-
Join 735 other subscribers.
Recent Comments
Top Posts
- NSW Literary Awards Shortlist 2026
- LoSoRhyMo 3: Flugtag
- Goodbye Mollie
- About
- Yael van der Wouden's Safekeep at the book club
- Susan Choi's Flashlight at the Book Club
- Niall Williams's Time of the Child and the book group
- Sydney Writers' Festival 2015: My Weekend
- Ruby Reads (17): Mardi Gras
- A Life Like Other People's
Currently reading & watching- Blue Morder Motel (Kate McDermott & Steven Zanoski 2026)
- Endling (Maria Reva 2025)
- ABC iView: Patience, season 2 ( Laurent Burtin & Alexandre de Seguins 2026)
- You, Me & Tuscany (Kat Coiro 2026)
- Always Home, Always Homesick (Hanna Kent 2025
- Text Thing (Pam Brown 2002)
- Colours of Time / La venue de l'avenir (Cédric Klapisch 2025)
- Juniper (Matthew J. Saville 2021)
- Apple+: Drops of God / Les gouttes de dieu (Quoc Dang Tran 2023)
- 19 Ways of Looking at Wang Wei (with more ways) (Eliot Weinberger 1987, 2016)
Tags
ABC Alison Croggon art Australian Women Writers Challenge children's literature comics David Brooks David Malouf doggerel editing Eileen Chong Evelyn Araluen First Nations history Jeff Sparrow Jennifer Maiden journals Marcel Proust memoir non-fiction Novel NSWPLA Overland phone photo poetry Quarterly Essay science fiction/fantasy Sydney Writers' Festival The School Magazine translation-
Recent Posts
- NSW Literary Awards Shortlist 2026
- The Letters of Seamus Heaney, third and final progress report
- Sean Kelly Fights the Good Fight
- Eliot Weinberger’s 19 Ways of Looking at Wang Wei
- Ian McEwan’s What We Can Know at the Book Club
- Carys Davies’s Clear at the Book Club
- Becky Manawatu’s Auē
- Journal Catch-up 34: Heat 21
- Arundhati Roy’s God of Small Things and the Book Group
- Journal Catch-up 33: Meanjin Winter 2025
- Jennifer Maiden’s Mandatory Sentence
- The Letters of Seamus Heaney, progress report 2
- Evelyn Araluen’s Rot
- *** New Book: Thank Seven*** and other news
- The Letters of Seamus Heaney, progress report 1
Archives
Landscape of Farewell
Alex Miller, Landscape of Farewell (Allen & Unwin 2007)
It pains me to say it, but the best thing about this book as far as I am concerned is that it’s short. I read it in a day.
In the first couple of pages, it seemed to hit wrong note after wrong note. Just two examples, tiny in themselves, but part of a cumulative effect that left me simply not believing in the characters: an elderly German professor, meditating on the notion of honour, remembers that somewhere in the bible, probably in the New Testament, we are told to honour our father and our mother; a young Australian History professor asks that same man what his father did in the war, and when he reacts with shock says it was just a piece of Australian humour. Just what planet do you have to be an academic on not to know the Ten Commandments, or that Germans of a certain age might not like to be asked by complete strangers about their family’s relationship to Nazism.
In spite of encountering some fine prose and being invited to confront difficult realities, I never recovered from the blow my trust received in those first pages. The book’s centrepiece is a powerful account of a meticulously planned massacre of white settlers in North Queensland by Aboriginal men in reprisal for the unwitting violation of a sacred site. Everything else seems to be there to justify this piece of writing. It didn’t work for this little white duck. I was left with an uneasy feeling that some kind of equivalence was being proposed between the Aboriginal action and unnamed actions taken by German operatives during the Second World War. I’m sorry, but my response, in a word, is ‘Ewww!’
My Book Group is to discuss this book at our next meeting. Since the meeting is on the evening of the day I get home from a month in France, I may not make it. If I do, I’ll let you know what other people thought.
What Is America?
Ronald Wright, What Is America?: a short history of the new world order (Text Publishing 2008)
This is a book that promises great things and, in the first half at least, delivers. Here, from page 13, is what I read as the promise:
Seen from inside by free citizens, the young United States was indeed a thriving democracy in a land of plenty; seen from below by slaves, it was a cruel tyranny; and seen from outside by free Indians, it was a ruthlessly expanding empire. All these stories are true, but if we know only one without the others, what we know is not history but myth. And such myths are dangerous.
Only one of the three stories features strongly here, the story of ruthless empire. And at times it’s very hard to read, not because it’s poorly written – on the contrary, the writing is clear, passionate, engaging – but because the story is so hideous. The murderous double talk of George Walker Bush, Dick Cheney and their comrades in arms (and even at times, I say this in sorrow, of Barack Obama when he talks of Afghanistan) has a long pedigree. We have been lied to about who lived in North America before the first Puritans arrived there – systematically lied to, and evidence contradicting the lies has been systematically destroyed.
We white Australians have finally recognised that though Aboriginal Australians may not have done much of what our predecessors recognised as farming the land, they still lived here and had natural rights that were trampled. North America in the fifteenth century was dotted with farms, towns, and an established civilisation. Smallpox and to a lesser extent technological superiority enabled the invaders to take over a land that had been prepared for them, and they did it with a nauseating confidence that this is what God intended, then lied about who had lived there before them.
It felt to me that the book kind of lost its way towards the end, turning into an all too familiar analysis of the crimes and sins of successive US administrations from Nixon to Bush the younger. The end comes much sooner than you expect, as more than a third of the book is taken up by notes and a bibliography. I wonder if Ronald Wright had to finish it quickly, hearing a probable Obama win at the polls coming ever nearer. Whatever its shortcomings, it’s a richly informative background to the Bush era, and to the challenges faced by Obama.
Ronald Wright is Canadian. Though he quotes a number of Australians, he doesn’t draw a parallel with the Australian history of dispossession and genocide, but it’s hard not to observe the difference that a couple of centuries made: as far as I’m aware no one seriously tried to claim that the Australian atrocities were done at the direct instruction of God. And it seems that the practice currently prevalent in Australia of acknowledging the traditional owners of the land, however token it may be, is a long way from making an appearance in the US.
(I bought this book almost a year ago, at a talk given by Roland wright in the Sydney Ideas series.)
Déjeuner sous les épines
Pain de campagne, tomate, St Marcellin, tomate, des poires et – hors d’image – un pacquet de tranches de dinde plastique.
Wolf Hall
Hilary Mantel, Wolf Hall (4th Estate 2009)
This is a truly engrossing historical novel – I hope it wins the Booker Prize.
Written in beautiful, slightly quirky and so captivating prose, it’s full of vividly realised scenes and characters to care about, of engrossing argument in which the stakes couldn’t be higher. For me the main pleasure was of historical revisionism. In taking Thomas Cromwell as its hero, it effectively challenges the version of the English Reformation – indeed of the Protestant Reformation as a whole – that I absorbed from the nuns and brothers and, I’m embarrassed to acknowledge, remained pretty much intact under the assault of an undergraduate course in Reformation History. I’m consoled somewhat by having the great Erasmus as an offstage character who pretty much shares my understanding, and by a sense, especially toward the end, that it’s Robert Bolt’s A Man for All Seasons rather than my young self that Hilary Mantel has in her sights. Thomas More – that’s Saint Thomas More to me – is portrayed here, among other things, a pitiless torturer and a misogynist a***hole. I suppose my younger self might have read this as Protestant propaganda. I hope I would have checked the evidence, and come to the conclusion that if it is propaganda, what it’s propagating is the view that rigid and intolerantly held religious views are an abomination, and that there is great virtue in devoting one’s self to making things go well.
I can’t read historical fiction these days without sensing Inga Clendinnen reading over my shoulder. I think she would approve of this.
Greetings from La Grande Motte
In Egypt people were buried in them. The Aztecs killed people on them. At La Grande Motte, people go to them to wait for death.
Travel despatch 4
I haven’t exactly managed a daily post as we walked through the Loire Valley: points d’internet aren’t exactly common and those I have found, when they functioned at all, have had keyboards that drive me crazy. But here I am in beautiful Orléans, having now walked for 20+ kilometres four days in a row, with just one day to go. I’m sore of foot but it’s been fabulous. There have been mysteries, such as the siren that blared out at midday in one village, or the row of adult-sized high chairs made from tree branches, ten metres apart, along the side of a ploughed field (the latter probably something to do with hunting). There have been sublime moments, such as hearing the monks of Fleury sing Vespers at the magnificent church in St-Benoit. And horrible moments, as in the same St-Benoit where neither of the two restaurants was open the night we were there. We’ve got lost, but then been given directions by a kind boulangère. We’ve had wonderful meals, ranging from the one we scraped together that night to any number of lovely restaurant meals. We’ve had a salade avec grésiers, which tasted great, but looked like gobs of flesh that might crawl off their bed of lettuce any second. The company who organised it for us, Sentiers de France, have done a lovely job, and the French system of walking paths is meticulously mapped.
I’m off to bed for an early rise to croissants, hot chocolate and a long walk.
Girl 2
Stieg Larsson, The Girl Who Played with Fire (2006, English translation 2009)

I apologise for not listing the translator’s name – I left the book in the Paris Bercy train station so can’t check on such things. It was gripping enough, and I plan to read the third book in the trilogy; I did see the three books, in French, with much more appropriate covers than the English editions’, in a shop window in Lyon (yes, I read the book while travelling). The French title of this one translates as something like The girl who dreamed of a jar of petrol and a match.
I wish Stieg Larsson had lived to see his book through the editing process. I think they would have benefited — less repetition, perhaps, a less plodding pace. But even though I’m not as entranced by Lisbeth Salander as Stieg evidently was, this was a very good train and hotel read. A comedown after Anna Karenina, but then what wouldn’t have been?
My next blog post will be about walking in the Loire Valley.
The train has left the station
Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenin (1873-1877, translated by Rosemary Edmonds 1957, 1978)
What with cleaning the house, travel, conference, broken computer and jet lag, this has taken me longer to read than it normally would have. It’s wonderful wonderful – funny, confronting, deeply instructive. At times I felt as if Tolstoy wrote the book to explain the society of his time to readers who wouldn’t be born for at least 70 years (the situation of women, the conditions of the peasants …). I knew in advance that this was a book about a woman who throws herself under a train, and expected it to have a bit of A Doll’s House about it. I didn’t expect it to have elements of P G Wodehouse twittiness at one extreme and almost Joycean internal monologue at another. And is there a bit of proto-Wittgenstein (‘Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must remain silent’ ) in Levin’s decision to renounce argument in the last chapter? And how about those similes! (Just in case you’re reading this and haven’t read the book: maybe half a dozen times, at intense moments in the narrative, a character’s mental state is explained through a simile, and each time it’s just brilliant.)
Why didn’t anyone tell me? I may have to set aside time for War and Peace sooner than I’d planned. (I’ve been told I should have read it first, because it’s not as grim. Oh well …)




