Best Australian Science Writing 2015, edited by Bianca Nogrady

We've done essay collections before - by Peter Singer and Oliver Sacks, for a start - and we've done short story anthologies including our very first book, Room to move, but an anthology of science essays is new territory for us. It proved, however, to be a very successful choice, for a number of reasons, as you'll read below. The book, Best Australian science writing 2015, was edited by science journalist/communicator Bianca Nogrady, and contains articles or essays "celebrating the finest Australian science writing of the year".

While most hadn't finished the book by the meeting, all enjoyed it, for various reasons, including that:

• it could be read in "small snippets";
• several of the articles linked to radio and TV programs we'd heard or watched in recent years;
• many of the articles challenge popular conceptions (or misconceptions) regarding, for example, cane toads, managing endangered species, placebos, and statins.

One member commented that there aren't always clear ethical standards by which the work of scientists can be evaluated. Another enjoyed Adam Spencer's introduction, and liked the links at the end of each article to related articles. In fact, one member read the book by following these links, whereas most of us read it in table-of-contents order.

To discuss it, we asked each person to name her favourite article. Following are our choices. We could have gone on much longer, except that Kate's delicious "healthy" banoffee pie started to call:

Uncharted waters, by Daniel Stacey
Our member nominated this article about the search for Malaysian Airlines MH370 because it's an example of those events or activities that can have unintended spin-offs, that lead to the development of further knowledge or new technologies, the way, for example, that wars and space research do. One member, though, suggested that there's an opposite argument which is to keep this apparently unexplored area of the Indian Ocean pristine or free from interference.

Field guide to the future, by Ian Lunt
The member choosing this gorgeous article, which compares old printed field guides with their new digital counterparts, loved its tone and language. She shared a couple of quotes, including this one on how printed field guides (unlike digital ones with their audio features) must use words to describe bird calls:

With a budget for paint – one illustration per species – but none for sound, cheerful ornithologists turned to onomatopoeia: ‘Pee-pee-pee-peeooo, Wee-willy-weet-weet, It-wooa-weet-sip, Zzzt zzzt zzzt. Cher-cher-cherry-cherry, Wah-i-wah-i-wah-oo, Twitchy tweedle, Kupa-ko-ko, Lik-lik-lik’. Less cheerful colleagues followed suit: ‘Chop-chop, Four o’clock, Wide-a-wake, Walk to work. Want a whip? It’s for teacher. Tweet-your-juice, Sweet pretty creature’. (All real calls, I assure you.)

All dressed up for Mars and nowhere to go, by Elmo Keep AND Messages from Mungo, by John Pickerel
The member nominating these liked the jump from exploration in the future to research into Australia's deep past. She liked the way the Lake Mungo "story" was written,  and quoted from its last paragraph:

'Aboriginal people have an intense commitment to country even today. Europeans have lost that connection. Country to us is something you dig up and export to China', Jim says.

How I rescued my brain, by David Roland
Not surprisingly, one of our medical members picked one of the medical articles, this one about a man retraining his brain after suffering a stroke. She enjoyed thinking about it from a medical point of view. She liked that by telling it first person, the author took us on his journey with him. We all liked how this one provided a wonderful practical example of reports we've been hearing about plasticity of the brain. It also led to a discussion about ageing, memory and keeping our brains active! (You can tell we are all of a certain age!).

She shared an example of the writing:

As he talks, his words appear in my mind slowly. They often disappear before I can get hold of them, as if they are in line, each being jostled along by the next.

Aliens versus predators: The toxic toad invasion, by Michael Slezak
The member chose this one because it counteracts what we have been told about the devastating effects of the cane toad invasion. She shared this quote:

The toads are spreading further and faster than anyone expected, and they do have a devastating impact when they first arrive in a region. But most animals are adapting to their presence surprisingly quickly, and some even benefit. 

‘If you’re a frog, the toad is your superhero,’ says Shine. ‘You’ve got its picture up on the wall. This guy is coming in, he looks like a frog and is killing everything that attacks frogs. If you’re a green tree frog, what more could you hope for in life?’

[...] 

 ‘I’ve gone to thinking it’s a good-news story about the resilience of ecosystem.

The past may not make you feel better, by Christine Kenneally
The member who chose Kenneally's article about Huntington's chorea and genetic counselling was fascinated by the fact that the gene can be found way back in time in the slime mould. She felt that the gene must have (had) some benefits to have survived through evolution to humans. We discussed how research into DNA sequencing opens up our understanding of genes. We also discussed the ethics of DNA testing services, and how some people, who are at a risk of carrying or suffering from genetic conditions, choose not to be tested. It can be tricky to know what to do with information about health.

(Kenneally won the Stella Prize in 2015 for her book The invisible history of the human race).

Other articles named in the second round free-for-all:

• Honest placebos, by Jane McCredie: we loved the word nocebo.
• How dust affects climate, health and … everything, by Tim Low: we were fascinated by how far in place and time dust can extend and the information it therefore provides.
• All dressed up for Mars and nowhere to go, by Elmo Keep: the idea of choosing to buy a one-way ticket to Mars to be part of experimental community sounded a bit "whacky" until someone suggested that this could be our equivalent of those 16th century seafaring explorers who set off not knowing what they would find, where they would end up, and whether they would come back.
• The women who fell through the cracks of the Universe, by Lauren Fuge: of course, we liked the story of the unsung late 19th to early 20th century women astronomers of "Pickering's harem".

All in all, a very engaged discussion that didn't let up until we absolutely had to ... 

Charlotte Wood's The natural way of things

When our group met this month to discuss Charlotte Wood's Stella Prize winning novel The natural way of things, it was a case of the realists facing off against the willing suspenders of disbelief, with a couple of fence-sitters in between - and ne'er the twain did meet. It all made, however, for a lively, but always respectful, discussion!

The realists couldn't work out why the ten women hadn't ganged up to overpower their two guards, why they didn't work out they could dig their way out under the electric fence. The women were twits, one said. They should have fought back. She also felt the rabbit trapping was far more successful than you'd expect and that the book had the longest mushroom season ever! It just wasn't plausible. The willing suspenders, on the other hand, talked more about about the book in terms of metaphor, allegory and parable, though they didn't all agree on which of these the book represents, if any! Some also felt that Wood, in the opening scenes, showed the disempowering of the women, explaining why they didn't fight back.

One issue we grappled with was some vagueness in the plot. It's the story of 10 women plucked ("foolishly lured and tricked") from their normal lives and transported to a nightmarish place in the outback where they are imprisoned behind an electric fence and controlled, labour-camp style, by two boorish men, bruiser Boncer and the preening Teddy. We are not given the full background but it's clear that the women are being scapegoated for their sexuality. Some had been raped or assaulted while for others the sex had been consensual (think affair with a politician or the flight attendant in a “mile-high” situation). In all cases, though, the women are being punished to protect the man/men. As time passes, and as circumstances at the facility change, the women move from disbelief and anger, through resignation, to a sort of acceptance and an attempt to make the best of their situation.

Some members struggled with the story, with its darkness and/or with the lack of full disclosure about parts of the plot. How did the women let themselves be taken there? Who had taken them? Who were Boncer and Teddy waiting for? One member particularly hates women being presented as victims, which resulted in her disliking the book. She was frustrated by their impotence. Most of those who liked the novel, agreed that they initially felt a little uncertain, for various reasons, but on reflection found the journey worthwhile, seeing it as a provocative, absorbing story about women and power, sexuality, femininity and femaleness.

Dystopia 

Is The natural way of things a dystopian novel, like, say, Margaret Atwood's The handmaid's tale? Not all were comfortable with this idea, feeling it was too near, too real, "not that much removed from our reality", to be a true dystopia. Others felt dystopia simply means a world characterised by all that is bad or negative, and that this book satisfies that.

But what are Wood's targets? In some dystopian novels, they are clear - climate change, totalitarian regimes, for example - but it's more nebulous here. The novel was inspired by the idea that women are still being abused and scapegoated, but Wood's focus is not the trauma they experience, but in the way "femaleness" and "womanhood" is (mis)constructed in our society.  Complicating our pinpointing of targets is that partway through we realise that guards/gaolers Boncer and Teddy are also victims: this is not a simple gender dichotomy story. It's more complex, about current social system/mores that allow powerful people (more often men) to control and manipulate the less powerful (more often women).

And what about that ending? Did it offer any hope? Some of us thought Yolanda's action at the end showing her rejection of society's power plays, and Verla's finally relinquishing her long-held beliefs and attitudes about her feminine powers, contained hope.

And two words force their way through everything in Verla, pushing through all these months, through failure and fear and degradation, fighting through this last defeat. They thrust up through Verla's centre, bursting into flower in her mouth. Two words: I refuse.

But others just hated that designer handbag scene, and the way the other women leapt unthinkingly into what they wanted to see/believe.

Characters 

The book has a lot characters, and we don't get to properly know them all. However, we liked getting to know the two 19-year-olds, Yolanda (rabbiter) and Verla (mushroom gatherer), and were able to feel sympathy for them. In becoming the hunter, Yolanda took back some power for herself, a member suggested, making this book a metaphorical story of power, rather than a psychologically-focused story.

We did think, though, that, psychologically, Hetty represents abused person's behaviour. We wondered about the grotesque doll the women make for her. What does its grotesqueness mean? That what she was doing represented a perverted sort of nurturing?

Landscape and nature 

Landscape description and nature imagery feature throughout in the novel. One member shared a 2010 interview with Wood in which she commented on her frequent reference to birds, saying they represent flight, escape, freedom - as they do here too:

Outside the cockatoos are starting up for the evening. Boncer sits, staring at Yolanda, running there leash slowly through his hands.

However, in this novel there are also hawks and crows, suggesting "prey" and "death", which is also relevant here.

Verla keeps seeing a white horse, which is her personal escape image, perhaps referencing the idea of a "knight on a white charger" as she believed her "cabinet minister" would save her.

Another member suggested that Yolanda's gradual reliance on and ultimate "return" to nature might be Wood suggesting that human survival is closely tied to a positive relationship with landscape and nature.

So, what is the "natural" way of things? There's irony in the title's suggestion that women "somehow, through the natural way of things, did it to themselves", that they lured abandonment, abduction, mistreatment. Natural? No way!

William Thackeray's The memoirs of Barry Lyndon

Prepared by Sue B.

Our classic novel this year was The Memoirs of Barry Lyndon by William Makepeace Thackeray. A select group of four of us gathered on a winter’s night to discuss it. Our responses to it varied considerably. A couple found it a tedious read, particularly the period in Europe with his uncle, but they were glad they'd read it,  One noting that it showed how literature has moved on. Another enjoyed it as a rollicking romp and yet another enjoyed the recreation of the period and sense of an era conveyed. 

Historical details mentioned included the hair treatments such as pomander. The book was set at the time of the Seven Years War in Europe in the 1760s, but Thackeray actually wrote it about 80 years later in 1844, so it was an historical novel. One member suggested that the novel also describes the transition from the times when the aristocracy was in control to the rise of the bourgeoisie.

It was originally written as a serial so we discussed the effect this had on the style and structure of the finished book and thought this might account for some of the repetition, and thus the tediousness.

The book’s “hero” Barry Lyndon himself is the narrator and we noticed that Thackeray left us in no doubt that he was a very unreliable narrator, reminding us of this at least 3 times in footnotes. Despite his strong sense of his own "honourability", Barry is a real anti-hero, a scoundrel - even a sociopath. We compared him with the hero of the ABC TV series Rake who we thought was a much more lovable rogue, and with another Thackeray anti-hero, Becky Sharp of Vanity Fair. We wondered to what extent our opinion of him was coloured by changing social mores. For example the blurb on a 1970s edition of the book listed his offences. Missing was any mention of the blatant wife and child abuse which is so much more on our radar and so much less forgivable these days. 

We thought that Thackeray was satirising the romantic novels so popular at the time and even the clichéd idea of a gentleman exemplified by the novels of Sir Walter Scott for example. Barry Lyndon says of his wife: “Novel reading and vanity had turned her brain” and in a long footnote towards the end of the book Thackeray says

Do not as many rogues succeed in life as honest men? more fools than men of talent? And is it not just that the lives of this class should be described by the student of human nature as well as the actions of those fairy-tale princes, those perfect impossible heroes whom our writers love to describe? 

One of us noted that the character of Barry Lyndon was inspired by real people, including Andrew Robertson Stoney-Bowes who married the Countess of Strathmore. Another found the first line memorable: “Since the days of Adam, there has been hardly a mischief done in this world but a woman has been at the bottom of it” – which of course says more about our hero than any of the women in his story! Barry Lyndon was, as one member said, a great self-justifier. We wondered to what extent Barry Lyndon was actually in control of his own future, and whether he was addicted to gambling – which was effectively his profession.

Finally, we couldn’t help talking about the 1970s movie starring Ryan O’Neal. We remembered it mainly just as being gorgeously filmed and with a beautiful soundtrack of contemporary music.

Golden Boys by Sonya Hartnett

This month everyone enjoyed the designated book, Sonya Hartnett's Golden boys. We all felt it was a good read and cleverly written. We also really liked the way the author revealed little bits of the story, giving clues but not being explicit.  It is plotted carefully and evokes a 12 year old sensibility extremely well.     

The story centres on a group of children during an Australian summer and their relationships with adults. Its starting point is the arrival of a well-to-do family, with two young sons, in a working class suburb.

The location is left up to the reader’s imagination. We thought it could be Perth or Adelaide or even North Melbourne. But it is definitely sunny and warm in this poor ‘outer’ suburb in the late 1970s or early 1980s. There are no mobile phones mentioned in the life of the boys and they are allowed to roam freely all day, just so long as they are home for tea at night. Money is an issue for many of the children and the author highlights the comparison of the two families – the middle class dentist and all the toys versus the poorer, working class family of six.

We talked about Rex Jenson, the ‘predatory’ dentist who recently moved to the neighbourhood with his 2 children and wife Tabby. He has an ability to groom young boys but he has obviously blotted his copybook as the story begins with the family moving from their richer suburb to this poorer district, where he would not be known. Rex is intimidating but the boys think they can manage his behaviour.  His son Colt is ashamed of him and can barely suffer him. Whereas Freya likes Rex because he is quite caring in his behaviour towards her and she believes he can assist her family.  This lead to a discussion of the 2 wives and their traditional roles. Tabby, the richer wife is ashamed of her husband Rex but totally under his control and in financial dependence. Tabby doesn’t discuss the situation with her 2 boys and Colt the elder boy doesn’t have confidence to talk to her.  Elizabeth, mother of 6 is a woman who is subject to physical violence from her husband Joe. She is seen through her daughter, Freya’s eyes and is perceived as not loving her husband. Joe, is so frustrated with his life, he doesn’t know how to control himself or fix the situation. The children translate this domestic violence to being the family secret. So both families have secrets which are terrible and worth discussing in literature.

Sonya Hartnett is known as a writer of young adult books so we posed the question whether this book is for adults or teenagers. Why do people write with a child’s voice?  Time of adolescence is a period when children are just beginning to understand the world around them but there is the disconnect with their daily activities and they can’t fully understand things. They often take so much personally at this time rather than seeing the big picture. 

Hartnett sets up the comparison of the older children who are quite street wise  and sophisticated in their thinking versus the younger ones who are considered naïve. One of our members thought the thinking was more sophisticated than she remembers it in her youth. It has touches of humour too when for instance we hear that Syd thinks about being a gangster when he grows up. He and Bastian in particular are still wanting stuff and delight in playing with all the toys and enjoying the swimming pool.  Hartnett is very clever at using this range of voices to tell the story.

The scene of domestic violence against Elizabeth and Joe’s dissipated actions with his family are difficult. The scene is written from the children’s viewpoint otherwise it would have been much more explicit. 

This is a current topic many children are experiencing and Freya and her brothers have to keep this knowledge to themselves. Freya and Declan wonder what choices their mother has and what would they do. All the children have to work out how to navigate life with their secrets intact, not just the dysfunctional families of these two dads. Many of the other children have secrets too. The local bully has one – his childish adoration of Colt and there is the street urchin, Avery, who lives a very hard life and is the first child manhandled by Rex. However Rex cares for Avery’s leg but there is a fine line drawn there between caring and more explicit sexual overtones. The tension is superbly written.

The two older boys feel they have to atone for sins committed by others, so Colt takes the hit for his dad and is seriously hurt by Garrick and Declan suffers in order to save Avery from more trouble from Garrick.  Declan feels particularly responsible for the younger boy as he does for his brother Syd. No adult seems to care for Avery and the older boys realise this. They also realise that their parents and other adults can be idiots and are flawed or have feet of clay. It made us readers feel that children can handle more and understand more than we often recognise.

The large drain near their homes is often a tension point too but does not cause the problems it could or we may have envisioned.

The scene of Joe and Rex going head to head is the climatic scene in the novel. Some of us felt that Joe seemed more real than Rex. It is the middle class versus the working class.

One of the morals of the story seems to be to empower children and don’t make them afraid or walking scared through life. 

Victoria Flanagan in the Sydney Review of Books (10/10/14) sums it up well by saying that Hartnett’s 

novels are preoccupied with adolescence and offer her readers (children and adults) an insightful portrayal of how the process of coming of age has both personal and cultural significance.

--
Posted By Sylvia to  Minerva Reads on 6/07/2016 09:24:00 am

Chinua Achebe, Things fall apart

For the third year in a row, we decided to schedule one book from ABC Radio National's monthly bookclub. In 2014, we discussed Simone de Beauvoir's Memoirs of a dutiful daughter from their European Classics bookclub, and last year it was Hanif Kureishi's The buddha of suburbia from their Subcontinent Classics selection. This year, their theme is African Classics and we chose Chinua Achebe's 1958 Things fall apart. Some had read it before, some had been wanting to read it for a long time, and others had never heard of it, but for all eight present it was a universally popular choice.

Achebe and the book

We talked a little about Achebe's origins, that he was an Igbo who grew up in a cultural "crossroads": his father had joined the missionaries and accepted their education, while his great uncle rejected the missionaries. Growing up, Achebe moved between the two groups, but ultimately he was educated and became one of the modern, progressive young men of his time.

He wrote Things fall apart, partly at least, to present African life and experience from an African rather than a European perspective (such as Joseph Conrad's Heart of darkness). Achebe has said that he saw writing his novel as a "revolution" which could help his society recover from its sense of "denigration". He wrote the book in English, which was a controversial choice, and we briefly discussed the pros and cons. By writing in English, we thought, he appealed to a wider readership and perhaps to those he most wanted to reach, but not writing it in his own language could be seen to contribute to the debasement of his own culture.

We commented that while we hadn't read many African books, we had read Ben Okri's The famished road, and Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie's Half of a yellow sun. Adichie, like Achebe, is from the Igbo people of southeastern Nigeria, while Ben Okri is Urhobo (though his mother was half-Igbo).

Our discussion

We all agreed that Achebe presents an interesting story of people's lives in an African (southeast Nigerian) village - a fascinating window into a world that's gone - but that it was clear that something else was going on underneath. We loved the small details about life in the village, such as the protagonist Okonkwo's compound and his three wives, each in their huts telling their stories to their children.

First edition, Heinemann

The plot is a fairly simple one: it tells the story of Okonkwo. Born to an "ill-fated" man, a "lazy and improvident" man, he had decided that he would not be like his father. He becomes a powerful and respected "warrior" in his community, one known to be hardworking but who could also be cruel to his family or to anyone who showed weakness. He is determined to be a "man", to never show a "female" side. Male-female dichotomies are an underlying thread in the novel. When things start to go wrong for him, his response is always an aggressive one: if you aren't stepping forward, you are a "woman". This inflexibility, his unwillingness to waver from his tough-minded course, results in his downfall. He could be seen, we thought, as a classic tragic hero, as the man who could have been great but for a tragic flaw. His tragedy could be seen to mirror the wider tragedy for African society/culture.

We discussed village life and customs, their gods, their food, and their cultural practices, some of which seemed cruel to our eyes (such as the abandonment of twins, the killing of an innocent person - here, Ikemefuna - as retribution for the sins of others). We noted that not all Igbo villages had the same practices, and that those in the village in which the novel is set, Umuofia, know this. However, it is each village's conventions, beliefs and practices that provide the glue that keeps them together and successful as a community.

We liked the rounded or realistic picture Achebe paints. Okonkwo is presented as the true "conservative", the person who accepts his people's traditions and is not prepared to think about or question them. He regularly ignores the advice of others, is described as “not a man of thought but of action”. However, his good friend Obeirika is more thoughtful. He generally accepts the traditions, but not without some thought and willingness to question them. He is not afraid to show a softer side. Achebe writes after one calamity befalls Okonkwo:

Obierika was a man who thought about things. When the will of the goddess had been done, he sat down in his obi and mourned his friend’s calamity. Why should a man suffer so grievously for an offence he had committed inadvertently? But although he thought for a long time he found no answer. He was merely led into greater complexities. He remembered his wife’s twin children, whom he had thrown away. What crime had they committed? 

This brought us to the issue of the missionaries. How wrong were they we considered? Wasn't it reasonable to disapprove practices like abandoning twins or killing in retribution, was it wrong that they welcomed the clan's outcasts? We noted that, just as in Umuofian society where we see the contrasting behaviours and attitudes of Okonkwo and Obierika, there are different behaviours and attitudes among the missionaries and other white people. Mr Brown, for example, had an open, co-operative approach while his successor, Mr Smith, took a hard approach. Achebe writes:

Mr Brown’s successor was the Reverend James Smith, and he was a different kind of man. He condemned openly Mr Brown’s policy of compromise and accommodation. He saw things as black and white. And black was evil. He saw the world as a battlefield in which the children of light were locked in mortal conflict with the sons of darkness.  

So, Achebe, in this book, is not uncritical of either side of the colonial equation, but we agreed that his final point in the novel makes clear his attitude to the colonial mindset. The title of the District Commissioner's planned book "The Pacification of the Primitive Tribes of the Lower Niger" euphemistically describes the colonials' mostly violent/aggressive subjugation of African people as "pacification", and demonstrates an arrogant assumption that a society not like their own is "primitive”.

We discussed the language a little too. We enjoyed the proverbs, the imagery, and the folk tales such as the one about the selfish tortoise.

Questions

A member shared some questions from the reading group guide at the back of her e-book. One asked about fate versus personal agency. We didn't discuss this at depth but felt that while Okonkwo started by believing he was in control of his life, that he could make himself a great man unlike his father, by the end he was feeling dogged by bad "chi". He ended up without a proper burial, just like his father.

Another question related to the novel's circularity. Most of us hadn't seen it that way, though we agreed that Okonkwo ending up without a proper burial just like his father could be seen as circular. We also discussed the linear aspect to the narrative, the building of calamities and events, and the use of parallels, such as rigid, conservative Okonkwo versus the thoughtful Obierika parallelling the black and white Reverend Smith versus the conciliatory Mr Brown.

In certain circles by Elizabeth Harrower

This month a small group discussed Elizabeth Harrower's In certain circles set in the 1960s/early 70s.  We all enjoyed it although there were one or two issues, especially with the ending that some of us found baffling.

It is an interesting story of how a book written in the 1950s/60s was not published until 2014.  This is the last novel written by Elizabeth Harrower.  You can read more about it in this Guardian review.

In the beginning a few members talked about Harrower’s better known novel called The watch tower.  It has a ‘harrowing’ intensity and members thought there was a similar feeling in In certain circles. The tone also has similarities with Anita Brookner's work possibly.   

One member read the novel as a three-part movement  -- like music -- introduction/story/climax.  The main character is set up for a fall in the first movement. Zoe is a confident young ‘princess’ when the novel begins but through the story, which tells her life from her teenage years through to about 40, she changes in many ways. Her experiences and knowledge of others and her husband’s personality see to it.  There is a highlighting of this knowledge that is to come to Zoe on page 44:

suffering, endurance, were things Zoe herself knew nothing about, except through art …

There were many strong and well written aspects of this book  –  the author’s style, strong characters and her understanding of human nature. We liked the way Harrower describes the relationships between the two sets of siblings – Russell and Zoe, and Anna and Stephen, as young people. Then their relationships when older when they are husband and wife (Zoe and Stephen) and friends, Russell and Anna. 

The character of Stephen was discussed at length. He is a difficult person but he doesn’t realise how much until the ending. We know a lot about Stephen as he is the subject of both Zoe’s and Anna’s thinking.  Zoe and Anna are very human and vulnerable in this stylized version of Sydney in the period. Russell is defined by Zoe and by his wife Lily. He is a man who wants to see social justice for the less well off. We all appreciated Zoe and Russell’s mother – she is good role model for her daughter especially believing that women can do anything. She is emancipated in work but we didn’t think she was socially or domestically – still waiting on the boys in the family even when she knew she wasn’t well.

The ending was the major flaw in the novel most of us thought. A letter written by Anna and later accidentally posted causes havoc unnecessarily and resolves a few issues just a little too easily. When the letter is received by Zoe, immediate angst is felt by the other characters (page 212). We felt it was ‘Hardyesque’ in this twist to the story.  Is this novel really about internal angst? Is it tragic? We didn’t have any answers to these questions.

It is interesting the way each major character has a separate focus – Zoe on Stephen (or herself when young), Anna on Stephen and later her art, Russell on humankind and Lily on her family. Stephen’s focus is on making enough money to support Zoe in the manner to which she was accustomed. (I think he was so damaged by his early life that he can’t think outside that box.)

A major theme is ‘waste’ – as in life or opportunities -- it is often mentioned and bothers the main characters. We are told this when the young Russell and Zoe are spending time with each other – ‘maybe one day people won’t be wasted; talents won’t be wasted’ (page 26).  This is particularly true of Zoe’s wasted life in Stephen’s opinion but in her own opinion as well – her film career was not regarded highly by her husband and he is either jealous of her life in Paris or dismisses it.  By the conclusion, Zoe loses confidence in herself to the extent that she can’t even read Stephen’s moods at times. This tone seems quite dated in today’s society’s mores.

Waste can also be a subject of life in general – ‘the morning hadn’t been wasted, she reflected’  (page 33).

Their occupations take up considerable space in this novel although they all happen ‘offstage’ so there is Anna’s pottery, Lily’s science career, Zoe’s photography and film making which we only hear about indirectly.  Also there is Russell and Stephen’s publishing company (apparently complementing each other nicely in talents for separate parts of the role). As a young man Stephen was a salesman and Anna worked in an office. Zoe couldn’t understand either of these roles for her friends. 

Pity is strong emotion often mentioned in this book. There is pity by the rich kids for Anna and Stephen especially in the beginning of the story but it is also felt by Russell and Zoe’s parents for the orphans. Russell feels pity for people: ‘What have you got against it ?’ he says to Anna, who can’t stand being pitied (p. 132). Russell has never had to be a receiver of pity apparently so can’t understand her reservations.  Their relationship and Russell’s relationship with his wife Lily complicates the intrigue. The final resolution of Russell going off with Anna after a life with Lily certainly surprised most readers. It was a chance of happiness for these two.

The cover of the Text publishing volume quotes from a New York review saying witty, desolate, truth seeking’ – we don’t think it was very witty but we can see some ‘desolation’ in the setting.  When this novel was written Australia was still an isolated place in the world so the story revolves around the interior space of the characters rather than the exterior. However Harrower does portray Sydney Harbour well – and the two houses on the beautiful beach. It is significant that Zoe goes overseas when young as most rich young Australians did in those days to acquire experience. She obtained this opportunity through friends. (See page 59). 

Many of us decided that this author was well worth reading – and we would like to read her short stories and The watch tower.  Elizabeth Harrower is still alive at 88.

(References to the Text publication 2014).