with ease. It’s visually attractive, exciting, thought provoking, tragic and timeless. I’ve seen both the 1974 (Robert Redford & Mia Farrow) film, and Baz Luhrmann’s adaptation, so I came to the book with a pretty good idea of the storyline. (I think Luhrmann did a great job, even if the first half hour did drag on forever.)

I am fascinated by the period between the two world wars. I read a lot of books written or set in this time. Dizzying materialism, prosperity and hope, which turns to poverty and despair in the Depression. There were also huge social changes, especially for women, during this period. The Great Gatsby was written in the early 1920’s, fresh from the war, optimism abounding.

But it didn’t immediately set the world on fire. Its popularity has instead grown over the decades with the benefit of hindsight. F. Scott Fitzgerald’s ability to chronicle the mood of a generation and provide a historical snapshot is why it is now considered one of the greatest classics of American literature. It covers themes including power, greed, justice, betrayal and social stratification with interesting characters, each representing different status, dreams and dreams broken.

Fitzgerald’s writing is exquisite. You can almost feel the wealth dripping like champagne and strings of pearls from the pages. The music, the drinking, the lazing around being bored, the lack of moral responsibility and the folly of trying to cling to the past are all so viscerally present that it’s impossible (for me anyway) not to be emotionally absorbed. Although written before the Depression, The Great Gatsby with its unbridled excesses was almost prophetic in its conclusion.

Growing up in Australia, it’s rare that this book makes it onto the school curriculum. I’m quite glad because I don’t think I would have enjoyed it as a teenager. I think you have to have ‘lived life’ a little.

The Great Gatsby is a short book and many have wondered if therein lies its success. Perhaps. It certainly doesn’t need anything added. I read it in in two evenings and I’m sure I’ll read it again one day, if for no other reason than to immerse myself in the language and extravagance of it all.

I don’t know a huge amount about the lives of F.Scott Fitzgerald and Zelda, but after reading The Great Gatsby I’d like to rectify this. I’d love to hear recommendations of further reading….

Read more about The Scandalous Life of Sasha Torte at Goodreads

Author: Lesley Truffle

The Scandalous Life of Sasha Torte is a rollicking ride of decadence, betrayal, aphrodisiac elixirs, Shakespeare, champagne, poison, love, more champagne, delicious pastries, wild women and reckless, libertine men.

It is pure escapism and I loved it.

From the first page I was captivated by the life of Sasha and the thriving, conniving, lawless Tasmanian harbour-side town of Wolfftown. It is a colourful tale, full of whimsy and magic about making the best of what life hands you amidst a culture of moral ambiguity.

We meet 22 year old Sasha in 1912 languishing (in total luxury) in gaol for murder. Writing her memoir, she takes us back to her tragic childhood with a dead father and runaway, murderess mother. She is cared for by her doting and wealthy grandfather and aunt who, although not social outcasts, certainly have a bad reputation. Early on Sasha realises, quite happily, that she too is likely to become a ‘black sheep’.

She is educated and taught to think for herself. Thanks to her reprobate of a grandfather and open-minded aunt she grows into a worldly-wise, sassy, intelligent woman who decides at a young age to make her own way in the world. She learns that most social conventions in Wolfftown are based on bigotry, hypocrisy, nepotism and ignorance. When she opens her own patisserie shop, she makes it clear that she will stand for none of these things which make her a nemesis to some, a curiosity to others, and an unobtainable object of desire to many of the men in town.

Sasha is strong, resilient, compassionate and generous to those loyal to her. Her undoing begins upon meeting the Dasher brothers. One betrays, seduces and introduces her to an addiction that nearly claims her life. The other loves her.

The secondary characters are as vivid and alive as Sasha. Her best friend Viola is hilarious and insatiable with a heart of gold. Her jaunty grandfather, Brendan is as rakish as an old man can be, and her aunt Lil lives voraciously and depicts melancholia with heartbreaking beauty. Even the psychic, Buddhist goldfish, Alphonse swam into my heart.

There is more profanity, sex, drugs and general racy-ness than I usually read, but I was so engrossed with the story I didn’t mind at all. Perhaps, like Sasha, we all have a bit of the black sheep in us. 🙂

I love that Truffle set the story in Tasmania. It would have been so easy to base it in Sydney or Melbourne or even one of the pirate coves of Cornwall. There is so much mystery surrounding post-Van Diemen’s Land Tasmania that it lends the story an enigmatic, fantasy element.

I wish that Wolfftown was a real place so I could walk along the cobbled streets of the old town, see the faded buildings and the harbour docks and if I’m really lucky perhaps glimpse the ghosts of Sasha, Viola, Brendan, Lil and Captain Adam Dasher, all stirring up trouble while guzzling gallons of Tasmania’s finest bubbly.

I can’t wait to be carried away again on Lesley Truffle’s next wild adventure.

5 stars and a second helping of croquembouche at Lady Dasher’s 😉

Like many of us, my love affair with reading books began with pictures. I was given Peg’s Fairy Book by my Great Aunt and Uncle on my fourth birthday and I was enchanted from the moment I ripped off the wrapping paper until…well, her illustrations still captivate me. There’s so much vibrant detail and whimsy in each picture. They influenced how I imagined the worlds of other books I read, especially Enid Blyton’s enchanted forest.

I particularly love how her illustrations have a British woodland feel with native Australian flowers and animals. Which makes perfect sense when learning about her life.

Peg (1899 – 1984) was born Agnes Newberry Orchard in Leicestershire, England. Her father gave her and her siblings a love of drawing nature, especially wildflowers. She trained as a poultry keeper but kept drawing in her spare time. In 1922 she married Major George Maltby and they emigrated to Melbourne, Australia in 1924.

She continued drawing and took classes at the National Gallery Art School and joined the Victorian Artist’s Society. During the Depression she was able to supplement the family’s income by painting chocolate box lids and greetings cards.

Her drawings were first published in book form in 1944 and the publishers persuaded her to write stories to go along with them. Peg’s Fairy Book was the result and it sold over 180,000 copies.

In 1947 the family moved to Olinda in the Dandenong Ranges (a beautiful mountain town not far from where I live :)) where she built a studio and public gallery to exhibit her work. Peg continued to produce children’s books and published over 40 in the next three decades.

In 1975, publishers Angus and Robertson wanted to reprint a new edition of Peg’s Fairy Book. Sadly (unfathomably!), all of the original drawings had been lost so A&R requested that Peg, already in her seventies, re-illustrate the book. She did so, and the new drawings were considered to be even more beautiful than the original.

I never saw the original, but I think I might agree.

One of our large department stores in Melbourne, Myer, puts together a stunning multi-window display every Christmas which showcases a particular childhood theme. For most children, this is an annual pilgrimage, worth the trip into the city and battling the crowds. I’m not sure if it’s still as popular now, but during the 70’s and 80’s it was a magical experience.

In 1976 the theme was ‘Peg’s Fairy Book’ and I have very faint memories of pressing my nose to the windows and being completely enchanted as the colourful images of fairies and talking mice and witches and mermaids came to life before my eyes.

Do you have a favourite picture book from your childhood?

“How shocking. Shocking Cluny Brown! I’d like to meet her.”

What a charming, humorous and ultimately confounding (to me) book. Set in 1938, it is an ‘Upstairs, Downstairs’ kind of story, full of likeable characters and witty dialogue.

Cluny Brown is a young orphaned lady, a plumber’s niece, who ‘doesn’t know her place’ and wonders why she is scolded for having tea at the Ritz, eating oranges in bed all day (it’s revitalising!) or bathe in strange men’s apartments (I’m with her uncle on this one). She is sent away from her home in London to be a parlourmaid at a large Devonshire estate, Friars Carmel, where it is hoped she will learn to behave herself.

Without an ounce of cynicism, Cluny questions society’s expectations for her life. Not such a big thing in 2017, but in 1938 a young lady’s reputation rested on her ability to thrive in the status to which she was born. At Friars Carmel her genuine questioning endears her to everybody in spite of themselves and usually with great exasperation.

But Cluny Brown is not the whole story, and I was very glad about that. The book could have been more accurately called Friars Carmel. For me, the story was about Andrew, the heir to the estate. Andrew and Pretty Betty. I LOVED them. Andrew was the anchor. He turned the story from a fun, fluffy piece of middlebrow comedy (which I adore anyway) into a more substantial look at young, privileged people on the verge of war and their attempt to find meaning and purpose amidst rapid change and pressing ‘Lord of the Manor’ tradition.

I did struggle with the ending. If you don’t want any spoilers you may wish to skip the next paragraph.

I did not expect Cluny to marry Mr Wilson. But neither did I see her marrying Mr Belinski. The only reason I could see Cluny choosing Belinksi is that she knows he won’t hold her to any societal conventions. It was him, afterall, that said “for you, I imagine, the whole universe is to let.” But was this enough for her to marry him? I know she wanted more out of life, but she didn’t come across as rash or reckless. Either I didn’t get how desperate she was to escape, or I didn’t get how much she admired Mr Belinski. And he had never seemed that enamoured with Cluny. Either way, I wondered if I’d slept through huge chunks of the story. Was I supposed to dislike Mr Wilson? Because I didn’t. If you’ve read the book, I’d love to know your thoughts on the ending.

In spite of this, I know I’ll read Cluny Brown again one day. I haven’t even mentioned Lord & Lady Carmel and the Colonel. Delightful, delightful, delightful. The story is beautifully written, very funny and if you have a hankering after all things British, I highly recommend spending a few cosy hours on this picturesque Devonshire estate.

(I’m about to watch the movie. 🙂 I’ll review it in the next few days.)

Read more about Carry Me Home at Goodreads

Author: Dorothy Adamek (her website is gorgeous!)

I’m not a big reader of 19^th century romances, especially with ladies in long flowing dresses on the cover. I have an assumption that they’ll be a bit sickly sweet and that I won’t identify with the characters. But, within a few pages I discovered with relief that Carry Me Home is different.

It is incredibly well-written and beautiful in the way that beauty is when it’s forged from tragedy. The main characters are interesting and flawed and multi-layered. The storyline and sub-plots are original and twisty, it has non-clichéd secondary characters (the Pastor, Goliah, is a hoot) and a location that is right out of my childhood. Literally. Which is why I picked up this book in the first place.

Carry Me Home is set on Phillip Island, just outside Melbourne. I spent countless holidays there as a child. Small towns, gentle beaches, rugged coastlines, rolling countryside, koalas and penguins. It seems Phillip Island holds the same nostalgic magic for Dorothy Adamek and she does the landscape and its history justice.

And boy, can Adamek write a good hero! I was smitten with Shadrach immediately. You can tell she visualises each scene because the movements come alive on the page, which is magical when witnessing the growing attraction between Shad and Finella. It had my pulse racing! And this is who Adamek had in mind when she was writing Shad…. 🙂

She deftly turns that spark into a gradual and deep abiding love worn deeper by the internal and external conflicts each has to overcome.

The thread of Christian faith weaves so gently through the story that I believe it would appeal to all readers, regardless of beliefs, who enjoy a well-written story of finding where one’s heart belongs.

I’m not 100% sure I’m ok with the ending, I’ll have to mull it over for a few days. Even so, Carry Me Home is the best piece of romantic fiction I’ve read in a long time. And as it’s romance week and I’m feeling all fuzzy and loved up, I might give another one a go….

Carry Me Home is the first in the Blue Wren Shallows trilogy and I eagerly await the next one.

Highly recommended, especially for romance week!