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“There is no point in waiting for the right moment when a smooth change might be possible; this moment will never arrive, history will never provide us with such an opportunity. One has to take the risk and intervene, even if reaching the goal appears (and is, in some sense) impossible - only by doing this can one change the situation so that the impossible becomes possible, in a way that can never be predicted.”

Shag on a rock or a cormorant on a pontoon? Bellerive Beach, Hobart, March 2021. Like A Thief In Broad Daylight: Power in the Era of Post-Humanity by Slavoj Žižek Žižek is a funny bugger. This is more a collection of essays with a loose connective thread than a consolidated and coherent thesis. I very much enjoyed (perhaps not the right word) those elements exploring the breakdown of any ideological consensus. For mine, Žižek accurately identifies the failures of the left to reconcile with those most disaffected by prevailing neoliberal globalism that has seen an immense benefit to the few at the expense of the many. Conversely, I have no interest at all in those sections exploring the revolutionary potential of Hollywood musicals or his musing on the #MeToo movement. On that, while he is closure to the mark when it comes to Weinstein, masculine ideology and the dominant power structures at play in sexual dynamics, his resistance to the embrace of active consent did read a little too ...

“So there you have it: two things & I can't bring them together & they are wrenching me apart. These two feelings, this knowledge of a world so awful, this sense of a life so extraordinary—how am I to resolve them?”

Seagull on a chimney (I know, I know, it's serious), Hobart, March 2021. Gould's Book of Fish: A Novel in Twelve Fish by Richard Flanagan Where to start with this odd beast? We start with a caution that our (initial) narrator cannot be trusted. From here, we enter into his reconstruction of a text that our untrustworthy narrator warns is one of another unreliable narrator. Master Gould (sic) is most insistent in his testimony that the reader cannot trust his account. In this remarkable and peculiar novel, Flanagan explores the nature of memory, history and the very grand stories that individuals and nations console themselves. What is 'true' much depends upon who is asking and what is it they wish to hear. In this, the history of Van Diemen's Land presents exceptional fodder. More succinctly, it is a tale of a bullshitter. The narrator is a bullshitter in love with bullshitting. In that, he understands that bullshit is all that we can ever have. From here, the r...

"I was lonely," I mutter. She sighs. "Maybe you need to stop using that word as an excuse to mistreat yourself.”

Jen all at sea. Little Howrah Beach, Hobart. March 2021. A Lonely Girl is a Dangerous Thing by Jessie Tu This one is a very dark and - at times - quite disturbing book. I initially found it quite difficult to find my groove with the story and connect with the central narrator. She is aware of the difficulty that her personality radiates in her interpersonal interactions with others, which extends out to the reader. Her intense loneliness only exacerbates this. That said, as we learn more about Jena's backstory and the sources of her trauma, I found myself softening towards her and wishing that she'd end the self-harming behaviour and look ahead instead of behind. The pivot for me was in exiting the odious Mark's gravitational pull and heading off to New York. It is here that Jessie Tu really flexes her creative muscles and (partially) frees Jena from her torpor. From here, I found the book much more engaging, and I was keen to see where things would lead. Filled with vivid...

‘The worship of ignorance. It’s an excuse, that’s all it is. It’s the excuse of rednecks and backwaters and corrupt governments the world over. The saddest thing is that people believe it. They get used to it. They accept whatever leftovers they’re given. And meanwhile the bastards at the top keep scooping the heart out of the place.”

Blind, Geilston Bay. March 2021. Last Drinks by Andrew McGahan A great example of a novel being driven by a character burdened by minimal character. In George Verney, disgraced journalist and former (forgettable) hanger-on of a few slippery and shady characters that constituted the outer circle of the corrupt elite governing Queensland in the crooked Bjelke-Petersen era. In framing the story around reformed alcoholic Verney, McGahan constructs a nailbiter of a story that unravels from both directions. Moving backwards and forwards through time and memory - and hazy recollections at that - Verney is drawn back into the world that he fled as it crumbled a decade earlier with the Fitzgerald Inquiry. If you're too young to remember that event, the Inquiry's official title was "the Commission of Inquiry into Possible Illegal Activities and Associated Police Misconduct", which will give you a sense as to what Verney was fleeing. An indictment on Queensland, this is a dar...

“We notice the silence of men. We depend upon the silence of women.”

Early morning, Geilston Bay. March 2021. Every Heart a Doorway by Seanan McGuire I had no idea what this book was about going in, which made it all the more surprising as I read it. Quite unlike anything I've read before, it resembles the kind of post-binge comedown you might expect to see once Alice stepped back through the looking-glass. Very dark and very funny, I really appreciated the sensibility that permeated throughout. The approach to gender identity and sexuality felt entirely natural and make this a fantastic portal to better understanding these kinds of issues. While I am certain that it would upset many who find such concepts a challenge, it would be fantastic for anyone looking to broaden their mind a bit! If the idea of magic portals, sugary fairylands, dancing skeletons, vampires, mad scientists and a search for a rather brutal serial killer does not disturb you, I could not recommend it more highly. ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

“Reading books will doom you to a life of fear and shame.”

Breaking the waves. Bellerive Beach, Hobart. March 2021. The Plotters by Un-su Kim (translated by Sora Kim-Russell) This is the silliest book that I have read in a long while. I did enjoy it as the pacing was fine and plenty was happening. Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that it read like a far better version of that dreadful creative writing exercise by the Virginia Tech shooter that found itself on the Internet back in the day. The biggest flaw is a common one found in the genre. It is like the author has not really met or spoken with any women, so he's not quite sure how they work. However, he obviously means well and sees women as more pure and worthy in a debased world, which I guess is better than the way that it usually goes in these things. It's an action movie in book-form. I found the pretensions to something more meaningful hamfisted and a bit childish, but nothing worse than anything you'll find in the Matrix or John Wick. I can't quite figure wha...

“They liked to drink: it was their hobby, or—said one of us—maybe a form of worship. They drank wine and beer and whiskey and gin. Also tequila, rum, and vodka. At midday they called it the hair of the dog. It seemed to keep them contented. Or going, at least."

Being stalked by a pademelon. Pilchers Hill, Geilston Bay. March 2021. A Children's Bible by Lydia Millet After a slow start, I found myself relaxing into this rather beguiling and disturbing tale. It moves at a languid pace and sleepwalks into an ever-growing disaster. Like the collective elders in the book, it progresses as if in an alcohol or drug-induced fog. As the name suggests, there's some heavily allegorical work driving the narrative as we have echoes of Biblical text through an increasingly dystopic scenario. While the intergenerational tensions are played in a rather heavy-handed way, the global inaction on climate change does render the recourse to heavy caricature for the 'adults' and the decision to make the children and young people preternaturally wise and capable in the novel understandable. As ever, I find the American fixation on the upper and middle-class ennui and the absence of any poor or diverse voices depressing, but somehow it seems appropr...