Thar she blows!: It’s got to be Rush Oh!

I’m dying to give Rush Oh! by Shirley Barrett the glowing and fulsome review that it deserves. Rush Oh! is a gem of a book; ranking up there as one of my favourite books of 2017. So, I should be writing a review that lists its virtues, at length. However, for various tedious reasons (new job/ moving house/ Christmas) my time is compromised, and this mini review will have to do. The most important thing is this: if the sound of this book tickles your fancy, beg, borrow or buy it as a priority.

Aussie hero fights crime and the heat: And Fire Came Down

The Australian landscape is legendary. As a nation, we’re in love with our inhospitable continent, but we are also afraid of it. The heat, the bushfires, the extreme distances and the menagerie of peculiar animals create an environment that largely works against the interests of its inhabitants. This difficult, if not malign environment is the perfect backdrop for a crime novel. Jane Harper, with The Dry and now Force of Nature, has set a new benchmark in manipulating the landscape to serve the purposes of the plot; Emma Viskic with And Fire Came Down is following close behind.

The opening chapter of And Fire Came Down starts off with our hero, Caleb Zelic, being drawn into a dark alley in Melbourne.  A woman unknown to Caleb has sought him out specifically for his help. As he tries to make sense of what she’s telling him, they’re both attacked by another man and in the ensuing melee, the woman falls from the pedestrian kerb into the path of an oncoming van. Haunted by her death, Caleb is determined to find out why this young woman needed his help. His journey takes him back to his hometown of Resurrection Bay where he is tasered, kidnapped, lied to, threatened by bikkies and nearly dies of heat exhaustion. It’s a heck of a journey.

Hard to review, beautiful to read: Ali Smith’s Autumn

I’ve been wanting to read Ali Smith’s Autumn for months, simply because everything she writes is gold.  But I forgot about it for a bit, and in July it was longlisted for the Man Booker Prize. Must read Autumn, I said to myself, then forgot again. In September it was shortlisted for the Prize. Really must read Autumn, I repeated to myself and actually remembered to request it from the library. It came into my possession, poetically, just as the Man Booker Prize was announced earlier this month. Autumn didn’t win, but it doesn’t matter – this is a beautiful book. I love it to pieces. I want everyone to know how great it is, but I’ve realised that it’s a really hard book to review. So bear with me*.

Val McDermid does fluffy in Northanger Abbey

There are those that cower at the thought of reading a classic novel. There are those who delight in the prospect. With all the adaptations of Jane Austen’s canon (including the dire Curtis Sittenfeld’s take on Pride and Prejudice which I sort of reviewed here), I’ve never understood who the publishers have in mind as the target reader. Is it the reader who can’t bear the stuffy prose and regency rituals of the originals, but is keen to see what all the fuss is about? Or is it the die-hard Austen fan who will read anything vaguely associated with that name? Having just finished read Val McDermid’s twist on Northanger Abbey, I’m still confused.

Can a book have too many rhetorical questions? Ask The Wonder

The Wonder by Emma Donoghue sounded like a book perfectly calibrated for a rave review from me.A yellow tick

  • Historical fiction – check
  • Author of Room, which I loved – check
  • Set in Ireland. Bit of a theme for this year – check
  • Enticing book cover – check

Yet it was a challenge to get to the end of this book, let alone properly enjoy it. And the biggest reason why? Total overuse of the rhetorical question. Can I come back to the issue of rhetorical questions in a moment?