"Everything in the room was joined by one line; the frame to the curtain, the coil to the crack, the belt to the shoe."

A pool and the Coral Sea. Newell Beach, Far North Queensland. April 2021.

The Eye of the Sheep by Sofie Laguna

A good read told from the perspective of a character with a limited understanding of the complex world around him. Jimmy Flick is a kid with boundless energy and (quite likely) autism. Credit must go to Sofie Laguna for inhabiting the world through Jimmy's eyes and staying the course.

Nevertheless, I did find that Jimmy's lack of self-control - so exacerbating to his father and brother in the book - made the novel quite hard going through the first third. Indeed, the boy is so frustrating and irritating that I could barely tolerate it. This is a challenge when we are stuck with this sole narrator.

Yet there is deep compassion here and while the narrative arc is equal parts well-worn and improbable (the breadth of his capacity and vocabulary seems decidedly uneven), I was content to stick with it and see how things ended up for Jimmy.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐

Comments

MurciaDailyPhoto said…

Nice story and beautiful views.

27 April 2021 at 04:36

If you want to be loved, be lovable.

Henry admires the view.

Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it...

I still have the robot on the job. Here you can see the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery . And here is a poem: Soliloquy for One Dead Bruce Dawe Ah, no, Joe, you never knew the whole of it, the whistling which is only the wind in the chimney's smoking belly, the footsteps on the muddy path that are always somebody else's. I think of your limbs down there, softly becoming mineral, the life of grasses, and the old love of you thrusts the tears up into my eyes, with the family aware and looking everywhere else. Sometimes when summer is over the land, when the heat quickens the deaf timbers, and birds are thick in the plumbs again, my heart sickens, Joe, calling for the water of your voice and the gone agony of your nearness. I try hard to forget, saying: If God wills, it must be so, because of His goodness, because- but the grasshopper memory leaps in the long thicket, knowing no ease. Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it... I like Bruce Dawe. He just my be my favourite Austral

Zeal, n. A certain nervous disorder afflicting the young and inexperienced. A passion that goeth before a sprawl.

Here I have tried my hand at the homemade sepia-toned photo. I wasn’t happy with the way that the sun had washed out some of the colours in the original, so had a bit of a fiddle because I like the look on Henry’s face, and didn’t want to pass on posting it. I have a tip for those of you burdened with the great, unceasing weight of parenthood. I have a new recipe, in the vein of the quick microwaved chocolate cake . Get this, microwaved potato chips . I gave them a run on Sunday, Henry liked the so much I did it again last night. Tonight, I shall be experimenting with sweet potato. I think that the ground is open for me to exploit opportunities in the swede, turnip, carrot and maybe even explore in the area of pumpkins. Radical, I know. I’m a boundary-pusher by nature. It's pretty simple, take the potato. Slice it thinly (it doesn't have to be too thin, but thin enough). Lay the slices on the microwave plate, whack a bit of salt over the top and nuke the buggers for five minut

This will hurt me...

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