bookrblog

The Best Australian Essays 2009

Thursday, February 11th, 2010 | Australian Literature | No Comments

This collections of essays edited by Robyn Davidson is an engrossing read. The essays range from film and music reviews to political commentary, with authors such as J M Coetzee, Tim Flannery and Kate Jennings. They were mostly very enjoyable. Tim Winton’s was sentimental, like his books (he’s not for me), Tim Flannery’s was a bit depressing and J M Coetzee’s was a little dry. But Jennings’ essay on a film I’d never heard about was impassioned and brilliant, Brophey’s story about his neighbours was shocking - and a page-turner - and Hughes’ essay about the Victorian bushfires was incredibly moving. This was a great collection with something for all sorts of readers. Good.

Drylands

Saturday, November 28th, 2009 | Australian Literature | No Comments

This novel by Thea Astley is what I’d call the typical Australian novel; set in the outback with characters who say “jeez” a lot, with a depressing theme generally on why Australia is such a backwards part of the world. In this version, an older woman is trying to write a novel (the novel we are reading) but feels it is pointless, as no one reads. No one apart from herself, of course. Every other member of the little outback town in which she lives is crude and culture-less and entirely lacking in intelligence, and wanting to spend every moment of their time harassing her or other women. In the end, she leaves.

This is why I really don’t seek out Australian novels. Neither the characters nor the places reflect my experiences whatsoever; the language always annoys me, esp when they put in apostrophes to emphasise how poorly the average Australian speaks; and the plot is always basic and utterly dull. I’m sorry Thea Astley believes she’s the last reader in the world, or Australia. Funny how she’s still trying to make money from writing, though.

Trees of History and Romance; essays from a Mt Wilson garden.

Saturday, November 14th, 2009 | Australian Literature | No Comments

This little book of essays was written by Michael Andrew Pembroke, who lives part-time up at Mt Wilson, which is not far from me.  Pembroke has a beautifully landscaped European garden, as many do up there, and writes an essay about each tree, such as the Maple, the Oak, the Pine and the Sycamore. He draws on history, literature and poetry as he talks about each tree, as well as its place in his own garden. Each tree is illustrated beautifully by Libby Raines, who also has a beautiful garden in the area. The essays are informative and affectionate, although they could have used just a little editing in a few places. An enjoyable addition to each essay is a relevant poem reproduced in full. A lovely little book for those interested in nature.

Yipping Tiger

Saturday, October 24th, 2009 | Australian Literature | No Comments

Perminder Sachdev is a neuropsychiatry professor at UNSW and apparently an Oliver Sacks wannabee - alas, this book of stories fails to come anywhere close to Sacks’ writings. Sachdev has put together a number of case studies of interesting patients he has come across through the years, including people with Tourette’s, Obsessive-Compulsive, brain injury, anorexia, and golfer’s cramp. The ostensible theme is the wonder of the mind-brain connection, but the actual theme seems to be the fact that not much can be done; Sachdev fails to help pretty much everyone, and the only patients who do well are the ones he refers on to psychologists. Interestingly, Sachdev takes the opportunity to bag out psychodynamic psychology and the entire field of philosophy, while acknowledging that his own field can’t do much and doesn’t know much either. Sacks’ warm respect for humanity is missing here; his stories are human, about people who despite their diagnoses are people first and show us what it is to be human. Sachdev has the opposite slant; people are simply diagnoses, and show us what damaged humans are like. Not nice.

The Birth Wars

Sunday, October 4th, 2009 | Australian Literature | No Comments

This non-fiction book by Mary-Rose MacColl is a confronting yet fascinating read. MacColl tries to present the information without bias, and does not come to any real conclusion, or offer any hope that the “war” - between midwives’ “women-centred care”, and the Obstetricians’ medical model - will ever be resolved. She takes a few case studies, including some tragedies, then looks at the research, which shows that obstetrics is the least evidence-based field of medicine altogether. The purpose of the book is to show that there needs to be significant change in the field to increase both morbidity and mortality for mothers and babies; and to say that at present, that change does not seem to be happening.

The Merry-go-round in the Sea

Sunday, October 4th, 2009 | Australian Literature | No Comments

This is a very well known classic by Randolph Stow, but I hadn’t read it before. It’s set in Western Australia during the war and is a coming-of-age novel in two ways - a young boy growing up through adolesence, and a young man coping with war and its after-effects. It’s a very engaging story, well-written, and including a wide range of fascinating characters.

Thirty Something and Over It

Friday, April 10th, 2009 | Australian Literature | No Comments

The problem of avoiding every challenge in life and then finding things kind of boring is analysed by Australian author Kasey Edwards. It’s inspired by, and similar to, the equally bland book by Nigel Marsh which I’ve reviewed earlier (Fat, Forty and Fired). Both successful middle-class somethings, realising that the meaning of life isn’t going to work. Whoa!

Ms Edwards firstly hangs about whinging, then tries meditation, and finally goes to a clairvoyant, and makes the life-altering decision to . . . go part-time. The rest of the time is spent writing this book. She makes a vague attempt at volunteering but gives up (with relief) at that particular challenge, and is scared off actually doing a job to help people by someone completely burnt by the experience (a school teacher).

I met someone like this about ten years ago now - she was in human resources, a world so foreign to mine that we found it hard to communicate. When I said I’d spent time with working children, she couldn’t understand what I meant by that phrase, “working children”. Never heard of child labour! I was equally astonished that at that age (I think we were both about 25) she owned a flat in Sydney. Different worlds. She probably still doesn’t know what child labour is, and I don’t own any property!

I have a solution for Kasey Edwards et al. Give it all up and go live in a foreign culture (no, not Amsterdam, try south-east Asia) for a year. There’s a young Sydney woman who’s started a children’s home in Mongolia; a bunch of Australians helping kids in Vietnam; an incredible 70-something Australian physiotherapist helping kids in Palestine. Once you realise how lucky you are, you’ll stop whinging and get on with things. And if you really believe you’ve got a gift for writing, you’ll use it for good rather than inanity.

A Single Seed

Friday, February 20th, 2009 | Australian Literature | No Comments

Resurrection in a Bucket

Thursday, February 12th, 2009 | Australian Literature | No Comments

I really enjoyed the earlier book by Margaret Simons about her garden up at Bell, near where I live. This book goes into depth about compost, its history - and it has a very specific history, linked to the Brits in India and Rudolf Steiner - how to make it and what to do with it. You find out a little more about Simon’s life, too. I enjoyed this even though I haven’t found anyone else particularly interested in compost!

Where the Road Leads

Friday, October 19th, 2007 | Australian Literature | No Comments

From the ridiculous to the sublime – this is the story of Jean Calder, an Australian physical education teacher specialising in children with disabilities, who has worked with the Palestinian people in Lebanon, Egypt and Palestine, and will probably die there – she’s in her seventies. She adopted three children with disabilities, and has supported the care of thousands of others. At the same time, she’s promoted understanding of disability through inclusive education, training of workers, and training of parents. The story covers her life, as well as what has happened in Palestine, especially in the last few years – it finishes in 2006. It’s a straightforward read, and a fascinating one, about someone living in extraordinary circumstances and simply focusing on the plight of others, rather than worrying about herself – there’s little mention of any personal discomfort in the face of the everyday inconveniences of living in developing countries – no, it’s all about the children. An amazing story, and definitely highlighting some of the more ridiculous non-fiction I’ve read below.