the last two weeks

The usual excuses, my friends! I seem to have blinked and it’s another Friday. And how is it October tomorrow?! I promise I will get back to more regular posting soon. I have two weeks to catch you up on, though there hasn’t been anything too exciting to report. Except…

Favourite experience of the last two weeks

The birth of and meeting my new nephew. Holding him, stroking his silky cheeks and downy head, marvelling at his tiny ears and fingers with those miraculous little specks of nail on them, watching his eyes flutter open and look at me. He is beautiful. I can’t wait to get to know him.

Reading

While it feels like I’ve been working non-stop (and I have!), I’ve also been reading a lot. My brain feels like it’s had some hearty meals.

I read Blueberries by Ellena Savage which I thought was excellent - so inventive, clever and affecting. I watched quite a bit of Parks and Recreation while I was reading it so somehow found myself reading this book in the voice of April Ludgate as it’s quite dry and cynical in its humour (I thought), which added to my enjoyment (though some parts of it, the first essay in particular, are not funny at all). At the same time, it’s so poetic and fragmented, and really pushes your perceptions on what you expect to find when you pick up a memoir. In fact, I started the book halfway through, because I opened the book at random and was so intrigued by what I saw, I read from there, and then went back to the beginning…which added to the slight disorientation, never quite knowing what to expect. What does it mean to write about yourself, your body, your traumas, the way you live in the world? These are questions which, on reflection, I’d like to have grappled with in a more intellectual way in my past work. The toothpaste is already out of the tube in that regard but these questions still really interest me and I love seeing how other writers play around with them. Savage is really clever and creative in how she straddles self-enquiry and enquiry about the world at large. I really loved it!

I also read Nightbitch by Rachel Yoder which I devoured in mere days. I was intrigued by a mention of it in one of Jen Campell’s videos and thought I’d check it out at the library. All I have to say is WOW. It’s a very clever and utterly surreal novel that has an element of fairytale about it (which are, after all, incredibly dark stories). It’s about an exhausted, rage-filled mother of a young child who starts turning into a dog. As in…she is literally turning into a dog. She starts growing fur, prowling the neighbourhood at night, killing small prey, and eating a lot of meat. Even her child gets in on the act! It was quite a trip to read this on Day 1 and 2 of my cycle, I have to say! Of course, it is an extended metaphor and a very, very clever one. I think every woman, mother or not, can relate to that rage that is so deep it’s in your bones at the sacrifices and behaviours that are expected of us, with or without children. Fabulous. Highly recommended!

I also started reading A.S Byatt’s latest short story collection Medusa’s Ankles which I’ve been dipping in and out of - again, very surreal fiction set in a recognisable world.

The Guardian: I enjoyed this piece on Lena Dunham, this one on writing the story of Australian history, this one on how more doctors are writing about the harsh reality of practicing medicine in this country but I particularly loved this one by writer Sarah Moss, who wrote about buying herself a small gift when at a low personal ebb:

Maybe we’re allowed to find small joys, in proportion to our situations, on a burning planet with the ancestors howling in our ears.

I was gutted to read of the death of Hilary Mantel, whose command of and passion for the craft of historical writing has had such an impact on my own work these past few years. I highly recommend all of her Reith Lectures which make for fascinating and compelling listening, in one of which she says:

You don’t become a novelist to become a spinner of entertaining lies: you become a novelist so you can tell the truth.

What an incredible human and writer she was, and what a legacy she leaves.

Sydney Review of Books: Hypocrisy, bruh! which introduced me to another (previously unknown to me) literary controversy surrounding a book I will probably never read but the real-life drama was very intriguing!

The Audacity: Not Your Gilmore Girl: A Meditation

LitHub: How dealing in facts helps fiction writers hone their craft

Listening to

Wellness Unpacked with Ella Mills: Manifesting, creating your dream life and adaptogenic mushrooms and How to lead a more fulfilled life, let go of perfection and the power of a daily gratitude practice - both very good episodes but particularly enjoyed the latter one. I should have liked to have known Sarah when I lived in the UK, I think we would have had a lot to talk about!

The Atlantic: How To Build A Happy Life: How to forgive ourselves for what we can’t change - a new to me podcast and I really enjoyed this episode.

BeWILDered: Elizabeth Gilbert gets Bewildered! Loved this one, it’s fascinating to hear what Liz has been up to and how much I relate to a lot of what she says!

The First Time: Masters Series: Sophie Cunningham - a very enjoyable window into the craft and work of a writer I have always been curious about but whose work I don’t know well. Maybe the time has come for a deep dive?

Eating (and cooking)

So many delicious things.

Creamy pumpkin risotto, pictured - absolutely scrumptious.

I made Deliciously Ella’s spiced cauliflower and cashew pilaf traybake, which was utterly divine. It’s a recipe from her new book, which I haven’t got yet - I got this recipe emailed as part of her newsletter (but I found a link online for it for you). I’ll definitely be getting the book, as hers are some of the ones I cook from the most often (and if you know me, and how many cookbooks I have, that’s saying something!).

Fennel, walnut and sun-dried tomato pappardelle from Special Guest by Annabel Crabb and Wendy Sharpe, a book on whose brilliance and delicious recipes I have waxed lyrical several times before. This is my favourite recipe from that book and one I love to make when fennel is cheap and plentiful.

Yellow split pea dhal with loads of greens from the garden and chilli - I wanted to use up a huge bag of yellow split peas that I bought during the national lockdown of 2020 when red lentils were nowhere to be seen. This cook-up helped me stock the freezer and the dhal was so nourishing and warming.

Speaking of a cook-up, I made Jamie Oliver’s pasta e ceci soup and a loaf of bread for my sister and her family for when they brought the new baby home from the hospital. I’m planning on making a vat of that soup for us too, as the sample I tasted for seasoning was very delicious indeed!

Vegan sausage rolls to watch the Grand Final with….which we ended up not watching much of at all! Sob!

We cheered ourselves up with nachos for dinner, which were heavenly as always. I used wombok cabbage instead of lettuce for a winter variation and we didn’t have any avocado in, but oddly that seemed not to matter - in fact, Tom told me he preferred it without.

I’ve also discovered Biscoff spread which is somehow vegan (how?!) and has proved to be very dangerous indeed. I made a version of peanut butter cups with it (with Biscoff instead of peanut butter, obviously) all of which disappeared far too quickly. I also made a vegan chocolate cake for a celebration and put dollops of the spread in the middle of the batter before baking. It was unbelievably good.

Vegan banana bread also made. It’s compulsory when there are spotty bananas in the fruit bowl, am I right?

Watching

We finished the whole series of Parks and Recreation for perhaps the second time this year. One of my favourites!

We finally watched the film Citizen Kane which in all honesty I had never seen - and I was astonished at how many Simpsons jokes and homages I suddenly understood, after all this time. Ahead of its time - absolutely. The greatest film ever made, as so many have claimed it to be? Not in my opinion. But worth watching all the same.

We also finished The Thick of It series which made me almost yearn for my former British workplaces in a very, very weird way. Though I don’t think I’ll ever yearn for the one that had its office inside Paddington station.

We’ve just started watching The Newsreader, which is on ABC iview here and I believe is also on BBC iPlayer in the UK. It’s just brilliant. If you liked Morning Wars (which is what it’s called here, because we have a show called The Morning Show, which is what it’s called everywhere else), you will love this - I think it’s even better, in many respects. We’re two episodes in and I’m already hooked. The series is set in Australia in 1986 and there’s something quite surreal about watching something set in a place and time when you were a young child and realising how much of it you remember.

Picking

Rainbow chard, silverbeet, cavolo nero. I also picked a big bunch of celery for my dad. In the garden itself I planted some broad beans and marked out a spot for my potatoes. Soon it will be time for spring planting!

Moving

I’ve felt like doing a lot of yoga this week - I really love Jessica Richburg’s channel on Youtube. She has a lot of lovely gentle practices. I don’t know if it’s a coincidence but ending my work day with some gentle yin yoga has also coincided with me sleeping better than usual. So I’ll be curious to keep that practice up!

Noticing

Magnolias in full bloom, everywhere. How the air when you go outside at night is fragrant with jasmine and wattle flowers. How alive everything suddenly looks and feels after a long winter. And yet, the minute you change your bedsheets back to the spring and summer ones, the nights suddenly dip back to a freezing two degrees!

Quote of the week

It had to be Hilary, of course. There were so many I could have picked but this one felt apt:

“The things you think are the disasters in your life are not the disasters really. Almost anything can be turned around: out of every ditch, a path, if you can only see it.” - Hilary Mantel

If you’d like to share your thoughts on this post, or anything else, with me, please do! Wishing you all a happy and safe weekend, filled with enjoyable things xx

14 comfort reads for isolation or a long weekend

With everything that’s going on in the world, and everyone either in lockdown or being urged to stay home, I think we need the comfort and escape of reading more than ever.

Here are some of my favourite reads when I want to shut the world out for a while.

Stephanie’s Journal by Stephanie Alexander

This is one of my favourite books (it’s one of my mate Veggie Mama’s too!) - it is the diary Stephanie Alexander kept in the year 1997, which turned out to be a momentous one for her. She closed her famous restaurant in Melbourne, opened the Richmond Hill Cafe and Larder, and held three residential cooking schools in Tuscany with her friend Maggie Beer. I have read this countless times - at least once a year since I bought it in 2001 sometime. It’s just wonderful. I particularly love reading about the cooking school in the magical Tuscan countryside, and all the mouthwatering food they cooked. It’s also a retreat back to a simpler age, where Stephanie’s mention of fax machines and “the internet” are very charming indeed.

My Life in France by Julia Child 

This is one of my favourite books. It is just pure joy, from start to finish. Julia finds herself in a foreign country, not speaking the language, knowing very few people and wanting to discover her purpose in life. "At age thirty-seven, I was still discovering who I was," she writes. I feel very similarly! Her delight in discovering the pleasures of food and cooking, and her incredible work ethic and refusal to give up on a project she believed in wholeheartedly, is a balm for the soul for anyone feeling a little cynical or dejected. Never give up! 

Mariana by Monica Dickens

This book is a real delight. Persephone Books refer to it as a “hot water bottle novel” and that’s exactly what it is - a book you can curl up with on the sofa and escape into. Mostly set in England between the world wars, it’s the coming-of-age story of Mary, whom we follow from childhood right through to the early years of the Second World War where she is desperately waiting to hear whether her husband has survived the bombing of his ship. We see Mary’s idyllic childhood summers at her grandparents’ country home, her school days and life at home in a London flat with her widowed bohemian dressmaker mother and actor uncle, her hilarious adventures at drama school and eventually travels to Paris, and all the misguided decisions, in love and all else, she makes along the way. It is a very funny, poignant and heartwarming book all at once.

84 Charing Cross Road / The Duchess of Bloomsbury Street by Helene Hanff

“I used to go to English movies just to look at the streets. I remember years ago a guy I knew told me that people going to England find exactly what they go looking for. I said I'd go looking for the England of English Literature, and he nodded and said: ‘It's there.’” Oh, this glorious book. What a treat. If you love London and books, I highly recommend it. It’s as charming and delightful as everyone says.

A Basket by The Door by Sophie Hansen

This book has barely left my side since I bought it last month. Full of gorgeous photos that capture the beauty and abundance of each season in country mainland Australia, Sophie’s words and recipes are a true delight. It’s a stunning book, beautifully styled and put together. I have made so many dishes from it (a rare thing for me, despite adoring cookbooks and having perhaps a thousand of them) and everything I’ve made, from the sumptuous apple butter to the nutty wholesome oatcakes, has been sublime. As the title suggests, leaving “a basket by the door” for a friend, neighbour or family member when they might be in need of help or nourishment is a beautiful thing to do at any time, but particularly in these times, it is a wonderfully kind and thoughtful gesture. A lovely cookbook to escape into to help you make the most of the abundant autumn (fresh food-wise) we’re currently enjoying in Australia.

The Cazalet Chronicles by Elizabeth Jane Howard (five books in total, this is the first)

Anyone who hasn’t read this series is in for a marvellous treat - and now would be the perfect time. I discovered the series in 2015 - I snapped up the first in the series at the local charity bookshop, and the next day I bought all the rest!  The series follows the fortunes of an upper middle-class family, the Cazalets, before and after the Second World War, with five books in all. It’s utterly enthralling, like ‘Enid Blyton for grownups’ as one of my friends put it. If you want a series to get lost in, I highly recommend them. 

Under The Tuscan Sun by Frances Mayes

This has been a great escapist read for me since the first time I read it, borrowed from the Glenorchy library when I was about 21, desperate to travel, live abroad and see Italy with my own eyes. It’s so evocative and poetic, filled with affection for Italy and food, and reading it now is like sitting down for a coffee or limoncello with a friend you haven’t seen for 10 years or so but who is just as vibrant and thoughtful as they ever were. There are lines in this book that I often think of (“may summer last a thousand years” for example) and images that are so poignantly brought to life - like the man eating Christmas Eve dinner alone in a trattoria, cracking each fresh walnut one by one - that they have never left me. Armchair travel at its best, this wonderful book always makes me feel hopeful about the future and reminds me that beauty and joy can be found everywhere, and that it’s never too late to do something magical, whether it’s planting a garden or chucking it all in to buy a house in Italy.

The Tea Chest by Josephine Moon

This is a lovely curl-up-with-a-cup-of-tea read (fittingly!). The Tea Chest follows the journey of an Australian woman who moves to London to open a tea shop (like T2 or Whittard’s but with a magical element!) and the lives of various other women she encounters to help her make this dream a reality. All of the women have their own demons to battle and the story ultimately is about resilience, following your dreams and trusting yourself.

White Heart by Heather Rose

This is a book I reread every year - this is why. It’s a novel about a woman named Farley who grows up in Tasmania and who, in the face of a devastating loss (though we don’t realise exactly what this loss was until near the end), goes searching elsewhere - overseas and mainland Australia - for meaning, wholeness and love. When I first read it, aged 19, I thought it was one of the most beautifully written books I’d ever read. I still do.

The Christmas Chronicles and The Kitchen Diaries by Nigel Slater

I have said many times over the years, and almost certainly on this blog before, that Nigel Slater could write a book about paint drying and I would buy it. If you love food and find reading about it relaxing and fun, then you will be delighted with either, or both, of these two of his, which are probably my favourites of all his books. Both are written in a diary format - The Kitchen Diaries covers a whole year of eating and The Christmas Chronicles covers only November to mid-January - and are magnificently evocative and poetic in true Nigel style. In Kitchen Diaries he shares what he cooks each day, making the most of what’s in season, but occasionally there’s takeaway or something simple eaten with a beer in front of the TV (reassuring!). CC is a celebration of his favourite time of year - Christmas, and winter in general. A cold Christmas is something I wholeheartedly embraced while I lived in the UK and this wonderful book made me look forward to winter for the first time in my life. As winter is approaching in Australia, I think I’ll have to read it again! Either way, if you want to escape from life for a while, Nigel is an ideal companion.

The Fortnight in September by R.C Sheriff

Also one of my beloved Persephone books and one of the most accomplished, most finely observed novels I have ever read. The premise is so simple - we follow the Stevens family on their annual two week holiday to the seaside in Bognor Regis. They are a typical middle-class 1930s family and have been going to the same B&B run by the same people for a very long time. Their holiday is as well-planned and thought out as their daily lives in South London, Mr Stevens has thought of everything down to the packing of the suitcases, the timings of the trains and which beach hut to hire for the best perspective. The B&B isn’t quite as comfortable as it used to be - slightly shabby, the landlady a little older and dottier - but the Stevens family do what they’ve always done and make the best of things. It’s an absolutely fascinating novel and so finely and accurately observed. Like I said, such a simple premise but the novel manages to capture all the big concerns of life within it - love, hope, disappointment, home, family, the passing of the years. I also loved how the very feeling of being on holiday is captured in this book - how the arrival at one’s destination is so anticipated and exciting, and then the days begin to roll by faster and faster and before you know it, the holiday is over and it’s time to go back home, to normal life. Wonderful. Simply wonderful.

Miss Buncle’s Book by D.E Stevenson

Also mentioned in my Persephone post and one of my favourites of theirs. Written in 1934 and hence reflecting the concerns of women at the time, without the financial security of marriage, Miss Barbara Buncle finds herself needing to supplement her already meagre income. She does what many people think will bring certain fame and fortune - write and publish a book! She writes a novel based on her village and all the people who live in it, thinking that changing names and writing it under a pseudonym will be sufficient to hide their true identities. To her huge surprise, her book (or John Smith’s book!) is a huge bestseller and her publisher wants a sequel, but lo and behold, all the villagers have read it, recognise themselves and their village immediately (which says it all, as some of it isn’t flattering!), are outraged and determined to find out who ‘John Smith’ is and make ‘him’ pay. No one suspects the dowdy and quiet Miss Buncle for a second, which is where all the hilarity ensues - but also makes an interesting observation that people often do have hidden lives and assumptions we make about others can so very often be wrong. It’s absorbing, intelligent and very charming.

Love and Hunger by Charlotte Wood

From one of my favourite novelists, this is a wonderful collection of essays about food, cooking, sharing meals with friends and family, the psychology of eating, and how food can soothe and comfort. Wood’s observations are warm and witty, and the recipes are fantastic too (I have made Jane’s Citrus Couscous several times). Part memoir, part cookbook, this is a food lover's delight.

I hope this has given you some inspiration for delightful books to escape into and curl up with over the next little while. If you read any of them, or have any comfort reads of your own to suggest, let me know!

my favourite reads of 2019

Another year over, and another favourite reads of the year post to write! But at least I’m not writing this in February or, as I did one year, August.

2019 was a wonderful reading year for me where I made up for being away from Australia for nearly 12 years and gulped down literature I had heard about but not managed to get my hands on - and I have only just scratched the surface! I feasted heartily on fiction and non-fiction alike. According to Goodreads, I read 108 books in 2019 - I’m sure I missed logging a couple (and I haven’t logged any I’ve read for my studies) - and of those 108:

• 2 were re-reads

• 57 were non-fiction

• 4 were poetry collections or plays (I thought I’d read more - clearly not!)

• 47 were fiction

• 10 were by men

• 98 were by women

• 5 were by women of colour.

I won’t lie, I’m surprised and really disappointed in myself for the last one, especially with the countless amazing indigenous writers in this country. I honestly thought it was more than that, as the five I read had a huge effect on me and I thought about them a lot - but that is hugely disproportionate. I clearly need to up my game in this regard to read more widely and beyond my own world view. It is something I will be more conscious of this year.

It was, as always, hard to choose my favourites of the year but I narrowed it down to these 11.

Conversations with Friends by Sally Rooney

My aunt gave me this book and also Normal People for my birthday. This was my pick of the two! It’s so compelling, thought-provoking and different. I was not the kind of 21-year-old that Conversations’ main characters are, but I was equally naive and self-righteous and this story about Frances, Bobbi and their “friends” brought it all back! All in all, it’s a very well-executed coming of age story and an interesting exploration of female friendships too. Rooney writes with the kind of restraint I can only dream of. Very worthy of the hype.

Girl, Woman, Other by Bernadine Evaristo

A worthy winner of this year’s Booker Prize - this is a magnificent book that deserves to win every prize it’s eligible for! Girl, Woman, Other shines a light on contemporary Britain in a way I’ve rarely seen in other books - other reviews have described it like a choir of different women’s voices, and I think that’s very accurate! It reads like a beautiful prose poem, with a cast of fascinating characters, all of whom have a story of either racism, prejudice, abuse, misogyny or poverty (often all of them) which they fight to overcome. The writing is so visceral and poetic - you are in these characters’ shoes, hearts, heads and beds. And you won’t forget them in a hurry.

I learned a lot reading this book, not just about issues I have been privileged not to experience firsthand but about humanity. This book is a perfect example of how fiction is often the perfect vehicle for the greatest concerns of our time.

Barefoot Pilgrimage by Andrea Corr

A beautifully written memoir that you can see is actually trying to capture the feeling of memory, of remembering. The narrative is subtle in parts, but surprisingly revealing too. Andrea is a woman who owns her success but also her vulnerabilities. The story she shares in this book is mostly about what it’s like to not have your parents alive anymore, about the preciousness of life, and the desire to capture what you remember before you too are no longer here. If you’re a Corrs fan, you’ll adore it. But you’ll also enjoy it and be moved if you like to read memoirs that are a bit different and poetic. The Corrs’ last album Jupiter Calling has the same mood - trying to capture the beauty and pain of life in one container. Beautiful, and highly recommended.

Why You Are Australian: A Letter to My Children by Nikki Gemmell

This book was a much-needed companion in January 2019. Tom and I had been back in Australia for only a few weeks and I felt dazed and disoriented, like a time traveller. Not that we doubted the decision to move back here, not for a second, but the move brought up a lot of discomfort and a lot of things I hadn’t realised I still needed to face. Gemmell quotes Les Murray (being interviewed by Ramona Koval) quite early in the book - “I came back to go mad. That’s what you do if you’ve got old, unfinished business back in a place and you go back there, you’ll tend to deal with it. “ Oh how those words rang true.

In this book, Nikki Gemmell and her husband - Australians who had lived in the UK for over 10 years and now raising a young family - decide, after a series of life-altering events, that perhaps moving home is the answer. Nikki articulates so beautifully (better than I ever could) the ache for home, for the familiar, for space, for warmth, for family; and also the resistance and sadness when you start dismantling the home and life you chose and created for yourself, even though it doesn’t feel like home anymore. Nikki wants to give her children the carefree, idyllic childhood she had. And so they begin the process to return and decide to do a trial run, spending a few months in Australia with the children, enrolling them in schools, etc. Australia is still a wonderful place, and the children love it. But Nikki does find herself wrestling with what lies underneath Australia’s sun-drenched “she’ll be right mate” reputation - the ugliness of racism and overt nationalism, tall poppy syndrome, natural disasters - and has to consider whether the Australia she grew up in is now a thing of the past.

I felt so seen reading this book - the aspects of life in London that Nikki loved but that also drove her mad were also some of my biggest joys and frustrations; her yearnings for Australia were the same as mine, and the things that she found difficult and alienating when she returned have also been some of my experiences. It’s a nostalgic but honest and (as always) beautifully written book. Highly recommended for any returning expat!

Back, After The Break by Osher Günsberg

I was not expecting this to be one of my reads of the year, but on reflection it simply had to be. In 2018 I listened to an interview with Osher where he confessed to working on edits of this book in the cab to the studio! The interview was fascinating so when I saw the book at the library last summer I was curious to give it a read.

I wasn’t prepared for how compelling a book it is - this is honest, frank and brave writing. While some of Osher’s decisions and aspects of his lifestyle are not always easy to empathise with, many of the insights he has on his road to redemption I found very relatable.

I had tears in my eyes when he writes about reclaiming a sense of identity through changing his name. His stability and sense of worth have certainly been hard-won. This excellent, compulsively readable book shines a bright light on mental illness and works hard to dispel the stigma around it. It’s a very important book and one I am still thinking about nearly a year later.

The World Was Whole by Fiona Wright

In my attempt to read all the books on the Stella Prize longlist, I picked this one up in March last year - by the end of 2019 it was still one of the best books I’d read all year. This is a stunning collection of essays about life, chronic illness, friendship, love, family, animals, travel and belonging - and particularly the need to feel at home, in many senses of the word. I absolutely loved it and it made me seek out and read all of Fiona Wright’s work, particularly her poetry. She’s a wonderful writer.

The Woman Who Wanted More by Vicky Zimmerman

Charming, funny and uplifting, The Woman Who Wanted More is a wonderful read from a talented writer. It is a celebration of food and female friendship, full of insights about life, the choices we make and the effect those we encounter have on us. Heartbreak is always best remedied with food and with good friends, and this book shows why. It's an empowering reminder that life is full of opportunities, once we are open to them. And that admitting you've failed is "not really failure; it's the first step towards the future". Highly recommended!

The Bridge by Enza Gandolfo

A very relatable story about loss, grief, guilt, redemption, family and community. I could barely put it down - one night I just kept reading until the battery on my Kindle died. The characterisation is superb, I particularly liked Sarah, the court-appointed lawyer. The descriptions of Melbourne are spot on - I spent a lot of time in the parts of the city where the novel takes place and it was a pleasant trip down memory lane, despite the sadness of the story. Compulsive and moving reading, I highly recommend it.

The Priory by Dorothy Whipple

I am yet to read a Dorothy Whipple book that I don’t declare magnificent - she is a simply wonderful writer and probably one of the twentieth-century’s most under-appreciated. The main story of The Priory takes place around the crumbling estate of Saunby, which has been in the family for generations but now being run into the ground by Major Marwood whose main priority in life is cricket. He is reluctant to spend money on anything else, including his two grown daughters Christine and Penelope (who still live in the estate’s nursery!) and his spinster sister, Victoria. All of this changes when the Major decides it’s time he remarried. His new wife, Anthea, is determined to get her new home into some sort of order and does away with many relics of the estate’s former life - including the hapless cook Mrs Nall and the Major’s beloved cricket - and, finding herself pregnant with twins (to the Major’s great horror), decides Christine and Penelope must leave the nursery and engages a no-nonsense nanny Nurse Pye (reminiscent of Sister Evangelina in Call the Midwife!) to come and live with the family and help her with the new babies. Christine and Penelope are aghast and actively look for ways they might be able to escape. Unfortunately, as they didn’t have much of an education and therefore have little chance of getting decent jobs to support themselves, their only option is to get married themselves.

Behind the scenes - or below-stairs - are the lives of the servants at Saunby, equally interesting and full of drama. There’s a love triangle between the Major’s right-hand man Thompson, a former professional cricketer, and the two maids, sweet and sunny Bessy and the manipulative Bertha, which plays out very dramatically!

It’s a fascinating novel and entirely absorbing. I love Whipple’s stories for their remarkable insights into human nature and observations about the changing nature of life, and The Priory is no exception. It’s a treat to see the characters grow and change too as they adapt to their altered circumstances - some characters start off as admirable, earnest and well-meaning but turn out to be very selfish, and vice versa. This novel also explores the lack of options available for women at the time - if a marriage did not eventuate or, even worse, failed, things really could get very desperate (and indeed they do for some women in this book). I loved the ending, as it was so hopeful, though it was also tinged with sadness, knowing that the Second World War was just around the corner.

The Confession by Jessie Burton

Of her three novels, I think this is Jessie Burton's finest and the one I have most enjoyed so far. It's an intimate, intelligent and compelling novel that explores the lives of several different women. It takes place across two timelines - the early 1980s in London, LA and New York, and 2017-18 in London. The characters are well-drawn, believable and tender - Connie, in particular, is brought to life very well, I had visions of Eileen Atkins playing her in a TV adaptation if it goes that way! - and though it's an emotional and absorbing tale, there's also a lot of humour. Rose's nice enough but ultimately ineffectual boyfriend Joe with his burrito business Joerritos, for example, and the emotional strain of spending Christmas in the middle of nowhere with your strange in-laws!

While ultimately there is one big confession which the story builds towards, The Confession actually contains many of them. So many of the characters aren't telling the truth, to others or to themselves. But it is possible, they discover, to free yourself from the ghosts of the past. New beginnings are always possible - but you have to choose them. I actually found more sage life advice in the pages of this novel than I did in some motivational books I read last year. This is a novel I can see myself rereading, and I don't say that often. 

Bruny by Heather Rose

Another magnificent novel from Heather Rose - she never disappoints. I highly recommend reading the the prologue of this book with Ludovico Einaudi’s “Uno” on the stereo - it wasn’t a deliberate pairing on my part, but an accidental one, and it only heightened the tension evident in the first few pages! Bruny is quite a departure for Heather Rose in terms of subject matter - this is a political thriller about the smoke and mirrors world of modern governments and overdevelopment - but it also delivers what she’s always done best. And as a recently returned Tasmanian, I had a good laugh at the digs she makes at this state and its inhabitants (they are so true)! Bruny is a dystopian family drama that will make you think and probably weep. The world in it is all too recognisable. Most of all, it is a plea to us all to fight to protect the places we love.

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So, reading goals for 2020 - try to do some non PhD reading (hard but essential for the maintenance of sanity) and read more widely. More diverse writers, more indigenous Australian writing. More poetry. I want to be challenged. If you have any recommendations, please let me know in the comments.

As always, I’d love to hear your favourite reads of the last year too!

PS: As I mention every year, any links to Amazon are affiliate links. This means if you click on the link and end up making a purchase, I get a small commission. Many thanks for your support xx