Authors’ pick 18: Lucy Sussex

SutcliffToday’s Authors’ Pick has been chosen by Lucy Sussex.

I revisited Rosemary Sutcliff’s THE RIDER ON THE WHITE HORSE this year, after having mislaid it for some time. I wanted to know how I would read it after a long absence, if what I remembered still impressed, and what might have diminished with my increased craft/critical acuity. The answer is, very little.  The book is about the English Civil Wars, of two well-documented figures from the Roundhead side, General Sir Thomas Fairfax and his wife Anne. At the beginning of the conflict, in his native Yorkshire, Fairfax campaigned with his family, Anne and their small surviving daughter–which led to Anne being captured by the Royalists under the command of the Duke of Newcastle (later to marry another formidable woman, writer Margaret Cavendish). From the existing sources and her own imagination, Rosemary Sutcliffe wrote a portrait of a marriage, and with considerable emotional subtlety, for the romance is one-sided. The Fairfaxes have an arranged marriage, as was usual for the gentry, but while Anne loves Thomas, he is only grateful to her—or is he?

When working in the rare books section of a library, I had occasion to read some of Sutcliff’s source matter, Thomas Fairfax’s own memoirs. It showed me Sutcliffe’s fidelity to history, and at the same time how she imaginatively breathed life into it. In the battle of Wakefield town, Fairfax narrowly escapes capture by jumping his horse over a garden wall. In the book he finds the incident absurdly funny–as is quite clear from his own words. Sutcliff stages the scene brilliantly.

The novel is unquestionably for grown-ups, a story of unrequited love within a marriage. It also contains superbly realised battle scenes, vivid depictions of nature, and regional dialects reported without condescension.  It is immersive history, without the post-modern intrusion, as when Hilary Mantel has Henry VIII describe Jane Seymour as  his little “bun-face”. That is not Tudor language, and while absolutely right in terms of the lady, it jars. Similarly Cromwell, from his visual image–and Holbein was an acute observer–was a bit of a brute. Mantel depicts him as quite feminine in that people confide in him, and he listens, without interrupting. Fairfax is contradictory, a masculine man of war, a berserker in battle, but also gentle in his manners, kind.  Anne conforms to the gender expectations of her time, while not concealing her intelligence, nor her forcefulness–she is deeply involved in the political/religious struggle.  And yet she can be very obtuse.

Were this book published now, would it rate in the Bookers?  Surely yes, if the author’s genre/readership placement did not get in the way.

One final comment. Writing the pre-Enlightenment is tricky, as to be strictly accurate the religion would dominate the world-view, in a fashion incomprehensible to us rational post-moderns, wringing our hands over IS.  So while the title of Sutcliff’s book comes from Revelations, the wild religious discourse of the Civil Wars is downplayed.  But she does it, as she does with so much in this book, subtly and intelligently.

Lucy Sussex’s most recent book is the award-winning Blockbuster (Text, 2015), about crime writer Fergus Hume, and his Mystery of a Hansom Cab.

Lucy Sussex with portrait of herself by artist Dora Levakis, from the Archibald Prize's 'Salon des Refusés'

Lucy Sussex with portrait of herself by artist Dora Levakis, from the Archibald Prize’s ‘Salon des Refusés’

Authors’ pick 17: Amanda Bridgeman

Station-Eleven-CollageToday’s Authors’ Pick has been chosen by Amanda Bridgeman.

This year I really enjoyed reading Station Eleven by Emily St John Mandel. It’s the story of how a deadly flu epidemic sweeps the world killing the majority of the population. Told half in the post-apocalyptic world, and half in the pre-apocalyptic world, the story follows several characters who are linked in one way or another with one central character, an actor by the name of Arthur Leander. I thought Mandel captured the flu epidemic perfectly (it was scarily realistic), and I found the characters’ stories, of how they try to survive (or don’t as the case may be) in a world gone to hell, very interesting. It’s a great examination of the human spirit, of how through the chaos, hope can still shine on.

Amanda Bridgeman is the author of the character-driven space opera ‘Aurora’ series.

_MG_0298

A literary gift for the festive season

For all the readers who have enjoyed my blog this year, and all those writers, illustrators and publishers who have so generously helped to make Feathers of the Firebird as interesting and informative as it can possibly be by giving of their time, expertise and experiences in fabulous interviews and guest posts, I’d like to thank you by offering a literary gift of mine for the festive season. And in the tradition of the season, which likes to weave in some delicious chills amongst the festive jollity, it’s a spooky story! Set amongst the pulsing heat of an Australian sub-tropical summer, this story, Mel, brings the shiver of ancient myth and legend into the everyday…

Enjoy! And very best wishes to all for a wonderful Christmas, Hanukkah, New Year and all other seasonal festivities!

creekMEL

by Sophie Masson ©

 

Every summer evening, we village kids used to meet down at the creek. Most days, you could strip off and have a swim, or if you didn’t feel like that, just lie on the grass and drink Coke out of paper cups, and talk. The creek was a great place, really private, with high banks and tall trees growing right to the edge of the water. All of us used to come–from the smallest Grant kid to Mary, my sister, who at 18, and apprenticed to a hairdresser in town, considered herself rather above us all.

Last summer was a really hot one, one which started early. A corrugated iron sky, a sunflare of white fire. A bit of a disaster for our parents, whose avocados and bananas were shrivelling up before they could be properly formed. A bit of a disaster for school, because the teachers were all as unpredictably shrill as cicadas. But a wonderful time for our creek meets, for in that place, the tall trees shaded us from the worse of the glare, and the water was always there, cool as a magpie’s call. We spent as much time as we could down there, eating huge slices of watermelon, drinking huge slices of watermelon, and talking our heads off. Sometimes the little kids would come and drip coldly on to us, and then run away, yelling with laughter, but it didn’t stop our talk. There was more than usual to talk about that summer. Well, the heat, and the strange feeling of heavy waiting in the air, and a tiny prick of danger at the thought of the snake.

We were used to snakes, we sub-tropical North Coast kids. Some of us even kept carpet snakes as pets. But the one we were talking about, then, was different. It had already bitten a couple of people,two middle-aged women from the surrounding area. Both had died. .

Taipan. One of the deadliest snakes in the world. Not supposed to live this far south, it wasn’t, but this one had somehow found its way. It had bitten its second victim one hot night, as she walked barefoot over the grass to the outdoor toilet. Her husband had seen it, rearing, its bright body twisting. That’s how they’d known it had been a taipan. But since then, no-one had seen it, or come across it at all. Taipans were quiet snakes, kept out of the way, experts told us. But if they were cornered, or if you came on them unawares. .

The creek bank was beautiful, not only to us but to other creatures. We knew that snakes came down there to drink, in the cool of the evening. It had never bothered us before. But that summer, we were all a bit jumpy, and the gossip that filled our mouths was sharp and a bit spiteful. If Mary, my sister, wasn’t there, the others would start on her, on her impossible beauty, her impossible haughtiness, her impossible impossibility. And Mary was impossible. When she came down to the creek, she would lie there in her white bikini, her bright, fine hair like red ferns on her brown shoulders. She paid no attention to us. She just wanted us to admire. I know that, even if I am her sister.

Ever since I can remember, people had flocked around Mary. Teachers gave her silver stars simply for being who she was. Strangers in the street stopped and said, ‘Oh, what a lovely child!’ their glance sliding past me, fat little baby and plump toddler that I was. My parents gazed at her sometimes as if they couldn’t believe their eyes. And as she grew older, boys came to her, blundering like moths around a light. And they burnt themselves, too, I can tell you. For our Mary is bright and pitiless as a flame. Sometimes, she’d talk to me, late at night, and giggle about the latest moth that had knocked itself out, and even though I was flattered to be confided in by Mary(see, I was bitten by the same bug as everyone else!)I couldn’t help squirming. There was something sad and embarassing about the thought of those boys, something which I knew Mary couldn’t see. And the strange thing was that I started to feel afraid, somehow, for Mary. I couldn’t have told you why I did; I suppose it was some sort of vague feeling that she was going too far, was tempting fate, if you like. . .

One day Mary turned up with a boy–actually, more a young man, whom none of us had seen before. He was tall, his cap of hair the colour of honey, his eyes a light, rich brown. He was beautiful. I’d never seen such a beautiful person before–except for Mary. Together they stood, seemingly serenely unaware of the effect they were having on the rest of us.

Naomi from next door nudged me painfully in the ribs. ‘What a hunk, hey!’ she mouthed. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want anyone to say anything. I could just stare at him, mesmerised, and as if he knew, he gave me a little corner smile that vanished almost as soon as it had appeared.

‘This is Mel,’ Mary said. ‘He’s come to live in the old Stevens place. ‘

That dump! It was an old house that had not been lived in for a long time. When we were little, we used to sometimes go up there to play games of let’s pretend. Now, hardly anyone used it, because the forest had just about taken it over, and there was something odd about the place, something that kept even the secret smokers or lovers away. I think it was because it was almost house, almost forest, not quite one or the other, just something in between, that you couldn’t put a name to. . Fancy anyone wanting to live there!

‘I inherited it,’ Mel said. He had a soft, slow voice, and I let its softness wash over me, like a wave. ‘I like it there. It’s very quiet. ‘ Continue reading

Authors’ pick 16: Wendy J.Dunn

poldarkToday’s Authors’ Pick has been chosen by Wendy J.Dunn.

2015 has been a very good reading year – even if Goodreads keeps reminding me that I better hurry up if I am ever to reach my goal of reading 25 new novels this year. My problem is I like going back to old friends – those magical novels on my bookshelves to be re-read and re-read. Amongst the old friends I re-read this year were Winston Graham’s Poldark novels. That resulted from watching the new Poldark television series, when I yielded to the temptation to pull out the first Poldark novel from my home library. The first novel was followed by the second, until weeks later I closed the last page of the thirteenth novel, feeling sad again that Graham has left us. No more novels from his pen – novels demonstrating the power of a true storyteller.

This year, I also discovered novels I couldn’t put down by another great storyteller. Written by Barbara summerfoldGaskell Denvil, the first of these novels was Sumerford’s Autumn. Set at the beginning of the Tudor period, this gripping and richly researched novel kept me turning its pages until I reached the end. By then, Barbara Gaskell Denvil had gained a new fan and I couldn’t wait to read her other novels. What I loved about Sumerford’s Autumn was not only that it took me back to a period I love passionately and inspires my own fiction, but also how much Denvil’s wonderfully told story and well drawn fictional characters engaged me as a reader. The novel opening the door to a very lively and believable Tudor world, Sumerfold’s Autumn is pure escapism. Dialogue was another plus; perfectly pitched, evoking Shakespeare at times with its use of dark humour to help get the reader through those many tragic, poignant moments in the story, the dialogue powerfully made all the characters step off the page and into my imagination. Sumerfold’s Autumn doesn’t shy away from the violence and harshness of the Tudor period – or how death then was faced as a daily proposition. But it is also a novel of romance and adventure told through unforgettable characters.

Highly recommended.

Wendy J. Dunn is the author of two Tudor novels: Dear Heart, How Like You This?, the winner of the 2003 Glyph Fiction Award and 2004 runner up in the Eric Hoffer Award for Commercial Fiction, and The Light in the Labyrinth, her first young adult novel.

wendy j dunn

Authors’ pick 15: Emma Viskic

a-wrong-turn-at-the-office-of-unmade-listsToday’s Authors’ Pick has been chosen by Emma Viskic.

One of my favourite reads of the year was Jane Rawson’s A Wrong Turn At The Office of Unmade Lists. It’s a charming, disturbing, wonderful book, set partially in post-environmental collapse Melbourne. The novel begins with the day-to-day struggles of Caddy, then steps neatly sideways and deposits you into a world where stories can come true, and magical maps are portals to other places. A Wrong Turn won the 2014 Most Underrated Book Award and it’s easy to see why: it’s one of those novels that defies categorization, but stays with you. There are places in Melbourne I still can’t go without remembering it.

Emma Viskic is the author of the critically acclaimed crime novel, Resurrection Bay. She has won both the Ned Kelly SJ Harvey Award and the New England Thunderbolt Prize for her short form writing.

Emma Viskic author photo 4 - Version 2

Authors’ pick 14: Sherryl Clark

singing bonesToday’s Authors’ pick has been chosen by Sherryl Clark.

The Singing Bones
Shaun Tan

I always look forward to seeing what Shaun Tan will do next, and this book is amazing, even if you don’t have a special interest in fairy tales like me. What was even better – I was able to go and see the exhibition of sculptures/artworks that Shaun created for the book.
It’s a collection of photographs of the sculptures, along with short excerpts from the fairy tales they represent. Just when you thought you could guess what Tan might create for a certain tale, he will surprise you.
He initially created some of them to illustrate the German edition of Philip Pullman’s collection of tales, and there are now 75 of them in this book. Pullman wrote the foreword, and uses words such as “uncanny”, “strange” and “brilliant and grotesque weirdness” to describe the sculptures. Everyone I know who has seen the exhibition and/or read this book have their favourites. Mine include The Turnip, The Singing, Springing Lark, All Fur, Foundling, The Boy Who Left Home to Find Out About Fear and Hansel and Gretel.
The photographs are brilliant, using light and shadow to make the sculptures feel almost alive, about to jump off the page. Every time I go back to this book, it amazes me all over again.

Sherryl Clark writes children’s and YA books and poetry, and is currently undertaking a creative writing PhD focusing on fairy tales.

Sherryl

Authors’ pick 13: Narrelle M. Harris

THRIVE cover_0Today’s Authors’ pick has been chosen by Narelle M. Harris.

I nominate Thrive, by Mary Borsellino. Full disclosure – I did the edit on this book and launched it, in part because I’ve been a huge fan of Mary’s work for years and Lindy Cameron, the publisher at Clan Destine Press, knew that I would know how to approach the edit on it.

Thrive follows a privileged girl named Olivia, who at the outset is being held by kidnappers but befriends one of the teenagers holding her, Hannah, who introduced Olivia to the world of banned books. Olivia is rescued (and rescues Hannah) but the way she sees the world is fractured. Her new knowledge of the greater world, its unfairness and its suffering, leads her to abandon the comforting lie of her life and to some dark and dangerous places on the fringes – with the misfits, the queers, the rejects, the ones society has labelled as ‘a failure to thrive’.

Thrive is as compelling as Mary’s work usually is. It is filled with horror, violence, cruelty and loss but from that desolate ground, Thrive gives us a rich soil from which grows beauty, love, hope and ways to use ideas to fight for better times without destruction. Thrive is also a very smart book, literate and funny while cracking along with wonderful characters and huge energy. Delightfully, a re-read is guaranteed to add extra depth to your appreciation, as you realise how cleverly plotted it is, and how so many ideas are intricately woven into the cloth of the whole.

Narrelle M Harris writes crime, horror, fantasy, romance and erotica – find out more at www.mortalwords.com.au

Narrelle M Harris mid

Authors’ pick 12: Natalie Jane Prior

all fall downToday’s authors’ pick has been chosen by Natalie Jane Prior.

My book of the year, and certainly the one I was hanging out to see published, is Matthew Condon’s All Fall Down, the third in his series about police and political corruption in Queensland (the others are Three Crooked Kings and Jacks and Jokers). To be blunt, anyone who grew up in Queensland in the sixties, seventies and eighties should read these books. They are meticulously researched, incredibly readable, and notable (I think) for being very fair and even handed in their assessment of the events.

Natalie Jane Prior is the author of numerous books for children and young adults.

 

natalie

 

Authors’ pick 11: Kathy Creamer

motherlandReaders of this blog might remember an interview I did with writer, illustrator and publisher Kathy Creamer a few weeks ago. Today, it’s time for her to choose her favourite book of 2015, one she’s read several times!

My favourite book of the year: Mother Land by Dmetri Kakmi

 I first read this book a few years ago and loved it for its amusing characterization of people and their eccentricities, its search for personal identity, its strong sense of place and rich descriptive writing.

Mother Land is a memoir of a young boy’s childhood, set in the 1960’s, on the Turkish island of Bozcaada (formerly Tenedos). Born in Turkey of Greek parentage, Dmetri Kakmi reveals the deeply emotional battle with the two different cultures that dwell within him, and of the ever-increasing hostility of Turkish rule, and the raw injustices of adult authority.

What I loved most about Mother Land was the evocation of an idealistic isle of childhood, where bare-footed, sun-kissed children run free to roam through the summer countryside and the villages, experiencing all of its delights and horrors. A place where time is unhurried, and where everyone knows everyone else’s business in a community where people look out for each other – and gossip, whether out of genuine concern, or pure mischievousness. I adored the erratic episodes of unrequited love between the hirsute Ephigenia and the brooding fisherman, Zotico, which were deliciously amusing, and it is exactly those wonderfully fresh and descriptive elements about the intriguing human condition that keep me coming back to read this book again and again.

 

Kathy Creamer is a writer, illustrator and publisher. Her website is at http://kathycreamer.com/

Kathy Photo

Authors’ pick 10: Jason Nahrung

Jamieson_DayBoy2Today’s authors’ pick has been chosen by Jason Nahrung.
Day Boy (Text, 2015), by Brisbane writer Trent Jamieson.
Set in an isolated Australian country town, the story is told by adolescent Mark, entering his final period as Day Boy to the vampire Master Dain. This is in the time after the war, when the vampires rule what’s left of humanity: the Council of Teeth lurks in the bowels of a mountain fortress, casting a long, terrible shadow over Masters and humans alike. There are elements of Jamieson’s Roil in this, in the flitting, elemental vampires, the evocative descriptions of this place of light and dark and intrigue. Against this backdrop, what comes next for Mark as his tenure as Day Boy approaches its end?
Mark’s relationship with Dain that is key here, a paternal exploration, a coming of age story. It is affecting stuff. There are women here, but a few, primarily Mary and her daughter Anne, but this is a book about boys and men, their rivalries and cruelties, and the love of fathers and sons.
The larger story unfolds through episodic chapters with some events feeling almost as asides, others showing Mark’s maturation, all illustrating life under vampire rule, the wildness outside of town, that favourite Aussie trope of dangers lurking in the bush.
This lyrical exploration of an intriguing, at times monstrous world marks a fine addition to the canon of Australian vampire fiction.
Jason Nahrung’s most recent long fiction is the Outback vampire duology Blood and Dust and its sequel The Big Smoke. www.jasonnahrung.com
jason_bw-web