'Playing Beatie Bow' by Ruth Park

I first studied this book as an assigned text for Year 9 English, which is longer ago than I care to admit. It was only four years after it was first published though, so that's a broad clue. Anyway, it was high time to revisit it, for my 2025 Aussie Reading Challenge.

Despite being on my school syllabus, the book lingers fondly in my memory, and no wonder. The story combines two excellent genres, time travel and family drama. What is not to love?

MY THOUGHTS:

It's a true blue Aussie, Sydney setting, and the winner and runner-up of multiple awards, the most noteworthy being the Children's Book Council of Australia Book of the Year award in 1981 when it was still brand new. 

14-year-old Abigail Kirk is fuming mad. Returning home after a major dispute with her mother, she makes a wrong turn, not in space but in time. When Abigail decides to follow a strange little girl with shorn hair who's been hanging around her apartment building, she's led to a bewildering world where the basic street layout is familiar, but strangely old-fashioned and off-kilter. It's the colony of New South Wales back in 1873, where Abigail is still just a few blocks from home, yet over 100 years away.

Owing to an accident out the front, the little girl's family takes Abigail in. That spiky, smart child turns out to be Beatie Bow herself. Beatie's father, Samuel, is a confectioner by trade and former soldier who suffers sudden violent outbursts caused by PTSD. Wise old Granny, whose gift of second sight once burned strong, holds her son-in-law's family together. Gentle cousin Dovey is dutiful and beautiful in a porcelain doll sort of way. Then there are Beatie's two brothers. Sickly, morbid little Gibbie just escaped dying of fever, and can't stop dwelling on it; and Judah, the dependable, sunny-hearted sailor boy steals Abigail's heart. 

Ruth Park's sensory detail is immersive, making us feel like eye-witnesses. (For example, Abigail feels grossed out for being more grotty than normal in the Victorian era, although Granny and Dovey are slightly offended, because they take pains to be as clean as they possibly can.) 

Abigail overhears mysterious whispers that she's 'the Stranger' who is destined to appear from out of nowhere to save 'the Gift' for the family. And it turns out she accidently carries something on her person that facilitates her leap back in time. So this story is more than just time tourism, there is a vital mystery quest to solve and fulfil before she can hope to return to the twentieth century (or try to return!).

Although I loved it as much as before, I'm taking off half a star because of something I overlooked back then. Poor Abigail gets gaslighted for kicking up a stink regarding her parents, yet I find her reaction to their news is perfectly legitimate. She received a shattering blow to her trust and personhood four years earlier when her father ran off with another woman, and now her reuniting parents expect her to swallow their sudden line, 'We'll all fly off to Norway and be a happy family again.' I don't blame Abigail for questioning and resisting this cheesy new development when it is simply sprung on her. Yet she is treated like a nuisance and a spanner in the works by her mother and her conscience alike.  

Consequently, Abigail's experiences in the nineteenth century cause her to whitewash her dad's betrayal merely because he was struck by Cupid's arrow! She herself falls for Judah, who has a momentary leaning her way that lasts no longer than an afternoon, so now Abigail is willing to wipe the slate clean because her father's desertion of his family was all about lurve!! The theme, 'You have to experience love to know how powerful it is,' makes me facepalm in this instance, even though I'm a total romantic at heart. And then Abigail apologises to him!

'What a little dope I was, Daddy!'

Nope, he was the bigger dope. Forgiving him is fair enough, but bearing any reproach and shame on her own shoulders, for totally understandable and natural feelings, irks me. Abigail is gaslighting herself in effect, and Mr Kirk sure gets off lightly. 

But overall, I got a lovely book hangover, just as I did before, to the extent that I'm going to discuss some plot spoilers below the red line, in case you're interested. 

THE RED LINE - If you want no plot spoilers, read no further.

* I was mildly horrified that during the blazing house fire, everyone forgot Gibbie for so long! Sure, Dovey's bridal chest contained a vital garment, but would that really be the first thing to spring to the minds of Granny and Dovey, as well as Abigail? Actually, I'm more than mildly horrified!

* Nooooo, not Judah!!! I guess he had to perish in that shipwreck (sniff) to validify Abby's last-minute rescue of Gibbie, and preserve the Gift. But it seems a cruel twist for Granny and Dovey to die of typhoid a couple of years later. We also get a glimpse of Mr Bow expiring in a lunatic asylum. Sure, the nineteenth century was brutal, but I wish Ruth Park hadn't added those extra bits.

* The family prophecy seems somewhat problematic. Everyone is sure that out of the four remaining members of the younger generation (Judah, Dovey, Beatie, and Gibbie) it has to be one for death and one for barrenness. But hold on, Samuel and Amelia Bow lost a few other kids in infancy. Why couldn't the prophecy have referred to any one of them? 

* Whatever becomes of Beatie and Gibbie in the short term? By the time these two kids have lost everyone (Judah, Granny, Dovey, and their father), they are still only 15 and 14 years old at the most. So young to be totally bereft in a harsh era. Well, at least we know that Beatie eventually becomes a highly successful (and grumpy) classical scholar and headmistress, and Gibbie hooks up with some girl who he presumably marries and has at least one kid with. But oh, like Abigail, the interim stimulates my curiosity. 

* The classic time travel hiccup of a future traveler seriously changing the trajectory isn't emphasized in this story, yet Abigail still indirectly saves the life of Robert, the man we assume she eventually marries, and also her friend, Justine, and the two kids. If Abby hadn't plucked their grandfather (however many greats) from the jaws of death when he was 10, they would never have been born. 

🌟🌟🌟🌟½  

'A Traveller in Time' by Alison Uttley

Summary: This unusual novel is set in rural Derbyshire in the old manor house, Thackers, where the Babington family and their servant, Cicely Taberner, lived when Elizabeth I was Queen of England. The descendants of the Taberners have farmed the land through the centuries, and to the Taberners of the present day comes Penelope, their great-niece, a sensitive, imaginative girl, who is aware of other layers of time. With her awakened vision she sees people of the past move in their daily tasks among those of the present, and behind the contented life of the household of Cicely and Barnabas Taberner she finds the old tragedy of Anthony Babington and his plot to save Mary, Queen of Scots, being re-enacted.

MY THOUGHTS:  

This vintage YA time travel tale was first published in 1939.

The main character is Penelope Taberer Cameron, a lonely, delicate bookworm. She's sent for an extended stay to Thackers Farm, owned by elderly Aunt Tissie and Uncle Barnabas. Penelope's older siblings, Alison and Ian, go along too, but it happens that only Penelope possesses the rare family gift of second sight, which becomes her time travel catalyst. 

Time travel, in this story, strikes me as a double exposure sort of phenomenon, similar to old, wind-on film cameras. Every so often a scenario from the past is superimposed over Penelope's routine twentieth century life. She is frequently drawn back to the 1500s, when Thackers was owned by the Babington family, who were closet Catholics and staunch supporters of Mary, Queen of Scots during the time she was imprisoned by her cousin, Elizabeth I. 

Young Master Anthony Babington is a red-hot rebel who devotes his life to plans for Mary's release. His younger brother, Francis, becomes Penelope's good friend. Of course, Penelope has the awkward knowledge from her future vantage point that Mary gets executed, but blurting this out earns her no popularity.

Sadly, this book gets the thumbs down from me. It's essentially a history text book written in the guise of a time travel novel to fool the unwary. Different characters tend to launch into lengthy summaries about their life and times for Penelope's benefit (and therefore the reader's). This makes for wooden characterization. And they're all quite chill with the startling way she bobs up every so often in their private chambers, interrupting intimate moments, then disappearing again, supposedly to return to her family in London. 

What's more, modern historical fiction authors advise us that there's no need to divulge every snippet we research. Since this is a text book in disguise, Uttley ignores all this and crams in every trivial detail she can possibly manage. 

I used to come across this type of book during our homeschooling days, when they were highly recommended. Fellow homeschooling parents seemed to love these incognito history books masquerading as novels. ('The children are learning about the past without even knowing it, hehehe, shh.') I'm sure they knew it alright, like being hit with a brick. It makes for tedious reading, and I'd be willing to bet several kids throughout the decades decided they hated reading novels based on specimens like this. 

I don't deny there are a few nice touches. For example, when Anthony Babington loses his precious miniature of Queen Mary which he considers a good luck talisman, Penelope finds it as he asks her to, but in the twentieth century, where it's no good to him. For in this particular time travel universe, inanimate objects are not portable back and forth. 

I've noticed several other reviewers have called it, 'a beautiful novel' because of its depth of description, and some of the finer details about agrarian Elizabethan life that comes to light, along with the lovely illustrations by Faith Jaques. My reply would be, 'Sure, it might be beautiful, but it certainly doesn't tick my boxes of what makes a decent novel.' 

I love a good novel, and I like a well-written text book, but I have no time for these sneaky hybrids.

🌟🌟

25th Anniversary of 'Picking up the Pieces'

It's now 25 years since I've been a published author. This first hit the shelves around February 2000.

I was in my late twenties, with a great idea derived from a nocturnal dream. It started with a date rape, following which the perpetrator's life is devastated as thoroughly as his victim's. My challenge was to elicit strong reader sympathy for both of them, and I'm sure I succeeded, for in quarter of a century, I heard mostly positive feedback. It fitted the Christian fiction market I aimed it for, because of the strong redemption, grace, and forgiveness themes. 

My first ever sales opportunity made me quake in my shoes. I set up a stall of hot-of-the-press copies at a combined churches rally in the Adelaide Hills where we lived at the time, and sold only two copies. I hoped that abysmal response wouldn't prove to be a precedent of what to expect. Thankfully over time, quite a few thousand copies were sold, with a second printing and brand new publisher. And at around the halfway point, in 2014, the novel won a first prize in a category of the International Book Award. 

The story still holds a strong place in my heart, because of all the excitement I found hard to keep a lid on, my comparative youth, and hard work. I had a new-born baby who I would drive to sleep in her car-capsule while her brother was at kindergarten, and then I'd park at some attractive spot and work on my writing. Both kids are now grown up with the addition of a 20-year-old brother. Coincidentally, I was the same age my oldest son (that kindy kid) is now; 29 just turning 30 for the publication date. When I mentioned that the slide from 30 to 55 seems fairly rapid, he wasn't impressed. 

The purpose of this post is to celebrate that memorable stepping-stone. I've always loved the idea of time travel, including the notion of receiving insight from an older version of myself. If such a thing was possible, I've now reached  a perspective (just turned 55) where I could speak back to my younger self (just turned 30).

The first thing I would tell her is that I have grown much older, but not rich or famous, or even well-known, as I'd fantasised. But I'm still writing! And that's the main thing. (I know she would've been disappointed to have heard that first bit, so I would've had to break it to her gently.)

Here are a few more things I've picked up in that quarter century I might've told her, or anyone else who might want to eavesdrop.

1) It's true when writers claim, 'My characters are my friends.'

I've heard that this comes across as an exaggerated claim, but it's nonetheless true. The thing to understand is that our relationships with our characters converge a lot with the ones we have with our flesh-and-blood family and friends. Our 'real' people are precious to us for obvious reasons. They make great sounding boards as we do life together, and often deliver surprises as their lives unfold along with ours. With fictional characters, the same thing happens but from deep within our psyches. For me, it's never been a matter of sitting down and nutting out a plot. There is a lot of spontaneity involved in getting to know the characters. Scenes in which they communicate, react, and develop bubble up from my imagination. So given this sort of ongoing revelation, of course I consider them to be friends!

But it's the same with the characters of other authors, when they're well written. Any characters at all have the potential to become our friends, even when we are technically not theirs. 

2) Sadly, readers owe us nothing.

The quantity of feedback we receive isn't at all proportionate to the amount of time, passion, sacrifice, and vision we pour into each project. Each reader gets to enjoy the outcome of a writer's work for the couple of hours they take to read it, but they are under no obligation to pat our backs. Perhaps it's a good thing if it never occurs to the average reader that the souls of the writers hang over their shoulders like eager puppy-dogs, pawing their arms and demanding, 'Did you like it, did you like it, did you like it?' Who needs that sort of pressure?

I think this neediness is excusable on our part, because of the sheer volume of time and passion we've expended. But for our own peace of mind, we have to let it go. We must untwine the roots of ego that are tendrilled tightly around our brainchildren. We must regard the world of readers out there as a potentially friendly ocean we'll never fathom, rather than demanding echo chambers of our characters' worth and ours. 

To use another metaphor, feedback is something like priceless gold dust. It shouldn't be our fertilizer, because it's sparse by its very nature. The only way to keep our enthusiasm and inspiration flourishing is through the joy of the project itself. We can be high-maintenance hothouse plants that bloom only when sprinkled with rare praise and accolades, or we can be more like the agapanthus that grows along my front fence, which is self-renewing. I never get out there and so much as water it, yet each summer, new flowers predictably pop. After all this time, I've learned that it's a no-brainer to choose the second.

3) People's memories aren't as long as ours.

The accolades and awards that have come my way have been fewer and further between than my turn-of-the-century self would have hoped, and they've taught me something sobering but valuable. It's simply that people other than myself quickly forget about them.  

Why should they remember, after all? My dad once told me a story of how he kicked an astounding, match-winning goal when he was a young man who played football. He said that although he was the hero of the day, he'd be willing to bet that all those years later, not another soul remembered that event. That's liberating perspective.

 Everyone's grey matter is limited, so their own milestones must take priority. And with the passing of enough time, even we begin to forget our own milestones, if we don't take care to record and revisit them. 

I'll finish up by quoting in full this fantastic snippet of wisdom by an author named Joe Moran in his book, 'If You Should Fail: A Book of Solace. (I don't consider Picking up the Pieces or any of my other eight published books failures by any means, but that's the title of his book.)

He says:

'No truly worthwhile act has any surety of return. All creative work is a long-odds wager with our time and our lives. Books get pulped and shredded into road aggregate. Plays are performed to half full auditoria for a fortnight before the theatre goes dark. Films project into cinemas where paying customers fall asleep in the comfy chairs. A TV actor performs her big scene drowned out by the sound of thousands of hair dryers, vacuum cleaners and living room arguments. "All work is as a seed sown," wrote Thomas Carlyle. "Who shall compute what efforts have been produced, and are still, and into deep time producing?" 

'Many seeds are scattered, most fall on stones. Art is a dead letter with no name on the envelope, sent into the void. The fruits of creativity are asynchronous and asymmetrical - a suspended dialogue with the absent and yet to be born. All we can do is keep the faith that our lone acts of creation occur like the movements of flocking starlings or shoaling fish, in tandem with others, and that they will one day feed into the accumulated beauty and wisdom of the world. Every creative act joins in this eternal symphony of human life. Failure is the price we pay for our part in the orchestra.' 

Wow, in some perverse way, I find that encouraging. I'm still writing. Are you still doing your thing, whatever it is? 

'Evan and Darcy' by Melanie Coles

I needed a true blue Australian fan fiction for my 2025 Aussie Book Challenge. This one ticks off that category more than I'd even imagined. I discovered it at a $1 - $2 book sale at my local library. As soon I saw the blurb, I knew I must add it to my stack. It is Jane Austen like you've never imagined. 

MY THOUGHTS: 

Since my mania for fanfic started, I've been reading quite a few. This is everything I hope for whenever I crack open a new one. It's a gender-reversed Pride & Prejudice, set in the agrarian rural community of Meryton in present-day Australia.

The Bennet family owns a wheat and barley farm named Longbourn, and they have five sons to help run it. Meanwhile, rich girl Claire Bingley has just purchased nearby Netherfield, a lavish country estate she plans to turn into a function centre. When Jamie, the good-natured, eldest Bennet boy, becomes besotted with Claire, his more cynical brother Evan is willing to humor him. But Evan gets deeply offended by Claire's best friend, a polished young lawyer named Darcy Fitzwilliam. Evan overhears Darcy referring to him as a swaggering farm boy she'd waste no time on. From then on, he considers her a snooty ice-queen who makes him see red whenever he thinks about her. 

I felt compelled to keep turning pages to see how it all plays out in this topsy turvy, up-to-date rural setting. The character counterparts to Jane Austen are all excellent supporting roles. The third Bennet son is nerdy, try-hard Mark who is a terrible musician. And the two youngest brothers, lazy party boys Caleb and Liam, kept stealing the show for me in their scenes.

Melanie Coles has proven that an excellent plot is both timeless and geographically transferable. It can be copied and pasted, so to speak, to work anywhere. If this modern version occasionally lacks the same Regency era urgency (Charlie Lucas doesn't have Charlotte's same sense of desperation before hooking up with Cara Collins), it's more than compensated for at other times. When cute but crooked Jemma Wickham seduces teenager Liam Bennet, the stakes are enormous indeed. You'll see if you read it. Wow, the nerve of that girl! 

Evan and Darcy's romance, at the heart of the story, is swoon-worthy in its own right to the extent that I sometimes forgot all about that most famous literary couple they are meant to mirror. What's more, Coles shows us that the filthy rich have their own problems to deal with, and work extremely hard. 

I'll be recommending this fan fiction far and wide to anyone willing for their rosy ideals to be shaken up a bit. In my opinion, it takes an Aussie author to pull off something so hilarious, compelling, and cool. 

🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟   

'Peter Pan' by Sir James Matthew Barrie

Summary: One starry night, Peter Pan and Tinker Bell lead the three Darling children over the rooftops of London and away to Neverland - the island where lost boys play, mermaids splash and fairies make mischief. But a villainous-looking gang of pirates lurk in the docks, led by the terrifying Captain James Hook. Magic and excitement are in the air, but if Captain Hook has his way, before long, someone will be walking the plank and swimming with the crocodiles.

MY THOUGHTS:

 This beautiful edition is one of my William Morris inspired Puffin classics from the Aldi Bargain Table.

We all know that the boy who left his shadow behind at the Darling family's London home has become a cultural icon. When young Wendy kindly sews it back on, he pleads with her to go with him and tell stories to the Lost Boys in Neverland. Wendy asks for her brothers, John and Michael, to go too. So Peter teaches all three to fly, and off they shoot out the window. 

You can read this story two ways. For children, it's probably a pure adventure tale, as it was for me a long time ago. But for adult readers, Barrie's brilliance really begins to shine through. What he's created is a homage to pretend play, and Neverland is a map of children's collective unconscious minds. The Darling trio hail it not as a new destination, but as a familiar place to which they're returning for some holiday fun. And significantly, the landscape nuances are slightly different for Wendy, John, and Michael. Yet they all agree that Neverland always begins to seem a little dark and threatening by the time bedtime rolls around. 

It turns out that Peter is head of a rebellion, because he never wants to grow up and assume a man's duties of heading out to the office each day. The half dozen 'Lost Boys' all fell out of their prams when their nurses' backs were turned, and now they're members of Peter's gang. Whenever they appear to be growing up, which is against the rules, Peter thins them out. 

And get this, the main difference between Peter Pan and the other boys is that they know deep down that their underground home and skirmishes with the pirates and redskins is all make-believe, while Peter hasn't ever developed the discrimination to tell the difference. 'This troubled them when they had to make-believe they had their dinner.' 

The book is both profound and ridiculous. It puts me in mind of psychology articles I've read, which claim that make-believe play is the proper occupation for children, and their development is stymied if they're prevented from doing so. Another whimsical incident the narrator divulges is that one day the boys wanted to pretend to be redskins, so the redskins agreed to pretend to be Lost Boys. 

Tinker Bell, the jealous fairy, is as iconic as Peter Pan himself. Like me, you may remember attending live performances during which we were asked to bellow, 'I do believe in fairies!' at the top of our lungs. She's capable of sacrificing her life to rescue Peter, but also sets Wendy up to be shot down, because the human girl occupies too much of Peter's attention. 

'Tink was not all bad, or rather she was all bad just now, but on the other hand, sometimes she was all good... fairies are so small they have room for only one feeling at a time.'

Of course, there's the colorful villain, Captain James Hook, who is bent on both a revenge mission and a fearful game of hide-and-seek. He's out to get Peter Pan for cutting off his hand, while simultaneously dodging a ticking crocodile who swallowed a clock. This beast ate Hook's hand, and has now developed a taste for the rest of him. When Peter finally defeats Hook in a major show-down, we're told the boy hero forgets about the pirate menace and moves on very quickly. 

For Barrie depicts Peter with several character traits that are consistent with childhood development, in very general and blanket terms. Peter is heartless, egotistical, and unable to see any given situation from others' points of view. He is always self-focused and rooted firmly in the present moment. In fact, Hook is mostly incensed by Peter's cockiness, for the boy's childishness gets on his nerves. 

I consider it most fortunate that Peter Pan is oblivious to Wendy's and Tink's crushes on him. Surely harboring romantic feelings for a person who still has all his milk teeth intact is bound to end badly. 

The story leaves me with a lingering, bitter-sweet melancholy at the inevitability of aging. By the end, 'Michael is an engine driver... and the bearded man who doesn't know any story to tell his children was once John.' I believe Barrie challenges us to aim to retain Neverland's charm, while also celebrating our wider and wiser outlooks, earned from years of experience in the world, for would we really wish to stay as static and narrow-focused as Peter if we were offered the chance?

I read this way back when I was little and credulous, and the underlying themes soared right over my head. I enjoyed it far more this time round, sorry kiddies. 

For any grown-up who thinks, 'Naw, I read Peter Pan as a kid,' I'd say, 'Read it again! You'll get so much more out of it.' He surely wrote it for all ages, for vastly difference reasons, and the fact that it works makes J. M. Barrie a genius. 

🌟🌟🌟🌟½  

'The Hollow' by Agatha Christie

Summary: Lady Angkatell, intrigued by the criminal mind, has invited Hercule Poirot to her estate for a weekend house party. The Belgian detective's arrival at the Hollow is met with an elaborate tableau staged for his amusement: a doctor lies in a puddle of red paint, his timid wife stands over his body with a gun while the other guests look suitably shocked. But this is no charade. The paint is blood and the corpse real!

MY THOUGHTS:

The murder scene beside the swimming pool appears so corny and elaborately staged, that at first Hercule Poirot assumes it's a welcome tableau in his honor, for his hosts know he's a detective. But the victim, Dr John Christow, is indeed dying. And John's slow-witted wife, Gerda, stands over him wielding a revolver. It would seem she's the victim of somebody's set-up.

At the outset of the long weekend, Lady Lucy Angkatell had been anxious lest their guests at the Hollow might clash. It turns out her fears were horribly justified. Lady Angkatell and Gerda Christow themselves are polar opposites, since Lucy's fertile mind skims quickly, while Gerda processes things slowly and deliberately. 

Alas, nobody planned for three women who all adore John to be thrown together in one spot, and I'm no fan of any of them. Not the pathetic, slavishly devoted Gerda, whose name reminds me of indigestion. Nor the well-loved, diplomatic sculptor, Henrietta Sabernake, who treats Gerda with nauseating condescension all the while she's having an affair with John. (Christie has attempted to portray Henrietta as one of the more 'likeable' characters, and Poirot claims she has integrity, but I beg to differ! Anyone who bonks someone else's husband while behaving in the guise of her friend has serious moral blind spots.) And certainly not the overbearing Hollywood actress, Veronica Cray, a neighbor who shows up longing to resume her own relationship with John that ended fifteen years earlier. 

But perhaps John has brought his fate upon himself, to some extent. He's a self-focused narcissist, same as Veronica, despite his valiant efforts to find a cure for (the fictional) Ridgeway disease. 

Other relatives help thicken the plot. There's gentle, self-effacing Edward Angkatell; young David, a grouchy Uni student; and their cousin Midge, a working class girl whose exigent lifestyle the others can't understand.  

It's not a bad Christie mystery, but not a stand-out for me, perhaps because I found too many characters irritating. Although I didn't anticipate the revelation of the murderer, it came as no real surprise. Yet having said that, I find it a stretch to believe that this person either would or could commit the crime. 

Lady Angkatell's character is amusing. She's refreshingly eccentric, making very specific random guesses about people based purely on their appearances, which often turn out to be uncannily accurate. Her husband, Sir Henry, has learned not to brush off her weird insights. 

Overall, this is not close to being a favorite, but I'm glad I've ticked another one off. 

🌟🌟🌟

'Lillipilly Hill' by Eleanor Spence

(Note: Although this is not a lilly pilly flower, I still liked the image too much when I took it not to use.) 

Here's my January selection for my 2025 Aussie Book Challenge.  I've chosen it for my Nature in the Title category. Even though she's spelt it as one word, Eleanor Spence makes it clear within the story that the titular homestead is named after the lilly pilly tree. It's a great story to kick off the challenge with. If you're interested, there is an Amazon kindle version and it's available on Kindle Unlimited.

MY THOUGHTS:

It's the late nineteenth century. The Wilmot family has just moved from England to live at an Australian homestead, Lillipilly Hill, which their father has inherited from his uncle. But their mother can't imagine how they'll manage to maintain the civilised lifestyle they're used to, or provide educations with a British tick of approval. The studious daydreamer, Aidan, and dainty, nervous Rose-Ann don't seem to fit their new environment either. Only Harriet longs to support their father in his new, radical farming venture. 

Yet they've never imagined anything quite like it. She finds it a huge challenge to reconcile the others to dusty tracks, prickly blackberry bushes, piercing sunlight, shrill rosellas, leathery goannas, and pesky mosquitos. There is also the ever-present threat of snakes, not to mention a lurking fear of bunyips and bushrangers. And they simply can't wrap their heads around the notion of a platypus. 

Harriet's efforts to help Aidan fit in are particularly thorny. She's anxious for her brother to be happy for her own sake rather than his. Her ulterior motive is funny. Since he's the eldest, and the only son, she senses that in their parents' eyes, his opinions may carry more klout. Yet her good intentions tend to backfire. 

Reading between the lines, there's an Aussie persona already in place, and those who don't have it are regarded as oddities and relegated to the outskirts of all the action. It's a social sort of natural selection. Harriet is lucky enough to be adaptable. Aidan and Rose-Ann can't help feeling like failures, or that they must apologise and feel sheepish for their personalities. It is good to see Aidan especially come to realise that there is more than one form of courage. 

The landscape itself helps shape people's characters, since they have adventures which would be impossible in other settings. And it's described very appealingly. How could Aidan, Rose-Ann, and even Mother not come to love great things such as kookaburra laughter, sheer views, and billy-tea? 

My only quibble is that some of the chapter titles are a bit plot-spoilerish. 

It leaves me wanting more. I'm curious to know what becomes of all these characters, who are on the cusp of young adulthood. That, after all, is the sign of a good book. I must look up more of the works of Eleanor Spence, even though they sadly won't be about the Wilmot family.

🌟🌟🌟🌟

Scaling Back for 2025

I hope I can discipline myself to stick to this New Year's Resolution, but I've decided that throughout 2025, I'll make no new book purchases. Even though I usually stick to bargain or secondhand books and spend sparingly, every tiny $2-5 purchase adds up. Stopping this source of spending may also help me plumb to the bottom of the piles of unread secondhand books I already own, many of which I've undoubtedly forgotten about. 

The sources may be as follows:

1) From my towering piles.

2) From my enormous kindle back-up

2) Borrowed from the library.

3) Borrowed from friends or family.

4) Gleaned from Little Free Libraries

5) Free e-book loans from sites such as Internet Archive or Project Gutenburg.

* See down below for an update.

It means I'll have to keep out of secondhand book sheds, but that'll be a matter of willpower. Harder still will be steering clear of the book sections in general secondhand shops, since they are in full sight. 

 This time last year I commented in my New Year's blog post that I'd have another crack at delivering weekly, book themed blog posts for the sixth year running. (Before that I used to write them even more frequently.) I managed to deliver on that goal yet again throughout 2024. For 2025, I almost decided to cut right back, but instead I'll see how I go again. As a token of continuation, I've just opened two new pages, this time on fan fiction and time travel stories. And I've also created my own Aussie monthly book challenge.

There are several reasons why I've persevered with weekly posts for so long. Above all, I consider it to be a fun mental and spiritual discipline; a framework on which to hang the rest of my days. I haven't always been the best at following through on commitments, so this helps me adopt the motto that when we're faithful in small things, we'll be faithful in larger ones. I also bought into the idea, bandied about by some writers, that when we show up without fail, our muses are impressed and honor the appointment. And added to that, the statistics in my toolbar function as a sort of almanac. I enjoy looking at them to gauge how much of the year I've blogged through, and how much still looms ahead of me. 

I'll also be prioritising my fanfic. I get the most personal buzz, adrenaline rushes, and dopamine surges from the fiction writing I've finally taken up again, after many years.

I'll still be on Bookstagram, although maybe not as frequently as before. 

Please do subscribe to my feed in my toolbar, to keep up with my posts. 

And Happy New Year!   

* I'm a bit embarrassed to admit that we're not even through February and already I've broken that resolution. I was attracted by closing down sales of a small secondhand bookshop in my vicinity whose old vintage books were extremely cheap. Since the ones I picked up were also a) rare, b) enjoyable, and c) somewhat serendipitous feeling, I've decided it was a crazy resolution to make in the first place. 

'Time and Again' by Jack Finney

Summary: One of the most beloved tales of our time!

Science fiction, mystery, a passionate love story, and a detailed history of Old New York blend together in Jack Finney's spellbinding story of a young man enlisted in a secret government experiment.

MY THOUGHTS:

The Goodreads summary call this 'one of the most beloved tales of our time,' and my back cover blurb says, 'this illustrated novel quickly became a cult favourite.' Such high praise seems a bit overdrawn to me, but it is quite a fun read. And it was published in the year 1970, when I was a tiny baby. This is also when the 'modern' starting point of the tale takes place, which is quite interesting.  

Si Morley (short for Simon) is a 28-year-old artist who gets a rare invitation, based on his army records, to join a secret government project. He's told that he has an even rarer blend of skills and qualities that might tick their boxes. When Si discovers that the secret mission involves the possibility of time travel, he's quick to opt in.

The methodology involves a mixture of intense immersion in time capsules of a former era, along with self hypnosis training. The premise is based on some Einstein-backed theories that time, rather than being an arrow-straight, linear projection, is more like an ever-spinning ferris-wheel in the cosmos, which the initiated can learn to board and disembark at will. (That's how I'd interpret it based on my reading of this novel.)

When he realizes he possesses the knack, Si elects to visit his own home base, New York City, in 1882. His girlfriend, Kate, is the custodian of a mystery from her stepfather, whose own father, wealthy and respected financier, Andrew Carmody, received a cryptic letter that resulted in 'the burning by fire of the whole world...,' and the repercussions caused his death. Si is appointed to get to the bottom of it, if he can. Who sent the letter at the specific time it was franked, and why? 

Of course Si gets in deeper than he ever imagines, first becoming a tenant at a guesthouse, then eavesdropping on a blackmail plot, and finally getting embroiled in a huge, city disaster. In some ways, it's quite a conventional time travel tale. Si develops an intense personal interest in changing the trajectory of time, since he'd hate to see Julia, the girl he's falling for, marry the unscrupulous crook, Jake Pickering. 

The head honchos of the project back in 1970 (or I guess I should say forward!) are carefully monitoring the effects caused by their time travelers, since of course going back in time and interfering with unfolding events could prove catastrophic. They counsel their men to abide by what they consider the 'twig in the river' theory. A small twig flicked into a raging torrent shouldn't effect the flow one iota, provided they tiptoe carefully. 

Si's reasoning for ignoring all this and plunging in willy nilly is quite interesting. For doesn't Julia count as much as any person from his own era? Just because she was born way back in their past, why sacrifice her well-being over any number of faceless folk who hadn't been born while she lived? Standing back to be a spectator is more than his conscience can take. (The fact that she's a hot chick who he's in love with has a lot to do with his high-minded stance about this, but he conveniently overlooks that.)   

I have a problem with the idea that Si would so quickly and easily turn his back on the good thing he has going with Kate. Just because Julia is a figure from the past doesn't negate infidelity. It's hardly different from going overseas and becoming besotted with another girl there. So I can't talk myself out of thinking that Si is a rat. 

But Jack Finney has a fun way of telling his tale. He's collected all sorts of historical, illustrated documents to weave throughout the pages, presenting the artwork and photos as Si's own. He draws from history, using a devastating fire to build his plot around, and even slips in his own time traveler, Si, as a real anonymous gentleman rescuer featured in the newspaper. And the savage, corrupt police chief Thomas Byrnes is drawn from history too. 

At first it seemed Finney was going totally flat out for a romanticized view of the past. Si remarks that faces from 1882 appear way more animated and purposeful than those of 1970. 'They moved through their lives in unquestioned certainty that there was a reason for being and that's something worth having. Losing it is to lose something vital.' But he balances it by revealing the miserable desperation of the general populace, especially through the eyes of one poor streetcar driver.

Warning: some chapters are incredibly long! The crazy eventful chapter 19 alone could've been split into several. No wonder chapter 20 starts with, 'I slept late next morning.' I'd consider this book a must-read for anyone at all familiar with New York City (which I'm definitely not). You can follow the characters' progress street by street.  

Overall I quite enjoyed this. Finney succeeds in creating the feeling that time is a powerful solvent. Catastrophic events of yesteryear become tiny drips in history. This holds true whether or not we manage to suspend our disbelief and buy into the concept of time travel. 

🌟🌟🌟🌟 

My 2025 Aussie Book Challenge

While scrolling through my reviews from the year that's just been, I had a heart-sinking realisation. In my quest to cover old classics and novels from around the world, I'd read only three Australian books all year. And since they comprised Michael Gerard Bauer's Don't Call Me Ishmael trilogy, which I read back to back, that can arguably be compressed into one. I instantly knew what I'd felt to be missing in 2024, and I kicked myself. As an Aussie author myself, I'm well aware that our excellent stories, and those of our close neighbours, the Kiwis, tend to fly beneath the radar of most of the world. To make amends for last year, I've created my own monthly reading challenge, which includes some quintessentially distinctive categories. And I'm adding the stipulation that they must all be set in Australia, rather than merely having an Australian author. 

If you'd like to, please join me for any or all, making your own choices for the categories. Or at least watch mine as they fill out. These can be ticked off in no particular order. 

 1) Time Travel - Playing Beatie Bow by Ruth Park

2) Fan Fiction - Evan and Darcy by Melanie Coles

3) Memoir/Autobiography 

4) Cosy Mystery 

5)  Convict Story 

6) Bushfire Story 

7) Migration Story 

8) Romantic Fiction  

9) Historical Fiction 

10) Modern Fiction (or at least set in the 21st century) 

11) A Name in the Title 

12) Nature in the Title - Lillipilly Hill by Eleanor Spence