The Brothers Karamazov ~ Fyodor Dostoevsky

The Brothers Karamazov is the story of three brothers, two women, a grotesque father, an illegitimate brother and three thousand rubles, set in a provincial town in Russia in the 1860's. 

Dimitri Karamazov was my favourite of the brothers.  He is a 'scoundrel' by his own admission and whilst he has a good, if not passionate heart, he has a temper which prevents him from doing what is right.

Alexei (Alyosha) Karamazov is the type of character I find annoying.  He is too 'good' and kind, (like a benevolent Dickens character, just a bit too good to be true) but I read that Dostoevsky had lost his 3 year old son Alyosha to epilepsy, and so he imbued Alexei with the qualities he admired and, I guess, would have wished his son to have aspired to had he lived.  The author's grief at the loss of his son is also reflected in the novel with the death of a young character, whose funeral scene I will never forget.

I felt I didn't really get to know Ivan Karamazov very well, he is the serious brother who adores the youngest (Alexei) but he carries the Karamazov chip on his shoulder for all to see.

This is one mammoth read, and I did at times feel bored with some of the philosophical passages and long speeches, and I was a bit baffled by The Grand Inquisitor until I read it a couple of times and could appreciate and agree with what Ivan was saying.  But, if you can get past the religion and philosophy this is an exciting story of lust, passion, greed and murder.

I must mention too, the characterisation of the brother's father Fyodor is wonderful.  He is a middle aged wealthy pig.  He is a lustful, disgusting and rude drunk who actually made me laugh in most of his scenes.  He is so vile I loved him! ( I wonder what this says about me, I loved Fyodor but found Alexei annoying? Maybe I just appreciate well drawn antagonists?).

There is a sort of madness attributed to all the characters I have read so far by Dostoevsky, yet you can always identify with them and their self destructive natures.  This novel was planned to be part of a greater work but was sadly never realised as Dostoevsky died just four months after its publication.  I would love to have known what he had in store for Dimitri.

 Maxine

The Return of the Soldier ~ Rebecca West

This very short novel is the story of an English soldier who is repatriated from the bloodlust of the French trenches during WWI because he has lost his short-term memory, presumably as a result of being ‘shell-shocked’ – the condition we now know as post-traumatic stress disorder.

Chris Baldry, handsome, personable and wealthy, is the soldier. His ‘madness’ took the form of returning his consciousness to the world he knew 15 years previously. Thus the army officials sent news of his illness to an old address instead of his current home, where his wife Kitty and cousin Jenny were only mildly concerned at not hearing from him for a fortnight.

Kitty’s careless snobbery is revealed when her housemaid announces the arrival of a woman who has news for them: condescending to speak to the stranger, Kitty reflects that her hair is ‘Last year’s fashion…but I fancy it’ll do for a person with that sort of address.’ The visitor, shabby and diffident in the affluent house, is Margaret Grey, bringing them the news that Chris is ill, not wounded but apparently confused because a War Office telegram and letter from Chris have been sent to an old address and he is begging to see Margaret, who reveals that she knew him 15 years previously. Kitty, scornful and certain the woman is trying somehow to get money from her, is rude and dismissive; Jenny however, senses the truth and is horrified by the insight into Kitty’s true nature.

When the story is confirmed and Chris is brought home, his loss of memory and complete lack of recognition of his wife, his alienation in the altered house, are excruciating to read. He does recognise Jenny, who of course he had known since childhood, and who senses the hopelessness of the situation for both disoriented husband and rejected wife. Chris is obsessed by only one thought-he must see Margaret. Kitty, brittle and suspicious with bewildered hurt, agrees to bring ‘that dowd’ to the house, noting bitterly that despite his amnesia, ‘He’s well enough to remember her all right’.

Thus Chris is reunited with Margaret, who had been the love of his life and a true kindred spirit. Far from being disillusioned by her age and the poverty wrought on her by sad circumstances, he is more in love with her than ever and they share the anguish of their parting over a petty quarrel all those years ago.

The story proceeds to unravel the true natures of all the characters involved, against the background of medical and psychological efforts to ‘cure’ Chris. Rather than war-induced amnesia, it gradually emerges that the cause may be more related to the social situation, including the death of Chris and Kitty’s infant son and Margaret’s life story.

On one level, this is a sadly familiar story of the effects of war; however, it seems to be a deeper examination of social mores and their imprisonment of individuals who defy the rules and want a different lifestyle. I was gripped from the start and read it in one night!

Author Rebecca West, born Cicily Isabel Fairfield in 1892, grew up with two sisters and their single mother, deserted by Cicily’s father at age 9. A hard struggle in those days, this background led her to be a feminist and Suffragette, and fierce political activist: she changed her name to Rebecca West to spare her family the social repercussions of her activism. She had a long affair with H.G. Wells, with whom she had a son.

I first became aware of her when, about to travel to Croatia, I read her massive history of Yugoslavia, ‘Black Lamb and Grey Falcon’, an amazingly comprehensive story of that country’s harsh past and dour culture.

HELEN          

The Dig Tree ~ Sarah Murgatroyd

Never has my imagination been so captivated reading a novel as it has been reading The Dig Tree.

Living in Australia I had of course heard of the names of Burke and Wills, I mean there is a Burke and Wills Hotel in Toowoomba!  I knew that they had been ill fated explorers in the 1800's but that was about it.

Finishing The Dig Tree today after hardly being able to put it down, I marvel at those early Europeans who risked their lives in pursuit of knowledge of Australia's interior.

The expedition lead by Burke, and his second Wills, was mismanaged from it's conception, to the returning of their bodies for burial.  Burke was only chosen because he happened to be a 'gentleman' (albeit an Irish one), and that was of prime importance for the Exploration Committee, it didn't matter that Burke couldn't even find his way home after a night at the pub.

Sarah Murgatroyd has written a very compelling story from start to finish, giving an incredible insight into what drove those men and how it all went horribly wrong.  When Burke and Wills left Melbourne, their supplies included an oak dining table and a bath tub!  Aboriginals they met along the way brought gifts of food, but the explorers deemed them a nuisance as they wanted gifts in return from their supplies - knives, oilcloth etc  On the return trip from the Gulf of Carpentaria Burke finally succeeded in scaring the natives off completely, and it was then that he and his remaining men realised the folly - they had to discard the supplies that could have been traded for food because they were too weak to carry them - and finally all but one starved to death surrounded by the bush food they did not know how to prepare properly.

Other explorers of the outback are mentioned in the novel too as this had been a race between the Australian colonies in the hope of opening up the interior for the Telegraph and claiming it for their own.  Names like the Stuart Highway, Leichhardt, Mitchell and Julia Creek all now have a special meaning to me, they will no longer be just the names of places where I freight our company's products.

This novel also gives you a reality check as to what the Europeans did to the Aboriginal tribes in Australia and how they suffered the loss of their native land to the white intruders.  You can't change the past but they were treated very badly indeed.

Coming from England I do feel the lack of real 'history' here compared to Europe, but having now read The Dig Tree I can appreciate that Australian's colonial history may only be recent, but it can be utterly fascinating.

Maxine

Travels With My Sister ~ Milan to Cortona

Planning the trip is part of the pleasure. For those of us who enjoy the choices and challenges of travelling independently, the internet is a godsend as long as you work to specific criteria, remember to convert foreign currency prices to Oz dollars, and watch the bottom line for assorted ‘city taxes’ and ‘booking charges’ before you present the plastic card. Another thing I’ve learned to check is the distance from airport to city; Milan’s main airport is a forty-five minute drive from the city, which translates to A$100 by taxi! However there is a very plush bus service for A$13 –if you are not too weary after the flight to find it.

My criteria are mainly location and price. Central location means higher price, generally speaking, but there are gems to be found in back streets – for our overnight stay in Milan on arrival in Italy, I found a small 2-star hotel just 2 blocks from La Scala and the Cathedral: small bedroom and a shower recess that was a challenge to tuck our bottoms in to close the door, but spotlessly clean, and with a delightful breakfast room with stained glass windows and very comprehensive breakfast included in the price.

 

The next day, onward by train to Cortona, via Florence; we had checked our timetable and bought tickets online, but nearly came undone in Florence where we had to change trains with fairly tight timing because Cortona doesn’t have many trains on Sundays – and found that tickets ain’t tickets, only vouchers that have to be processed at confusing machines on the very crowded station. So Sis did the processing while I wrestled our luggage towards the waiting train and sweated until she came running down the platform with a couple of minutes to spare! The trains are VERY punctual.

 

Our first sight of Cortona from the train was thrilling. High on a hill, the mellow old buildings appeared to be painted on the patchwork green and brownish landscape, a quintessential Tuscan portrait. We were driven to our apartment by the owner’s English-speaking friend (a real bonus) and I was torn between loving the scenery and worrying about the quality of the apartment I’d booked online – it’s one thing to live with my own decisions, but another to feel responsible for Sis – what if I’d booked a real lemon?

The owner and a crowd of curious neighbours were there to give us a warm and confused Italian welcome, and as soon as we made it inside my worries were dissolved in the huge grins of delight on our faces – it was magic! Old, 2-storey stone, with 2 bathrooms, bedrooms beautifully prepared with ironed, embroidered linen, fully equipped kitchen and lounge furnished with antiques, shuttered windows framing the view of Tuscan farmland. First impressions? We were speechless.



Sampling Cortona’s local produce



Ensuite bathroom, Italian style



 

We couldn’t wait to get out and explore the town, which is small and easy to navigate; well, as long as you can push your legs and lungs up and down the steep streets and winding laneways! Shopping for fresh food was a delight, and we were like a couple of kids playing house, so delighted to have our own little pad to cook snacks in and just live to our own timetable instead of being in a hotel.



The view from my bedroom!



 

So we settled in for 2 weeks, and spent our days walking, eating, drinking, shopping, exploring. We found the sanctuary where St. Francis went for retreats, a massive stone building where there are still monks spending retreat time gardening and maintaining the place – one of them chatted to us and found me an English version of the history of the Sanctuary.

We hired a car for a few days to explore the countryside; I was promptly and undemocratically appointed driver so had to take the challenge of left-hand driving amongst some of the craziest drivers on the planet. All went well until we drove on to the ferry to go to Elba: the attendant beckoned me to one side and directed me to drive up the 45 deg. ramp to the upper deck for tiny cars, and I swear the ramp was no wider than my dining table- I was paralysed for a moment, just can’t do this, help! But the cars behind me had no mercy and nor did the attendant, who ran up the ramp backwards in front of me, urging me on – did he not realise he was in imminent danger of being crushed as I was terrified of losing revs and stalling on the bloody ramp! Terrifying.

We survived, and loved exploring Elba with its history as the place where “The Emperor Napoleon took early retirement”(Lonely Planet quote). His house and garden were open to tour, and well maintained, decorated with horses’ head sculptures (he missed his battle ponies) and pictures of bees (apparently the royal symbol of his court – who knew?). Some wonderful trompe de l’oeil wall painting of drapes that looked so real you wanted to touch them. Apparently the man basically ran the island and lined his pockets with local industry, and then escaped in plain sight while the English administrator was away for a week!

 

Evening in the piazza

Most days, we just enjoyed being temporary locals in our village; we felt disgracefully superior towards the bus tour groups who were dropped off for a few hours and martialled together by flag-carriers while we sipped and munched in our favourite cafes! In the evenings we watched the locals gather and chat, the women strolling with children while the old men gathered in their corner of the piazza where they seemed to have exclusive use of the seats to argue loudly, gesticulate, and drink beer.



Cortona - the house used as a set for‘Under the Tuscan Sun’




There were a couple of typically Italian adventures, such as the day we took the bus to a nearby town for an annual market, then waited over an hour for the bus home – only to be told (eventually) that on this market day, buses don’t run from this stop! No notices, just cancel the buses! Local knowledge takes a little longer to pick up, and you can get frustrated, or just laugh at yourself and walk to the other side of town to catch the bus – that’s independent travel.

Helen

Philida ~ Andre Brink

One of the Man Booker Prize long list, this is the story of a slave in South Africa in the 19th century, set in the period leading up to the end of slavery. Interestingly, the author is a descendant of the family who ‘owned’ Philida, and his familiarity with the country and its history are apparent in the details of the government actions and the turbulence among the Boer settlers as slavery is about to be banned.

The book begins in first-person format, and opens with the compelling line: “Here come shit.”

Philida, who has walked many miles from the property of her owners, must confront an unhelpful public servant ‘with deep furrows in his forehead, like a badly ploughed wheat field, and a nose like a sweet potato grown past itself’ with her complaint of rape by Francois, the son of her master.

She had decided to lay the complaint, having borne four children to Francois, because he has reneged on his continual promise to buy her freedom – he is to marry a white woman, and Philida and her children are to be sold to a distant landowner to avoid any ‘offence’ to the wife.

Here come shit, indeed – the reaction of the Brink family to the sheer audacity of a slave’s action in lodging such a report, and Philida’s own feelings about the white man she is clearly quite fond of, make compelling and often cringe-inducing reading.

The story follows the gritty fight for her children’s future amid the insecurity of everyone’s struggle to find a new life, and Philida’s physical and emotional journey away from her familiar life is well worth following.

 

Helen

The Hiding Place ~ Trezza Azzopardi

I Just loved this extraordinary novel

 

A finalist for Britain's prestigious Booker Prize, The Hiding Place – Welsh novelist Trezza Azzopardi's brilliantly lyrical tale of an immigrant family in the harbor town of Cardiff, Wales - is turning the heads of readers and publishers around the world, moving some critics to compare it to Frank McCourt's bleak, stirring memoir Angela's Ashes. But The Hiding Place need not "hide" behind any ready-made comparisons; Azzopardi's astonishing, tension-filled debut stands assuredly on its own as a work of tremendous power and originality.

 The Hiding Place is narrated by Dolores, the youngest of six daughters born to a Maltese immigrant father and a Welsh mother. With one hand permanently disfigured by a fire when she was only one month old - the hand is beautifully described by the author as "a closed white tulip standing in the rain; a cutoff creamy marble in the shape of a Saint; a church candle with its tears flowing down the bulb of wrist" - Dolores has always been treated as an outcast. Her father, Frankie Gauci, is an incorrigible gambler who bets "more than he can afford to lose." On the day Dolores is born, he loses his half-share of a café, as well as the apartment above it where his family lives. Everything in Frankie's life is potential currency, including his family; he even sells his second-oldest daughter Marina to gangster Joe Medora in exchange for a house and money to pay off his debts. Dolores's mother, Mary, is driven to the edge of insanity as she watches the world around her collapse, helpless to save even her children from her husband's vices.

 

At times, The Hiding Place paints a phantasmagoric portrait of cruelty, but Trezza Azzopardi's gracefully exacting prose saves her tale from becoming a shock-fest of the sort you would expect on daytime television talk shows. Azzopardi forges profundity through delicately interwoven double-sided images: rabbits that are the children's playthings, until they are brutally slaughtered by their father; trunks, rooms, and cages that can either protect or ensnare; and most abundantly and most significantly, fire, which can warm as well as ravage. Even Dolores's older sister Fran is sent away to a home for being a pyromaniac, craving risk like her father, "gambling on how hot, how high, on how long she can bear it."

While some readers may wonder how Dolores is able to relate events that happened when she was so young, it is easy to associate these stories with the phantom pains she feels in her missing fingers, her ability to "miss something [she] never knew." The story comes to us in a dreamlike tapestry, weaving together different times and perspectives.  Consequently, the narrative is fragmented, leaving the reader with half-tellings, missing details, stories that unfold only in the retelling, and a sense that the only fact we can be certain of is the profound meaning she imparts through them. The Hiding Place is as much a portrait of a family's destruction as it is an exploration of how memory bends and buckles under the weight of ruin, and how "blame can be twisted like a flame in draught; it will burn and burn."

 

Robyn S.

War Brides ~ Helen Bryan

I just loved this story it involved so many real events, and people have told the stories from their heart, this author has done a remarkable job in retelling their stories in a very interesting way.

With war threatening to spread from Europe to England, the sleepy village of Crowmarsh Priors settles into a new sort of normal: Evacuees from London are billeted in local homes. Nightly air raids become grimly mundane. The tightening vice of rationing curtails every comfort. Men leave to fight and die, and five women forge an unlikely bond of friendship that will change their lives forever.

 

Alice Osbourne, the stolid daughter of the late vicar, is reeling from the news that Richard Fairfax broke their engagement to marry Evangeline Fontaine, an American girl from the Deep South. Evangeline's arrival causes a stir in the village, but not the chaos that would ensue if they knew her motives for being there. Scrappy Elsie Pigeon is among the poor of London who see the evacuations as a chance to escape a life of destitution. Another new arrival is Tanni Zayman, a young Jewish girl who fled the horrors of Europe and now waits with her newborn son, certain that the rest of her family is safe and bound to show up any day. And then there's Frances Falconleigh, a madcap, fearless debutante whose father is determined to keep her in the countryside and out of the papers. As the war and its relentless hardships intensify around them, the same struggles that threaten to rip apart their lives also bring the five closer together. They draw strength from one another to defeat formidable enemies - hunger, falling bombs, the looming threat of a Nazi invasion, and a traitor in their midst; and find remarkable strength within themselves to help their friends. Theirs is a war-forged loyalty that will outlast the fiercest battle and endure years and distance.

 

When four of the women return to Crowmarsh Priors for a VE Day celebration fifty years later, television cameras focus on the heartwarming story of these old women as war brides of a bygone age, but miss the more newsworthy angle. The women's mission is not to commemorate or remember -they'e returned to settle a score and avenge one of their own.

 

Robyn S.

Handling The Undead ~ John Ajvide Lindqvist

The first half of this novel was so promising that I could not not put it down, it was creepy and disturbing.  I felt excited that I had finally found an unnerving book.  But then it dwindled to something boring, and finally ended up feeling like a bit of feel good fluff.

 

The premise was initially interesting - a strange weather event in Sweden results in the re-animation of the recently deceased.  The powers that be try to handle the situation as best they can by rounding up the dead (which they later term as the 're-living') and taking them to local hospitals, and digging up the more recently buried.

 

The novel follows three families - Flora & Elvy, David & Magnus and Gustav & Anna.  They have each lost someone they love, Flora her grandfather (Elvy's husband), David his wife (Magnus' mother) and Gustav his grandson (Anna's son).  Basically the novel then explores the feelings each experiences coming to terms with the 're-living'.

 

By far the best storyline was that of Gustav (Mahler), Anna and Elias. Gustav is grossly overweight and constantly locks horns with his grieving daughter Anna.  Anna's young son Elias tragically died in a balcony fall, but when the strange event occurs Mahler races to the cemetery and digs Elias up (a bit 'Pet Semetary' you might think, I thought so too but it was not the case as it turned out). The weather has been very hot and dry so Elias has not begun to decompose, he is however mummified and full of decomposing gas.  The description of this mummified child being taken care of with lotions for his skin, and saline which he will swallow from a baby's bottle whilst not moving nor being able see through his dead eyes, is truly nightmare material.  It is tremendously creepy.

 

I 'got' that Lindqvist wanted to explore the emotional side of a 'zombie' event but it got too airy fairy towards the end especially the Flora & Elvy storyline.  The supposed proof of a soul and life on the other side didn't really work for me.  (After reading The God Delusion can you blame me?) I really think that it would have worked best as an out and out horror.  I didn't need flesh eating zombies, the 're-living' that he presents are creepy enough, but I would have liked to have seen more exploration of the other types of re-living such as those that had been recently drowned.  Anna encounters one and it is quite frightening at first but then that falls flat too.

 

However, with this said, I think I will read more of Lindqvist's work as he is very readable and the ideas are definitely there. 

Maxine

BOOKS AND BUSH TUCKER

Or

CAN YOU GET A DECENT COFFEE AT POSSUM PARK?

Caffeine and Chapters, it must be said, is not just about the books, although we read, love, and discuss a great range of writing genres from classics through historical fiction to fantasy, murder, Australian literature, movie adaptations and biography. We use libraries, bookshops both new and second-hand, and Kindle readers.

So, a suggestion for a ‘reading retreat’ soon developed into fabulous plans for a long weekend at a bush retreat some 450 kms from the Coast –Possum Park, nearest town Miles, where 'Red Robin' negotiated a deal for 10 of us to stay in a converted WWII military storage depot. The available ‘digs’ include camping, railway carriage cottages, and the one we chose, a self-contained barn, which resembled, or may have been an original, curved roofed wartime Saar hut. All facilities provided, byo food and drink.

The reading theme was quickly decided; Thomas Hardy’s ‘The Mayor of Casterbridge’ to be read and discussed over the weekend. Then the emails started flying: Menus! Who’s bringing what, choose your dinner dish to cook and take with us, and DON’T bring too much! Transport – car pool of 3 cars, to travel in convoy, who’s going with whom, exchange mobile phone numbers. So it was all collated and planned and the menus sounded mouth-watering and comprehensive. Some decided to take some wine though it wasn’t mentioned as a requirement! Came the night before, having been up to my eyes in work, family house moves etc. I was up late making chicken pie and dessert, then managed to leave my dessert at home because I fretted about leaving it in the fridge till the last possible moment.

The convoy assembled punctually at 8am at Oxenford – I was only punctual because I had Bianca with me to navigate to the right spot – and away we went. First stop Dalby, where Robyyn S. had to deliver some goods to the Red Cross centre and we were happy to take a cuppa and cookies break. Fully revived and in the mood for fun, we went on a productive shopping spree around Dalby’s excellent antique shop and op shops, egging each other on to spend on treasures. Who knew I would add to my miniature shoe collection by finding a French Limoges shoe in Dalby? What a coup!

After Dalby we drove into the dry, flat country, and had to stop suddenly when Jen lost the cover off her spare wheel – it apparently lost a clip, bounced onto the road and thankfully bounced and rolled across the road without hitting another vehicle. Sadly it was badly scraped and she was unable to refix it, but it could have been a lot worse. Then we were slowed down by post-flood roadworks and crawled for ages behind some huge trucks loaded with heavy machinery.

So everyone was relieved to arrive at Possum Park, where our hosts were friendly and had us installed in our ‘igloo’ in quick time. Having experienced some fairly low –standard camping parks in the inland, I think we were all delighted by the space, interior finish of timber panelling and spotlessly clean presentation of our retreat; there was an ensuite double bedroom and a huge 5-bed dormitory as well as 3 beds in the living area, and a modern, well-stocked kitchen. No roughing it for the Caff’n’Chaps on this trip.

Claiming beds and bringing in the baggage, it soon became obvious that we had all packed lightly with clothing – and quite excessively with food and beverages! The fridge was groaning after 10 minutes, and the first night’s menu was decided very simply by the necessity of eating what we couldn’t fit in the fridge. Meanwhile we got giggly over bubbles and endless snacks, some of us parading in the clothing bargains found in Dalby.

We went walking to explore the park, finding concrete bunkers dug into hills – they were used for ammunition storage originally, and currently some are used to store straw, while some are being converted into cave style accommodation – which will be great in the hot summer, I imagine. The gardens are beautifully maintained with colourful native and exotic plants, and imaginative plantings in tubs and an old wheelie bin. There are delightful little courtyards with rustic seats made of local timber, and even a small bush chapel.

Back to the igloo and all in high spirits, time to get dinner organised: it is important to take constant precautions against anorexia. Dinner was heated in the oven – eventually; yours truly turned the oven on but didn’t notice that there was also a master switch to adjust! We dined royally, a 3-course feast with beverages of choice, and agreed we must compose a Possum Park cookbook to share our recipes. One helpful soul offered to detail where she’d purchased her vegetable crisps.

Eventually we came to discussing our chosen book du jour, and out came the e-books and tree-books – at which time I suffered a severe attack of Kindle envy when I discovered that Jen has the LATEST kindle, a truly beautiful and even lighter-weight gem in a purple case; it is great. Grrr.  Discussion of ‘The Mayor’ was foreshortened when we found that someone had brought the DVD along, so we promptly settled in to watch it instead. However, most of us yielded to the weariness of the long drive, the big meal, and the wine, heading for showers and bed. Great beds, another big plus for the venue.

The early risers in the morning, despite being as quiet as possible, no doubt annoyed the sleep-in members, but we all sorted ourselves out for breakfast, walking, reading, while some drove back to Miles to see the Art Gallery and explore the shops. Most of us settled for lazing in the sun with books and crochet lessons and just hanging out feeling relaxed. Another group walk took us exploring the area, and we found the disused Kowguran railway siding: no doubt in years past it was a train stop where the locals would have received their supplies and farm equipment and despatched their produce. Disused railways always invoke nostalgia in me, as I remember a childhood in the bush where the railway brought our mail, school lessons, and groceries, and we watched wool bales loaded for distant markets.

Saturday night’s dinner was just as huge, voted even tastier than the previous night’s efforts, and devoured enthusiastically as Red Robin worried about excessive leftovers and urged us to eat more! Yep, we definitely over-catered, but who cares?

Robyn S. had brought along some of her beloved collection of old movies, so we had a great evening drooling over handsome young Troy Donoghue, exclaiming over Sandra Dee’s impossible cuteness (even with orange lipstick) and poking fun at some of the corny dialogue – and reired for another sound sleep.

Packing up and leaving on Sunday, everyone was still in good spirits and unanimously voted it a fantastic weekend retreat; we were already planning another, and delegated Jen to explore the possibilities of her suggested venue at the Sunshine Coast.

This is a terrific book club, and it was great to be with a group of women of all ages, all having a marvellous time and not a complaint or a sour note in the whole occasion. What’s more, I totally recommend Possum Park to anyone who is ready to leave the coastal resorts and get a taste of the inland. Just choose the right company.

Helen

Little Dorrit ~ Charles Dickens

Little Dorrit is rather overshadowed by the more popular of Dickens' novels, but it really is worth reading.  Broken up into two parts, the first being Poverty and the second being Riches, the whole premise centres on the theme of imprisonment (both physical and mental).

 

When Dickens was a young boy his father was sent to the Marshalsea debtor’s prison whilst the young Dickens went out to work in a blacking warehouse.  This very negative experience served as inspiration for this novel.  The character ‘Little Dorrit’ is Amy Dorrit, a slight young woman, who is born into the Marshalsea and has lived there all her life up to the point where the story first commences.  She looks after her father, an impoverished gentleman, and finds work sewing for people outside of the Marshalsea, whilst her siblings enjoy a better life living with their uncle.

 

When the Dorrit's receive a change of fortune Amy finds it very hard to live on the other side of the prison walls having known nothing else.  Mr Dorrit, known as the ‘Father of the Marshalsea’, in respect of the many years he has endured there, is a very arrogant and selfish man. He soon rejects all those who have helped him and befriended him in the past and takes his family abroad.  However, even distance does not give him piece of mind, for he lives in fear that his children might let something slip in society or that he will meet someone who is familiar with his previous circumstance.

 

There is another storyline which centres on the House of Clennam and a suspicious foreign criminal, but I found it rather messy and hard to follow.  The main character from this storyline is Arthur Clennam and he links the two stories having befriended the Dorrits during their imprisonment (Amy had done some sewing for his ailing but iron-willed mother).  Arthur also has dealings with the wonderfully named ‘Circumlocution Office’, which is a government department and a prime example of how things should not be done.  Dickens shows his satirical prowess to great advantage when writing about this office.

 

Fora Finching - BBC Adaptation



There are many other characters, some relevant and some just filler, but by far my favourite was the kind hearted Flora Finching.  Flora and Arthur had been sweethearts and when they meet again on Arthur's return from overseas she is much changed ie rather rotund and older for her age.  What I loved about her were the references she made about herself, and her weight, and the long dialogues which she delivers at a rate of knots whilst drifting off subject in a big way before finding her way back again. She had me laughing every time, I thought she was brilliant.

 



Another good character was John Chivery who works at the Marshalsea.  He loves Amy Dorrit, his childhood friend, but is usurped by Arthur Clennam.  He comes up with various epitaphs for his own headstone relevant to whatever event has taken place in each of his scenes. Ie Here lie the mortal remains of John Chivery, never anything worth mentionin', who died of a broken heart, requested with his last breath that the word "Amy" be inscribed over his ashes which was accordingly directed to be done by his afflicted father.   I thought him very adorable and heartbreaking! 

 

The BBC have a wonderful adaptation available, you can see the trailer here: Little Dorrit

 

Maxine

Solitary Thoughts ~ William Goff

Solitary Thoughts is a hard book to review because the opinions expressed in the various essays are unique to the author.  William Goff has very strong opinions about today's society, that of corporate greed and mass consumerism, amongst a number of other subjects addressed.

 

I agree that we live in a world that has gone mad, and which is greedy and selfish.  Human beings have this innate ability to over consume, be it food, cars, houses, or technology.  We seem to think that this will buy us happiness but it comes at a cost - heavy debt, declining health, and stress.  Over consumerism has resulted in mass production of products which lack any true style or craftsmanship and are soon outdated causing us to live in a disposable society.

 

The essays in Solitary Thoughts focus on the author's feelings about these various subjects. The presentation of the book is excellent, the cover is very tasteful and each essay is not too long; but there is negativity surrounding each one so I found that reading just one or two at a time every couple of days was enough.  I did find the essays rather verbose and I needed to read each one a couple of times to fully comprehend what the author was actually trying to convey.

 

My favourites were "The Dancer" which is the most optimistic of the essays, and I really liked "Theatre of the Mind" (as its structure is reminiscent of my favourite short story Midnight Express by Alfred Noyes).

 

The essays are not light reading, nor are they uplifting, but each one does contain something profound which makes it worthwhile taking a look at this independently published book.

 

Maxine

Raised to Rule ~ Martha K Hoffman

My reading on the 'Royalty' theme was Martha K. Hoffman's "Raised to Rule - Educating Royalty at the Court of the Spanish Hapsburgs, 1601-1634", as I decided to make a change from my first love ie the Tudors and Henry VIII.
It is a very comprehensive description of the teaching and moulding of Spanish royal children to make them ready for the role of ruler. These kids had no childhood as we know it, and the girls were given the title of 'enfanta' rather than 'princess' in the hope that a son would be born and keep the pesky women in their place! A bit dry at times and with more characters and family bloodlines than I could keep track of; but I did get interested in it, and  fascinated by the international politics that governed the choices of marriage partners etc.

However, I did return to the Tudors by reading Hilary Mantel's fascinating "Wolf Hall" and "Bring up the Bodies". The first tells the sad story of the attempts by Henry VIII to dethrone his first wife, Catherine of Aragon, when he became obsessed with Anne Boleyn; the second is the story of the downfall of Anne Boleyn after she failed to produce a male heir and allegedly had an affair. Well, they were all at it, weren't they? Top writing, great stories, and I loved them - just don't go looking for any happy endings!

Helen

The Mayor of Casterbridge

I loved this rags to riches to rags story so much that it will definitely feature in my all time top ten favourite books.

The Mayor of Casterbridge, Michael Henchard, is a proud, stubborn and hot tempered man.  He reacts without proper thought to future consequences, and when he reaps the rewards of his actions he his quick to blame everyone but himself.  It is only towards the end of the novel that he realises he alone brought his fate down upon himself.

Henchard was not always the man that the people of Casterbridge knew him to be.  When he was 21, and in a drunken state, he sold his wife and child by auction at a county fair.  Devastated by his actions he swears off alcohol for the next 21 years and builds a new and productive life.  But, this is a story of secrets, and the biggest secret of all is that which is held by Michael Henchard’s wife, who returns to her husband 18 years after he sold her.

This novel highlights the status of women in society and what is considered to be proper and moral conduct.  A young woman who has had a love affair with Michael Henchard falls into disgrace when she moves to Casterbridge to demand that he marry her and restore her good name.  The lower class in this small community – who seem to have the highest morals of all - conspire to bring her down.

The idea of Henchard’s wife having lived with her ‘purchaser’ out of wedlock for 18 years would probably have scandalised 19^th Century readers, and there are other far reaching effects on another character in the novel which I can’t mention without introducing a plot spoiler, and so will remain un-named.

There were no wasted elements here, it is so well plotted - every action has a negative reaction.  – you find yourself running through each cause and effect, tutting along the way and thinking ‘if only he hadn’t done this in chapter so and so, then that wouldn’t have happened in this chapter…..etc’

I read Hardy’s Tess a couple of years ago and found it very sad, although beautifully written.  The Mayor of Casterbridge is told in a more straight forward manner, but he still managed to make me cry at the end!

Maxine

Niedermayer & Hart ~ M J Johnson

There’s something rotten in the basement of Niedermayer & Hart Fine Porcelain, which photographer Jim Latimer discovers to his peril.  Jim has been commissioned by the company to photograph their collection for an upcoming catalogue, but he soon realises that there is something very wrong with his employers, and it isn’t long before he finds himself fighting to save his very soul.

Hugh Apsley, once a Knight Templar, has a very strange tale to relate to Brother Anselm of the Abbey of Valle Crucis in a letter dated 1202. It is a disturbing story which shakes the very foundation of their religion and transcends the boundaries of death.

The lives of Jim and Hugh are inextricably linked together and via their individual narratives the story begins to unfold and converge. 

This independent novel was very enjoyable to read.  The quality of the writing is very good, and the structure of the story intriguing.  On one hand we read about the young Hugh Apsley and the horrors he tries to make sense of in a superstitious world, and on the other hand we are transported to the 20th Century involved in a detective story that tries to make sense of what the modern world cannot explain away.

If you like a touch of horror with some solid foundation then you won’t go far wrong with this novel.

Maxine

Nicholas Nickleby ~ Charles Dickens

Yet another great read from Dickens, but I did have a few problems with it.  Although apparently a good example of 19th Century comedy, I didn't really find it very funny.  Mrs Nickleby was to provide the comic relief, and undoubtably back in 1838 this type of humour was appreciated, but I found her awfully annoying.

Nicholas is not immediately likeable; he's not as selfish as Philip 'Pip' Pirrip but he's not the true gentleman that David Copperfield grew up to be.  Nicholas has a good heart; however he is very hot headed and, when it comes to defending someone's honour, he does it with violence and unable to leave it with just one blow he must pummel that person to within an inch of his life!

There are a whole host of characters and towards the end I did get a bit forgetful of who one or two of them were. I guess Wackford Squeers, the beastly conniving school master was one of my favourites and the tragic Smike.

There are plenty of cartoonish names, and the ever present benevolent gentleman, although in this case there are two (twins!), but you tend to expect this from Dickens.

The novel pretty much follows the Nickleby family after the death of Nicholas's father. The family are left destitute and so they travel to the big smoke to appeal to their wealthy relative Ralph Nickleby for assistance. Ralph is extremely unlikeable and he and Nicholas soon become sworn enemies which is the underlying theme of the whole novel. I loved the revelation of who Ralph Nickleby's son was, and the outcome of that revelation.

A very satisfying read all in all.

Maxine

Time's Long Ruin ~ Stephen Orr

I read this book as a selection from the ‘National Year of Reading’ list – maybe you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover but I did, the cover picture is super cute.

In any case, I did not regret my choice: this was the South Australian entry, and it is a beauty. Told in retrospect by the main character Henry Page, still living in his childhood home, (where the floorboards ‘creak in exactly the same spot every time I go to make a cup of tea or take a pee’) it is the story of an outer-suburban community in the 1950’s, tragically to be torn apart by the disappearance of the three Riley children who were Henry’s best friends ‘…my only friends, really’.

It is in fact the story of the real-life Beaumont children who disappeared from Glenelg Beach in the 1960’s, a horrible mystery which remains unsolved; the drawn-out agony of that story, along with the kidnap and murder of 9-year-old Graeme Thorn after his parents won the lottery, are two traumatic events that are burned into my childhood memories.

Stephen Orr writes with deceptive simplicity, but within the easy-read style he builds characters of real depth, imperfect but likable, recognisably Australian. I just wanted to keep turning pages to follow the lives of Henry with his socially-limiting club foot, his loving policeman father and bitter, cruel-tongued mother, and those of their quirky neighbours.

By the time of the children’s disappearance, I found myself totally involved in the life of the Croydon community. The children had been allowed to take the tram to the beach without adult supervision, not at all unusual in Australia’s relatively innocent, crime-free 1950’s and early ‘60’s.

The tension of the mother, her anger at their lateness dissolving into disbelief, fear and guilt, made my neck ache.

The fact that the real-life mystery has never been solved does not detract from the overall quality of the story; the use of a fictional environment adds human context to the bare bones of police and coroner’s reports of one of Australia’s saddest crime mysteries.

Helen