“At home in our own skin” is a phrase used elegantly by David Malouf in a poem written for Chris Wallace-Crabbe as his fellow poet approached his 80th birthday. Malouf, one of Australia’s finest living writers, turned 80 on March 20. Two books, Earth Hour (a poetry collection in which the Wallace-Crabbe poem appears) and
Black humour, a detective who’s theologically literate and a chimp called Django … A tax on atheism, monologues about mirror neurons and a chillingly Chandler-esque atmosphere … This literary thriller by Diego Marani has raised Catholic hackles and garnered good reviews. Dare you hunt God’s Dog down? What are we talking about? Papal policeman Domingo
Do you need to have read George Eliot’s Middlemarch to be a fully realised human being? Rebecca Mead, author of The Road to Middlemarch, believes so — and says she is barely exaggerating in making her claim. Mead is a British-born author and New Yorker journalist whose love affair with George Eliot’s famed work began
Forget defying old age by wearing purple. The septuagenarian and her coterie at the heart of this humorous novel have far more extreme acts of rebellion in mind. What are we talking about? The latest novel from Catharina Ingelman-Sundberg, featuring some spirited seniors on a madcap quest for a better life. Elevator pitch … Who
Just as a city built on swamp and peat is vulnerable — so, too, is a family built on secrets and silences. New Zealand author, Lloyd Jones, said the earthquake that hit Christchurch on February 22, 2011, cracked the city open “like an eggshell”. Five weeks later, he visited the city and found it was
Lucien Bernard is the central character in The Paris Architect and, as Lucien’s wife Celeste leaves, she calls him an “architectural Mephistopheles”. It’s not until much later in this intriguing novel that he acknowledges she was right. Set in Occupied France during World War II, The Paris Architect opens with Lucien Bernard heading to a
I had good intentions to blog about these books immediately after I read them but it didn’t happen. They’ll never be my blog “brides” now. As “bridesmaids” they deserve honourable mentions. So get yourself a glass of bubbly to sip as I toast. Collected Stories: James Salter Why have I not read James Salter before
When Gabrielle Carey wrote to reclusive Australian novelist Randolph Stow to tell him her mother — his childhood friend — was dying, she could not have anticipated the journey of discovery that would unfold. The ensuing literary-pilgrimage-cum-family-quest is detailed in Moving Among Strangers. The journey sees Carey: reconnect with extended family; explore places in Western
Who owns the land? — Those who till it or those who hold the title deeds? How permeable should a community’s boundaries be? — Welcoming of all or divided into “insiders” and “interlopers”? These pithy questions lie at the heart of Harvest by Jim Crace; the novel tipped by many as the Man Booker Prize
This one of the scariest books I’ve read this year and perhaps ever. It’s also one of the cleverest I’ve encountered in recent times at evoking how the American dream can easily turn sour. Paul Krovik is a property developer who subdivides some acreage, builds his family a model home and gets into debt due
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