Tag Archives: fiction

Books

The Spare Room by Helen Garner

I had no interest in picking up Helen Garner’s latest novel The Spare Room. Helen has always seemed a little worthy, a little hard core for me.

I based this assessment on what I’d seen of her in the media and some vague memory of her writing something on sexual harassment… I haven’t actually read anything of hers before.

Such is the way opinions are made and held.

The cover didn’t inspire me either. It was hard cover. A quiet, worthy looking design.

However my boss offered me the book and I find it hard to say no, so I said yes and dutifully put it in the pile of books on my bedside table for later.

Later happened.

I picked it up preparing to read the first few pages and put it down again, distracted by the next shiny covered airport novel to catch my attention – within the first page I was hooked.

The Spare Room has been described as exquisite. I agree.

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It’s the story of a dying woman, Nicola, who goes to stay at her friend Helen’s house in another city to fight her cancer at a dodgy clinic. She doesn’t want to admit defeat. She also remains defiantly cheerful in the face of death – which she in fact, doesn’t face.

It’s the story Helen who takes on her Nicola’s anger, absorbs it. Who is desperately caught between the role of supporting Nicola in her pathetic endless quest for a cure and wanting to shake her and stop the farce… and then of course feels guilty… and angry.

The mirror that shatters in the first pages symbolises the struggle. How can you face death if you can’t see it… and you have to walk pretty carefully if there is broken glass on the floor…

Nicola doesn’t want anyone to reflect her truth, but by denying it, she keeps Helen at arms length.

I really enjoyed the read. Couldn’t put it down.

It’s not a long book – 2-3 hours – but it stays with you.

Interview with Helen Garner

Books

Devil’s Food by Kerry Greenwood

2 Comments

This is the second Corinna Chapman novel of Kerry Greenwood’s that I’ve read. And, like the first, Earthly Delights, I was once again amused by this unlikely heroine. An overweight baker in downtown Melbourne.

She’s a feisty chick this Corinna, not afraid to wear a corset nor have friends that perhaps the more conservative of us might shun. She’s also good natured, loyal, passionate and a damn fine cook and you can’t help but like her.

There are lots of local references in this series, some of which I wondered if overseas readers might miss. I’m sure I missed a lot of the Melbourne ones. She mentions “the current prime minister” and “John Howard“, a man fast fading into history.
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I wonder how these books will stand the test of time?

Luckily for me, I live in the here and now and in this cold weather – made even colder by the current gas crisis – snuggling down under two duvets in my flannelette – I can think of nothing better than some light detective fiction and a cup of tea. Black, no sugar, English Breakfast by preference.

Books

Hanna’s Daughers by Margaret Fredriksson

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Hanna's DaughtersThis is the first book selected for the Blogger’s Book Club I’ve joined. (if you’re interested in joining just say!)

This book is set in Scandinavia – in Sweden in fact – right on the border of Norway. I haven’t read much Scandinavian fiction before so was interested immediately – also because my friend James is planning a journey to that very part of the world.

It’s the saga of three women – Hanna – who lives at the turn of last century in a remote town near Norway, Joanna – her daughter (who in the present is dying in a nursing home) and Anna the grand-daughter – who is piecing their stories together.

I didn’t think I was going to like this book at all. The opening sequence of Anna stressing out about her mum in a nursing home left me cold. But the story of Hanna kept me turning the pages and then I wanted to finish it.
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The cover reads as if Anna is finding out the history of her forebears but the text doesn’t read like that and it spoils it a bit as you are constantly fighting against the logic of it all. After all it’s not like she can ask her mother anything – she’s not speaking – and Hanna is long gone… Once you let go of that logic it draws you in.

The writing is sparse. It’s hard to tell if that’s a function of the translation. I didn’t mind it but it didn’t feel warm or engaging.

Overall I felt it was an interesting book, but it left me a little cold. A bit like Scandinavia I suspect! Well, in winter anyway…

Dippity, Parenting, School

Is fan fiction a bad thing?

Reading Spot

My girl reads a lot of fiction but not books.

She reads fan fiction. Fiction written by fans of an author using the author’s world, and the author’s characters.

In Dippity’s case it’s Harry Potter and Avatar and there is a lot of it.

Fan fiction is not a new thing and I suspect some interesting collaborations have come out of it… so the writing isn’t all bad. And if it inspires someone to write, well, isn’t that a good thing?
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She spends a lot of her free time with her head in a laptop – would I care so much if it was in a book? After all much of my childhood was spent reading. I read everywhere – walking to and from school, in the car, in bed, I didn’t feel dressed unless I was holding a book… so what is the difference?

I guess to be fair she did read the original Harry Potters before going online. I guess what I really hate is her unwillingness to try new authors.

It makes it very boring when going to a bookshop or library.

Should I be concerned? Or should I just be grateful that she’s reading… anything at all?

Blogging, Introspection, Random

The facts about fiction

I got up this morning – bleary eyed – after a late night with friends at ours. We’d played Singstar (oh my poor neighbours), 500 and Visualeyes and it is possible that the Kahlua flowed a little too freely.

Falling into the black leather computer chair, before even putting on the kettle or cleaning the kitchen this morning, I checked this blog. Sonia (whose been known to tell a tale or two in her time) had commented overnight and my Entrecard widget was now showing Ken Armstong’s Writing Stuff.

I don’t know much about young Ken. He’s a playwright. He lives in Ireland. He’s close to my age. He tells a good story. I like him.

Looking for a shamrock

Yes there’s definitely a touch of the Blarney about him.

Today he writes about how he “enhances” his stories to tell a tale. How he weaves facts from different events into a story.

Immediately I was inspired to try it out. I write for a living. How hard can it be?

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Perhaps I am more literal than literary.

The interesting thing about Ken’s post today is that by “enhancing” his story he arrives closer to the truth than the bare facts would allow.

And that is the magic of fiction.

When we read a novel, short story or play, we are taken not only to a new place, a new situation, but we experience new emotions. You can’t tell someone to “feel sad now – this is the sad bit”. It has to be contained within the writing to take you to that place within yourself… to make you reach for that tissue box.

Having read Ken’s analysis I find myself thinking that writing a story is much like creating a soup. A little bit of this, a little bit of that… the whole greater than the sum of it’s parts. From that boiled and bubbled cauldron comes a little bit of magic.

Which reminds me – I’d really better be getting on with cleaning the kitchen.