The House of Memories by Monica McInerney: carefully crafted & moving

Following a tragic accident, Ella O’Hanlon flees to the other side of the world in an attempt to escape her grief, leaving behind the two people she blames for her loss: Aidan, the love of her life, and Jess, her spoilt half-sister. (From publisher’s summary.)

house-memoriesI felt uneasy through a fair bit of this book. At first I wasn’t sure whether I was being played with, but then I realised the story line is pretty straight forward. It ranges over a number of different points of view and deftly incorporates a variety of styles. There’s the first-person narrative of the brittle main character Ella; the stage-managed diary entries of her narcissistic younger half-sister, Jess; the folksy-jolly emails of her step-brother Charlie; and the heartfelt letters of her estranged husband Aidan.

The aspects that unnerved me, I discovered, were carefully crafted: I was meant to feel that way. Just as I was meant, slowly, to come to see the complexity behind the tragic events that provide the background to this story.

Last year, as part of the Australian Women Writers Challenge, I came across a genre-bending category: “family drama with elements of crime” – the kind that Wendy James and the controversial Caroline Overington do so well. I’m not sure this book fits: it’s perhaps not dark enough; but almost. The story portrays characters who act and react badly, who have been driven to extremes by circumstances, who don’t or can’t always see things from others’ points of view. It’s moving and uneven; uneven not through lack of writerly skill, but because the narrations of the characters – and the characters themselves – aren’t always what they seem.

Who will enjoy The House of Memories? People who love reading about Aussie ex-pats in London and imperfect, blended families; and readers who don’t mind being stretched emotionally in a way that resolves with a sense of hope, if not happiness, at the end.

~

Thanks to the publishers for supplying a review e-copy via NetGalley
The House of Memories, Monica McInerney
Published: September, 2012
Publisher: Penguin Australia, Michael Joseph
ISBN: 9781921518645

A year of reading books by Australian women

carry-me-downI have a confession.

Despite calling this blog “Devoted Eclectic”, I’m not very eclectic in my reading tastes. My interests? They’re eclectic. I’m fascinated by science, politics, religion, history, philosophy, psychology and education. But my reading? Not so much, judging by my selections for the Australian Women Writers 2012 Challenge – even though I set out to be inclusive.

Dog Boy cover 2(1)The truth is, I love drama. I love intense, heartbreaking stories like M J Hyland’s Carry Me Down. I love inventive – even dense – language that’s been honed and crafted till it’s so sharp it cuts the reader, like Margo Lanagan’s Sea Hearts. Or crisp prose that sweeps me into the narrative so effectively it’s like watching a movie, as in Wendy James’ The Mistake, Emily Maguire’s Fishing for Tigers and P M Newton’s The Old School. I also like sentimentality; by that, I mean stories that set out to manipulate the reader’s emotions with powerful fictional scenarios that yank your heart out,  leaving you gasping rather than crying – or sometimes both, as in Eva Hornung’s Dog Boy, Margo Lanagan’s Tender Morsels, Kirsty Eagar’s Raw Blue, Virginia Lloyd’s Young Widow’s Book of Home Improvement and Charlotte Wood’s Animal People. All of these books are devastating in some way; I enjoy being devastated.tender-morsels-hc That’s what, for me, makes a great read.

Some genres devastate me more than others. Suspense and thrillers, yes, and family drama with elements of crime. Some historical fiction; some literary fiction; some fantasy. Science fiction? Not so much. Romance and mainstream commercial fiction? Not really. I find much of it readable and enjoyable, but it doesn’t stay with me. There are good psychological reasons why this is so, to do with heightened emotions helping to lay down memory. It’s probably also connected with my traumatic childhood: I crave stories that take me to the edges of human experience and force me to confront what it means to be human, my values, what I aspire to, what I run away from, what I fear inside myself and others. I crave, too, fine poetic writing, the kind that makes me despair of my own ability to write.

No surprises then when I look over my year of reading books by Australian women in 2012 – a year when I thought I was selecting widely – and find the genres I’ve gravitated towards. When it came to reviewing, though, I didn’t manage to review all the ones that really touched me.

animal-peopleThis is my tally of reading for the Australian Women Writers 2012 challenge, with links to the ones I’ve reviewed (17/48).

Crime, mystery, detective, suspense, thriller, family drama with crime:

  1. Erskine, Y A. The Betrayal – crime*
  2. Erskine, Y A. The Brotherhood – contemporary crime
  3. Ford, Jaye. Scared Yet?
  4. Foster, Sara. Beneath the Shadows – suspense
  5. Gentill, Sulari. A Few Right Thinking Men – historical crime
  6. Howell, Katherine. Cold Justice
  7. Howell, Katherine. The Darkest Hour
  8. Hyland, M J. Carry Me Down – historical fiction/thriller
  9. James, Rebecca. Beautiful Malice – contemporary crime
  10. James, Wendy, Where Have You Been? – contemporary crime
  11. James, Wendy. The Mistake – contemporary crime
  12. Johnson, Sylvia. Watch Out For Me – contemporary
  13. Jordan, Toni. Fall Girl – humour, mystery
  14. Newton, P M. The Old School – literary detective*
  15. Overington, Caroline. Ghost Child – contemporary crime
  16. Overington, Caroline. I Came to Say Goodbye – contemporary crime
  17. Overington, Caroline. Sisters of Mercy – crime thriller suspense*
  18. Savage, Angela. The Half-Child – detective literary  – detective
  19. Watson, Nicole. The Boundary – contemporary crime

Literary contemporary fiction:

  1. Jones, Gail. Dreams of Speaking
  2. Jones, Gail. Sorry
  3. Joosten, Melanie. Berlin Syndrome
  4. Leonhardt, Lynne. Finding Jasper
  5. Maguire, Emily. Fishing For Tigers
  6. Parrett, Favel. Past the Shallows
  7. Smith, Annabel. Whisky Charlie Foxtrot
  8. Tranter, Kirsten. A Common Loss
  9. Wood, Charlotte. Animal People

Mainstream commercial fiction – contemporary and historical:

  1. Brooks, Geraldine. Caleb’s Crossing – historical, romantic
  2. Byrski, Liz. In the Company of Strangers – contemporary
  3. Ham, Rosalie. Summer at Mount Hope – historical
  4. Heidke, Lisa. Stella Makes Good – contemporary, Chick Lit
  5. Heiss, Anita. Avoiding Mr Right – contemporary, humour
  6. Morton, Kate. The Secret Keeper – contemporary/historical

Young Adult:

  1. Au, Jessica. Cargo – contemporary YA
  2. Crowley, Cath. Graffiti Moon – contemporary YA
  3. Eagar, Kirsty. Raw Blue – contemporary YA
  4. Gardiner, Kelly. Act of Faith – historical YA
  5. Hornung, Eva. Dog Boy – dystopian speculative YA

Speculative, fantasy

  1. Forsyth, Kate. Bitter Greens – fantasy* historical
  2. Lanagan, Margo. Sea Hearts – speculative historical
  3. Lanagan, Margo. Tender Morsels – speculative, fantasy

Speculative Science Fiction

  1. Brown, Honey. Red Queen – dystopian speculative, thriller
  2. Corbett, Claire. When We Have Wings – dystopian speculative
  3. Mundell, Meg. Black Glass – dystopian speculative/science fiction
  4. Westwood, Kim. Courier’s New Bicycle – dystopian speculative/science fiction

Memoir

  1. Lloyd, Virginia. The Young Widow’s Book of Home Improvement

Children’s

  1. Roberts, Tansy Rayner. Sea Castle

I didn’t make my revised goal of 50 books, and I don’t think I’ll get anywhere near this number in 2013. Instead, I’m looking forward to getting back into my own writing, and of narrowing the focus of my reading, in the hope of discovering more devastating books by Australian women.

More meditation than murder: Sorry by Gail Jones

sorry-jones2Sorry is an unsatisfying book.

After seeing Kevin Rennie’s glowing review earlier this year, I had expectations. I loved Jones’ Dreams of Speaking, the first book I finished for 2012. I’ve heard great things about Five Bells. Sixty Lights has been working its way up my “to be read” pile. Then I was caught at my mum’s house last week without a book to read and saw Sorry on her bookshelf. I’d picked it up at a Lifeline fair and passed it on to her months ago. It seemed the perfect bookend for the year.

Yet I found myself struggling to concentrate and – I admit it – counting the pages to the chapter end.

It’s not the density of the language, though Rennie is right to point out that the book is peppered with old-fashioned phrases. I love Jones’ prose. I relish in her love of words, her passion for books and Shakespeare. The problem was the structure.

If I’d kept in mind as I read that it is “a bit of a murder mystery”, as Rennie calls it, I might’ve been more engaged. But I found little of the sense of urgency or curiosity I associate with that genre. Jones invites her readers into her tale with a graphic, disturbing opening only to abandon them, to let the narrative drift. It drifts across the Northern Territory in the war years of the early 1940s, across the lives of a displaced English couple and their run-wild child, the slow disappointments and cruelty of the anthropologist father and disintegration of his Shakespeare-obsessed wife, the child’s friendships with a succession of Aboriginal companions and a deaf-mute son of a neighbour. The novel gathers momentum with the Japanese bombing of Broome and comes to a denouement with the revelations of the truth behind the novel’s opening.

It is a good – perhaps even great – book. A book, Rennie says, that every Australian should read. But I was left… unsatisfied. The book is “about” things, important and interesting issues. It’s a meditation on language, reading and communication, on intimacy, race relations, prejudice, failure and forgiveness. With such noble themes, it should have moved me more. But what it’s not is the kind of tale I really like, a book that makes me feel intensely, that sweeps me away on a flood of emotion, as well as thought and imagination, and leaves me stranded and exhausted – and changed – at the end.