This will hurt me...

  A pretty little bird, South Bruny National Park, Bruny Island. June 2021. The Great Alone  by Kristin Hannah The story itself was fine, with the descriptions of the Alaskan landscape and weather rich and vivid. However, the novel is hamstrung with a pedestrian narrative, shallow characters and a frustratingly predictable plot. It is also far too long and could have benefited by shedding a good third of its bulk. Given the intensely claustrophobic setting, it amazes me that the three central characters lack any real depth or plausibility. The Cora exists (it seems) to be little more than an irritating and hapless victim. Her tormenter husband Ernt – the stereotypical damaged Vietnam veteran – is a hollow caricature. Given that the author had nearly 600 pages, I cannot understand that she gives us nothing more than Cora’s feeble assertions that “he’s a decent man” over and over. Seriously, a bit of backstory or  something  that might SHOW the reader why Cora puts up with the violence a

Beach house, Cloudy Bay, Bruny Island. June 2021. Milkman by Anna Burns Anna Burns has pulled off a stunning achievement here. The novel emerges inside the head as (almost) a single stream of consciousness. It is equal parts funny, shocking, tender and intense. Weaving a tale of personal agency in a complex political and social dynamic - Northern Ireland during the Troubles -  Milkman  is mightily effective. I suspect that few readers will sit on the fence with this one, either loving or loathing it. Count me among the former. I enjoy the 'all-in' nature of the narrative voice, and if you're comfortable with the 'norn iron' voice in your head, it works beautifully. Perhaps I'm biased, as the repetition of skimming over events with different lenses and the constant, stringent internal monologue, enjoyment of running and shame (!) of reading while walking resonated with me. All this allows Burns to apply a persuasive critique of sectarianism, conformity, violence,

  Ezra hops. Cloudy Bay Beach, Bruny Island. June 2021. Welcome to Nowhere River by Meg Bignell After something on a rocky start, I ended up enjoying  Welcome to Nowhere River  an awful lot. My fear after the first few chapters was that I was being treated to a 'painted by the numbers' chick-lit bit of fluff, populated by cardboard cutout characters moving through familiar patterns to a predictable conclusion, Thankfully, Meg Bignell soon starts to subvert the conventions of the form, and we are treated to a range of well-rounded characters (particularly the women of Nowhere River). Our central character (Carra) is allowed some rough edges, and the author is brave with how she deals with many of the key relationships. As a Tasmanian, I'm not sure that I ever really fully believed in the town, but I enjoyed the story nonetheless. In addition, the story's arc was enjoyable enough to overcome a couple of rather predictable twists. With plenty of laughs and a few tears to

  Heading home. Bruny Island to Kettering on the ferry, June 2021. Rivers by Michael Farris Smith  A well-put together dystopian novel that resists many of the usual conventions, I enjoyed  Rivers  far more than is surely healthy. Set in an apocalyptic future where the climate has irrevocably changed, making the southeast part of the North American continent virtually unlivable. There are echoes of Cormac McCarthy's  The Road  here. Yet, while suitably bleak, the vibe is not quite as riven with utter hopelessness as that book. Indeed, we get a closer look at some of the grifters and miscreants, and the villains of the piece are more human than the spectres that haunt that book. In Cohen, we have a suitably complex central character equally haunted by the past and the future. A capable man, I appreciated that the ordinariness that he brings to the piece. Unfortunately, too often, the superhuman hero (or indeed villain) spoils this kind of book. In grounding the story in a character