Heat and Light – Ellen van Neerven, Too Much Lip – Melissa Lacashenko

She’s been around a while, has Melissa Lacashenko, publishing laudatory novels since 1997. The other, Ellen van Neerven, also an accomplished poet, is the new kid on the block as far as indigenous fiction is concerned. In their works we meet the Kresingers and the Salters, with both taking us on some journey.

‘Seriously,’ I thought to myself, ‘plantpeople, a new seaweedy species of ‘humans’ emerging from the mangroves of an island off the coast of Queensland. This is not my thing at all.’ But it was. I continued and I’m glad I did. For me the section ‘Water’, of Ellen van Neerven’s ‘Heat and Light’, was the stunning highlight. Set in the future, but in many ways taking us back to the past, it’s a contrast to the contemporary nature of the bookends, ‘Heat’ and ‘Light’, as we meet generations of Kresingers in linked vignettes. None, although exhibiting quite glowing wordsmithery, attracted me to the extent of Kaden’s story. She’s a young liaison officer to those studying, read subduing, the new species. They are trying to pave, read clear, the way for a development project. A relationship grows between her and Larapinta, one of the supposed ungendered plantpeople. The treatment of the ‘specimens’ hark back to our black, black history which gives, to this day, such discomfort to Australians of British descent. It is brave and adventurous writing for van Neerven and the collection won the NSW Premier’s Award for 2016.

We mightn’t have plantpeople, but we do have talking totems, crows and sharks, in ‘Too Much Lip’ by Melissa Lacashenko. I don’t know about too much lip, but the plethora of f-bombs and c-words were much too present for my normal taste. It does, I guess, make the novel ‘real’. We all know the type – people who open their oral orifices to produce sentences in which at least one word has to be an expletive – otherwise their standing as hard men or women would be lowered. If the awardees of 2019’s Miles Franklin can live with that, then so can I. The author has produced a rip-roaring yarn and it’s a worthy winner.

When sassy Kerry Salter roars back into her home burb, to rejoin her family, as the patriarch is near departure, she discovers the Salters are just as dysfunctional and disparate as when she left them. She comes to escape, as well, from some heat for misdeeds in her previous location and is firmly of the belief she’s gay. Boy, is she in for a surprise – and not only with her proclivity. When she discovers the plan the devious white local mover and shaker, Jim Buckley, has for a river island sacred to the Salters, she and the rest of her family are up for a fight. There’s Pretty Mary, her mother who, when the going gets tough, takes to her fruity lexia. There’s brother Black Superman, a Sydney-sider , as well as brother Ken, too, a said hardman with an explosive temper. Add to this more unique characters in the extended family and the only one who’s missing is a sister who did a runner many years back.

There’s never a dull moment with the collection of rellies as with the tome. This, as well as ‘Heat and Light’, indicates that the literature of the first people of our country is as strong as ever in the age of #blacklivesmatter.

Ellen van Neerven‘s website = https://ellenvanneervencurrie.wordpress.com/

Melissa Lucashenko’s website = https://www.melissa-lucashenko.com/

I’ve jumped on the bandwagon. She spins a great yarn in ‘The Good Turn’, so now I’m keen to read her previous two, ‘The Ruin’ and ‘The Scholar’. Since the GFC she’s been a resident of Western Australia, but she was born in County Cork, practising as a lawyer on the Emerald Isle. It is perhaps natural that her tomes are set in her birth homeland rather than her adoptive one.

Her third novel again features Detective Cormac Reilly, whom I hope I’ll encounter again very soon. In this tale he’s figuring that those above him on the slippery slope, giving the orders, may not be as pure as the driven Irish snow. But those notions are temporarily put to one side as a possible abduction is reported. Soon his sidekick, Garda Peter Fisher, is hot on the heels of the supposed perpetrator. Then the latter’s inexperience and brashness upends the investigation and he’s banished to a small town to keep his head down until the furore that’s developed over the investigation subsides. His big problem is that he’s placed in the care of his father, a cop used to taking short cuts to get a desired result. This approach leads to more trouble for Peter when he investigates a supposed open and shut case of a double murder out in the countryside.

Meanwhile, Reilly’s suspicions about the upper echelons have landed him in hot water too, with his personal life catching up with him as well – as is so often the case with jaded coppers. He’s basically not a happy chappy as his delvings start to come full circle.

Peter, back in the boondocks, is up to his neck in similar ordure as he discovers an elderly rellie, formerly in peak condition, is ailing under the care of a reticent newcomer to the community and her silent daughter.

Eventually the two hard done by policefellows and their investigations collide as McTiernan tidily brings it all back together in a fitting finale. It’s all ripe for a television adaptation and the book has been, justifiably, a top seller on these shores. Aussie crime writing does not get ant better, even if it is set far from the Land of Oz.

The author’s website = http://dervlamctiernan.com/

‘I’m Tasmanian. We’re basically one big sleepy small town so I can spot a fake a mile away.’

It’s fun reviewing books. I don’t have tickets on myself that I’m particularly good at it, but I enjoy doing it immensely. I form my own opinions, but between finishing a tome and sitting down at my favourite nook, here beside the river, to write it up, I always take to the ether to see what others have made of it.

Just occasionally, what I read there may make me see the work of fiction, or reality, I’ve just completed in a new light. Sometimes, what I’ve struggled with, they have loved or, conversely, panned what I’ve adored. It’s always interesting. I suppose I should not have been surprised to see, when searching for what better scribes than I had to say about Sarah Epstein’s ‘Deep Water’, that the first one I hit on was written by my own daughter. After all, she had recommended it to me. I ask her to pass on the best of the YA she reads as I love the genre too – but she is far more up with it. A very fine novelist herself – I am biased, I know, but I think it’s a fair call – she’s eminently well positioned to comment on others. That’s especially the case when it comes to those set in small communities, as is Sarah’s – thus the opening quote from Katie’s review. As well, she is well placed to know the vicissitudes of the writerly life; of putting yourself out there in a work of art.

Obviously she loved ‘Deep Water’, as I did. In a way it is a pity that it is catergorised as YA and would be on the shelves of that section for most booksellers. Obviously the YA market is massive and burgeoning in itself, requiring skilled wordsmiths to sustain it , but it does mean this fine whodunnit would be bypassed by more mature readers. I’m fortunate to have my daughter passing them along to me. Like Katie, I have been recently converted to crime after I cottoned on to Jane Harper, Chris Robotham and now Dervla McTiernan.

And I concur with everything Kate says about the work and its wonderfully well delineated characters, especially the feisty lead. So, if you’re a devotee of crime, move across to the YA section and seek this oh so proficient author out if you’re in the same demographic as myself; that is OA (Old Adult). She’s a great addition to those who are currently making this a golden age for Aussie crime writers, whether they’re setting their sagas in the US, UK, Ireland, the parched outback, hardscrabble regional centres or in our cosmopolitan cities.

 I can’t wait to read more Sarah Epstein. Her website = https://sarahepsteinbooks.com/

Katie’s review = http://www.justkidslit.com/book-review-deep-water-by-sarah-epstein/

Nature. In troubled times it’s a salve. I’m lucky. I have a little pocket of nature here to help me through the most troubled time I’ve known in my longish life. It’s not a wide expanse, but it’s enough. Across the road the reedy bank of the Derwent harbours families of native hens, as well as the water birds that grace the river. Raptors are often on patrol above and smaller birds flit about our lawns. It’s not the vast acres of Southern swamp-lands that Kya Clark has at her disposal but, with what else I have, it’s enough and I’m thankful for that.

For most of her life Kya, aka the Swamp Girl, had been an unknown, fleeting figure for the small communities in her region – sometimes talked about, but rarely seen. As a result of her notoriety, she soon becomes a suspect contributing to the death of a local fellow. The evidence linking her to it is flimsy, but will it be enough?

By the age of six her mother and siblings have deserted her, succumbing to the rages and drunkenness of their father/husband. He remains with her for a while, actually pulling himself together to do some nurturing, but soon returns to default and bails on her too. She’s alone but, despite her tender years, has attained enough savvy to eke out an existence. With her own troubled times showing no signs of departing, she becomes a child of nature, finding solace in the seasonal rhythms of her watery world.

Eventually some tenuous relationships form with other humankind – the protective coloured couple who run the local supply shop; then a generous, supportive lad ventures into her wilderness and becomes a companion. She allows him to take the mantle of also progressing to being her teacher of sorts as she’s only ever known one day of schooling. But even Tate deserts her in the end. Then she turns to Chase. With him, though, for a while she has some hope. Sure enough, Swamp Girl discovers he was only using her for bragging purposes. After him the world closes in on her.

Delia Owen’s world wide best seller sings off the pages as it too flits around. It darts in and out between the time periods of Kya’s semi-isolated life and the investigation into the death at the fire tower. Reese Witherspoon has optioned it so it will be interesting to see if a movie or tele-series emerges. It’s a perfect fit for our own time of semi-isolation and I had no trouble returning to this tome to while away the hours as we wait for the curves to peak and flatten.

The author’s website – https://www.deliaowens.com/

Once upon a time these girls would have never been A-listers in their milieu – the Dumplins, Pumpkins and Ramona Blues of this world. But, like Rebel Wilson, Melissa McCarthy; dozens and dozens have shown to the now accepting public that an hour-glass figure or super-coolness doesn’t define beauty, talent or the ability to cut it big. These girls are forces of nature and despite the roadblocks, feisty, with the capability of summoning up the wherewithal to plough right on through. These three aforementioned inhabitants of American writer Julie Murphy’s books, all on the cusp of entering the adult orbit, have been huge hits in the US. One has even made it to the big screen and her tale can be viewed of Netflix. I’m talking about ‘Dumplin’. Here Ms Murphy now gives us a heroine for the younger set.

Sweet Pea DiMarco is truly as sweet as a spring pea in a pod. She’s a lovely creation and she’s about to graduate from her country’s version of primary school, which terminates with Grade 7. The big school, though, holds some trepidation for her, especially as her final year in the lower grades has been tough. Not only has her bestie, Kiera, moved across to that cool set, but her parents have split. The former couple, though, give some of the best messages in the offering. Not only are they neighbours and their abodes almost identical to ease the possible trauma for their girl, they remain close. The mum seems to have had few issues about giving her spouse the room he needs to be his true self. Sweet Pea’s woes are somewhat assuaged by a friendship with one lovely boy, Oscar, struggling a tad in the gender stakes. As well, on the horizon, there’s a potential relationship, of some description, with a new kid on the block.

Sweet Pea also discovers she has an ability as an agony aunt as the result of an unlikely turn of events, finding the opportunity to put it to work in her community’s daily newspaper. Her advice is sensible when she’s not acting on revenge, but we do not find out her response to one plea for enlightenment– a young lady who does not want to spend a first night with her boyfriend as she is frightened she may fart in her sleep. How would a fella respond to that? Help!

We fully suspect, from the get-go, that it’ll all work out for Sweet Pea – it’s the way these books work. And they’re nonetheless for that. Finding out how is the joy. Here the pages turn easily, there’s little to challenge the reader but more than enough to keep us interested so it’s a no-brainer to rip on through to the positive resolution. And this hoary old fella enjoyed it immensely. Thanks Kate.

The Author’s website = http://www.imjuliemurphy.com/

‘Life of Brian’ ‘Damascus’ most certainly isn’t, but Tsiolkas’ gritty, fleshy, reeking and violent take on the life and times of Saul/Paul and his acolytes kept the Python’s classic seeping back into my mind over and over as I read the author’s latest. It’s a departure for both of us, admittedly, but a welcome one. Unlike the movie, there’s little to laugh about with it. And I suppose, given where you are coming from, we may thank these early spreaders of the word, including Thomas and Timothy, for taking a faith out of the Holy Land, into the Roman Empire and its capital, giving our planet another religion.

Early Christianity was such a fragile thing. The candle could have been so easily snuffed out by the old religion or under the weight of the Roman gods, but it prevailed. Mostly in the imagining by CT there’s an uneasy co-existence with the non-believers – but, of course, the early purveyors suffered great hardship, privation and on occasions, their beliefs cost them their lives. From the printed page you can almost smell the crowded, unwashed, fornicating, lice-infested bodies emanating from Tsiolkas’ prose in this quite remarkable feat of writing. With this author I can’t imagine anything rivalling that unnerving slice of Australian suburbia that is ‘The Slap’. ‘Barracuda’, for me, didn’t even come close, but I think ‘Damascus’ will truly signal him as being up there with the greats of OzLit.

For this stand out effort the Gospels are referred to, as well as other early Christian sources; fiction being added around the unknowns, to give a fetid picture of how it could possibly have really been. Some of his early references acknowledged Christ minus the crucifixion and resurrection, with that forming an aspect of the narrative. The doubts of these early followers are as fascinating as what they knew to be certain, particularly as time passes away from the actual New Testament events, given the Son of God fails to make another excursion back to Earth to visit and inspire.

Real or false news, the notion of the goodness that Jesus of Nazareth has given us all is one of undeniable purity – but it’s a goodness we repeatedly trash with our collective actions. That shines up from the oft hellish world the author creates. But for this unbeliever (with the wordsmith himself admitting he is not sold either) I was drawn into fecund mire with all the multiple protagonists. We can only think of what might have been and recoil had it been otherwise.

The Author’s Website = http://christostsiolkas.com.au/