'The Minister's Wife' by Anne Berzel

I'm choosing this book for the historical fiction category of my 2025 Aussie Book Challenge. It's quite an oldie, having been published back in 1995, but a beauty. Sadly, it appears to be obscure, since my review will be the first left on Goodreads. Hopefully there are still copies floating around, because I highly recommend it. 

MY THOUGHTS: 

This selection for my Aussie Book Challenge is actually a re-read from my long-ago past. I bought it and loved it back in 1995 when it was first published, and lent it around to my mother, mother-in-law and sisters-in-law, who all loved it too. Now 30 years later, I was curious to read it again to see if it stands up to our enthusiasm.

The novel is set in the lovely rural towns around my state's south east; Mount Gambier, Penola, and Millicent. It's a double-generation story, beginning in the tail end of the nineteenth century and taking us just beyond WW1. Interestingly, an all-day-long working bee involving the whole town in 1917 Mt Gambier takes place within the story, a true, historical event I read about on a plaque overlooking the Blue Lake during a recent visit there. 

First off, Sarah Wetherby's fiance has been killed in an accident, and along with raw grief, she's in a pickle because she's pregnant. Matt Randall, a bitter family outcast estranged from his ex-lover, proposes to Sarah from expediency and sour grapes, and Sarah accepts through desperation. Nothing quite like a good marriage of convenience yarn when it's well done, which this is. Sarah often delivers funny and merciless one-liners, which she continues to aim at Matt even after she falls madly in love with him. 

Okay, so that's Part One.

Sarah's baby is Annabel, who grows up to find herself in a horrifying predicament. Annabel is eager to marry her boyfriend, golden haired Gerald Wilkinson, the young minister. She's an idealistic girl who longs to tick off brownie points in heaven. Yet when the young couple arrives at their new parish miles from home, Gerald quickly proves himself to be the husband from hell; the sort of fanatical jerk who considers emotional abuse to be responsible stewardship. 

The truth slowly dawns on Hayden MacArthur, a fellow minister who's sent to board with the Wilkinson couple. Hayden can't help getting drawn in to become more than an impartial houseguest, which makes him deeply assess the depth of his own theology. 

All characterisation is insightful and finely nuanced. Although he's clearly the anti-hero, Gerald is vulnerable, wretched, and impossible to completely detest (although I came close). He comes across as a particularly demented St. John Rivers from Jane Eyre, right down to the good looks.   

The church, more so than modern times, is the community hub, and any show of devout support earns a person business success and social standing. This makes country neighbourhoods ripe for whitewashing, hypocrisy, and inflexibility. But rather than being too intense, this book is a great read. The plot points are unpredictable, good characters can't be kept down, and all happiness is hard-earned, thus truly memorable.

All up, it's great to get through another great Aussie story with details such as blistering hot Christmases and shimmering clouds of cockatoos rising out of paddocks and fields. I wish the elusive Anne Berzel had written other books, or at least come forth to introduce herself to others of us in the same country, and with the same literary pursuits. I wonder if the name is a pseudonym, because when I look her up, I can't find her anywhere. 

🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟 

'Elizabeth and her German Garden' by Elizabeth Von Arnim

I discovered this vintage hardcover at a secondhand shop. I wasn't enchanted by The Enchanted April, Von Arnim's runaway bestseller from 1922, but thought this earlier title from 1898 might hit the spot. 

MY THOUGHTS:

 Here is a lovely vintage book for the introvert population written in a series of diary entries.

It is the late nineteenth century. Elizabeth is a young aristocratic woman whose passion project is working in the extensive garden of their secluded country manor. After years of trying to fit in with the world she sees around her, she's astounded to find that a quiet lifestyle puttering away at home, far from the social climbing and drama, suits her to a tee. Now Elizabeth's only aim is to make up for precious time she lost when she kowtowed to the expectations of others, tried to put on an impressive face and cared what people thought of her.

Brushes with others involve assuring them that she is genuinely happy tucked away, for human nature being what it is, they insist in believing that her lifestyle must be desolate and grim for her, since it would be for them. 

However, certain times of the year bring inevitable house guests. During the time period this book covers, Elizabeth finds herself hostess to two other young women. One is Irais, another burned out wife of society whose wit tends to be cynical. Even though Elizabeth likes her a lot, anyone's company tends to be draining in long doses. The other guest is Minora, a simplistic girl who aims to write a book of impressions without a clue that her observations tend to be of the skimming, shallow type. Elizabeth records her own experiments of standing back and letting Irais and Minora clash. 

Elizabeth has three little daughters; the April baby, the May baby, and the June baby. She also has a supercilious husband who she calls the Man of Wrath, and never gives the impression that she's madly in love with him, although there are certainly worse fellows to be found. He reveals himself as a chauvinistic grouch who considers himself a philosopher and remarks that women never speak a word worth listening to, as far as he's ever heard. With the wonderful influence of her restorative garden, Elizabeth doesn't let the Man of Wrath get her down. She's strong enough in herself not to let him.   

'What a happy woman I am living in a garden, with books, babies, birds, and flowers, and plenty of leisure to enjoy them! Yet my town acquaintances look upon it as imprisonment and burying, and I don't know what besides. Sometimes I feel as if I were blest above all my fellows in being able to find my happiness so easily.'

That's my main takeaway from this book. Elizabeth, whose philosophy is far wiser and easier to swallow than her husband's, thrives with the same simple resources at her fingertips as those available to me. She doesn't aim to extend her reach, become any smarter, or embark on any self-improvement program. After several tiring years, she's decided she has nothing to prove. She's one of those refreshing people whose thoughts serve as course corrections, if we're willing for them to be.  

Here's to books, flowers, bird song, cats, hot drinks, leisurely walks, and many other good things. 

🌟🌟🌟🌟½ 

'The Four-Story Mistake' by Elizabeth Enright

Note: I bought a kindle version of this second installment of the Melendy Quartet, but searched around for my favorite cover. I think this Puffin edition from 1997 nails it! The four of them look the perfect image of how I'd imagined them. That took love and care from the artists. A big thumbs up from me. 

MY THOUGHTS:

This second book in the Melendy Quartet is as delightful as The Saturdays, which preceded it. 

The Melendy family relocate from their city home to a droll old house in the country with three storeys and a strange, dome shaped cupola perched on top. There's a sense that Father's catalyst for the move was the furnace incident followed by the attic fire in the first book. Although Randy is initially sentimental about leaving the city, she and the others soon discover that the new residence has even more to recommend it for energetic souls such as themselves, including a brook, summer house, and two iron deer. 

The foursome soon discover a mystery to solve. Why is there a boarded up room off their common room, with a life sized portrait of a girl named Clarinda? Who was she?

There's more of a sense of WW2 playing out in the background than there was in the first book. The Melendy kids aspire to save up for Victory Bonds to be patriotic and help the soldiers. Since the elder pair are now into their teens, they find ways of earning regular incomes. Mona gets a gig acting in a radio show (which she adores). Then Rush taps into a local demand for anybody who might be able to teach piano lessons (which he abhors at first). And Randy makes an unexpected discovery that enables her to contribute her bit too. 

Overall, home is comprised of the loved ones who fill it. Their wise and understanding father provides a solid anchor, even though his line of work means he breezes in and out. Good old Cuffy, as always, is totally invested in them and more like a doting grandma than a housekeeper. Willy Sloper goes along too, with a promotion from furnace man to field hand. Presumably Father must have made him an offer he couldn't refuse.  

I loved this trip into the past through the pages of a book. Based on the compelling Melendy foursome, kids were basically just the same as now, with essential differences due to their era. This is a great homage to keeping secrets just for the sake of it, refreshing in our point in history when we're subtly encouraged to bare all on social media. I especially 'get' Oliver's secretive bent, as a fellow youngest child. All four are great at staying mum, but he's the master of keeping things close to his chest. 

Yet on the flip side, the Melendys are confident and never hide their lights. The older two in particular, are extending feelers for their futures. You'll find no false modesty from Mona and Rush, who know perfectly well where they excel. Their pleasure in putting themselves out there is satisfying to read. 

Tying it all together are seasonal games in the ever-changing backdrop of nature; a menagerie of pets, and impromptu picnics in which sandwiches are thrown together on the spur of the moment. The book is a time machine in itself, making us nostalgic for the 1940s which many of us never lived through. I think my favorite chapter is surely the dramatic night when poor Rush gets stuck up in his treehouse. 

Bring on the third book in the series. I'm still extra keen. 

I'm also trying my hand at some Melendy Quartet fan fiction.

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Jane Austen's Novels Ranked

This year, 2025, marks the 250th anniversary of Jane Austen's birth. All year long, her fans around the globe will be celebrating with all sorts of tributes, probably culminating around her actual birthday on December 16th. I must add mine all the way from Adelaide, South Australia to the mix. Here is my ranking of her six major novels. (You might also like to check out my rankings of the Bronte Novels, and the Narnia Chronicles.) Now since there is not an Austen novel I don't like, this took a bit of careful thought, but here goes.  

 1) Pride and Prejudice

Placing this at the very top of my list isn't just because it is one of the pioneer hate-to-love novels. It has never been knocked off its pedestal despite centuries of additions to what has now become a famous trope. That is saying something pretty impressive. It brilliantly delves into motivations for off-the-cuff comments and snap judgments alike. And the superb social commentary and excellent cast of characters makes it a comic masterpiece.

2) Northanger Abbey

Catherine, the gullible teenage bookworm, earns this book its spot as my second favorite. I see such a lot of my old teenage self in her. Assuming that everyone else looks at the world through her own good-natured lens is Catherine's downfall, as she has such a lot to learn about shady social climbers and fickle fortune hunters. In addition to this, it's a powerful homage to the power of books and the unflagging enthusiasm of fangirls (and guys) throughout the centuries. Loyal readers keep any book's momentum alive and well. It has always been that way and always will be. 

3) Persuasion

Anne and Wentworth's second-chance romance is a satisfying burn. The chemistry between them is easily ignited after years of hurt feelings, which makes it a wondrous discovery that those bridges have not been burned. I also enjoy seeing Wentworth get more than he bargains for by the rash behavior of Louisa, a young lady who he initially admires for being Anne's antithesis. And Jane Austen gives naval men a plug, probably on behalf of several hard-working brothers of hers. They surely deserved it.

4) Sense and Sensibility

Elinor Dashwood is another favorite heroine of mine. She has a kind heart, yet her bull dust radar is very finely honed. And her love interest, Edward Ferrars, deserves kudoes too, for staying quiet and modest in such a pretentious family unit as his. Along with this, we all have a lot to learn from Marianne's months-long meltdown, and the existence of despicable young men like Willoughby, who'll ghost a girl for such mercenary, self-focused reasons. Girls, it really is him, not you! 

5) Emma

There have been quite a few classic stories about the perils of matchmaking, and this is one of the very best. The smug Miss Woodhouse truly needs to learn that she's not as brilliant at it as she thinks she is. Her guinea pigs live deeper lives than she sees on the surface, and her stuff-ups are a hard way to learn this. The men and women she manipulates are not mere pawns on the board, and she is not a master chess player. How could Emma possibly foresee the secret plans of the likes of Mr Elton, or Frank Churchill? Even characters we rarely see on the page come across as complex and 'real.' 

6) Mansfield Park

I'm not a great fan of Fanny and Edmund's romance or their neat, critical assessments of other people's characters, but I love the social commentary and family saga. Fanny occupies an Old Testament prophet type of position. She's the only person who clearly sees moral corruption simmering away, yet she's also the least esteemed member of the family. What can be done? This novel has one of my least favorite Austen characters of all time, Mrs Norris, which might help drag it down to sixth place, although her disgusting nature is a clear sign of Jane's brilliant writing. 

Well, that's my ranking, and it took a bit of pondering to figure it out. I guess there must be every combination of these six possible, as Austen fans are as numerous as the sand grains on a beach. I tend to think Northanger Abbey doesn't get the love it deserves, which accounts for my high ranking. Overall, this makes me want to read every single one of these six all over again. You can check out my reviews of all of them on my Jane Austen Page.

Now tell me, what would your ranking be? 

'The Search for Delicious' by Natalie Babbitt

I remember being extremely enchanted by this book during silent reading sessions at Primary School. When I came across a copy at a secondhand book sale, I decided to see if it lives up to my memory of it. 

MY THOUGHTS: 

The Prime Minister of a nameless kingdom with medieval vibes is writing an official dictionary, yet he's stumped when he reaches the word 'delicious'. Nobody can agree on an example, for in this volume, a definition alone won't suffice without back-up. Arguments erupt in the royal court, and civil war seems imminent.

The king decrees an official poll of every citizen in the kingdom. Surely selecting the most popular choice must be the obvious solution. The PM's adopted son, Gaylen, is assigned the job of riding around on his horse, recording votes. But it's soon clear to him that there are almost as many definitions of delicious as there are people. Finer nuances make the ultimate decision even more elusive, for people love to split hairs. (For example, an apple tart can be flavoured with cinnamon rather than nutmeg, and the addition of sharp, yellow cheese really sets it off.) Although fun at first, all the unrest and bitterness soon rests heavily on this 12-year-old's shoulders. 

To thicken the plot even more, the queen's evil brother, Hemlock, takes advantage of all the rioting to attempt to steal the kingdom. His secret knowledge of the magical underworld stands him in good stead. There are ancient woldwellers living up trees, busy dwarves forging treasures in the depths of caves, and the sad legend of Ardis, a beautiful little mermaid who lost her doll. 

Young Gaylen is in big trouble. If being pelted with rotten vegetables isn't enough to deal with, he stumbles across the insurrection plot and feels in way over his head. 

But Gaylen is the archetypical innocent protagonist who experiences fantastic strokes of luck. Most are overly coincidental by far, and the significance of these chance encounters never strikes him until much later on. The boyish, pure-hearted hero has what the dastardly villain lacks, which is the consistent knack of being in the right place at the right time. 

Of course, circumstances cause an entire army to reach a unanimous agreement about the ultimate delicious treat, and it's all Hemlock's fault. (Even as a kid, I remember feeling somewhat let down, and still think that 'delicious' isn't quite the right word. To say more would be to reveal a spoiler.) 

It's quite a cool little tale about the potentially disastrous foibles of human nature. The boy, Gaylen, often shakes his head over the silliness of taking such a survey at all, but haven't many wars throughout history been triggered by ridiculous disagreements? Pitshaft, the dwarf, nails it when he says, 'People are so foolish, they waste their time even though they have so little of it. We (dwarves) have forever, yet we never waste a moment.' 

My best takeaway as a grown-up reader is the lyrics of this song from Canto the minstel. 

'The way is long and high and hot,

Be gay and sing! You may as well

Be feeling light of heart as not.

The way is long and high and hot,

But mime the birds and praise your lot.

Sweet freedom is the tale to tell.

The way is long and high and hot,

Be gay and sing! You may as well.' 

🌟🌟🌟½ 

'The Saturdays' by Elizabeth Enright

MY THOUGHTS: 

I discovered this treasure in a secondhand bookshop when I needed a bit of cheering up. It's the first novel in a series about the four Melendy siblings, who live in New York City around the late 1930s or early 1940s. Their widowed father is a writer and lecturer, and their warm-hearted housekeeper, Cuffy, holds down home base, pretending to have a short fuse although they know her patience is bottomless. The pragmatic handyman, Willy Sloper, is almost a member of the family too, since neverending maintenance work, especially on the temperamental furnace, keeps him always nearby. 

The four kids each receive a weekly allowance which is welcome but limited. One day they come up with a brilliant egalitarian idea. Each week they will pool the total and take turns on Saturdays doing something more grandiose and expensive than they'd ever be able to afford separately. 

Aesthetic and whimsical Randy (short for Miranda), kicks off by visiting an art gallery exhibition where she makes a stunning discovery about somebody they thought they all knew well. The following weekend, her mischievous and musical brother, Rush, attends an opera and makes an unexpected friend who ends up being a life saver. Next, their eldest sister Mona, pushes the boundaries with an impulse that shocks her family. Then the youngest, little Oliver, decides to break out as a rebel by making a sudden circus trip. 

This is just the sort of vintage juvenile fiction I love. All the good-natured snarky comments never hide the fact that they all have each others' backs. Self-conscious Mona likes perfume to be so strong that people can enter a room 24 hours after you've left and still know you've been. Inquisitive Oliver hasn't learned his limits with food, and gorges until he busts. Resourceful Rush develops wonderfully sensible ideas about accepting charity, and dreamy Randy has a knack of discovering things that belong to her in a special way that has nothing to do with ownership. 

The adults are great characters too, with combinations of strengths and flaws. Somehow, it tickles my fancy when down-to-earth old Willy humors young Rush by discussing opera with him. When he finally tells his twelve-year-old friend, 'What you see in stuff like that is more than I can understand,' I had to laugh.

Perhaps Randy speaks for all of them when she comments that although their lives are probably pretty humdrum as a rule, somehow they never seem humdrum. They all have the fortunate skill of appreciating the small things, despite occasional bouts of boredom. 

Going on with the rest of this series is a matter of course.

I reckon these kids might've been born roughly the same time as my Dad, which gives me a buzz. Now I must add Rush and Randy to my favourite bro-and-sis bonds in classic lit. They even share the same dream one pivotal night. And if you do pick up the book, I think my favourite chapter is the one with the furnace. You'll instantly know when you get to that spot.

(Note: Its structure and theme reminds me a bit of this book which I read about a year ago, but I think the intentional nature of the Melendy family plan makes The Saturdays the superior novel.)

Look out for more of my reviews of The Melendy Quartet, which are coming soon.

Here is my review of the second in the quartet, The Four-Story Mistake.

And here is a sample of my fan fiction about them.

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'The Dickens Boy' by Tom Keneally

Summary: The tenth child of Charles Dickens, Edward Bulwer Lytton Dickens, known as Plorn, had consistently proved unable 'to apply himself ' to school or life. So aged sixteen, he is sent, as his brother Alfred was before him, to Australia.

MY THOUGHTS: 

This is an excellent novel strongly based on fact, although I'm not a fan of the dull, minimalistic cover design. It doesn't do the story justice. But the novel itself is a great addition to my 2025 Aussie Book Challenge.

The main character, who tells his own story, is Charles Dickens' youngest son, Edward Bulwer Lytton Dickens. When he was a baby, his father nicknamed him Plornishmaroontigoonter, and our teenage protagonist still introduces himself as 'Plorn.' Poor Plorn is sent down to work on an Australian sheep station, ostensibly to help him apply himself, since he wasn't excelling at school in Britain. 

25-year-old Alfred Dickens, one of Plorn's elder brothers, has already lived in Australia for some time. Having been sent down by their 'guvnor' for similar reasons, Alfred is redeeming himself by working steadily as the manager of another sheep station. Alfred assures Plorn that if he tries to come across as a 'sportsman and a likeable chap,' the Australians will warm to him.

Plorn enters the colony hoping for some relief from his terrible secret. He's never read a single one of their father's books. His justification is the same as that given by many modern readers. The 'armies of paragraphs' crammed into them are offputting at the outset. Plorn has heard enough snippets over the years to do some believable bluffing, but he's in for a nasty shock. The people down in the colony are as hungry for his father's stories as any Briton could possibly be. For them, Charles Dickens is a cult hero, a megastar, a literary deity to stir up their latent sensibilities. 'Your father is like an extension of the gospels.' 

Plorn is bamboozled on two levels. Firstly, he considers himself an awkward and unworthy object of vicarious celebrity. 'I'm just a schoolboy, and not a smart one.' All the attention is cringeworthy and embarrassing. Secondly, he suspects that his father's feet of clay unqualify him for his untouchable reputation. Not least is the fact that the guvnor has sent away Plorn's mother, who bore his ten children, to begin his fling with Ellen Ternan, an actress far younger than himself. 

As with many youngest children, Plorn is a peacemaker; an empathetic seventeen-year-old who longs to believe the best of everybody. Hence, he's discouraged by his heart-to-hearts with Alfred, who insists on pointing out that when their father wanted to get rid of someone in his books, he either killed them off or sent them to Australia. Plorn tries his best to ignore Alfred's implication for the pair of them, but it becomes increasingly harder to turn a blind eye. For the lofty Charles Dickens, those who don't measure up to his great expectations (yep, pun intended) are sent to 'that pit at the end of the world where you toss useless folk in,' characters and sons alike. 

The wide, hot land is nothing like anyone imagined, and everyone is essentially winging it, while Britain is still referred to as Home with a capital H. For young Plorn Dickens, it becomes a crucible in which he faces up to some home truths about himself and his family that he might have overlooked if he'd stayed in England. He comes across bushrangers and bandits, natives and shearers, a wannabe author, a cougar who wants to 'have her Dickens' and a gracious housekeeper who professes to value Catherine Dickens' cookbook over all Charles' novels. In the process, Plorn becomes a different person than the boy who might have stayed home. 

Perhaps a better one.

My overall verdict is this. If you're an Aussie, this is well worth a read. Same if you've plowed through all or most of Dickens' major works. If you can tick both boxes (like me) this is unmissable, because we will get all the references for a start. Not to mention, we get to enjoy these two likeable Dickens sons, who felt themselves to be fall-shorts but who experienced and appreciated the land down under, which their father never once set foot in.  

🌟🌟🌟🌟½