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erinreadstheworld
I didn't expect to love Friends and Dark Shapes as much as I did. I really enjoyed it and would easily call it my favourite millennial novel.
It accurately portrays life for millennials in Sydney without leaving me absolutely frustrated at the characters like other millennial books I've read (ahem *Normal People*).
The writing is stunning. It's lyrical and evocative. It's often simple but still hard-hitting. Told through short vignettes Friends and Dark Shapes is a musing on youth and grief and finding your place in a world full of instability.
It's very much a character driven novel. The story takes place over one year and while not a lot happens, I feel like it's an accurate representation of life for many people in their late twenties. Most of us have pretty mundane lives with an average year spent working, hanging out with friends, paying bills and dealing with our families.
The city of Sydney is a pivotal character in the book. We're shown the pretty parts and the gritty parts. Friends and Dark Shapes is a love letter to Sydney and is probably the main reason why I loved it so much.
The narrator remains unnamed throughout the book but her memories dance from the pages (I feel like Kavita Bedford infused the book with her own experiences). I've lived in Sydney my whole life and I'm just a few years younger than Kavita, and so many things the narrator did in her teens and early twenties are things I did too.
So many of the experiences explored in the book felt achingly familiar. Reading about her memories of early adulthood in Sydney made so many of my own memories come flooding back. Drinking in Bicentennial Park, meeting strangers at Mardi Gras, driving to Botany Bay just for something to do. Pool parties in early high school when you're torn between playing mermaids and talking about boys.
It's a really interesting look into how much of our identity and our memories are tied up in the city we live. And how we define the city we live in through our experiences and our interactions with it.
I loved this book because it echoes so much of my own life. In saying that, I do think that people who aren't as familiar with Sydney will still be able to resonate with the book. It explores so many universal experiences, including finding your feet in adulthood, the changing nature of friendships, grief and dealing with the loss of a loved one.
It accurately portrays life for millennials in Sydney without leaving me absolutely frustrated at the characters like other millennial books I've read (ahem *Normal People*).
The writing is stunning. It's lyrical and evocative. It's often simple but still hard-hitting. Told through short vignettes Friends and Dark Shapes is a musing on youth and grief and finding your place in a world full of instability.
It's very much a character driven novel. The story takes place over one year and while not a lot happens, I feel like it's an accurate representation of life for many people in their late twenties. Most of us have pretty mundane lives with an average year spent working, hanging out with friends, paying bills and dealing with our families.
The city of Sydney is a pivotal character in the book. We're shown the pretty parts and the gritty parts. Friends and Dark Shapes is a love letter to Sydney and is probably the main reason why I loved it so much.
The narrator remains unnamed throughout the book but her memories dance from the pages (I feel like Kavita Bedford infused the book with her own experiences). I've lived in Sydney my whole life and I'm just a few years younger than Kavita, and so many things the narrator did in her teens and early twenties are things I did too.
So many of the experiences explored in the book felt achingly familiar. Reading about her memories of early adulthood in Sydney made so many of my own memories come flooding back. Drinking in Bicentennial Park, meeting strangers at Mardi Gras, driving to Botany Bay just for something to do. Pool parties in early high school when you're torn between playing mermaids and talking about boys.
It's a really interesting look into how much of our identity and our memories are tied up in the city we live. And how we define the city we live in through our experiences and our interactions with it.
I loved this book because it echoes so much of my own life. In saying that, I do think that people who aren't as familiar with Sydney will still be able to resonate with the book. It explores so many universal experiences, including finding your feet in adulthood, the changing nature of friendships, grief and dealing with the loss of a loved one.
Love Objects by Emily Maguire is a heartwarming and enjoyable book about flawed and complicated people.
We follow Nic, who loves her house and everything in it. The only problem (although Nic doesn't see it as one) is all her stuff has filled her house to the brim and this leads to a fall and hospital stay. Her niece Lena deals with the aftermath of the fall, while also struggling to cope with a scandal of her own.
To an outsider hoarding just looks like someone has way too much junk. But this book shows us what hoarding is like from an insider's perspective. Hoarding, to Nic, isn't so much about the stuff itself but the memories, emotions and ideas that are attached to the items.
Emily Maguire did a huge amount of research into hoarding disorders while writing this book. She's taken all the research and data, and given it a personal touch. It doesn't feel like we're reading a guide to hoarding or like Nic is ticking off the boxes of what defines hoarding. Instead we see what it's like for someone who hoards and how it affects their immediate family.
While most of the marketing is around Nic's storyline, I also really enjoyed reading about Lena and Will. They're all dealing with their own problems, and I found it really interesting to see their family dynamics and how they interact and intersect with each other.
Love Objects is an unassuming and touching look at hoarding, shame and trying to find stability when life feels out of control. It's also an examination of family dynamics where the relationships are complicated but there's still a lot of love.
It's an Aussie fiction where the characters, dialogue and setting feel uniquely Australian. It realistically portrays a lower socio-economic family and their struggles without using caricatures. Love Objects examines mental health, shame, class and consent gently and with so much dignity.
We follow Nic, who loves her house and everything in it. The only problem (although Nic doesn't see it as one) is all her stuff has filled her house to the brim and this leads to a fall and hospital stay. Her niece Lena deals with the aftermath of the fall, while also struggling to cope with a scandal of her own.
To an outsider hoarding just looks like someone has way too much junk. But this book shows us what hoarding is like from an insider's perspective. Hoarding, to Nic, isn't so much about the stuff itself but the memories, emotions and ideas that are attached to the items.
Emily Maguire did a huge amount of research into hoarding disorders while writing this book. She's taken all the research and data, and given it a personal touch. It doesn't feel like we're reading a guide to hoarding or like Nic is ticking off the boxes of what defines hoarding. Instead we see what it's like for someone who hoards and how it affects their immediate family.
While most of the marketing is around Nic's storyline, I also really enjoyed reading about Lena and Will. They're all dealing with their own problems, and I found it really interesting to see their family dynamics and how they interact and intersect with each other.
Love Objects is an unassuming and touching look at hoarding, shame and trying to find stability when life feels out of control. It's also an examination of family dynamics where the relationships are complicated but there's still a lot of love.
It's an Aussie fiction where the characters, dialogue and setting feel uniquely Australian. It realistically portrays a lower socio-economic family and their struggles without using caricatures. Love Objects examines mental health, shame, class and consent gently and with so much dignity.
Every 179 days Robbie forgets everything. His name. Where he lives. Everyone he knows. And who he is. To cope with the impending memory loss Robbie prepares himself as best as he can; with letters and a journal for his future self, and by living a solitary and very scheduled life.
It was tricky figuring out how I feel about this one. The first sentences had me hooked. Reading the first few paragraphs I was so excited to get lost in Robbie's world. The story starts with Robbie having just 12 days left before he forgets it all and the tension and apprehension is palpable.
And then the dominoes talk begun. Pages and pages and pages of talking about dominoes. It becomes clear quickly that dominoes are very important to Robbie and that he's attempting to set up something very special with thousands of dominoes. But I just did not care. This part of the book really dragged for me.
About halfway through the pace quickens. The dominoes are still there but it's much less in your face. Instead the story now focuses on a woman Robbie has accidentally become friends with - Julie. As there relationship develops, Robbie gets closer and closer to forgetting it all. Each chapter counts down a day, building the sense of urgency and intrigue about what will happen next for Robbie.
My thoughts flipped-flopped on both Julie and Robbie. Sometimes he felt a bit robotic and other times I felt for him. Sometimes I liked Julie, other times she seemed like straight up trouble. Sometimes I rooted for them, and other times I really did not.
In saying that, the book got better and better as it progressed. And I really like the way it ended.
The Beautiful Fall poses some interesting questions around memories and the way memories shape our identity. Who are we really if we don't know anything about ourself and our past? Would we still be the same person if we no longer remembered who that was?
If you're a fan of The Rosie Project you'll probably like this one. It's easy to read, fun in parts and shines a fairly lighthearted look on social interactions between people.
3.5 stars
It was tricky figuring out how I feel about this one. The first sentences had me hooked. Reading the first few paragraphs I was so excited to get lost in Robbie's world. The story starts with Robbie having just 12 days left before he forgets it all and the tension and apprehension is palpable.
And then the dominoes talk begun. Pages and pages and pages of talking about dominoes. It becomes clear quickly that dominoes are very important to Robbie and that he's attempting to set up something very special with thousands of dominoes. But I just did not care. This part of the book really dragged for me.
About halfway through the pace quickens. The dominoes are still there but it's much less in your face. Instead the story now focuses on a woman Robbie has accidentally become friends with - Julie. As there relationship develops, Robbie gets closer and closer to forgetting it all. Each chapter counts down a day, building the sense of urgency and intrigue about what will happen next for Robbie.
My thoughts flipped-flopped on both Julie and Robbie. Sometimes he felt a bit robotic and other times I felt for him. Sometimes I liked Julie, other times she seemed like straight up trouble. Sometimes I rooted for them, and other times I really did not.
In saying that, the book got better and better as it progressed. And I really like the way it ended.
The Beautiful Fall poses some interesting questions around memories and the way memories shape our identity. Who are we really if we don't know anything about ourself and our past? Would we still be the same person if we no longer remembered who that was?
If you're a fan of The Rosie Project you'll probably like this one. It's easy to read, fun in parts and shines a fairly lighthearted look on social interactions between people.
3.5 stars
"Six different stories, six different notes in the human song of longing for the unattainable."
Sarah Krasnostein tells six stories that are all different yet connected in the examination of faith and belief in things that can't rationally be proven. Gorgeously written and well researched, the book deep dives into topics ranging from deaths, ghosts, UFOs and extreme religions.
Everyone interviewed in the book holds views that are on the fringes and are people who I'm sure are met with frequent judgements. But Sarah Krasnostein keeps her bias out of these interviews. We see a beautifully humane side to everyone and their stories.
If you're a fan of Louis Theroux, I think you'd enjoy this book. Sarah and Louis have a similar way of breaking down barriers and letting people tell their stories in their own words. There's no scorn or disbelief; just a whole lot of respect.
I loved the chapters about Annie, a fascinating women who works as a death doula. I could have read a whole book about Annie, her life and the terminally ill clients she works with.
The whole book is a showcase in how good journalism can be. Every story is explored with sensitivity, empathy and respect. While we see some of Sarah's thoughts, she writes as an observer and not a judge.
The complexity of humanity and faith is explored beautifully on every page. The Believer is a well-crafted narrative non-fiction that even those who are ardent fiction-only-readers would enjoy.
Sarah Krasnostein tells six stories that are all different yet connected in the examination of faith and belief in things that can't rationally be proven. Gorgeously written and well researched, the book deep dives into topics ranging from deaths, ghosts, UFOs and extreme religions.
Everyone interviewed in the book holds views that are on the fringes and are people who I'm sure are met with frequent judgements. But Sarah Krasnostein keeps her bias out of these interviews. We see a beautifully humane side to everyone and their stories.
If you're a fan of Louis Theroux, I think you'd enjoy this book. Sarah and Louis have a similar way of breaking down barriers and letting people tell their stories in their own words. There's no scorn or disbelief; just a whole lot of respect.
I loved the chapters about Annie, a fascinating women who works as a death doula. I could have read a whole book about Annie, her life and the terminally ill clients she works with.
The whole book is a showcase in how good journalism can be. Every story is explored with sensitivity, empathy and respect. While we see some of Sarah's thoughts, she writes as an observer and not a judge.
The complexity of humanity and faith is explored beautifully on every page. The Believer is a well-crafted narrative non-fiction that even those who are ardent fiction-only-readers would enjoy.
The Spill starts with a car accident on a remote road in Western Australia. No one is hurt but the family feels its impact for decades.
The book has an interesting structure. The chapters set in the present are told from two perspectives, alternating between sisters Nicole and Samantha. Chapters that take us back to the past, through the 80s and 90s, are narrated from the third perspective and are titled 'Piece #...' It's unclear whether these chapters are piecing the puzzle together, or whether they're picking up the pieces of a broken family. Or if we even see all the pieces.
There's quite a few layers to the book. Imbi Neem explores the different way two people experience the same situation. No two people have the same truth, especially when they're sisters. We see this again and again throughout the novel. Whose version of an event is the truth? It's impossible to say, especially when looking back at the past.
The book also explores addiction and alcoholism. Again, there's lots of layers to unpack. We see how alcoholism can unravel a family. How addiction can be genetic. And Imbi Neeme touches on the way the Australian drinking culture often accepts problematic drinking as something normal. Are you an alcoholic or the life of the party?
The idea that hurt people, hurt people is also explored. Is a character unlikeable or simply struggling with their own demons?
The Spill sets out to comment on a lot of issues that Australian families face. Alcoholism, divorce, splintered relationships. For a book that explores a lot of heavy topics, it never feels too traumatic.
The book was good but didn't wow me. I have seen plenty of rave reviews and it did win Imbi Neem a Penguin Literary Prize. The Spill would certainly make a good book club book. There's lots to be unpacked and discussed.
⭐⭐⭐
The book has an interesting structure. The chapters set in the present are told from two perspectives, alternating between sisters Nicole and Samantha. Chapters that take us back to the past, through the 80s and 90s, are narrated from the third perspective and are titled 'Piece #...' It's unclear whether these chapters are piecing the puzzle together, or whether they're picking up the pieces of a broken family. Or if we even see all the pieces.
There's quite a few layers to the book. Imbi Neem explores the different way two people experience the same situation. No two people have the same truth, especially when they're sisters. We see this again and again throughout the novel. Whose version of an event is the truth? It's impossible to say, especially when looking back at the past.
The book also explores addiction and alcoholism. Again, there's lots of layers to unpack. We see how alcoholism can unravel a family. How addiction can be genetic. And Imbi Neeme touches on the way the Australian drinking culture often accepts problematic drinking as something normal. Are you an alcoholic or the life of the party?
The idea that hurt people, hurt people is also explored. Is a character unlikeable or simply struggling with their own demons?
The Spill sets out to comment on a lot of issues that Australian families face. Alcoholism, divorce, splintered relationships. For a book that explores a lot of heavy topics, it never feels too traumatic.
The book was good but didn't wow me. I have seen plenty of rave reviews and it did win Imbi Neem a Penguin Literary Prize. The Spill would certainly make a good book club book. There's lots to be unpacked and discussed.
⭐⭐⭐
Nardi Simpson has written an absolutely stunning book. Song of the Crocodile is enchanting, evocative and emotionally charged.
The book is an immersive, multigenerational tale. It has three parts, all told from different perspectives. It beautifully weaves the story of three generations, with Dreamtime legend, with spirituality and Yuwaalaraay language.
Darnmoor is home to the Billymill family. It's also known as the 'Gateway to Happiness' or a small town you drive straight through on your way to somewhere better. Darnmoor has a dark past and present. It's a town full of white, very rascist settlers.
The Billymill family (who we follow over many, many years) live in the campgrounds outside of town. The Aboriginal people in Darnmoor are barely tolerated, and life seems to get harder with each generation. We see each generation dealing with their ancestral trauma while trying to make life better for themselves and their children.
Song of the Crocodile is such a beautifully written book. It's lyrical, poignant and has so much depth.
The book is full of sorrow and anger. Each character faces racism and tragic injustices. It's heartbreaking but horribly accurate. It's violent and visceral, not shying away from the reality of the history of white settlement and the colonisation of our First Nations people.
Even with all the tragedy and sorrow, this book is brimming with love. It's love that connects the characters. It's what creates the bonds both in life and in death.
The book is interspersed with the spiritual and Yuwaalaraay lore and language is used throughout. This adds a whole extra layer to the book, really bringing everything together. The legend told throughout was my favourite part of the book.
Nardi Simpson is beyond talented. She's been performing music for over 20 years, and her affinity with the power of songs shines through the book. Her writing has so much rhythm and richness to it.
It's certainly a slow paced, emotive book. It's not the kind of book you can just rush through. It demands your time and attention. But your time and attention are certainly worth devoting to the characters and their stories.
The book is an immersive, multigenerational tale. It has three parts, all told from different perspectives. It beautifully weaves the story of three generations, with Dreamtime legend, with spirituality and Yuwaalaraay language.
Darnmoor is home to the Billymill family. It's also known as the 'Gateway to Happiness' or a small town you drive straight through on your way to somewhere better. Darnmoor has a dark past and present. It's a town full of white, very rascist settlers.
The Billymill family (who we follow over many, many years) live in the campgrounds outside of town. The Aboriginal people in Darnmoor are barely tolerated, and life seems to get harder with each generation. We see each generation dealing with their ancestral trauma while trying to make life better for themselves and their children.
Song of the Crocodile is such a beautifully written book. It's lyrical, poignant and has so much depth.
The book is full of sorrow and anger. Each character faces racism and tragic injustices. It's heartbreaking but horribly accurate. It's violent and visceral, not shying away from the reality of the history of white settlement and the colonisation of our First Nations people.
Even with all the tragedy and sorrow, this book is brimming with love. It's love that connects the characters. It's what creates the bonds both in life and in death.
The book is interspersed with the spiritual and Yuwaalaraay lore and language is used throughout. This adds a whole extra layer to the book, really bringing everything together. The legend told throughout was my favourite part of the book.
Nardi Simpson is beyond talented. She's been performing music for over 20 years, and her affinity with the power of songs shines through the book. Her writing has so much rhythm and richness to it.
It's certainly a slow paced, emotive book. It's not the kind of book you can just rush through. It demands your time and attention. But your time and attention are certainly worth devoting to the characters and their stories.
Cherry Beach feels like a rainy day. When dark clouds are brewing and you can feel a change is in the air. This nostalgic and melancholy mood seeps through the book from the very first pages.
Ness and Hetty have been friends since they were young. Now in their early twenties, they move from Melbourne to Toronto.
The story follows their changing friendship, their past and new beginnings as the girls explore their independence and adult life. Ness meets Faith and a passionate relationship develops, while Hetty seems to flounder.
This is a beautifully told coming of age story, that really shines a light on the depth of female friendship. It also delves into the dark side of mental illness. We see the struggle of watching someone you love deal with a mental health crisis and not knowing how to help.
It was the characters that make this book feel so special. Not just Ness and Hetty; even the characters with smaller roles to play feel complex and nuanced. I know they'll stay with me for a long time. There's parts of Ness that I really relate to, especially looking back to my experiences in my early 20s. Like being the quieter friend of someone everyone finds charming, and feeling awkward around others who seem so self assured.
If you want a book that's moody yet gentle, that's moving and memorable, you need to pick up Cherry Beach. It's a book about people and relationships in their early twenties which won't leave you feeling fed-up and frustrated.
Ness and Hetty have been friends since they were young. Now in their early twenties, they move from Melbourne to Toronto.
The story follows their changing friendship, their past and new beginnings as the girls explore their independence and adult life. Ness meets Faith and a passionate relationship develops, while Hetty seems to flounder.
This is a beautifully told coming of age story, that really shines a light on the depth of female friendship. It also delves into the dark side of mental illness. We see the struggle of watching someone you love deal with a mental health crisis and not knowing how to help.
It was the characters that make this book feel so special. Not just Ness and Hetty; even the characters with smaller roles to play feel complex and nuanced. I know they'll stay with me for a long time. There's parts of Ness that I really relate to, especially looking back to my experiences in my early 20s. Like being the quieter friend of someone everyone finds charming, and feeling awkward around others who seem so self assured.
If you want a book that's moody yet gentle, that's moving and memorable, you need to pick up Cherry Beach. It's a book about people and relationships in their early twenties which won't leave you feeling fed-up and frustrated.
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