Creative nonfiction - Ashley Hay's Gum: The Story of Eucalypts & their Champions

One of the few male participants in the AWW challenge, Mark Web, yesterday posted an interesting blog about his participation in the challenge. In his post, "In which I become less impressed with my AWWC achievements", Mark notes that, while completing the challenge and achieving his goal of reading and reviewing ten books by women, he gained the impression that he was reading a majority of women writers this year, but his actual tally for reading came out at, roughly, 50/50. His experience demonstrates just how insidious and tenacious unconscious gender bias can be.

As part of my task hosting the AWW challenge, I have approached numerous men of my acquaintance over the past six months or more, including a current editor of a kids literary magazine, a high school English teacher, an ex-book seller, the owner of a writing school, a journalist and a psychologist, a geologist and an ex-judge. Of these, only the latter two expressed any interest in reading and reviewing a book written by a woman for this blog; both, it may be significant to add, are retired and have elected to review nonfiction. The others all had good excuses, none of which, they claimed, had anything to do with gender bias. One did say, though, quite unselfconsciously, that he just wasn't that interested in books written by women.

Today's guest reviewer is author Dr John Martyn. He has elected to review Ashley Hay's 2002 nonfiction title, Gum: The Story of Eucalypts and Their Champions (Duffy & Snellgrove, 2002).

Martyn writes:
 
This highly readable book ought to become a classic. While its core theme is the eucalyptus tree in all its diverse forms, more-especially it's about the people who explored, studied, named, championed, painted and caricatured Eucalyptus and its sister genera, and it even extends to those who propagated and sold the trees in Australia and spread them around the globe. It covers a large spread of Australia's post-colonial history from an intriguing and novel angle.

For example, one chapter follows the life of Ferdinand Von Mueller (or "Baron Blue Gum" as he was known) the young German pharmacist and amateur botanist who became a champion of the eucalyptus tree. He established the National Herbarium of Victoria and in 1857 became the first director of Melbourne's Royal Botanic Gardens. The book also cameos the amazing journeys of Major Thomas Mitchell who accurately surveyed vast tracts of a eucalypt-mantled landscape through which there were almost no roads (and certainly no maps, mobile phones or GPS's to navigate by!). And in which it was often impossible to see the next-nearest hill or ridge-line through a never-ending frieze of forest trees.

These people, and others of their eras, worked amongst a flora that was largely alien to them, across a landscape that was virtually unknown to westerners, whilst also trying to sustain their family relationships at home during long absences in the bush. So as well as covering the establishment of the systematics of a vast and complex flora, the author highlights the ups and downs of their family lives, their interpersonal relationships, their personality quirks and also their inevitable struggles with the bureaucracies and politicians of their day.

The author also reaches into the artistic realm of the eucalypt, which was the subject of many of the magical paintings of artists like Hans Heysen and also the evocative cartoon drawings of May Gibb. Train driver and passionate eucalypt lover Stan Kelly faithfully recorded more than 600 species as watercolours, which have been published in two volumes; he desperately wanted to paint them all except that the botanists were working faster than he was in describing and defining new species, and he had to admit defeat. And the research on this beautiful and sometimes bizarre tree continues – there are decades, probably centuries of study still to be done but, in the meantime, please read this book!

Dr John Martyn was born in Cornwall and came to Australia in 1970 after mapping in the Rift Valley of Kenya for his PhD in geology. Although he has lived in Sydney since 1979, much of his fieldwork as a minerals exploration geologist over the last 30 years has been in Western Australia. He is the author of a number of nonfiction titles, including Field Guide to the Bushland of the Lane Cove Valley and Sydney's Natural World. 

Note: Ashely Hay's 2010 novel, The Body in the Clouds (Allen & Unwin 2010) has been received to great acclaim.

• Longlisted for the 2012 International IMPAC Dublin Literary Award
• Nominated for the 2011 Commonwealth Writers' Prize for best first novel in the south-east Asia and Pacific Region
• Nominated for the UTS Glenda Adams Award for New Writing in the 2011 NSW Premier's Literary Awards and 
• Shortlisted for the Fiction category of the 2010 Western Australian Premier's Book Awards.

Hay is also the author of a number of nonfiction titles, including The Secret: The Strange Marriage of Annabelle Milbanke & Lord Byron (2000), Herbarium (2004), and Museum: The Macleays, Their Collections, and the Search for Order (2007).

Susanna de Vries' Royal Mistresses of the House of Hanover-Windsor: reviewed by Hazel Edwards

Susanna de Vries is well known for her championing of Australian women in history. Today's guest reviewer, National Year of Reading Ambassador Hazel Edwards, has chosen to review de Vries' new nonfiction title, Royal Mistresses of the House of Hanover-Windsor: Secrets, Scandals and Betrayals. 

‘Every arranged marriage provides a vacancy for a mistress.’ Translation of an old French proverb.

The UK marriage of Prince William and Kate seems a love match.  Charles’ marriage with Diana was arranged.  His ancestors (Hanover to Windsor name change during wartime to remove the apparent Germanic link) married Protestant, European aristocracy for love-less, political reasons, and then kept multiple mistresses.

Former royal marriages were political and religious property arrangements involving land, big dowries, titles and the need for healthy, legitimate male heirs.  The trade of Royal Mistress was precarious, but recognised with temporary prestige and social acceptance.  Thus many of the mistresses sought to accumulate jewels and money before falling from favour and being replaced by a younger model.

In the confusion of titles and names, de Vries tells a readable story, clarifying the roles and contexts. The various, former ‘Princes’ (plural) of Wales seemed to suffer from over- indulgence, lack of a job and the need for the constant attention of a mother-lover mistress who would tolerate gambling, drinking, over-eating and provide all kinds of entertainment to relieve boredom.

Catering for the whims of royalty was a short-term occupation: with easy falls from favour. Hard to say ‘no’ to an all powerful, potential ruler who could ostracise you into poverty, or make your fortune, by providing access to him.

Because the mistresses were so reliant on financial handouts, usually in the form of jewellery, they seemed mercenary, but didn’t have many other options.  Even if they were personable and intelligent, (as well as beautiful and accommodating) they were rarely independent financially. And if a child had to be supported, as in the case of Perdita Robinson who originally had paid work as an actor, and was forced by Prince George of Wales to give up her career, she still lost out on the promised house he was going to gift her. Others had multiple illegitimate children to aristocratic lovers and since DNA testing was not used then, the parent was problematic. Some claimed to be Royal bastards. And others were.

The dilemma was that gambling princes ran up big debts against their eventual gaining of the throne, and had to marry Protestant princesses with big dowries, despite being fond of their mistresses. Religion was an important variable, but money was greater.

Being a mistress appeared to be a trade. But with no trade union. So, many mistresses spent up quickly, on clothes and fashionable property while they could.

Today’s readers will be more familiar with the relationship of Mrs Wallis Simpson and Edward, or Camilla and Prince Charles, both of which are interesting chapters with new content.

However, some of the lesser known, married mistresses appeared to have a genuine fondness for their prince and tried to keep him healthier and doing some actual kingly business.  Many retiring husbands appeared to benefit financially or politically from their wife becoming the royal mistress. Winston Churchill’s mother Lady Jennie Churchill, and the heiress, Daisy, Countess of Warwick who in later life created worthwhile occupations for herself, make fascinating reading. Alice Keppel became the love of Edward's life and the great grandmother of Mrs Camilla Parker Bowles, now Duchess of Cornwall. Camilla's story and that of her Aussie rival, Lady Dale Tryon are included.

Edward V11 (later Duke of Windsor) was a sad case having suffered an attack of mumps that ensured he remained physically and mentally immature and obsessively dependent upon manipulative Mrs Simpson.

The ‘Royal Mistresses’ title will attract readers, as will the subtitle of ‘Secrets, Scandal and Betrayals’ but de Vries' ‘readability’ in portraying well researched history in an accessible fashion for the general reader, make all her books the kind that avid readers share.

De Vries is especially good at placing her characters in context. The endnotes are well documented and the index works, and the photos indicate the beauty of some of the mistresses. But I found it hard to be sympathetic to the expensive mistress lifestyle and aristocratic spending when the general population was struggling, and this included tenants providing the income from the Prince of Wales' estates. I preferred reading about the heroic women in de Vries' other histories of significant working women during wartime and pioneering times.

As well as being a well-known children's writer, Hazel Edwards is the author of Writing a Non Boring Family History. She has also contributed to the Aussie Heroes series with Sir Edward ‘Weary Dunlop’ and Professor Fred Hollows.

de Vries, Susanna, Royal Mistresses of the House of Hanover-Windsor: Secrets, Scandals and Betrayals ($34.95) ISBN: 978-0-9806216-2-1, First Published 2012

Other books by Susanna de Vries:

• Great Australian Women: From Federation to Freedom
• Great Australian Women: From Pioneering Days to the Present
• The Complete Book of Great Australian Women

A reviewer's perspective & Meg Mundell's Black Glass: Annabel Smith

Author Annabel Smith gives her perspective on reading and reviewing books by Australian women, including Barbara Jefferis Award shortlisted novel Black Glass by Meg Mundell. Mundell's book was also recently shortlisted for The Australian Science Fiction Foundation's Norma K Hemming Award which recognises "excellence in the exploration of themes of race, gender, sexuality, class and disability."

The shortlist includes the following outstanding AWW novels: 

• Bell, A.A. Hindsight
• Douglass, Sara. The Devil's Diadem
• Falconer, Kim. Road to the Soul
• Goodman, Alison. Eona
• Hannett, Lisa L. Bluegrass Symphony
• Isle, Sue. Nightsiders
• Mundell, Meg. Black Glass
• Roberts, Tansy Rayner. The Shattered City

Annabel Smith writes:

Almost a decade ago I saw David Malouf read from his collection of short stories Dream Stuff at the Victorian State Library. During question time, someone asked Malouf if he had read Ulysses. Malouf had already responded to several idiotic questions during this session and this one had me squirming in my seat. But Malouf replied graciously that he had, and waited, along with everyone else, to see where this might lead. “I just can’t get to grips with it!” the questioner blurted out, confessionally. “Can you give me some advice?” Malouf’s advice was that life was short, and if a book wasn’t speaking to you, you should move onto one that did.

This is advice that I have always followed as a reader. When asked to write a review of the year in Australian fiction for Westerly, I decided, after some thought to apply that same practice to my reviewing. A book review is understood to be subjective. However, I believe a good review strives for objectivity wherever possible, or at least admits to its limits in that regard. As a writer, I’ve been on the receiving end of reviews that have seemed unfair; one in particular, where it was clear to me that the reviewer had read only the first section of my novel, and that his review did not represent my work as a whole, and was not therefore a balanced review. I believe struggling though a book that I don’t connect with is guaranteed to result in a review that is resentful and therefore perhaps unfair to the book in question.  Books I dislike or am unmoved by are not necessarily bad, they are just not for me.

One of the reasons I undertook the Westerly fiction review was because I knew I was guilty of cultural cringe when it came to Australian fiction, and I thought being forced to read more of it would give me an opportunity to adjust my perspective. And I did read some fantastic Australian books published in the last twelve months.  Only a handful of those, however, were by women writers so when I came across the Australian Women Writers Reading and Reviewing Challenge I saw it as a good opportunity to acquaint myself with more great writing by Australian Women Writers.

The books I’ve read and reviewed (on Goodreads) so far are:

Sarah Thornhill by Kate Grenville

When We Have Wings by Claire Corbett

Inherited (Short Stories) by Amanda Curtin

Shooting the Fox (Short Stories) by Marion Halligan

The Courier’s New Bicycle by Kim Westwood

A Common Loss by Kristen Tranter

Black Glass by Meg Mundell

The books I want to read are:

Five Bells by Gail Jones

Dog Boy by Eva Hornung

What the Dead Said by DJ Daniels

One Man Zeitgeist: Dave Eggers, Publishing and Publicity by Caroline D. Hamilton

Too Close to Home by Georgia Blain

Gone by Jennifer Mills

Above and Below by Stephanie Campisi

My Sister Chaos by Lara Fergus

Here is my review of Black Glass by Meg Mundell:

Meg Mundell’s debut novel Black Glass is the story of two sisters and their search for each other in a city of the not-too-distant future. The black glass of the title is the glass of surveillance. Those who inhabit the city’s various zones are not only watched but manipulated by technicians who subtly influence behaviour through the use of scents, sounds and lighting at a subliminal level. The text includes email exchanges, transcripts of conversations and internet search results, adding to the sense that in this brave new world nothing is private.

The novel is richly detailed, containing brief, beautiful descriptions and surprising metaphors. Mundell’s dialogue is one of the novel’s great strengths - witty, pacey and authentic, it positively crackles with energy and renders the characters perfectly.

A former journalist and government advisor, Mundell conveys a great deal of cynicism about the relationship between the media and the government. At one point, one of the characters reflects on how the media relies on “an endless supply of human folly and greed, criminality, bad luck and exploitation.” And this is exactly what Mundell serves up in her exciting debut: a blackly funny, sinister and gritty exploration of marginalisation.

AnnabelSmith’s first novel, A New Map of the Universe, was published by UWA Publishing in 2005 and shortlisted for the WA Premier’s Prize for Fiction. She has had short fiction published in Westerly and Southerly, been a writer-in-residence at Katherine Susannah Prichard Writers’ Centre and holds a PhD in writing from Edith Cowan University. Her second novel, Whisky Charlie Foxtrot will be published by Fremantle Press in November 2012.

Should romance be feminist? (Is romance inherently feminist III)

This is the third in a series of AWW discussions about feminism and the romance genre. Louise Cusack kicked off with her post, In defence of books written by women for women. Kat Mayo followed it up with her discussion. Today, blogger Kate Cuthbert adds her thoughts. 

Note: References to Australian women romance authors and their books are given in footnotes.

Kate Cuthbert writes:

This is in response to both Kat Mayo’s excellent thought-piece and a twitter discussion that came up after I posted a review of Robyn Carr’s Redwood Bend over at the New York Journal of Books.

In the review, I mentioned a level of frustration that the heroine – a widowed, unemployed, new-to-town mother of five-year-old twins – falls unexpectedly pregnant to a man she never expects to see again. I’d like to say that the heroine decides to keep and raise the baby, but in reality, there is no evidence of a decision-making process at all. No exploration of the heroine’s choices, her faith, her experience, her situation, her own belief system. There is nothing but an automatic assumption that she will increase her family by one.

Of course this review was written of a piece of fiction. And, being a piece of romance fiction, there is never any doubt in the reader’s mind that the hero will come riding back (on a motorcycle – contemporary heroes very rarely have gallant steeds), he and the heroine will declare their mutual love, and the baby will be born into a loving, solid family with few economic hardships, societal judgments, awkward questions re: parentage, or any of the other trappings of being in a single-parent family in today’s society.

But life is not romance fiction. And perhaps more importantly, romance readers do not live in romance fiction. There is no guaranteed happy-ever-after ending, no twist waiting around the bend to make everything turn out okay. This becomes more important when it’s reiterated that the vast majority of romance readers are women – as are the authors, publishers, editors, and agents. Romance may be the last great feminine space where men may sometimes enter, but rarely have the influence to alter.

So, how are we using it?

While reading Robyn Carr, I was incensed that she – as a contemporary author writing about contemporary people – should ignore the many options available to women in the circumstances that Katie finds herself. The issue is not in the final decision that Katie makes – feminism is, after all, about the right to choose – but the fact that Katie doesn’t make a decision. However, Carr is hardly the only one. It is only in the past two decades that contraception has become common place in romance novels – and even now it isn’t pervasive. Unexpected pregnancies are as common as, well, sex in romance novels [1], but informed discussions on a woman’s options in this situation are decidedly not. I’m aware I’m speaking in generalities here, and there are examples [2], of course, but those examples are not the norm [3].

Romance has long positioned itself as a feminist literature: in the 50s women had jobs, in the 60s careers. The 70s saw them have sex, and then the 80s saw them in charge. But the 90s heralded the arrival of the alpha male and the millennium a surge of inspirational (ie. Christian-faith) romances. Instead of continuing to forge a path, is it possible that romances have taken a step backwards, hidden behind immortal men on the one hand and traditionalist relationships on the other? I’d argue no – certainly for every alpha male, there’s a counterpoint kick-ass female [4]. And feminism and Christianity are not dichotomous states of being [5]. And, again, feminism is the inherent power to choose the way you live – and knowing that your choice will be respected.

But when it comes to women’s options and control over her sexuality and her body, I’m just not seeing the light. Women in romance novels can have sex now, but what is that freedom if they are not doing so in a responsible, controlled manner that protects themselves, emotionally and physically? Does the hero really respect her if he’s not protecting them both? Is the heroine intelligent and self-respecting if she doesn’t protect them both? If contraception isn’t mentioned, can a reader assume that it’s being used? Should a reader assume? Or is this another lesson in what assuming means?

Romance occupies a unique position within the literary world. It has already proven itself a subversive genre in many ways, and as the world watches in horror as members of power in the US wage a war on women’s rights over their own bodies, maybe it’s time to step up again. It’s not fair to hold one genre of literature to a standard that is not inflicted on others. But life isn’t fair. Certainly the war of the sexes has never been fair. Maybe this is an argument that goes beyond fairness.

Should romance be a feminist genre? I think the answer is too murky to define, and I’m certainly in no position to dictate. But the bottom line is this: if a genre by women, produced by women, edited by women, published by women with an express purpose of being read by women doesn’t deliver frank, honest, and open debate about women’s health, their bodies, their sexuality, and their choices…in short, if romance doesn’t step up into the vacuum that currently exists, who will?

      

---

Notes
[1] A good recent example of this situation is in Rachel Johns’ One Perfect Night where the heroine finds herself unexpectedly pregnant from a casual relationship, but a solid, developing back story creates a believable framework for her decision.

[2] Marion Lennox, in particular, is careful about contraception. In a workshop in 2007, she shared a story wherein she was writing a love scene in a novel and happened to look up and see her two young children. It was with their future in mind that she had her hero quietly leave the room to put on contraception.

[3] Paranormal and historical romances often get a by here: in historical romance, contraception is a novelty at best (much as we’d like to have all those rakes scanned for disease!), whereas paranormals often have an inbuilt barrier: vampires can hardly produce children, werewolves are immune to disease, etc. Keri Arthur handled this in an interesting manner in her Riley Jenson novels, where vampires can reproduce, but only within the first 24 hours after being ‘turned’. In Nicole Murphy’s Gadda trilogy, the magic-using characters were able to say a post-coital spell to prevent pregnancy.

[4] See Keri Arthur, Tracey O’Hara, and Lexxie Couper for examples

[5] Furthermore, sexuality within inspirational romances is muted, something to be explored after marriage, thus negating some (but not all) of the concerns. For an Australian inspirational author, try Mary Hawkins.

Kate Cuthbert describes herself on Twitter as "reader, writer, reviewer, Canadian-Australian and opinionated". She tweets as @katydidinoz.

2012 Barbara Jefferis Award shortlist & Claire Corbett's When We Have Wings

The Barbara Jefferis Award is offered annually for "the best novel written by an Australian author that depicts women and girls in a positive way or otherwise empowers the status of women and girls in society". The award will be announced at the State Library on May 23. Among the books shortlisted were:

• Georgia Blain's Too Close to Home 
• Claire Corbett's When We Have Wings
• Anna Funder's All That I Am 
• Gail Jones's Five Bells and
• Gillian Mears' Foal's Bread

Highly Commended were:

• S J Finn: This Too Shall Pass
• Kelly Gardiner: Act of Faith and
• Meg Mundell: Black Glass

Challenge participant and author Mark Webb offered to review one of the shortlisted books, Claire Corbett's speculative fiction novel When We Have Wings, for AWW.

Webb writes: 
When We Have Wings is NSW based author Claire Corbett's debut novel. This intriguing story is set in an interesting world where genetic manipulation has made it possible for people to have wings surgically integrated with their bodies. It is still relatively early days for this technology, and wings are the ultimate status symbol - only the very rich can afford them.

The story is told from the perspective of two protagonists. The first is Peri, a very young woman who has grown up in the country and comes to the city to be a wet nurse for a rich flier couple. She uses the money and contacts that come from her position to pursue her life long dream of buying herself wings. The story opens with the newly winged Peri learning of the death of a fellow nanny and fleeing the city with the baby she is caring for in tow.

The second protagonist is Zeke, an ex-cop and now private detective who is hired by the flier couple to find Peri and their son Hugo. Zeke is middle aged and divorced, with some limited access to his young son Thomas. His ex-wife is pushing hard for Thomas to start undergoing treatments to become a flier, and Zeke's deliberations about whether to consent form a compelling sub-plot.

The structure of the novel is very interesting, with alternate chapters written from Peri and Zeke's perspectives. The chapters showing Peri's point of view are told in third person and read a little like an urban fantasy. The addition of wings, although explained from a scientific basis, give Peri a "power", and her story has the feel of a person on quest to master that power as well as achieve her stated goals.

Contrastingly, the chapters that tell Zeke's story are told in first person and read more like a crime novel (with fantastic elements of course). The use of first person, so readily identified with a "gumshoe" story, and highlights this change in tone quite effectively. Both characters are drawn sympathetically and with good depth, which helps draw the reader through a longer than average story.

The first thing that really struck me about the novel was the location. While never explicitly stated, the story felt like it was set in a future version of Australia and the "City" was Sydney rolled forward. I had great fun trying to fit the version of Sydney I walk through each morning on my way to work to that described in the novel. This resulted in a fantastic sense of place with enough detail to feel like a legitimate sketch of a possible future world. The description was cleverly done, in that an Australian reader would take something extra away from the story, but the lack of definitive landmarks makes the story accessible to anyone no matter where they are from.

It was also interesting to read a novel that extrapolates issues like climate change without invoking a dystopia, but rather proposes a more gradual change that humankind has adapted to. Higher water levels, an increasingly tropic climate and the exhaustion of fossil fuels have obviously happened, but not caused the end of the world. This has led to some thought provoking technological evolution as well as some interesting social policy, further extending the city/bush divide that currently exists in Australia.

There were a lot of compelling topics covered in this novel. The dilemmas parents face when deciding whether to intervene to "improve" children were particularly strongly drawn. In the character of Zeke, Ms Corbett did an excellent job of capturing the mindset of many fathers and the concerns of all parents trying to do the best for their children in an increasingly complex world. While we haven't quite reached the point where we have to worry about whether or not to give children wings, the debate was an effective way of highlighting the increasingly complex choices parents face (e.g. private vs public schooling, extra curricular activities, playing vs learning etc). I felt a lot of empathy for Zeke and the decisions he was trying to work through regarding his son.

But that wasn't the only issue covered by any stretch of the imagination. The ethics of the wealthy outsourcing more and more of their personal life to the poor, politics making strange bedfellows, the grinding inhumanity that can come from bureaucracy, the horror of human trafficking, divorce and single parent guilt, subtle and patient revenge - this story had it all. In thinking about this review, I started to wonder whether there were too many issues packed in, but when in the middle of reading the book it didn't seem overly crowded. Ms Corbett did an excellent job layering them all so that they were subordinate to the story, but it certainly did create a lot to think about once my reading was done.

The description of the physical act of flying was very evocative, but lost me a little with the detail. The middle third of the book concentrated a lot on flying and more knowledgeable reviewers have indicated that the detail provided is very well researched. Certainly it all seemed very plausible to me as a lay person. However, with large amount of text dedicated to the description of flight it did feel like the plot slowed down in this part, although someone who has a strong interest in flying would probably not have found this to be the case.

The plot itself was sharp in the beginning and end, and had a mix of sleuthing and just below the surface politics that is very appealing. The mystery at the heart of the story was strong enough to hold everything together. While the novels are very different, the mixture of mystery wrapped in an implied political landscape reminded me a bit of The Courier's New Bicycle by Kim Westwood, another hugely enjoyable novel that has formed part of my AWWC reading.

Last year Ms Corbett spoke on a panel at the NSW Speculative Fiction Festival, where she mentioned that she had worked for the NSW public service at one stage in her career. I was reminded of this when reading her descriptions of some of the bureaucratic organisations in the novel. Having spent a lot of my career working as a public servant, her depiction of these organisations was very authentic and resonated strongly with my own experiences.

Without giving any of the plot away, I will say that this novel has a beautiful ending. The last couple of pages were particularly moving with lovely imagery and generated some strong emotion. The ending was also good from a plot perspective with enough being wrapped up to bring the book to a close, but enough left messy to feel realistic.

When We Have Wings is an excellent debut novel and I am looking forward to reading more of Ms Corbett's work. Highly recommended.

Mark Webb is a part time writer and full time Servant of the Public. His mid-life crisis took the form of writing speculative fiction at a very slow pace. While sceptical of the results, his wife maintains that it was probably a reasonable course of action considering (a) the relatively low cost of the exercise and (b) the clichéd alternatives. He has had stories published at Antipodean SF. Further details of Mark's struggles against the twin forces of procrastination and a lack of measurable talent can be found at his website, including all his AWWC reviews.

Other AWW reviewers of When We Have Wings:

• CAR Torres V 
• Judi J
• Sean at Bookonaut
• Annabel Smith 
• Angela at Literary Minded

Have you reviewed this or any of the other books shortlisted for the 2012 Barbara Jefferis Award?

"Masterfully crafted": Belinda Alexander's Golden Earrings reviewed by Christine Darcas

Yesterday on Twitter, Astrid (@asteriskthat) put out a call for names of Australian women authors of historical fiction. Angela from Literary Minded suggested Kate Forsyth, M L Stedman, Mardi McConnochie, Lisa Lang (interviewed by Angela here), Marele Day and Gail Jones. Marg Bates' suggestions included Kerry Greenwood, Elisabeth Storrs, Jules Watson and Kate Grenville. Paula Grunseit added Jesse Blackadder, Tobsha Learner, Kim Wilkins and Judy Nunn. Vassiliki Veros recommended historical romance authors Anna Campbell, Anne Gracie and Stephanie Laurens, to which Kat from BookThingo added Christina Brooks (and I'd add Isolde Martyn). Other authors of historical fiction include Geraldine Brook and Jessica Anderson. Can you recommend any other Australian female authors of historical fiction not listed above?

Another of Marg Bates' recommendations was Belinda Alexander. Alexander's novels have appeared worldwide, including in France, Germany, Holland, Poland, Norway and Greece. When asked what fiction by Australian authors are her favourites, Alexander answered, "I am always hanging out for the next Kim Wilkins and Kate Morton novels. I love how their stories unfold. I have always admired the styles of Helen Gardner and Drusilla Modjeska. Their styles are different to mine – I often find Gardner’s work a challenge to my vision of beauty, but that’s good. It’s always good to be challenged." (Australian Literature Review) 

Today's guest review is by fellow Australian author Christine Darcas. Here she reviews Alexander's 2011 publication, Golden Earrings.
 
Christine Darcas writes:
Golden Earrings by Belinda Alexander is a masterfully crafted, rich feast of a read. Knowing too well the amount of time, effort and hope that goes into writing a novel, I won’t review a book unless I have only good things to say about it … and I have lots of terrific things to say about this one.

Alexandra creates a passionate, deeply interwoven story about a girl, Celestina, born in Barcelona’s early 20^th century ghettos, who survives to become a world class Flamenco dancer. Through Spain’s turbulent civil unrest, she becomes involved with the Montello family whose wealth and naïve sense of privilege amidst Spain’s elite represent everything she has been raised to hate. The book opens in 1970s Paris with Celestina’s ghost appearing to a young, disheartened ballet dancer named Paloma who lives with her grandmother, Mamie, in the same building where they run a small ballet studio. In the solemn quiet of that early morning, Celestina wordlessly gives Paloma a set of golden hoop earrings. And so the mystery begins.

The book’s setting sweeps expertly between Franco’s dictatorial ascendency in Spain and 1970s Paris. Even while we read about Paloma’s more contemporary challenges, the brutal atmospherics of Spain’s civil war and their implications for individuals - in this case Celestina, her family and all of the Montella family members - permeate the story. Alexandra’s characters love, hate, betray and are betrayed. The romance and intrigue build with slow-burning intensity, as does the full realisation of the destructiveness of key characters’ deep-seeded misperceptions and misunderstandings about each other as a result of their shattered circumstances. Just when you might think that Alexandra can’t raise the stakes any higher, she does.

She also clearly did extensive research. Not only is the story satisfying, but so is the history lesson. In considering early 20^th century history, many of us may be inclined to focus on the two world wars to the extent that they overshadow the ferocity of Spain’s civil war and the ways in which it scarred its population. This account will certainly encourage you to reflect on that further. Her knowledge of the cultural and artistic details of her eras - including the emotional and technical aspects of Flamenco dancing, piano concertos, Catalan traditions and language - is equally impressive.

I was particularly gobsmacked by this book’s structure. Alexandra tells the story from three points of view while working between two different eras. Plenty of experienced writers would falter with this. But instead of rehashing prior scenes, Alexandra moves from each point of view to the next in a way that seamlessly moves the story forward. This was definitely a book that I was sorry to see end.

***

Another AWW review of Golden Earrings appears at:

• Jacqui's My Journal

 ***

Guest reviewer Christine Darcas is the author of two novels Dancing Backwards in High Heels and Spinning Out, both published by Hachette Australia. 

Giveaway opportunity: If you are interested in reviewing either of Christine Darcas' books for the AWW challenge, please nominate which book in the comments section below and include your email. (If more than one person wants to write review, a name will be picked out of a hat.)

"A consciousness raising exercise": Sean Wright on AWW Challenge

One of the first male book bloggers to sign up for the Australian Women Writers Challenge was Sean Wright, well known as @SeanDBlogonaut on Twitter, and author of the blog Adventures of a Bookonaut. Sean kindly agreed to discuss why he signed up, his experience of gender bias and his journey with the challenge so far.

Sean Wright:

I am really enjoying being involved in the Australian Women’s Writing Challenge this year and appreciate the chance to speak to others interested in the challenge.  I’ll discuss why I chose to join the challenge and what I have observed about women writing in Australian speculative fiction that might be different to men.

Why did I decide to enter?

by Deborah Kalin

It was a culmination of things.  Last year I began listening to the wonderful feminist podcast Galactic Suburbia, three women, each with a unique place in the speculative fiction landscape - Alisa Krasnostein, a small press publisher from Western Australia, Tansy Rayner Roberts, an author from Tasmania and Alexandra Pierce, a reviewer from Victoria. 

Their approach to promoting feminism (indirect and conversational) got me thinking about my own reading and resulted in me completing a comprehensive review, a gender breakdown on the reading and reviewing on my blog. 

It was a lesson in implicit gender bias for me.  Prior to the review I believed that I was reasonably well-balanced reader.  I had no issue with reading female writers and was quite pro-feminist.  The results were embarrassing to say the least, the split being somewhere around 18% female to 82% male, novels read. 

I made a decision that year to try and balance up my reading and reviewing.  For the general reader I am inclined to say read whatever you like, but for a reviewer like myself I think there’s an obligation to try and be balanced. 

My end of year result was a 60/40 split in favour of men.  A distinct improvement but still not the balanced result I was aiming for.  I found that towards the end of the year I simply reviewed what came in the mail box and wasn’t too focussed on making sure that I was a balanced reader.  In that sense I feel that I probably fell into well established and largely unconscious preferences. 

This year, with more self awareness, I decided that I really needed to enforce some blatant structural change (I see this as the only way for me personally to get around implicit bias).  So I signed up to the Franklin-fantastic (read 10 and review at least 4 books) level and the dabbler category.  I have already hit that target 10 books and 10 reviews but the intention is to keep going, because frankly the speculative fiction scene in Australia is bubbling over with excellent female writers. 

The other reason is that I think it’s probably necessary to swing my reviewing in favour of female writers to make an impact as a consciousness raising exercise. 

Having favoured women authors this year I am comforted by the freshness and the quality I have discovered. This depth of quality in the field has me laughing at those who might cry tokenism when it comes to preferencing women over men, who might foretell a fall in quality.  That view assumes that men who get on our best seller lists are there purely by virtue of merit.  My own personal view is that as a culture, we generally preference quality men’s writing over quality women’s writing.

In the speculative fiction field do women write differently to men?

by Rowena Corey Daniells

Where I do note differences is around some subject matter.  Some women authors will include plot points or devices that probably would not feature in a male author’s story.  Tansy Rayner Roberts for instance has a character in her Creature Court Series that works as a dressmaker.  This profession forms an integral part of the character and the plot, it’s a continuing feature and focus in what is a violent and sensual fantastical adventure.  I am not sure I have come across a male writer who has used a female profession* in quite the same way.

The consequence of including such devices or plot points is that it makes the work fresh especially for me as a male reader.  It’s offering something different than the standard fantasy tropes.  Kim Westwood, whose work is on my reading list, is another writer who comes to mind in her exploration of gender. I’d be hard pressed to think of a male speculative fiction writer who is exploring similar issues. 

Margo Lanagan’s most recent book, Sea Hearts dances around the interaction between men and women, mothers and sons.   Claire Corbett manages to fuse both hard science fiction, with mystery, social commentary and issues of parenthood in When we have wings.  In Madigan Mine, horror novelist Kirstyn McDermott cleverly inverts gothic horror tropes by altering the gender. 

Conversely I can also think of other female writers who tend to write in a more  traditional vein, Deborah Kalin with The Binding Duology and  Rowena Cory Daniells with her King Rolen’s Kin Trilogy (although this does feature a non-stereotypical gay relationship) readily spring to mind.

So that’s a somewhat indecisive answer.  What I am finding though is that female authors of speculative fiction in Australia are in the ascendant, they are producing an abundance of work and it’s pretty much all top shelf.

I‘d like to thank Elizabeth for the opportunity to guest post, I love the challenge and the expansion of my perception with regard to women’s writing in Australia.

 

* By female profession I mean that it is one in the book and there is more than passing reference to types of dresses, stiches etc. 

Sean Wright is a blogger, reviewer and genre commentator writing at Adventures of a Bookonaut.  He currently works as a casual relief teacher for the Department of Education and Child Development in South Australia. He aspires to be a published author but does more aspiring than writing.  He can be found most of the time on twitter under @Seandblogonaut. His blog has recently been nominated in Sydney Writers Best Blogs 2012 competition.