The Penguin

Do you know what there needs to be more of in contemporary publishing? Publishing houses that share their names with batman villains!

I’ve checked and, as expected, Penguin Random House is the only one that can boast that honour; and what an unforgivable waste that is when you think about the pool of possible stellar names just sitting there, utterly neglected, and not being tapped into for publishing houses or imprints. Think about it publishing bigwigs that’s all I ask! 

I would trust Deathstroke or Riddler Publishing to accumulate a decent list. Plus I love the thought that, Danny Devito à la Batman Returns, is secretly the head honcho of Penguin, and all of their revenue goes to keeping his nightclub, Iceclub Lounge in business (there’s an ice bar in Melbourne!?! Holy shit I’m on to something).

He does resemble your classic bibliophile when someone’s getting too rough with their immaculate collection 

It’s surprising though actually, Penguin and Penguin do share a little bit in common, beyond their love for adorable flightless birds. The biggest thing being that just like Penguin Classics, the Penguin has an established look attached to his reputation that’s uniform across his Penguin Commandos (to be fair though the members of his army are literally penguins sent to do his evil bidding – kind of like the flying monkeys in Wizard of Oz). 

Penguin Classic’s universally recognisable imprint and cover design personifies the power of visual cues to cultivate and establish brand identity. The cover uniformity expressed through ‘a basic horizontal tripartite division of the colours’ as well as the illustrated penguin logo, not only immediately signals to readers which books are Penguin texts, they are also symbolic references to the publication’s background story and historical context – a narrative that is pivotal to the reverence that the Penguin brand has earned.

Sustained public awareness that these visual symbols are relics representing the company’s origins and historical significance is further reiterated through each book’s back cover, where prior to the text’s blurb, a summary appears recounting Sir Allan Lane’s struggle to find reading material at Exeter train station and stating that the original price was extraordinarily cheap ‘the same price as a packet of cigarettes’.

Thus while the Penguin Random House mission statement, to ‘We celebrate writers, stories and ideas that entertain, educate and inspire.’, would not be automatic knowledge to the general consumer, visual and literal reminders to readers of Penguin’s established position within the publishing industry, grants the text the cover is packaging a legitimacy – by extension – for being a work that the Penguin brand feels has merit and is worth celebrating. Massively similar I’m sure to when residents of Gotham see a penguin wearing a mind-control helmet and a rocket – they would automatically associate that branding to that suss millionaire fellow always donning a monocle, top hat, and tuxedo.

 

 

 

 

 

The Original Animorphs

So I hope you don’t think less of me but I never read any of The Animorphs books as a kid.

I wasn’t a big reader, and every time the Scholastic catalogs used to arrive at school I wasn’t that bright and I couldn’t understand why the Scolastic’s range was so damn book-heavy (put a gameboy in the catalog you squares that’ll get more kids interested in the scholastic book club!!!).

Based on their trendy AF cover art though – where we’re lucky enough to witness every awkward look in the transition from human teen to aarvark – the extensive series seems like it raises that same question Bojack Horseman, Transformers or that awful art-house film The Lobster do – what creature/appliance best represents you for a morphing? Would your life be more fulfilling as a warewolf or a some kind of starfish – you tell me?

Anyway, so while little Ellen clearly deprived herself of what could have so easily been a meaningful phase of really wishing I could transform at will into a hawk, in a way I feel I have inadvertently read some Animorphs when I remember these works of literature.

Dracula (Bram Stoker, 1897)

While vampires were part of folklore for centuries before Bram Stoker’s Dracula, this book popularised that classic brooding, cape-laden, vampire image we’re all familiar with (as well as marking the beginning of a hurtful Transylvanian stereotype).

Count Dracula’s ability to shape shift between bat and human forms anytime he’s in the mood for some evil biddings is definitely enough to classify him as a misunderstood Animorph that was well ahead of his time – i’m not sure though did all the Animorphs have to be good? What a pack of wusseys if they are, they’re in desperate need of a bad boy to sex up their image!

Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde (Robert Louis Stevenson, 1886)

This short story happens to be home to my favourite pun possibly ever. When one of the main fellows, John Utterson, is trying to learn more about this mysterious wrongin’ Edward Hyde by following him around and such, Utterson says to himself ‘if he be Mr Hyde, I shall be Mr Seek’ – oh Utterson you should’ve saved that sick trash talk for when you’re finally in a room together.

Not strickly an Animorphs as such, given Dr Henry Jekyll is interchangeably transforming into another appearance rather than an animal whenever he drinks his home-brew serum. BUT you could get philosophical and say that because the new face gives Jekyll the freedom to do whatever he wants without consequence he is transforming into an animal.

The Metamorphosis (Franz Kafka, 1915)

What I respect about this story is that rather than getting bogged down into any details as to why/how this guy, Gregor Samsa, has turned into a giant insect Kafka just wants you to accept that he’s woken up like this and move straight into how this is going to affect Gregor’s daily living.

If this were an Animorphs it’d be the depressingly realistic one, where the transformation means they’ve understandably lost the capacity for speech communication, they can’t turn themselves back and the family is forced into poverty because they couldn’t afford the loss of income which came with an inexplicable shape-shift.

 

 

 

 

Ghostbusting

In all seriousness I once had what I’m definitely convinced was a paranormal experience.

I was on a ghost tour of an old building with some friends on Valentine’s Day last year (I can’t stress enough I went with other people! It wasn’t some completely tragic stag valentines evening), and this burst of light went past me. I didn’t tell anyone though just cause I’d been a massive smart ass up until that point (what you’d except you know, doing the creepy hand up people’s backs and the like).

This isn’t to say though that this one experience was enough to get me one hundred percent convinced in the existence of ghosts (and to be fair we had been drinking before this tour started), but it is quite poetic to believe that places remember their history and hold onto past energy. It’s like that classic Einstein quote which those terrible ghost hunting shows tend to reference, that ‘energy can neither be created nor destroyed it can only change forms’.

Anyway so let’s talk about ghosts in literature, and judge how they’re choosing to spend their afterlife. I haven’t read A Christmas Carol though, just cause I like to go into a book fresh and I think every person knows that plot before they’ve even knew it was Dickens – thanks a lot Muppets Christmas Carol!!!

The Canterville Ghost (Oscar Wilde, 1887)

This story is more adorable than it is scary. I think it must’ve been a children’s story.

So an American family moves into this long-abandoned mansion in the UK, Canterville Chase, and they’re warned by the seller, Lord Canterville, that no one wants to live there because it’s haunted by one of his dead relatives. But the Otis family are ballers, and they move in anyway cause the place was a bargain (which I respect).

Anyway so the Canterville ghost starts making its first appearances, but the family are treating the sight of the un-dead with impressive levels of nonchalance. Especially the two twin boys whose incessant pranks on the ghost actually start making the ghost so depressed that he starts keeping to himself in his room.

Its at this point that the youngest daughter, Virginia, starts to feel sorry for the Canterville ghost and she helps him on this little quest to get out of limbo and move into the afterlife. AWWWW!!!

The Turn of the Screw (Henry James, 1898)

Honestly it’s been roughly two years since I read Turn of the Screw, and personally I found it pretty underwhelming.

I had to google what its plot was because I couldn’t for the life of me remember what happened beyond – it takes place in a mansion and the children act creepy for 80% of the story. Clearly I’ve blocked this reading experience from my memory.

Anyway so according to Sparknotes, what happens is a governess is taking care of two children, Flora and Miles, at this country home called Bly, and the kids progressively act more and more strange especially at night, as the governess frequently spots them roaming around outside.

Understandably the governess becomes more disturbed by these goings-on so she’s doing a bit of research, and it turns out the ghosts of Bly’s former governess and footman, Miss Jessel and Quint, are manipulating the children.

Truly, even rereading a plot summary I can’t remember this story at all. I do however remember thinking at the time, why would you want to spend your after-life hanging out in your old workplace with only some snooty manor house children for company?

The Brown Hand (Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, 1899)

So because Arthur Conan Doyle is obviously most known for Sherlock Holmes, my very immature mind hoped that this story was a grim tale of Sherlock solving a fairly simple case of how a hand got brown (I’m disgusting and I need to grow up).

This one’s pretty good. It’s about a doctor who for twenty years has been visited every night by the ghost of a former patient. This patient was an Afghan hill-man who had his hand amputated by the doctor, and for religious reasons he needed to be buried with all parts of his body. The doctor had made a promise to the him that he would keep the hand preserved with his other specimens and he could have it back to be buried with, but due to a house fire the doctor was unable to keep his promise. So the deceased patient comes back every night, searches the remnants of the doctor’s collection and then looks angrily at the doctor because he can’t see his hand amongst the collection.

 The Inexperienced Ghost (H.G Wells, 1902)

I do love how the majority of Victorian-era ghost stories all seem to start in the same way, where a group of men are in a cigar room or something and they all decide to exchange ghost-stories.

Anyway in this story, a man called Clayton is telling his golf buddies about how the previous night he met a sobbing ghost, and while he’s telling this story he dies of a heart-attack leaving his fellow golfers not sure whether his story was true or just an elaborate joke.

What is sadly relatable about this story is that the ghost is crying because he’s really terrible at doing hauntings and it’s gotten to him that even in death he’s managed to find something else he sucks at.

Also Wells gets some points for this stellar pun: ‘but being transparent of course he couldn’t avoid telling the truth’ – Wells you sly ol’ wordsmith you!!!

The Mound (H.P Lovecraft, 1929)

H.P Lovecraft is to science fiction what Poe is to Gothic literature, and I am surprised/deeply disappointed in myself that this is the first mention of him on this blog.

What’s great about Lovecraft’s Cthulhu stories is that even though each are individual pieces that can be read individually and in no particular order, they interlace together through the fictional forbidden book of black magic, Necronomicon. 

In The Mound an ethnologist is visiting Binger, Oklahoma to study a mysterious Indian mound which the town is situated under. This mound is deeply feared by the locals due to the fates of the few people who have attempted to explore it. What’s more, it is said to be haunted by two ghosts, a man during the day and a headless woman at night.

And (*spoilers) while the two ‘ghosts’ haunting the mound turn out not to be ghosts but rather guards of a gateway into the underground realm of K’n-yan, I figured this story still belongs on the list because initially you do assume that the two recurring figures are ghosts. (If you’re going to start reading Lovecraft though, The Mound isn’t the best one, try The Thing on the Doorstep or The Shadow Over Innsmouth first).

Eileen (Ottessa Moshfegh, 2015)

Not strictly a ghost story either, but it uses ghosts as a metaphor often enough that I think I can bring it up here. Also it’s just impressive that for once I’ve branched out and actually read something written in this century for a change.

Recanted by the main character in her old age, Eileen takes place the week leading up to Christmas, 1962 – what would ultimately be the then 24 year old Eileen’s last week in her hometown of X-ville before she started a new life away from her abusive drunken father. It’s a clever hook because you do end up reading it pretty fast in a desperate need to know what’s gonna finally push Eileen to stand up for herself.

Specifically ghosts are regularly mentioned in relation to the dilapidated house she shares with her father, which has been left to fall apart since her mother’s death two years ago, but also more literally, her father is convinced that thuggish ‘hoodlum ghosts’ are living in their walls – which is a story-line I wish they further elaborated on.

 

 

Segments Inexplicably Left out of The Barefoot Investor for Families

  • Signs Nan is getting too much heating
  • Cognitive benefits for children of having an imagination Christmas and/or birthday
  • Do the children really need that many school shoes?
  • It’s character building – reasons to give up on civilization and live in the pop tent for four to six months
  • Watching A Current Affair stories for tips on how to teach the children to steal on your behalf
  • Funding the family vacation and starting a family cock-fighting syndicate in your own backyard
  • Scrumping – lists of houses with apple trees and climbable fences
  • Encouraging creativity – sewing patterns for fashioning clothes from potato sacks
  • IKEA and Squatters rights – tips for hiding in the show room so you can sleep there after hours
  • Teaching ANZAC spirit – having a war rationing themed April to commemorate the 100th anniversary of WW1
  • Alternative birthday entertainment – why you getting drunk and dancing for the guest’s amusement is much better than hiring a clown
  • Utilizing the neighbors’ sprinklers for bathing and saving big coin on your next water bill
  • Alternatives for buying your teenager a phone such as two cans attached via a string
  • Your next family pet – handy hints on catching a possum from the park
  • The everyman guide to doing your own dentistry
  • Bathroom saving hacks: manually de-plying the toilet paper and keeping the towels pristine through air-drying
  • Food budgeting – getting a Dominos tattoo and free pizza for life
  • Only suckers spend money on sleeping bags – saving on your next camping trip by pulling a Bear Grylls

How the Stella Prize Establishes its Necessity through its Name

In the 2008 book The Economy of Prestige, Professor James F. English wrote that newly established literary awards are able to solidify their necessity through ‘reference to some failing or lack in its more esteemed predecessor’. Nowhere is this assertion more noticeable than Australia’s female literary award The Stella Prize.

Awarded for the first time in 2013, The Stella Prize emerged as a direct response to under representation of female writers among literary award winners; in particular the Miles Franklin Award – regarded as one of Australia’s most prestigious literary awards.

The Stella Prize’s objective is to annually celebrate the best book to emerge from either fiction or nonfiction, by an Australian woman that year, and through this create a greater public interest in books written by women.

It is comparable to other prizes such as Britain’s Baileys’ Women’s Prize for Fiction – which also attempts to counter perceived flaws in longstanding judging practices.

However, what makes James F English’s statement particularly applicable to The Stella Prize is the importance of its name and the overt point it makes.

By naming the prize after the founder of The Miles Franklin Award, Stella ‘Miles’ Franklin, The Stella Prize is making a clever point about the need for a literary award specifically for women.

The name is simultaneously associating the award with a deeply respected female author as well as a jab at The Miles Franklin Award. It’s a powerful public reminder that Miles Franklin was a woman who needed to go by a pen-name for her work to be taken seriously, and it implies that The Miles Franklin Award has not fulfilled her vision.

According to one of the founders, Sophie Cunningham, The Stella Prize’s creation is necessary because,

‘Women are much less likely to win literary awards, to write reviews of books, or have their books reviewed. This, despite the fact they write about half the books published.’

The Stella Prize highlights subjectivity and flaws, and makes us question literary awards as a means of determining prestige. Yet, by creating a new award in the hope of bolstering the presence of female writers, The Stella Prize demonstrates that literary awards remain a prominent feature in book culture and do have an effect on the success of a book.

 

Animals have Eerie Powers

There are a few animal/show-business type questions which do occasionally cross my mind.

I wonder whether a consequence of literally every animal sport film, is that every single sport rule-book now includes a 30 page list of species that are barred from joining the team.

I naively wonder whether there is even the smallest possibility that Babe is still alive.

I wonder just how many kangeroo paw-sticks the sickos who made the show Skippy needed for the close-up handshake scenes.

And, much as I would rather not think about it, I do wonder whether Tarzan actually dated gorillas before Jane showed up.

Also what do you think was the ultimate objective the bird’s had when they took over in The Birds? Were they just sick of our shit? Could the humans have thrown a truckload of hot chips to appease them?

So on that note, let’s talk about a few classic animal narratives within literature, and the unanswered questions they too have left me with.

Animal Farm (George Orwell, 1945)

This is one of those books where it is quite obvious why people are made to read it in school – the Stalinist parallels are about as subtle as a brick to the face.

Also given how much I relate to Mollie the horse – who is swayed to go back to a regular farm because she misses sugar-cubes – it’s probably definitely a sign that I’m really not a team player.

Anyway I’m sure you’re all probably loosely familiar with this allegory of the farm animal’s failed attempt at a utopia where all animals are equal.

The animals choose to  overthrow their oppressive captor, Mr Jones, following the vision of Old Major – a respected elderly prize pig – for a future where all animals are free from humans.

Personally though, the one detail which I really don’t think get’s the attention it deserves is just how nonchalant all the humans in this book seem to be about how bloody fast the animals in this book can organize group projects and teach themselves to read.

Mr Jones spends a good deal of the book sitting around the pub having a moan, like this kind of thing is somehow not that absurd. And I kept thinking when the other surrounding farmers pull down the windmill that the animals have been building for two years, wouldn’t you just be impressed that the animals built something? Why hasn’t the press visited?

Charlotte’s Web (E.B White, 1952)

This book raises another question I’ve long had – how come Wilbur’s the one who gets famous instead of the spider who can write in English for some reason?

Watership Down (Richard Adams, 1972) *spoilers

Watership Down is surprising. Initially you assume that you’re not going to get that emotionally invested in the lives of some fictional rabbits – you’re not a child and the film Marley and Me failed to move you because you’re a cold hearted monster. But then you massively do, to the point where you’re not sure you’ll be ok if Fiver doesn’t survive.

It’s just such a beautifully dark story, the main rabbits are just such a noble little squad who’ve got each other’s backs – and fuck being a rabbit would be pretty grim, even if all the characters have really adorable names like Strawberry and Thistle.

To roughly sum up, a small group of rabbits flee their warren because Fiver has the capacity to sense when something bad is about to happen, and he has this vision of ‘blood across the warren’. It details the dangers the group face beyond the warren they’ve known their whole life, and – in the later half of novel – how establishing their own warren is reliant on challenging the leadership of a totalitarian-style warren.

The Black Cat (Edgar Allan Poe, 1843)

Similar to The Tell-Tale Heart, where killing someone because their glass eye got to you sometimes seemed like an overreaction, The Black Cat‘s narrator is bitten one night by his wife’s cat, Pluto, and therefore decides to act rationally and gouge one of the poor cat’s eyes out with a penknife.

Following this shitty thing he’s done, every time the narrator looks at the cat – who’s now naturally terrified of him – he feels remorse, so he decides to be super rational again and murder the cat. Then big surprise he starts to feel even more ravaged by guilt, so he brings another cat home for his wife and see’s his being nice to the new cat as some kind of atonement.

Then, I shit you not, he get’s angry at this cat because it reminds the narrator still of Pluto, and in an attempt to kill the cat with an axe he accidentally kills his wife (it’s really hard to feel sorry for this guy).

Anyway to cut a long story short, he entombs his wife behind a brick-wall in the basement, and just when he thinks he’s gotten away with it the police hear a cat meowing behind the brick-wall and find Pluto alive standing on the head of his dead wife’s corpse. Pluto somehow came back to life to grass on him and it feels great that karma has weirdly been served.

 

How important is the cover though?

‘Don’t judge a book by its cover’

This classic idiom is both a general caution against placing too much importance on appearance, yet equally a literal warning to prospective readers of the deceptive power a great cover design can hold.

By suggesting that the front cover can influence a choice in reading material that would not otherwise have been made, this saying assigns a pivotal role to the cover and rests on the assumption that this is the first point of contact a reader will have with a text.

However to what extent does this expression reflect the true reality of the publishing industry’s current reliance on strong cover designs to communicate with potential consumers?

While image is focal to a book’s marketability; the front cover in itself is just one of several potential touchpoints of varying significance which can determine how a book is discovered by the target demographic and whether they choose to buy it.

The aesthetic appeal of a book, and especially its cover, is undeniably important. Yet whether the book’s external qualities are the primary influence directing readers to select certain titles over others is a contentious assertion; particularly when one considers the heightened significance of brand identity in a culture that is becoming progressively orientated towards online and social media platforms.

The traditional retail practice of impulsively buying a book in a bricks and mortar bookshop – based on the book’s front cover and the plot summary written on the back cover – is just one means of discovery, and a marketing strategy for any title must be more nuanced than sole dependence on this single book purchasing pattern.

One can even contend that in the current literary landscape, the ‘cover’ that this popular axiom is referring to has expanded and now refers to the whole image carefully cultivated by a title’s unique promotional strategy prior to its release – which includes both the author’s personal brand as well as that of the publishing house.

As each book’s identity is a formation of multiple components – such as genre, author/s, unique selling points (USP), target demographic and purpose – how a title is marketed, and what marking strategies are more likely to be successful, will fluctuate depending on each of these elements.

Furthermore, while a front cover has multiple roles, its ultimate objective is to market the book it is packaging to a specified audience. Thus, the front cover’s significance – as with every marketing device – will also invariably be subject to variation rather than holding an identical level of automatic importance for every book.

Another vital consideration is that a prospective reader’s first impression is arguably more likely to be influenced by promotional efforts prior to the book’s launch rather than the title’s front cover. This is due to the importance that generating awareness of the book prior to its launch has as part of the publishing cycle, with the majority of newly released titles immediately facing heavy competition on top of a short ‘shelf-life’ in bookshops (approximately six to eight weeks).

According to data collated by reader analytics company, Jellybooks, there are eight major motivations for ‘buying a specific book’. Listed below, these include:

  1. ‘Entertain me now’
  2. ‘Entertain me in the future’
  3. ‘Inform me’ – A book which educates/helps fulfil an aspiration.
  4. ‘Obligation’ – Referring to a book one is assigned to read such as for book-clubs, study or alternatively books which are unanimously considered literary classics.
  5. ‘Social Pressure’ – A book one feels compelled to read as ‘everyone else’ is currently reading it.
  6. ‘Make me look smart’ – owning/reading a book for the symbolic status attached to that particular title.
  7. ‘Gift’
  8. ‘Impulse’ – Being in a particular state of mind, or being stimulated by environmental factors such as being inspired to buy a book at a literary event or in a Museum gift shop.

These motivations highlight how diverse and subjective the rationale driving each book purchase decision can be. But while the front and back cover can also act as further attributes bolstering any one of these justifications, the fact that the book’s appearance is not listed as a separate motivation suggests that – at least consciously – the front cover is a secondary interest compared to what the consumer plans to get out of this purchase/reading experience.

Another study examining reading patterns which also indicates the front cover’s general secondary status, is a comparative analysis conducted by book review site, Goodreads, of two similar novels – Gillian Fylnn’s Gone Girl and Erin Morgenstern’s Night Circus.

This extensive survey involved collecting responses from readers who had read one of these titles, and its responses showed that while factors relating to trusted recommendations such as ‘reviews’ or ‘word of mouth’ were the highest ranking motivations amongst readers of both novels, the front cover and blurb ranked last – and only for Night Circus – as a direct motivation for readers.

Parallels shared between these separate studies, offer invaluable insight into what inspires a reader to choose a certain book when faced with an abundance of choice. Furthermore, the affirmed value held by ‘word of mouth’ in both cases is testament to how vital developing an initial awareness is to inspiring subsequent sales of the book.

Interpreting these studies however, as evidence that the book’s appearance is irrelevant would be far too simplistic. Rather, the marginal influence the front cover holds as a motivational tool, reveals that broadly readers are understandably more prompted by content and what a trusted opinion promises the text will deliver.

Developing positive word of mouth is imperative, yet the front cover also plays a meaningful role in this as an extension/representation of established brands – particularly that of the author and publishing house.

Although this function is less obvious than the front cover’s equally crucial role of introducing the book’s plot, tone and own identity; the cover’s ability to immediately visually connect a book to – often a multitude of – recognized brand identities in the mind of the consumer reveals how deeply interconnected motivational touchpoints are, and how difficult it is to analyse the effectiveness of one as a wholly separate entity.

As pointed out by David Pearson in Books as History, a ‘successful design is most effective when the user of the object does not stop to think about what makes it work; it just does’. A reader may not have full awareness of the extent to which the front and back cover’s contents influenced their final decision to buy a book, yet that doesn’t necessarily mean the book’s packaging was not a factor.

A marketing strategy for any title must be nuanced, particularly due to the entrenched presence of online and social media platforms, yet while a book’s cover design is not the focal means of discovery, the various brand identities the cover will embody are pivotal to reaching and connecting with prospective readers.

Australian Reads

So I only just found out recently that my home town’s Mill Market – which might I add was already pretty wicked to begin with – inexplicably has a bunch of Wolf Creek props round the back – -WHAT? There’s just so many follow-up questions! Who was the weirdo/hero who bequeathed that shit to the city of Ballarat of all places? And why am I just hearing this news now?

We’ll talk about something else now, I’m just still reeling from that discovery.

Anyway speaking of Australian films, there’s one out at the moment called Ladies in Black (and sadly no, the guy from Packed to the Rafters doesn’t get tortured in this one too – what a bitter let down. I SAT THROUGH THAT SHIT FOR NOTHING!!!!!!!!!*), which is based on the first novel of Madeleine St John – the first Australian woman to be shortlisted for the Booker Prize for Fiction.

Now I’ve not read The Women in Black – it looks a bit too heart-warming for my taste (plus a whole book of Sydney people making snooty remarks about how shit Melbourne is? Yeah nah), but it has got me thinking about other great Australian reads which I devoured and that are definitely worth a gander, they’re in no particular order.

Heat and Light (Ellen van Neerven, 2014)

Normally short story collections aren’t really my cup of tea, but each of these felt equally enthralling and left me wanting to know more. Plus there’s the right amount of shared consistency connecting these stories, which is impressive given how stand-alone they otherwise appear.

Split into three sections – ‘Heat’, ‘Water’ and ‘Light’ – each story regardless of section touches on themes relating to sexuality, contemporary aboriginal culture, family, heritage and identity.

In particular, the way the longest story in the collection, ‘Water’ , utilises fantasy to explore heritage and roots is striking and poetic.

Axiomatic (Maria Tumarkin, 2018)

This is a confession, but embarrassingly prior to reading this I wasn’t actually familiar with Maria Tumarkin. The whole reason I bought Axiomatic was that it happens to have a really gorgeous cover – so yeah I’m that shallow.

Anyway unavoidably, since going into Tumarkin’s most recent book completely fresh, it has sparked the big search for every other bit of writing she’s ever done that’s out there.

Segmented into five popular axioms – such as ‘Time Heals all Wounds’ and ‘Those Who Forget the Past are Condemned to Repeat It’ – each saying acts as a springboard into its own distinct rumination of an important – and often overlooked – issue within Australian society.

Eggshell Skull (Bri Lee, 2018)

If I ever have a son I’m making sure he reads this. No exaggeration, calling it powerful just seems like a huge understatement, and everyone I know who’s read this, pulled an all-nighter and finished it in two days tops.

Eggshell Skull is the debut memoir of Bri Lee, which details her time working as a judge’s associate for the Queensland District Court – an experience which gradually forces Lee to fully recognize and confront her own long-repressed memory of the sexual abuse that she herself had survived as a child.

It’s exhausting and heartbreaking reading the extent of sexual abuse cases Lee is faced with during – what was only a year – of her time working for the District Court.

And reading it, I was just in complete awe of the strength it must have taken to be witnessing on a daily-basis, what the process looks like for victims who are brave enough to make an official complaint, and how frequently the legal system fails to achieve justice, and yet in spite of that still being prepared to seek accountability.

(Again embarrassingly, I also solely bought this book for the cover, having no idea what it was on – it’s a pretty great cover to be fair)

Oscar and Lucinda (Peter Carey, 1988)

Basically, the main reason I connected with this book when I read it five years ago was that the character Oscar Hopkins reminds me a touch of myself – in that he’s a fidgety, painfully socially awkward type who get’s too easily fixated on things (Oscar has a strict and conservative upbringing raised by a Plymouth Brethren minister though, so I don’t know what my excuse is).

Set in the mid-nineteenth century, Oscar Hopkins and Lucinda Leplastrier are two misfits who find each other on a ship heading from England to Sydney. Oscar is a trainee Anglican minister and Lucinda is the owner of a lucrative glass factory in Sydney, and their friendship essentially revolves around their mutual obsession with risk and gambling.

Without giving spoilers, the two things I particularly loved about this book were,

  1. the underlying influence of timing, and how the two characters lived such parallel lives and could have been perfect for each other, yet they are ultimately victims of both circumstance and their own inherent shyness (shit sorry that is a big spoiler – I suck)
  2. that whole idea of a church made of glass seems pretty cool – you could work on your tan and do some praising!!!

[*how shit was Packed to the Rafters though?]

 

Super Hans’s ambiguous moral teachings and life hacks

1059_image1_hans_christian_andersen550

via ILAB

There’s this story that Charles Dickens once found Danish author Hans Christian Andersen lying outside on the lawn, crying inconsolably over one bad review. I really love that this happened. It just seems like such a timeless thing a beautifully delicate, creative type might do.

In his day, Hans Christian Andersen (1805 – 1875) was one of the most renowned writers in Europe. And his life is still often viewed as a rags-to-riches fairy tale in itself.

The son of a cobbler and an illiterate washerwoman, who very likely suffered dyslexia and who struggled with a crippling fear that he was unlovable, yet whose stories remain widely recognised and beloved well over 200 years after his death, and who could clearly handle some creative criticism in a dignified and think-skinned manner – who better to seek some guidance from?

So I want to have a ponder over the lessons Hans bestowed upon us as children. Because to be honest it’s still beyond me what the moral of the Emperors New Clothes is – you can’t get arrested for indecent exposure if you make a convincing argument when the cops show up that you’re wearing pants of the mind?

The Ugly Duckling

Sometimes puberty is kind and people get better looking with age, so be nice just to be on the safe side. This is a terrible lesson.

The Little Mermaid

Seriously though its important to learn how to negotiate a good trade. Your voice and every time you walk it feels like your treading on sharp knives? Jesus do a bit of haggling! I know you really want that human soul but at least try to get it down to say… trading your sense of smell and every time you walk it feels like your treading on lego?

The Wild Swans

Shirts knitted from stinging nettles you found in cemetery will somehow help your swan brothers return to human form. Don’t try and make the best of a bad situation and teach them some kind of sign language, and get them to do your evil bidding like an army of flying monkeys. No, keep your dignity and be that odd one on the street with 11 swans who yells at the neighbours when they give you judgey glares, that they’re the ones who’ll look stupid just as soon as your done knitting your collection of stinging nettle attire.

The Red Shoes

Cursed by a mysterious man – as punishment for wearing red shoes to church – Karen’s shoes are bound to her feet and force her into a tortuous loop of continual dancing. Wee bit harsh there. What about that time I wore whatever shoes I wanted on a Sunday and didn’t go to church for 25 years in a row? Section me out mysterious beard man – I look  embarrassing when I dance too so it’d really hit me hard.

The Princess and the Pea

You can win a Prince’s heart by being very vocal about your extremely first world problems. It’s a pea get over it! If you’re having a rough nights sleep in a stranger’s bed cause you can feel something under their mattress, and in the end it just turns out to be a pea you’ve dodged a potentially awkward and gross bullet and you should be very very thankful.

Thumbelina

Toads are bastards who will attempt to kidnap you in the dead of night and force you into an arranged marriage with their toad son.

The Shadow

Your shadow is such a prick. Just don’t trust that guy – he’s shady (GET IT!!!)

The Flying Trunk

Don’t ride in your enchanted flying trunk and let off fireworks! Drive sensibly, this is why we can’t have nice things!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Childhood Book Drinking Games part 2

Given the last time I wrote a childhood book drinking games post it was 2016, I feel I need to stress again to be a responsible adult and wait til the children in your care are asleep before you get the books out and prepare to par-tay!

Any of the Charlie and Lola books (Lauren Child)

  1. Drink anytime Lola has a whinge or is a bit of a pain in the ass
  2. Drink whenever a real picture is used within the illustrations or when the font is put in bold for emphasis
  3. Drink if at any point you start to wonder where Charlie and Lola’s parents are at
  4. Drink if there’s an overall lesson about sharing
  5. Drink any time these words are utilised: extremely, absolutely, actually

Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day (Judith Viorst)

  1. Drink anytime something shitty happens to Alexander
  2. Drink if he threatens to move to Timbuktu
  3. Drink whenever Alexander says it’s a ‘terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day’
  4. Drink whenever the characters are wearing an outfit that’s quite seventies

Come Back, Amelia Bedelia (Peggy Parish)thumbnail_IMG_8680

  1. Drink anytime Amelia fucks up
  2. Drink if the exact way she fucks up is somehow a pun
  3. Drink if her job search in this book gets you reminiscing about your own periods of unemployment and you start to feel sorry for Amelia
  4. Drink every time she gets hired for a job she’d probably need to have proper training for – that’s why she keeps screwing things up! This isn’t all on her!!!

Any of the Maisy Mouse books (Lucy Cousins)

  1. Drink anytime Maisy is referred to in the third person
  2. Drink if Charlie and Talluhlah also rock up
  3. Drink if at any point you start to wonder how old Maisy is meant to be; given that in some stories she’s in the city alone or using the oven unsupervised yet in others she’s playing doctors and her bedtime’s 7.30pm
  4. Drink anytime she brushes her teeth or there’s an actual illustration of her sitting on the John (there’s more than one)

The Velvelteen Rabbit (Margery Williams)

  1. Drink anytime the Velvelteen Rabbit stresses that he’s real a rabbit
  2. Drink if you start to wonder why the other toys are being so shitty about the fact that he’s not a real rabbit – you’re not real either!!!!
  3. Drink to ease the pain when things start to get real and the kid suddenly has scarlet fever

Goodnight Moon (Margaret Wise Brown)

  1. Drink if there’s a rhyme
  2. Drink if the red balloon that appears gets you thinking about IT 
  3. Drink anytime an animals mentioned
  4. Drink whenever you think ‘a bowl full of mush’ doesn’t sound particularly appetizing
  5. Drink whenever the word ‘goodnight’ is said (yeah this is a pretty harsh rule. You probably will need your stomach pumped)