Cool Water by Myfanwy Jones

‘Out here, under the fig trees, a different ending was always possible.’

Frank Herbert’s family have gathered at Tinaroo Dam in Far North Queensland for his daughter Lily’s wedding. Frank hasn’t been back since his father Joe died a year earlier and he is preoccupied. Frank is concerned about the state of his marriage, worried about some business issues, and wanting everything to go smoothly for Lily. Here, at the dam, Frank feels the presence of Joe acutely. The water level is low, like Frank’s mood, and objects are emerging. As I read this, I am reminded of Old Adaminaby, another drowned town, in the Snowy Mountains where I spend a lot of my time. During drought, remnants of the old town became visible causing distress to some who had lived there.

The story shifts between present and past, between the weekend of the wedding and 1956, when Joe was a child living with his family in the town of Tinaroo, abandoned and drowned once the dam was completed. Three generations of the Herbert men are the focus of this story: Frank, his grandfather, Victor, who was the town’s butcher, and his father Joe who was Victor’s youngest son.

Joe refused to speak of his father, but his anger was palpable. Frank did not know why, and he worries that the men in his family might be cursed. And Frank has time to reflect as he follows his wife’s instructions in relation to wedding preparations.

Back in 1956, we learn more about Victor, his charm, and his violence. Victor has clear ideas about masculinity, which he inflicts on his wife and children, especially on Joe. And it is Joe’s story, which we learn, but Frank does not, which is central. The tension between Victor and Joe is palpable: the impact of both violence and a betrayal shapes the balance of Joe’s life and his relationship with his son. A reminder of the pervasive nature of intergenerational trauma, of the toxicity of gender stereotypes for both men and women. It is too late, now, for Victor and Joe, but Frank may have a chance.  I hope so.

Beautifully written and recommended.

‘This ground had been worked so hard for so long, and now this long dry. It was weak and thirsty. There was talk of feeding the Johnstone River into Tinaroo and raising the dam wall. Meanwhile, the spillway had been upgraded to meet a greater likelihood of flooding. Drought or deluge, as the climate grew ever more volatile, water would be the determining factor.’

Jennifer Cameron-Smith

Spell the Month in Books May 2024 Linkup

Spell the Month in Books is a linkup hosted on Reviews From the Stacks on the first Saturday of each month. I link on the second Saturday of the month because the first Saturday of the month is dedicated to the #6Degrees of Separation meme. The goal, inspired by a hashtag Jana first encountered on Instagram, is to spell the current month with the first letter of book titles, excluding articles such as ‘the’ and ‘a’ as needed. That’s all there is to it! Intriguing!

Jana goes on to say that some months there are theme challenges, such as “books with an orange cover” or books of a particular genre, but for the most part, any book you want to use is fair game! To participate, simply make a post, comment, or picture of the books you choose. They can be books you physically own or simply titles you have come across.

The theme for May is Nature.

Maggie’s Harvest by Maggie Beer

This beautiful book is a reminder of nature’s bounty. This year we grew tomatoes, silver beet, capsicums, strawberries, and a selection of herbs. There was far too much for our small household, so we shared the vegetables and herbs with neighbours and friends. I am not an imaginative cook (my husband is) but Maggie Beer provides me with inspiration.

Arboreality by Rebecca Campbell

And here, in the future, is a world succumbing to climate change. I need make no comment.

[The] Year without Summer by Guinevere Glasfurd

A reminder that climate change is not new:

‘In 1815, Mount Tambora on Sumbawa Island (then part of the Dutch East Indies, now Indonesia) exploded.  This powerful volcanic eruption killed thousands immediately, led to the starvation of thousands more, and had a massive impact on the world’s climate in 1816.  The Year Without Summer, as 1816 came to be known, caused famine resulting in poverty and riots.  Snow fell in the northern hemisphere in August.’

Toyo by Lily Chan

‘One day, when I am reborn again, I will be able to see you.  And I will be so happy, and you will be so happy.’

‘Toyo’ is Lily Chan’s third-person memoir of her grandmother, a recreation of her grandmother’s life through stories and experiences shared.  Like most lives, Toyo’s life is ordinary in some respects, extraordinary in others.  Toyo’s mother, Kayoko, was a fisherman’s daughter from Japan’s Goto islands.  Kayoko was sent as a maid to the Takahashi family in China.  When Kayoko became pregnant, Mr Takahashi set her up in an apartment in Osaka.  Kayoko converted the bottom floor of the apartment into a café.  Here, in the pre-war period, Toyo had occasional visits from her father and helped her mother in the café.

‘Toyo learned to ask nothing, to wait and count the days.  But they passed and passed and still the doorway remained empty of his deep voice, calling out her name.’

World War II happens, and Osaka is bombed.  Toyo, aged 10, returns from the countryside to find the café has been destroyed.  Kayoko establishes a successful yakitori business in Himeji which she loses as a consequence of a bad loan she has made to her young lover.  And then, Kayoko’s death leaves Toyo bereft.

Toyo marries Chinese-Japanese Ryu Zhang, and becomes part of his big family (Zhang, then known as Chang and now Chan).  She loses her Japanese citizenship as a consequence.  Chinese migrants to Japan are a despised minority.  Toyo’s son Yoshio makes a fortune through laundries and early gaming parlours.  He moves his family, including both Toyo and Lily (born in Kyoto) to Perth.

Toyo supports her son and his family as they adjust to life in Australia.  She insists, though, that the children learn Japanese ways as well.  When Toyo becomes ill, it is her most recent memories that depart first.  But the stories of her past, shared with family members, were still available to Lily Chan.  The stories themselves are precious and also enabled Lily to contact other family members in Japan.  Lily also discovered that Toyo had not shared all of her stories and experiences.

As recounted by Lily, Toyo’s story is both interesting and moving: a woman born on the margins of respectable Japanese society; who lived through the bombing of Japan; who was essentially ostracised by marrying into a Chinese family; and who adjusted to life in Australia.  I’d have liked to have met her myself, to have learned of her life firsthand.

I enjoyed reading ‘Toyo’.  Lily Chan has written a beautiful account/memoir of Toyo’s life.  In many ways, it is the small details shared that serve to make what could be a detached description of Toyo’s life and times a vibrant account of a life lived.  A wonderful tribute to Toyo’s memory.

Jennifer Cameron-Smith

The Silence Factory by Bridget Collins

‘Silence is not only silence, sir, it is attention—it is sanity.’

When I was young, I was often told that ‘Silence is golden’. And so it can be, sometimes. The choice of silence may be desired, the imposition of it is not.

Silence is at the heart of this novel. It is set across two timelines: one in Victorian England, the other two generations earlier on the fictional Greek island of Kratos. In England, the main character is Henry Latimer, an audiologist and a widower, whose chance meeting with Sir Edward Ashmore-Percy leads him to Sir Edward’s home near Telverton in the hope that he can help Philomel, Sir Edward’s daughter, who is profoundly deaf. On Kratos, the story unfolds through the diary entries of Edward’s great-aunt Sophia, who travels to Greece with her husband James in search of a spider whose silk possesses a mythical unknown power.

These spiders, we learn, have been taken from Kratos to England and are now housed in Sir Edward’s factory where their silk is harvested and made into fabric that blocks out noise. But the process of manufacturing these fabrics is not straightforward. The factory is a form of hell for those who work in it. Henry, moved by possibility, especially after his inability to help Philomel, conceives an ambitious marketing strategy.

Amidst all the noise and intrigue, across both storylines, there are many examples of silencing. In Greece, the spiders have a cultural significance and were protected. Sophia herself is silenced by her husband, Greek tradition is ignored, the spiders are stolen. In England, Philomel’s isolation through deafness is compounded by the fact that Sir Edward has forbidden her to use sign language. In the factory, some workers are deafened, others driven insane. And the spiders?

‘So the sounds were only heartbeats and air, transformed.’

Such a gothic novel, in both setting and message. I can envisage the factory, with its infernal conditions, I can imagine the distress of both the Greek women when the spiders are stolen, and Sophia as her husband disregards her. The male characters in this novel use their voices as power, the women must use other ways to get their messages out. The spiders weave a thread which can be used to create silence, but exposure to the thread can cause deafness.

This was an enthralling and unsettling read. Henry, blinded by seeking favour with Sir Edward, takes unacceptable risks. We are reminded that attempts to harness nature can be accompanied by great risk. And, all the warnings were there, in Sophia’s diary!

Note: My thanks to NetGalley and HarperCollins Publishers Australia for providing me with a free electronic copy of this book for review purposes.

Jennifer Cameron-Smith

The Strip by Iain Ryan

‘Detective Constable Lana Cohen doesn’t recognise a soul.’

If you are familiar with Matthew Condon’s ‘Three Crooked Kings’ non-fiction series about Queensland’s Gold Coast in the 1980s, you will recognise the setting for this novel. Set some years before the Fitzgerald Inquiry and the arrect of Police Commissioner Terry Lewis, Mr Ryan captures the alcohol, drugs, corruption, and incompetence of the era perfectly.

Meet Detective Constable Lana Cohen. While she has been sent from Sydney to the Gold Coast to help the Queensland Police investigate the unsolved Diablo killings, Lana Cohen has also been tasked with observing and reporting back on corruption to her superior officers. When she arrives, Lana Cohen finds the investigation is a shambles. The previous lead investigator, Emmett Hades, is on leave after a mental breakdown.

The Diablo investigations are going nowhere. There are no leads. Seven unsolved murders in two years, and then an eighth just as Lana Cohen arrives.

Short, sharp, gritty chapters take the reader into the sleaze, the corruption, the hopelessness.  Who can Lana Cohen trust? For one of the other police involved, Henry Loch, Diablo is his last chance to save his career. The media is circling, the Chief Superintendent has issued an ultimatum. The team has three days to make an arrest.

Separate (and quite different) investigations by Cohen and Loch take us deep into the dark side. The Police seem more corrupt than the brothel owners and the standover men. The story moves quickly, with several twists (some of which I didn’t anticipate) and a cast of (mostly) loathsome characters.

I finished this novel, grateful for the work later done by the Fitzgerald Royal Commission. And then took a long, hot shower.

Jennifer Cameron-Smith

People of the Book by Geraldine Brooks

Yes, I loved this book when I read it back in 2008.

‘Too many books burned in the world’

This novel is a weaving of lives and events around a ancient Hebrew book: the Sarajevo Haggadah.  The novel moves between the present, where Dr Hanna Heath  is researching and restoring the Sarajevo Haggadah, and events and people specific to the creation and journey of the manuscript in the past.  Along the way, the reader learns something of the creation of such manuscripts and of their restoration.

For me, the story of the book and the people associated with it in the past is far more interesting than the contemporary story of Dr Heath.  This is an issue of personal taste rather than any lack of balance in the writing and, if anything, reflects how drawn I was to the travels and travails of this document. 

Ultimately, this novel is a triumph.  Although it is a work of fiction, Ms Brooks tells us that it is inspired by the true story of the Hebrew codex known as the Sarajevo Haggadah.  The journeys undertaken by such books over the centuries, and their survival, is something to be marvelled at and thankful for.

Yes, this is truly a ‘gripping and moving novel about war, art, love and survival.’

Highly recommended.

Jennifer Cameron-Smith

Golden Boys by Sonya Hartnett

Another rediscovered book review: from 2015.

‘With their father, there’s always a catch: the truth is enough to make Colt take a step back.’

Two families are the focus of this novel, which is set in an outer suburb of Melbourne.  The Kileys, with their six children, are long-term residents.  The Jensons, with their two children, have just moved in.  The older of the Jenson brothers is Colt, aged twelve.  Colt used to be an athlete, but he doesn’t run anymore. Colt has shelves of statues – of golden boys – as a mute testimony to his past prowess.  Rex Jenson, Colt’s father, invites the Kiley boys, Declan and Syd, together with other neighbourhood boys in to play with his sons and their ‘mountain of toys’.  And, compared to the other children in the neighbourhood, Colt and Bastian Jenson have everything: including a swimming pool, a BMX bike, and skateboards. 

For Freya, aged 13, and eldest of the Kiley children, Rex is much more sophisticated than her dad, Joe.  Joe Kiley isn’t happy, and he doesn’t have a lot of money.  If Joe drinks too much, then voices are raised, plates are smashed and the younger children are distressed.  The older Kiley children, Freya and Declan, do their best to look out for their younger siblings.  They try to make things right for others as well:  at one stage Declan takes a blow from the neighbourhood bully Garrick to protect a much smaller boy, Avery.

So, for many of the neighbourhood children, Rex is something of a hero.  For Freya, he becomes someone she can talk to.  But is Rex someone who can be trusted?

While this is marketed as a novel for adults, I think teenagers would also appreciate it.  It’s about growing up and the resilience of children, about relationships between children, about the acceptance of domestic violence, and about the insidious way in which money and power can enable predators.  The novel raises questions about boundaries, about acceptable behaviour, and about taking responsibility.  What can you do to change your world?  Will anyone believe you?

While some of the issues covered in this novel are unpleasant, Ms Hartnett certainly provides a realistic depiction of a world that is all too familiar to many.  I finished the book, and wondered about all of those Kiley and Jenson families who exist outside fiction.

‘Tomorrow, if the weather is fine, he will run, swim, ride.’

Jennifer Cameron-Smith

Caddie: The Autobiography of a Sydney Barmaid by Catherine Edmonds and Dymphna Cusack

I’ve read this book twice: most recently in 2023.

‘You’re like her – an eight cylinder job, and a beauty.  So I’m calling you Caddie.’

In the introduction to this book, written in 1965, Dymphna Cusack writes of how she and Florence James first met Caddie when they hired her as a domestic helper in 1945.  Ms Cusack explains how she encouraged Caddie to tell her own story and sets out the process Caddie followed, of learning how to type, of draft and redraft of the book.

‘I’d like to write a book myself,’ she used to say, ‘but I never had the education.’

This book, sub-titled ‘The Autobiography of a Sydney Barmaid’, is Caddie’s version of her experiences of life, including during the Great Depression.  Caddie is the author’s nickname.  It was bestowed on her by a patron in one of the bars in which she worked.  Caddie writes of her battle to maintain her respectability while, having left her husband, she supports her two children.  After a brief outline of her childhood, a description of her marriage and the reasons why she left her husband, the book follows Caddie’s experiences as a barmaid (from 1924) and later as an SP (starting-price) bookmaker in the tough working-class pubs of Sydney.  Caddie’s story continues until 1941, when her son Terry joined up to fight in World War II.

‘I was twenty-four when I got my first job in a Sydney hotel bar, not from choice, but because I was broke and needed the money to support myself and my two children.’

Caddie’s account of life as a barmaid – when bars were segregated on gender lines, with the barmaid being the only female in the main bar, of the ‘six o’clock swill’ – when many drinkers tried to drink as much as they could before the bar closed at 6pm, of SP bookmaking, and of the grinding poverty experienced during the Great Depression makes for an interesting account of these times. The underlying theme of the story is the stoicism and strength of a female ‘battler’.  It’s difficult to know how much of this story is true and how much it has been embellished in the telling.  Perhaps it doesn’t matter: we admire our archetypal heroes, and Caddie’s story enables her to fit that role. 

And who was Caddie? Catherine Beatrice (Caddie) Edmonds (11 November 1900 – 16 April 1960) was born at Penrith, New South Wales.  She was the second daughter and fifth of eleven children of Hugh Edmonds, a labourer from Ireland, and his Scottish-born wife Maggie Elizabeth, née Helme (d.1945).  This book, after seven drafts, was first released in London in May 1953.  It was not published in Australia until 1966.  In 1976, it was adapted as a movie starring Helen Morse.

Jennifer Cameron-Smith

#6 Degrees of Separation from The Anniversary by Stephanie Bishop to Romulus, My Father by Raimond Gaita

This meme is hosted by Kate from Books are my Favourite and Best, and this month we start with a The Anniversary by Stephanie Bishop.

Because The Anniversary was on the Stella longlist for 2024, it was already on my reading radar. Once it was selected as the starting point for May’s #6 Degrees, I moved it up my reading list. Anniversaries are on my mind at the moment: my husband and I celebrated our 45^th wedding anniversary in April, and while we have a trip to Tasmania planned for later this year, no cruises are involved 😉.

The Anniversary by Stephanie Bishop

‘We’d not done anything like this before, never been so extravagant. In fact, we’d hardly celebrated the date in any way.’

JB Blackwood and Patrick Heller have been married for 14 years. She is a novelist; he is a renowned filmmaker. They met when she was a university student, and he was a visiting professor. He is twenty or so years older than she is, and as she makes arrangements for a cruise to celebrate their wedding anniversary, they seem to be drifting apart. Patrick is reluctant to travel, but JB is determined. And, while she’s making the arrangements, she learns that she is to win a literary prize for her latest novel. JB is sworn to secrecy, unable to tell Patrick. She goes along with this: although the timing is tight, she’ll have time to make the award ceremony in New York.

While on the cruise, Patrick goes overboard during a storm. He was drunk and they had argued: he is lost at sea. JB is in shock, and seemingly unable to remember what happened. JB is interviewed by the police. Patrick’s body is recovered. JB travels to New York for the award ceremony, and then to Australia for a book tour.

I was about one hundred pages in before this novel tightened its grip on me. JB releases information in drips: we don’t even learn her given name until well into the story: is she an unreliable narrator, or is she (simply) being miserly with the details? At its heart, this is the story of a complicated marriage, one in which the roles of the partners are changing. And, after Patrick’s death, JB is measured (or continues to be measured) against his achievements and existence.  JB is haunted. In part there’s the rejection she felt when her mother left when she was young, and the changing relationship she has with Patrick who seemed to resent her achievements.

This is a complex, multi-layered novel. It’s the situation I will remember rather than the characters. I am left wondering whether Patrick fell overboard …

I’m recovering from Covid-19 as I write this (late in April) and was tempted to look for easy connections and chose to stay with ‘Anniversary’ for my next link.

The Last Anniversary by Liane Moriarty

‘Do you really think we can get away with it?’

Sophie Honeywell is thirty-nine years old, and single.  Four years ago, she broke up with Thomas Gordon on the very day he intended to propose to her.  He married a year later, but Sophie has been single ever since.  And now, Thomas is back in her life because Sophie has inherited his Aunt Connie’s home on Scribbly Gum Island.

Scribbly Gum Island, north of Sydney on the Hawksbury River, has been owned by Thomas’s family ever since his great-grandfather Harry Doughty won it in 1882 – on a cricket bet!  It’s a small private island, home to a famous unsolved mystery.  In 1932, the Munro Baby was found abandoned.  Her parents had disappeared. The baby, named Enigma by Connie and her sister Rose, is now a grandmother.  And the Munro Baby case has proven to be a real tourist drawcard.

There are plenty of characters to keep track of in this novel, plenty of twists and turns to negotiate. I felt sorry for Sophie, with her severe blushing, for Margie with her inattentive husband.  I worried about Grace, wondered about the truth behind the Munro Baby case (and was delighted to have worked it out before the end of the novel).  Veronika’s metamorphosis caught my attention, as did the rituals around the Munro Baby case tourist attraction with the ever-present marble cake.

Great escapist entertainment.

That marble cake may have been a little too sweet, so I’ll connect with the word ‘Last’ and head off in a different direction. Into the past, and to one of my favourite historical fiction series. War Lord is the final novel in the Last Kingdom series.

 War Lord (The Last Kingdom #13) by Bernard Cornwell

‘The wheel of fortune turns slowly, Lord Uhtred, but it does turn.’

He’s an old man now: Lord Uhtred of Bebbanburg, looking for a peaceful life, and once again he has to fight. England is under attack, and Northumbria is threatened by armies on all sides.  King Æthelstan is slowly tightening his grip on England, Constantine of the Scots is looking to expand his territory south and then there is Olaf Guthfrithson, the claimant of the kingdom of York.  Uhtred is torn between his sworn oath and his loyalty.  But if he wants to hang on to Bebbanburg, he is going to have to fight.

This is the final book in Mr Cornwell’s ‘The Last Kingdom’ series, and events are set for the battle of Brunanburgh in 937. Along the way, we meet some of the characters from earlier books, including Uhtred’s estranged son and Hywel of Wales.  The battle is vividly described: the shield wall, the sounds and smell.  Uhtred has a significant part to play, naturally.

I finished the novel, sad to be saying goodbye to Uhtred for the last time but fascinated by the journey.  I have learned much about this period of history from these novels and from Mr Cornwell’s author notes.

What a journey!

‘Wyrd bið ful aræd (fate remains wholly inexorable)’

Moving from ‘Last’ to ‘Kingdom(s)’ I’ll leap into The Kingdoms by Natasha Pulley

‘Most people have trouble recalling their first memory, because they have to stretch for it, like trying to touch their toes; but Joe didn’t.’

Joe Tournier’s first memory is of stepping off a train in the nineteenth century French colony of England. He has no idea who he is or where he is from. There may be a clue in a century old postcard of a Scottish lighthouse which arrives about the same time as he does. The postcard is signed with the letter ‘M’ and Joe, who thinks the writer must know him, is determined to find them.

Poor Joe. Suffering from amnesia and hindered by the fact that others withhold information from him. No wonder he is discombobulated.

So, here we are in Victorian England, except that England has been annexed by France after their decisive win in the Napoleonic Wars earlier in the century. Joe travels to Scotland (owned by rebels) when the lighthouse on the postcard needs attention. But nothing is straightforward. A portal near the lighthouse enables travel between different periods of time: if the past can borrow from the future, then history might be changed. Imprisonment, romance and war all have a part to play, as does winter in a town on the Outer Hebrides. What will Joe discover?

Yes, I was drawn into this world and held captive while trying to work out how it would end. Another engrossing novel from Ms Pulley. If you like alternative history and time travel with a twist (or two) you may also enjoy this novel.

I am a big fan of Natasha Pulley’s novels, as I am of Dorothy Dunnett’s historical fiction. So, plucking the ‘King’ out of ‘Kingdom’, I’ll jump to King Hereafter by Dorothy Dunnett

‘Make me think like a man, the twelve-year old Thorfinn had said to Thorkel his foster-father, and for a while, it was true, had taken Thorkel for tutor.’

Of all Dorothy Dunnett’s works, this is my favourite. This dense, 721-page novel is based on Ms Dunnett’s idea that the historical King Macbeth of Scotland (yes, the Macbeth in Shakespeare’s play) was the same man as Earl Thorfinn of Orkney and Caithness and that Thorfinn, a Viking warrior, took the name Macbeth when he was baptised. 

And so, we travel to the eleventh century to Orkney and Scotland (then known as Alba), where we meet a huge cast of characters, run through a complex series of events and work hard to decipher what it all means. This is not a retelling of Shakespeare’s ‘Macbeth’, although readers may recognise references in the section headings and to some events. Forget Shakespeare, forget agreeing or disagreeing with Ms Dunnett’s view that Macbeth and Thorfinn are one and the same, and let yourself become caught up in the story.

We follow Thorfinn’s life. When the story begins, he is a child being fostered by Thorkel. He is described as: ‘… a scowling juvenile, thin as a half-knotted thong, with a monstrous brow topped by a whisk of black hair over two watering eyes, thick as acorns.’

But we quickly learn that Thorfinn’s unattractively described exterior hides a shrewd brain, great physical ability, and courage. He needs all of each to hold his place in an environment with ever-changing alliances and the threats posed to Orkney and Caithness by Denmark, England, and Norway.

There is plenty of action (yes, one of my favourite scenes is the race across the oars of the longboat), a labyrinth of intrigue and relationships to negotiate and a heartbreaking love story.

Politics and warfare aside, Thorfinn’s love for his wife Groa is at the centre of this story and Thorfinn emerges as a noble, tragic hero.

This is not an easy novel to read: the history is complex and there is a huge cast of characters. But Thorfinn’s story as told by Ms Dunnett captured and held my attention.

Brilliant historical fiction.

From fiction to reflections on life. By choosing ‘After’ from ‘Hereafter’, I take myself to After Romulus by Raimond Gaita

In this book, published in 2010, Raimond Gaita revisits the world he writes of in ‘Romulus, My Father’ of the events after the book (and film) were released. There are five essays in this book:

‘A Summer-Coloured Humanism’ about Hora;

‘Character and Its Limits’ and ‘Truth and Truthfulness in Narrative’

Both touch on the philosophical debt he owes his father and Hora;

‘From Book to Film’ is about the making of the film ‘Romulus, My Father’; and

‘An Unassuageable Longing’ is about his mother.

As indicated in his introduction, Mr Gaita wrote these essays at different times, and they have different styles. The five essays are united by Mr Gaita’s search to understand the people he is writing about and to represent them (and their influences) as accurately as he can. While his father Romulus is central to his life, others (especially Hora) were important.

‘It is bitterness rather than pain that corrodes the soul, deforms personality and character and tempts us to misanthropy.’

But these are not simply autobiographical musings about individuals and influences. Mr Gaita invites the reader to think, to reflect on what constitutes truth, on the complexities of existence (especially for those with mental illness). And in the background always is Romulus himself, with his principles of integrity, truthfulness, and ethical behaviour.

I read these essays slowly, from a biographical perspective as well as trying to appreciate some of the philosophical issues raised. When reading ‘An Unassuageable Longing’ I felt for the small child who had such limited opportunity to know his mother. These are essays to read and reflect on, to revisit.

If you’ve read ‘Romulus, My Father’, or seen the movie these essays will have their own meaning.

And while I had initially made another choice for my last link, I’ve decided to stay with ‘Romulus’ and revisit Romulus, My Father by Raimond Gaita

‘He was truly a man who would rather suffer evil than do it.’

This book is a memoir and a tribute to Romulus Gaita (1922-1996) by his son Raimond. Raimond’s eulogy for his father was published in Quadrant magazine in 1996, and was then developed into this book. Who was Romulus Gaita, and why read this memoir? Romulus Gaita was born in Markovac, a village in a Romanian-speaking part of Yugoslavia in 1922. At the age of 13, Romulus fled his home in Yugoslavia. The memoir briefly describes Romulus Gaita’s early life in Europe, and his arrival in Australia in April 1950 as an assisted migrant, together with his wife Christine and their four-year-old son Raimond.

‘Ersatz coffee became a symbol of that time in Germany, but ersatz liver sausage, made of pulped wood, is a symbol closer to the reality.’

Once Romulus and his family arrived in Australia, they were transferred to Bonegilla, a migrant camp in north-eastern Victoria. Romulus Gaita was sent to Baringhup, in central Victoria to work on the construction of a dam on the Loddon River. This is Romulus’s story, and while a number of others feature in it (especially Christine, Raimond and the Hora brothers) it is Romulus who remains in the centre. The stories of the others are only told as they relate to Romulus.

In some ways, Romulus’s story has much in common with many other Europeans who immigrated to Australia after the turmoil of World War II. Assisted migrants were required to work for two years at jobs chosen by the Australian government, jobs that did not always take into account their previous training and skills. But what makes this memoir so moving is Raimond‘s depiction of a flawed and vulnerable man, a man who did his best to care for his son when his wife was incapable of doing so. Romulus Gaita was a man full of contradictions: a compassionate man who was calm, patient, stoical in the face of disaster, capable of unconditional love and great kindness, judgemental at times, and sometimes suicidal and despairing. But despite these contradictions (or perhaps because of them) the picture of Romulus Gaita we see is of a man true to his own values, a man intolerant of lies and a man who believed that if you started something you should finish it.

‘Never believe that I don’t love you.’

Raimond Gaita’s account of his father’s life is analytical, eloquent and beautifully written. He does not shy away from the difficulties his parents encountered – their tragedies, their episodes of illness, their battles with ignorance as a consequence of difference. Life for ‘new Australians’ of a non-English speaking background, in the 1950s, could be difficult. The labour provided was necessary and generally welcomed; the educational, cultural and language differences generally were not.

I have an image of Romulus Gaita, both as an individual and as one of many people who left Europe to build a new life in Australia. Romulus Gaita lived a difficult but fulfilling life. Romulus Gaita was a good man.

So, there you have it. Choosing to stay with words from book titles, I have travelled between centuries and moved between fiction and non-fiction.

Have you read any of my choices? If you have, what did you think of them?

The Alphabet of Light and Dark by Danielle Wood

A review from 2015, of a novel I really enjoyed.

‘Thirty-nine he was when he went to the lighthouse.  Not a great age by any means, but he already had the look of an old man.’

The Cape Bruny Lighthouse, at the southern tip of Bruny Island off the south-east coast of Tasmania is the setting for Ms Wood’s novel.  The main character, Essie Lewis, is an oceanographer and aspiring author who goes to Cape Bruny both to research her family’s past and to try to find meaning in her own life.  In the novel, in italics, we read fragments of the book Essie is writing.  Written as a first-hand contemporary account, Essie writes of her great-great grandfather’s experiences on Bruny Island in the late 1800s.  Her account captures this period, with the hardships endured by lighthouse families, the isolation from others and the difficult physical environment.

‘Essie remembers that in stories it is often the silent who end up with the task of the telling.’

The current caretaker of the lighthouse is Pete Shelverton, hunter of feral cats and part-time sculptor.  As children, Essie and Peter knew each other briefly, as adults they recognize each other as kindred spirits.  The past holds a fascination for Essie, but what of the present, and the future?  And what about Peter?

‘She knows the things that the light can’t see, the things beneath the surface that pull and suck.’

I enjoyed the setting for this novel: lighthouses have their own form of magic.  While Ms Wood recreates life at the Cape Bruny Lighthouse during the nineteenth century through Essie’s writing, its significance in the twenty-first century is not lost.  The light itself is automated now, but lives are still attracted by it and caught up within it.  While the characters of Essie and Pete are interesting, I found myself more drawn to the past, to the constant presence and role of the lighthouse.

Jennifer Cameron-Smith