don't let the barstools get you down: a farewell

Friends, I've neglected this blog so successfully for a long time. So I'm cutting it free officially at long last. Thank you for reading all my waffle since August 2009.

Since I first posted I've been a bookseller, a nanny, a student, a book reviewer, a publishing assistant, a junior editor, a bookseller, an editor, a bookseller, a production editor and a bookseller some more. And a writer.

I began with my current bests. I shall close with them too.

favourite coffee: Wide Open Road's Bathysphere coffee, but I love it best when served at Heartattack and Vine because it's the most wonderful cafe/bar/my future home.

favourite book: currently this prize goes to Dragonfly Song by Wendy Orr, which is beautiful and lyrical historical fiction set in the bronze age; Doodle Cat is Bored by Kat Patrick and Lauren Marriott, a hilariously funny picture book that espouses the benefits of boredom for children's imaginations; and Jaclyn Moriarty's story 'Competition Entry #349' from Begin, End, Begin: A #LoveOzYA Anthology by Danielle Binks (ed), which is thoroughly original and hysterical and tender.

And I'll add my current favourite news:

My debut YA novel, Untidy Towns, will be published by the University of Queensland Press in October this year. Because apparently, sometimes (if you're lucky) you get everything you ever wanted.

I ran away on a Tuesday afternoon in late March. Six pm and I was headed south-west in a train that smelled stale.

Seventeen-year-old Adelaide is sick of being expected to succeed on other people’s terms. She’s made a new plan: drop out of her fancy boarding school to read and dream. She just needs to stick it out at home for one more year and then she’ll be free.

But before she can work out her next move, Addie’s grandad offers her a job at the local historical society. It’s dusty and messy, like her hometown, like her new life. Then she accidentally kisses Jarrod, the boy who spends his days getting into trouble. But he’s as stuck as she is and Addie starts to wonder that maybe when you really want something in life, you’ve actually got to do something about it.

A heartfelt story about love, friendship and untidy towns.

Please come to the launch party at The Sun Bookshop in Yarraville on Saturday 7 October. (date TBC)

I'll be loitering on the internet at various places...
web: kateodonnell.com.au
twitters: @readingkate
insta: @readingkate

GOODBYE I LOVE YOU KEEP READING

50 years ago I bought you some cufflinks...

It was nineteen ninety something and I was probably fifteen or sixteen. My family went to Byron Bay, in the car. It was hot and we ate sugar cane bought from the side of the road. We alternated between Triple J and 774. Our parents played their tapes: The Travelling Wilburys, Cat Stevens ... and Joan Baez's Diamonds and Rust album. It's the soundtrack to that holiday; I played it on repeat - kids, what I mean is I just kept turning the cassette around over and over again.

I fell for her voice (though sometimes giggle at its rawther dramatic vibrato) and her look, her activism, her passion ... and her proximity to his bobness ... And now I'm seeing her live in concert! This Friday - tonight, now! More a singer than a really beautiful lyricist, but I do still absolutely adore this song in particular:

Diamonds and Rust

Well I'll be damned

Here comes your ghost again
But that's not unusual
It's just that the moon is full
And you happened to call

And here I sit, hand on the telephone
Hearing a voice I'd known
A couple of light years ago
Heading straight for a fall

As I remember your eyes
Were bluer than robin's eggs
"My poetry was lousy", you said
Where are you calling from?
A booth in the Midwest

Ten years ago
I bought you some cuff links
You brought me something
And we both know what memories can bring
They bring diamonds and rust

You burst on the scene
Already a legend
The unwashed phenomenon
The original vagabond
You strayed into my arms

And there you stayed
Temporarily lost at sea
The Madonna was yours for free
Yes the girl on the half-shell
Would keep you unharmed

Now I see you standing
With brown leaves falling all around
And snow in your hair
Now you're smiling out the window
Of that crummy hotel over Washington Square

Our breath comes out white clouds
Mingles and hangs in the air
Speaking strictly for me
We both could have died then and there

Now you're telling me
You're not nostalgic
Then give me another word for it
You, who are so good with words
And at keeping things vague

'Cause I need some of that vagueness now
It's all come back too clearly
I once loved you dearly
And if you're offering me diamonds and rust
Well, I've already paid

O that unwashed phenomenon, so good with words & keeping things vague...

the halfway mark

Happy June.

For some reason, this year has set out to be a bumper year for change. Most remarkably, the crick-crack-rock-chick best friend made a (small) human. My writer's group is exploding with talent and releasing books willy-nilly, getting amazing opportunities and generally being wonderful people ... as well as making small humans in their spare time or threatening to abscond to Malaysia and/or Spain. I'm writing a bit, and had a birthday. Work's exciting. There's great coffee, and even better books.

Just a few scenes from my world lately:

Bespoke birthday card. Literaryily funny.

Morning coffee.

EllaPants.

Celebrating Anna Cowan's UNTAMED. Out now!

First glimpse of Nelika's THE VALE GIRL,
out in September! The real cover is lovely.

A wee honorary nephew; here, just twelve hours old.

Friends who work in bread are good friends indeed.

The Sun Bookshop peeps always bring the wine.

The Merri Creek putting on its autumn frock.

Feeling quite pleased with this year. Keep it up, 2013.

shelfspy #1

The girl formerly known as The Intern - the real actual Hilary - posted a picture of her bookshelf today. She stopped herself from editing the shelf for her audience, showed it in its real state. It's a funny thing to be intrigued by, in some ways, but it's really fascinating to have a peek at someone's books, how they're arranged, which books look familiar, which ones don't. She said she would like to see other people's bookshelves...

So here, my little nosey parkers, are mine. I photographed them exactly as they were when I got home this evening, I swear. There are many embarrassing books in here, as well as some ace ones. I haven't read them all.

let the wild rumpus start!

once i won trophies for being good at sport. har har.

includes a 'to do' list. and a 'saving-up-for-paris' tin.

the shelves a 21st present from the grandwrinklies,
made from floorboards of a gold rush era pub.

Compared to Hilary's spartan shelves I feel like a mad crazy subject from the tv show Hoarders. I've been living in my current house for five and a half years, which is the longest I've lived anywhere since I left my childhood home in 2001. For five of those years I worked in a bookshop. This is my excuse.

Also, I am something of a hoarder...

Show us your shelves!

ch-ch-ch-changes

Five years ago I started working at The Sun Bookshop in Yarraville. My heart was grieving for the little town I had just left in France's south west, but the fabulous women (and, later, man) of the Sun took me in and helped me make Melbourne my home once more.



They supported me through the HELLISH HELL that was my Honours year and let me take off ten weeks to go gadding about the world when I felt the urge in 2008 (well, there was a wedding I just HAD to go to, people to travel with and terrible coffee to drink) and then moved things around for me when I decided to go back to study once more. During my years there we opened the Younger Sun and I was allowed to make it my baby - a children's bookshop to play in! What more could a girl ask for?! Well, there were good times and bad.

But they were nearly always the best of times.

With plenty to read, and Saturday dancing.

And people who let me sell them my absolute favourites.

But then late last year I had the enormous good fortune to interview for and then, amazingly, get a job in children's publishing. And it was way too good a chance to pass up. So I packed my little bag, bought the team a new stapler and some teacups, wrote a list of very strict instructions on how to treat my baby (which I hope they just gaily threw out and started doing things their own way) and made my way to Richmond* where I now spend my days with a new amazing bunch of women (and one man) who are 'totes awesome' and awfully good at their jobs. I love it already.

But change isn't easy. I miss my bookshop job. I have to change the way I blog around here. Richmond isn't quite as nice as Yarraville, or at least not as ville-esque. And I still miss that village in France, so I guess it doesn't go away. But I know it's all going to be something like an adventure**!

*technically still Northside. Though its Southside mentality is unnerving.
**apparently I am an eternal optimist. What?? I might not find the next Harry Potter in the slush pile? Phooey!***
***ok, KH. i probably won't...

review : little sister

Little Sister, Aimee Said (Walker Books)

Aimee Said's second book covers a lot of ground - there's the rampant use of social media and how it impacts on your life during high school, there's sibling rivalry, lusting after the hottest guy in school and a kickin' battle of the bands. When the rumour and the secret about Al's perfect, overachieving big sister Larry are revealed, everyone's prejudices come to the surface and tension runs high.

Little Sister is a very engaging story with a plethora of great characters - as well as multiple scenes in a cheese shop that will certainly get you drooling (if cheese be your thing...mmmm...cheese...). At times Al comes across as unsympathetic and a little bit blind to what her actions are doing to her friends, making her sometimes unlikable...but honestly, quite a true depiction of teenage behaviour. As a teenager it often is as though you're the one the world revolves around.* And in the end, you'll find yourself cheering for her.

I am the big sister in my family. The evil sister had a little bit more rage than I did when we were growing up. Perhaps she just has a lot to say. I hope she never felt overshadowed, because I was definitely not an over-achiever. Never have been, never intend to be. Just pleasantly average.


You can come to a Little Sister party this Saturday if you would like to. Information here.
You can read my review of Aimee's first book, Finding Freia Lockhart, here.
*only sometimes, and not everyone. but, on the other hand, often and lots of teens.

homemade coffee

i'm not always out gallivanting in cafes.

sometimes it's nice to just sit around with your grandparents and eat homemade savoury scones right out of the oven and drink cups of delightfully strong homemade coffee, brewed in a fancy modern cafetiere thing and milk heated in a jug in the microwave, and hear all their stories and plans. apparently they're going to vietnam for three weeks. oh to be ninety* and ninety-two, footloose and fancy free!

see evidence of my grandfather's awesomeness here ...and gran's just out on the golf course before heading off to give mama bear some physio. if i have to get old, this is how i want to do it.
*gran, i know you're only eighty-nine, but ninety sounds good for bragging about my grandparents.

synchronised sinking

it's a beautiful day today - t-shirt weather in fact - and i'm listening to the lucksmiths. this song made me think about mimi and the blue slave (recent read) for the nautical theme and also inspired a scene (yes! finally! inspiration!) in the story i'm writing. and by golly do i love the luckies, so any chance to share them.

Synchronised Sinking, The Lucksmiths

You don't need to ask me twice
I'm not averse to giving advice
On a barstool basis
Four o'clock sounds fine to me
I'll meet you at the library
There's privacy in public places
Oh, but, reader, heal thyself
Put the book back on the shelf

Something's obviously wrong
Your face is all day long
It was lovely when you laughed
Come on – please get it off your chest
It's a commonplace but I'd suggest
A problem shared is a problem halved
Kick a stone across the road
Explain or you'll explode

Here we are
Silhouetted in the smoke
From the shipwrecks at the bar
Of the Anchor and Hope
And I haven't seen you smile in quite a while

Why don't you let go of your boy and see
You've lost none of your buoyancy?
So sobersided
Overboard and undecided
Have you come to the conclusion
That you've come to the conclusion?
Have you come to the conclusion
That you've come to the conclusion?

You're unsure
But at least you're thinking
This looks more and more
Like synchronised sinking
And I haven't seen you smile in quite a while
And I haven't seen you anywhere in ages
Knowing how you must be hating this
Going down with the relationship

so if you've never heard this one before, imagine with your ears a quick - almost ferocious - beat, jangly guitar and a melodica. from the album why that doesn't surprise me, available at Polyester Records (and from lots and lots and lots of other places too). this is one of my favourite albums. mama bear sent it to me while i was living in (now what does georgia nicholson call it?) och aye land and it was a lovely slice of home with summery beats and really aussie accents and references to the great dividing range, trams, the rooftops of north carlton and the excellent lyric "i love a sunburnt elbow pointing to the sea" from the year of driving langourously.

review : guitar highway rose

guitar highway rose (allen&unwin), by brigid lowry, was published in 1997.

it is the story of rosie: who lives in perth and is hanging around being fifteen, arguing with her mother, wishing she was older, waiting for her life to begin. it's also the story of asher: a dreadlocked, reluctant byron bay evacuee, come to perth because his parents have separated. theirs is a sweet and quirky friendship and then developing into, possibly, something more. they both love music and secondhand clothes, the ocean and the idea of freedom. asher is unhappy in perth. rosie feels restricted at home. then, when asher is blamed for something he didn't do, the two decide to take a little spontaneous holiday.

i turned fifteen in 1997. guitar highway rose was practically my bible. i read it all the time. i made my friends read it. it got me into allen ginsberg, made me want to run away. it was the reason i bought hippie skirts and bought my doc martens. i wanted to pierce my nose and learn how to play guitar.

reading it again today i wonder if brigid lowry wrote all the little segments at all different times. they appear as lists, or observations on one person or another, or on themself. for example: 'pip and rosie walk to school / monday' and 'what the homeroom teacher said' and 'contents of asher's pockets'. some of them seem like they might have started as exercises in order to develop her characters and setting - what a brilliant idea. lowry has written very, very convincing teenage voices, both rosie and asher. "bloody mother. carrying on and on. silly old bag. wasn't she ever young and fun-loving? anyone would think i'm an axe-murderer or something."

it's only rosie's mum lily who i feel doesn't quite hit the spot for me, her voice coming across as a little bit of a caricature of an overbearing mum. also, the segments in which the characters narrate their thoughts and emotions, and not able to watch and see through a scene, make me feel as though i am being told how to feel.

but, nevertheless it is such a marvellous story, a must-read book. and in spite of a bit of a moral (or compromise) in the end, i think this celebrates a bit of rebellion and adventure, how fifteen is a bitch but it's also exciting and precious and ...i'm so glad i'm not fifteen anymore.