this is what lili wilkinson (practically my idol) had to say about deciding whether someone is old enough to read something. she's put it excellently!
the thinkings of a lili: Are you old enough?#links#links
that said, a librarian gave me sonya hartnett's sleeping dogs to read when i was 12 and i read it through to the end and it disturbed me to no end. i've blocked it out and not read it again since. i think i will get on to that, as i'm assured by friends and critics that she's worth it!
lili's recent book pink was ace and her even newer angel fish equally as ace, though very different. i'll post reviews of both here soon.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
a boat filled with flowers
here's a review i wrote awhile ago for magpies - a fantastic magazine that focuses just on children's and YA books. (http://www.magpies.net.au)
Falling by Sharon Dogar
Sixteen-year-old Neesha has had the same ‘picture’ in her mind her whole life – a man punts a boat filled with flowers and a woman steps off a houseboat into a lake but does not resurface. She knows the pictures will continue to torment her until she can bring them to a conclusion and let the ghosts rest. Falling is a compelling story of old wrongs and forbidden love. Sammy and Neesha, passionately drawn together against the will of their parents, find out whether they are destined to play out what fate has in store for them or if they have the free will to create their own future. The traumatised Kefin is a powerful character; his anger, confusion and misplaced violence make his part in the story frighteningly real. Dogar deftly explores the persisting rifts between the old and the new Britons, especially the teenagers, with characters from both sides of the story. There are a number of flashbacks to colonial era Kashmir, which affect and explain the present-day action. Falling is not an easy book to read; the many different voices were initially confusing. However, it doesn’t take long to fall into place and the plot picks up a great pace and strong readers will appreciate just how well written Falling is. Dogar is a cross between her fellow British writers Meg Rosoff and Kevin Brooks – frightening and disturbing, but ultimately enjoyable and very rewarding.
Falling by Sharon Dogar
Sixteen-year-old Neesha has had the same ‘picture’ in her mind her whole life – a man punts a boat filled with flowers and a woman steps off a houseboat into a lake but does not resurface. She knows the pictures will continue to torment her until she can bring them to a conclusion and let the ghosts rest. Falling is a compelling story of old wrongs and forbidden love. Sammy and Neesha, passionately drawn together against the will of their parents, find out whether they are destined to play out what fate has in store for them or if they have the free will to create their own future. The traumatised Kefin is a powerful character; his anger, confusion and misplaced violence make his part in the story frighteningly real. Dogar deftly explores the persisting rifts between the old and the new Britons, especially the teenagers, with characters from both sides of the story. There are a number of flashbacks to colonial era Kashmir, which affect and explain the present-day action. Falling is not an easy book to read; the many different voices were initially confusing. However, it doesn’t take long to fall into place and the plot picks up a great pace and strong readers will appreciate just how well written Falling is. Dogar is a cross between her fellow British writers Meg Rosoff and Kevin Brooks – frightening and disturbing, but ultimately enjoyable and very rewarding.
Monday, September 7, 2009
wee bit o' ranting never hurt anyone
this is the first blog i've created. i'm still not sure if i'll keep it up. it seems like there are a lot of blogs out there, a lot of people having their say, but how is it possible that there are enough people interested in us? my main problem with blogging is that it's very self-indulgent.
the reason i started bean there, read that is because i love reading and sharing my thoughts on what i've read. but now that i'm here in cyberspace and reading about what other people have to say...wow do people take this seriously. it is more like everyone putting out their reviews in competition with each other and not so much conversation.
i've also noticed that at the moment it seems there is a bit of a book-blogging war going on with young and old bloggers getting angry at other young and old bloggers for hogging too much of the blog limelight and not sharing the love around. don't get me wrong, i want everyone to read my stuff so that one day i get headhunted to be some kind of commissioning editor for a quirky independent publishing house. but ye gads - i'm also going to do some courses and apply for jobs that i don't really want and put in some hard yards in order to get what i want. i can't see that my blog is going to change anything, really.
there is also a lot of talk about reviewing etiquette. basically they say to be honest, polite and reference your sources. when i review for real magazines they say to indicate the book's intended readership, things that are wrong with it, things that are right. it is pretty much what i learned at uni when doing creative writing classes. and constructive criticism. give it, and learn to receive it. i've been known to make my opinion without really thinking about how it might make the author feel - i am often seduced by the anonymity of the internet, and the speed with which you can make a comment and send it out into the great unknown. i'm going to try to mend the error of my ways. maybe.
maybe one day i will post the infamous review i wrote which sparked the most entertaining response from an irate author whose feelings were hurt beyond repair (i fear). at the moment i still feel conflicted - between concern at my lack of diplomacy and my conviction that i was totally on the money.
but back to the important things:
coffees today included: delicious and creamy skinny milk latte from green on sydney road, brunswick and a strong and hits-the-spot soy latte (with bonsoy) from a minor place on albion st, brunswick.
books today: a quick nostalgic flick through nick earls' zigzag street (bantam) and re-read of angel fish by lili wilkinson (for a black dog books review that should have been done last week).
the reason i started bean there, read that is because i love reading and sharing my thoughts on what i've read. but now that i'm here in cyberspace and reading about what other people have to say...wow do people take this seriously. it is more like everyone putting out their reviews in competition with each other and not so much conversation.
i've also noticed that at the moment it seems there is a bit of a book-blogging war going on with young and old bloggers getting angry at other young and old bloggers for hogging too much of the blog limelight and not sharing the love around. don't get me wrong, i want everyone to read my stuff so that one day i get headhunted to be some kind of commissioning editor for a quirky independent publishing house. but ye gads - i'm also going to do some courses and apply for jobs that i don't really want and put in some hard yards in order to get what i want. i can't see that my blog is going to change anything, really.
there is also a lot of talk about reviewing etiquette. basically they say to be honest, polite and reference your sources. when i review for real magazines they say to indicate the book's intended readership, things that are wrong with it, things that are right. it is pretty much what i learned at uni when doing creative writing classes. and constructive criticism. give it, and learn to receive it. i've been known to make my opinion without really thinking about how it might make the author feel - i am often seduced by the anonymity of the internet, and the speed with which you can make a comment and send it out into the great unknown. i'm going to try to mend the error of my ways. maybe.
maybe one day i will post the infamous review i wrote which sparked the most entertaining response from an irate author whose feelings were hurt beyond repair (i fear). at the moment i still feel conflicted - between concern at my lack of diplomacy and my conviction that i was totally on the money.
but back to the important things:
coffees today included: delicious and creamy skinny milk latte from green on sydney road, brunswick and a strong and hits-the-spot soy latte (with bonsoy) from a minor place on albion st, brunswick.
books today: a quick nostalgic flick through nick earls' zigzag street (bantam) and re-read of angel fish by lili wilkinson (for a black dog books review that should have been done last week).
Friday, September 4, 2009
spring
yesterday was so gorgeous and sunny and bright that i'm getting excited about nicer weather. while winter is great for hot chocolates and curling up in your bed to read a book, spring (and summer) are great for being sprawled on the grass (reading a book) and at the beach (reading a book) and being in the beer garden (usually not with a book, but you could definitely do this)
in honour of spring, here is one of my favourite spring poems
here’s to opening and upward, to leaf and to sap
and to your(in my arms flowering so new)
self whose eyes smell of the sound of rain
and here’s to silent certainly mountains;and to
a disappearing poet of always,snow
and to morning;and to morning’s beautiful friend
twilight(and a first dream called ocean)and
let must or if be damned with whomever’s afraid
down with ought with because with every brain
which thinks it thinks,nor dares to feel(but up
with joy;and up with laughing and drunkenness)
here’s to one undiscoverable guess
of whose mad skill each world of blood is made
(whose fatal songs are moving in the moon
ee cummings
in honour of spring, here is one of my favourite spring poems
here’s to opening and upward, to leaf and to sap
and to your(in my arms flowering so new)
self whose eyes smell of the sound of rain
and here’s to silent certainly mountains;and to
a disappearing poet of always,snow
and to morning;and to morning’s beautiful friend
twilight(and a first dream called ocean)and
let must or if be damned with whomever’s afraid
down with ought with because with every brain
which thinks it thinks,nor dares to feel(but up
with joy;and up with laughing and drunkenness)
here’s to one undiscoverable guess
of whose mad skill each world of blood is made
(whose fatal songs are moving in the moon
ee cummings
Thursday, September 3, 2009
first coffee of the day
the first coffee of the day started late today. it was procured from the cornershop cafe in yarraville. $3.90 for a large latte.
their coffees are consistently good quality (and they also make a mean soy with bonsoy) and have the most hilarious and friendly service. it went down a treat (a caffeine withdrawal headache was coming on) and now i want another.
cornershop also do amazing food and being opposite the art deco sun theatre mean that it is the best place to eat before or after a movie. warning - it does get crowded on the weekends.
their coffees are consistently good quality (and they also make a mean soy with bonsoy) and have the most hilarious and friendly service. it went down a treat (a caffeine withdrawal headache was coming on) and now i want another.
cornershop also do amazing food and being opposite the art deco sun theatre mean that it is the best place to eat before or after a movie. warning - it does get crowded on the weekends.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
a couple of old reviews
here are some of my favourite books from the last little while...
Malcolm and Juliet, Bernard Beckett (Text)
Sex Alert! In this hilarious and hyperbolic attempted shag-fest we’re confronted with a motley crew of hormone-charged teens: Malcolm who is making a short film about sex for the inter-school science competition (much to the chagrin of the headmaster) but doesn’t know anything about it, really. Juliet, his best friend, who has a surprising sexual past. Brian, the macho high school hero-slash-bully who is always on the lookout for sex. Kevin, who only has eyes for Brian. And Charlotte, who wants to meet someone lovely. This one doesn't hold back from the nastier sides of sex and love, but it makes you laugh and cringe all the while. Top Read!
The Composer is Dead, Lemony Snicket (Harper Collins)
Book o’ th’ year! I love it! A composer has been murdered overnight. A delightful Poirot-esque inspector must uncover just who has killed the composer. He interviews the violins ("The violin section is divided into the First Violins, who have the trickier parts to play, and the Second Violins, who are more fun at parties."), the violas, the cello and bass...the flutes, the reed instruments, the brass...and on and on. They all have excellent alibis – performing all-night waltzes, feeling sorry for themselves (the violas, who "play the notes in the chords that nobody cares about."), to calm drinks of warm milk with their landlady the harp (this was the tuba, a confirmed bachelor). The percussion section "was beat - too exhausted to commit murder." Perhaps it was the...conductor?!
The Museum of Mary Child, Cassandra Golds (Puffin)
Quite a scary read for the tweens. Fairly literary and magical, this is the story of Heloise who was brought up by her godmother to believe that happiness is a waste of time and that love should not exist. They live next door to the mysterious Museum of Mary Child, into which visitors go looking interested and happy, yet exit sober and almost frightened. Heloise, who has always wanted a doll but never been allowed, finds one under the floorboards in her room – and it is though Maria (as she names the doll) has been calling to her, helping to be found. There’s also the young man locked up in prison his whole life and the caged birds of the town who escape at night to fly around helping people like Heloise. Brilliant twist at the end.
When the Hipchicks went to War, Pamela Rushby (Lothian)
The Hipchicks are the headstrong and adventurous Kathy, voice-of-an-angel Gaynor and the ultra-grown up (ie. she is belted by her live-in boyfriend and just lives with it) Layla. Young teenage go-go dancers who, in the middle of the war, head to Vietnam in their knee high boots to entertain the troops. Kathy, our narrator, is ostracised by her folk-group friends who think she’s supporting the war by going on tour, but is determined to go anyway. Her brother and protector has been drafted into the army and is on his way over too. This book is a moving and entertaining read, no real prior knowledge of the Vietnam War required and it’s great to hear about the role of women (we also come across some nurses).
The Robot and the Bluebird, David Lucas (Andersen Press)
The Robot’s heart (a clock!) has broken, so he’s thrown onto the scrapheap to rust away for the rest of his life. Then a tired little Bluebird comes along who is too weak to fly south for the winter. The Robot tells the Bluebird to make a home in the space where his heart had been...then he finds that it is as though his heart is beating! and singing! Oh so beautiful and bittersweet. A little friend of mine continually asks me to read this book but i have to tell him "It makes Kate O'D cry." "Why?" he asks. I can't explain it to him, but they are the same tears that prick when I read Wilfred Gordon MacDonald Partridge by Mem Fox and Julie Vivas.
Dimity Dumpty, Bob Graham (Walker)
I cannot get enough of Bob Graham, so perhaps I’m biased here. Dimity Dumpty is the story of Humpty Dumpty’s little sister. While Humpty and his parents are performing in the circus tent, Dimity finds a quiet place to play her flute. But when her brother has an accident (falls off the wall while spray-painting his tag) Dimity shows her strength and courage. I especially liked their egg-box caravan pulled by a chook.
Malcolm and Juliet, Bernard Beckett (Text)
Sex Alert! In this hilarious and hyperbolic attempted shag-fest we’re confronted with a motley crew of hormone-charged teens: Malcolm who is making a short film about sex for the inter-school science competition (much to the chagrin of the headmaster) but doesn’t know anything about it, really. Juliet, his best friend, who has a surprising sexual past. Brian, the macho high school hero-slash-bully who is always on the lookout for sex. Kevin, who only has eyes for Brian. And Charlotte, who wants to meet someone lovely. This one doesn't hold back from the nastier sides of sex and love, but it makes you laugh and cringe all the while. Top Read!
The Composer is Dead, Lemony Snicket (Harper Collins)
Book o’ th’ year! I love it! A composer has been murdered overnight. A delightful Poirot-esque inspector must uncover just who has killed the composer. He interviews the violins ("The violin section is divided into the First Violins, who have the trickier parts to play, and the Second Violins, who are more fun at parties."), the violas, the cello and bass...the flutes, the reed instruments, the brass...and on and on. They all have excellent alibis – performing all-night waltzes, feeling sorry for themselves (the violas, who "play the notes in the chords that nobody cares about."), to calm drinks of warm milk with their landlady the harp (this was the tuba, a confirmed bachelor). The percussion section "was beat - too exhausted to commit murder." Perhaps it was the...conductor?!
The Museum of Mary Child, Cassandra Golds (Puffin)
Quite a scary read for the tweens. Fairly literary and magical, this is the story of Heloise who was brought up by her godmother to believe that happiness is a waste of time and that love should not exist. They live next door to the mysterious Museum of Mary Child, into which visitors go looking interested and happy, yet exit sober and almost frightened. Heloise, who has always wanted a doll but never been allowed, finds one under the floorboards in her room – and it is though Maria (as she names the doll) has been calling to her, helping to be found. There’s also the young man locked up in prison his whole life and the caged birds of the town who escape at night to fly around helping people like Heloise. Brilliant twist at the end.
When the Hipchicks went to War, Pamela Rushby (Lothian)
The Hipchicks are the headstrong and adventurous Kathy, voice-of-an-angel Gaynor and the ultra-grown up (ie. she is belted by her live-in boyfriend and just lives with it) Layla. Young teenage go-go dancers who, in the middle of the war, head to Vietnam in their knee high boots to entertain the troops. Kathy, our narrator, is ostracised by her folk-group friends who think she’s supporting the war by going on tour, but is determined to go anyway. Her brother and protector has been drafted into the army and is on his way over too. This book is a moving and entertaining read, no real prior knowledge of the Vietnam War required and it’s great to hear about the role of women (we also come across some nurses).
The Robot and the Bluebird, David Lucas (Andersen Press)
The Robot’s heart (a clock!) has broken, so he’s thrown onto the scrapheap to rust away for the rest of his life. Then a tired little Bluebird comes along who is too weak to fly south for the winter. The Robot tells the Bluebird to make a home in the space where his heart had been...then he finds that it is as though his heart is beating! and singing! Oh so beautiful and bittersweet. A little friend of mine continually asks me to read this book but i have to tell him "It makes Kate O'D cry." "Why?" he asks. I can't explain it to him, but they are the same tears that prick when I read Wilfred Gordon MacDonald Partridge by Mem Fox and Julie Vivas.
Dimity Dumpty, Bob Graham (Walker)
I cannot get enough of Bob Graham, so perhaps I’m biased here. Dimity Dumpty is the story of Humpty Dumpty’s little sister. While Humpty and his parents are performing in the circus tent, Dimity finds a quiet place to play her flute. But when her brother has an accident (falls off the wall while spray-painting his tag) Dimity shows her strength and courage. I especially liked their egg-box caravan pulled by a chook.
one about music
just back from last ever, final lucksmiths gig. it was fab-tastic, my ears are still ringing - mostly from the cheers and shouts and claps and screams that got us two encores. i'm pretty sad that they've decided to end the band, but it was such a great night that i had no time to dwell. (just a few tears at the end)
the corner hotel hosted the event in their delightful sticky-floored way. the crowd was ace.
the songs spanned their entire 12 disc catalogue from the beautiful "weatherboard" from that album with the giraffe on it (first tape) to the newest first frost album - "california in popular song" and "a sobering thought". the universal, eternal favourite "t-shirt weather" was a loud and manic experience! finishing off with "the year of driving langurously" was divine. "has it really been a year? where the hell do we go from here?" where do i go from here? i feel a lucksmiths tribute band a-comin'.
will defo need coffee tomorrow.
the corner hotel hosted the event in their delightful sticky-floored way. the crowd was ace.
the songs spanned their entire 12 disc catalogue from the beautiful "weatherboard" from that album with the giraffe on it (first tape) to the newest first frost album - "california in popular song" and "a sobering thought". the universal, eternal favourite "t-shirt weather" was a loud and manic experience! finishing off with "the year of driving langurously" was divine. "has it really been a year? where the hell do we go from here?" where do i go from here? i feel a lucksmiths tribute band a-comin'.
will defo need coffee tomorrow.
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