New booklist for 2013

This is what I wait for with baited breath, unsure of what I should read until the list comes out.  I am like an unanchored ship.  The list has been issued thanks to Leanne, our hardworking, yoga-chilled organiser.  We all just come up with all of the books that we might like to read over the year (it is always way more than we could ever read, like a group of greedy children at a table of party food grabbing all, then realising that we can only fit so much in).   Leanne's job is to cull the list and, as she explained to us over our Kris Kringle last year, to fit the books to the moods of the seasons!  Well she has certainly been doing a great job for the 12 years I've been going.

Now all that is left is to madly read the first one by February 6th.  First off the rank is Questions of Travel by Michelle De Kretser and I'm looking forward to once I get hold of my copy.

If you would like to know what other books we are reading this year and would like to read along, check out My Book Club Page for the most recent list.  I take no responsibility for any last minute changes as the year chugs along.  There is nothing wrong with changing our minds!

Happy New Year!

x  Meg

Mini quiches success

I just pulled my hands free from the diluted egg wash and chopped spinach that I was attempting to wash the dishes in while waiting for my very first mini quiches to come out of the oven. Yes at the grand age of old-enough I have finally baked quiche. I have also broken the rule of using-a-new-recipe-for-a-dinner-party. I found this recipe in one of my recipes-for-migraines books as I'm on a crazy but wow-it's-working diet.

It's not that I don't or can't cook. I have baked and baked since I was a wee child. Somehow I missed the quiche thing. It probably hasn't helped that Mr9 is allergic to eggs so that put a stop to the whole egg cooking thang in my kitchen for a whole heap of time. That being said I really have no excuse for all of those years that went by before he came along.
I'm much more relaxed about the eggs now even though he is allergic to them still as he can tolerate them cooked in cakes.

Anyway he won't be eating them. These quiches aren't for him or anyone in my family. It's my book club Christmas party tonight and I'm incredibly thankful they turned out ok. Now onto the salsa. Thank goodness I've made that before.

Life lessons while we clean

As I scrub the bath furiously, haul the 15 kg vacuum that looks like the robot from Lost in Space around the house and lug 3 loads of water logged sheets on a Saturday whilst barking at encouraging the kids to do their own room, and helping them negotiate about who's turn it is to use the mop and vacuum I do wonder if it is worth it. Yes it is.

There are other options of course, there are always other options, but I like have always liked to do things differently, swim against the tide if you like. I could do this during the week - squeeze it in. I could also get a cleaner. I have a few issues with both of these.  The first one is that even though I am at home during the week, that doesn't actually mean that I am doing nothing, doing it cements the idea in everyone's head that 'it-is-mum's-job-so-I-don't-need-to-do-anything'.  The second issue is that I am not going pay hard earned dollars for someone else to come in and do half-hearted job cleaning my house - I have tried it a couple of times and been dissatisfied each time with the effort and love.  The main issue however is about ensuring that that my boys (yes, I do have a house full of boys) grow in men (I am growing men, not boys) who know how to be great house-men and eventually (hopefully) house-husbands.  I want them to be able to do all of the jobs around the house, not just the 'manly' jobs.  They are in training whilst I have them.  This parenting thing is serious business I think - even right down the cleaning!  Don't get me started on the job roster...that is a whole extra post.

Doing it together as a team to get it done. At the end of it we all feel that we have accomplished something together and the boys have learnt some really important life skills. Then we sit down and can relax and have lunch together (and they look forward to playing on the computer!).

Meanwhile by lunch time Saturday my muscles have had a good workout and I reckon I can probably skip the gym.

Maus by Art Spiegelman

As a kid I read loads of books about survivors of the second world war.  It was just something that fascinated about how on earth anyone actually got out of there alive.  My son came home from a friends place after having a few nights sleepover during the holidays and dropped this book on bed, saying, "Mum, I think you'll like this."

It is a full graphic novel of Art's parent story (and his) of survival.  It incredibly intense and personal (Art bares his soul).  I wept.  This story has stayed with me for the two weeks since I have read it and I am sure that it will continue to stay with me.  I am now going to get our own copy for the rest of the family to read and to read again.  In is a very powerfully written story, and I think even more so as it is done through the graphic novel novel style.  I now have a new sense of respect for the graphic novel.  (I also wish I could draw a whole bunch better...).

Wow... Thank you Art for sharing this with me and the world.  It is such a deep, rich, personal and horribly moving story that I could not put down. Another reminder of why war is a tragedy. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Bleak Melbourne

I live in a city who plays with my emotions.  Today she is wicked and grey, not a glimpse of sunshine, she threatens wind and rain. Tomorrow she may gleam and sparkle, asking me to play and laugh again.  Today I wrap my scarf and turn against her, my fingers turn yellow. Melbourne you tease me with the windows of sunshine, last night you gave me the most spectacular sunset after you blew us away with ghastly winds.  There were shades of cerulean, lemon, red,golden yellow, violet, and deep red that stopped me in my tracks.  You can put on a sunset as good as Broome,yet these bleak days make wonder I should cough and sniff here or leave.  Let me climb the ladder up to the clouds and rip a hole through the dirty cotton wool to let that sunshine through again.

All That I Am By Ann Funder

For a book that did not grab me in the beginning, had me re-reading what I had read the night before to try to understand what I had missed, thinking that I was was suffering from memory loss, only to find that this was actually part of Anna's clever story telling from an old lady's memory which comes in little pieces at the beginning.  I was surprised that I loved this book so much by the end.

Anna Funder has written the story of a revolutionists, Ruth Becker (based on the story told to Anna from Ruth Blatt nee Koplowitz) and Dora Fabian and the writer, Ernst Toller, during their time when Hitler was coming into power. I was fascinated to learn about this period of time. As child I read a great deal of stories of survivors from the second world war so it was great to open my eyes to the time before.
Ann respectfully writes this story of Ruth's so that her and Dora's honour is upheld.

It is a story of strong women doing everything they can for the good of their people and their country. Theirs is loss, pain and triumph.  It is a story of women doing all that they can do against all odds whilst their world is tumbling down around them.  I was overawed by the strength of these women during this terrible time.

Anna opens our eyes through Ruth's story into a moment of history that would otherwise be lost, unknown.  A woman who now lives in Sydney, who escaped the horrors of war and fought hard for the good of many, living a quiet life in Sydney.

Thank you Anna for a wonderful story.

Exercising the Writing Muscle

I love my friend Jackie!  I really, really do!  I know Jackie through my writing group at Kensington Neighbourhood House and all of the people there are great, but Jackie has been a great writing exercise buddy.

I met Jackie ages ago through the child care group at the local Neighbourhood House then met again at the Creative Writing group with Emilie at the Kensington Neighbourhood House a number of years ago.  Emilie has worked with us on a monthly basis giving us exercises to do.  Over the years we have gone from occasional writers to begin to see ourselves as writers.  As the years have gone by, the sessions are becoming a little more serious.

A few months ago Jackie and I decided that we needed a little more.  We needed to see each other more than once a month, so we started our own weekly sessions.   As time has gone by these sessions have taken on their own form.  We write, critically (and supportively) feedback and encourage each other in what we are doing in the coming week.  We encourage each other toward our writing goals.   We talk about daily writing goals, editing and the writing process.

The most amazing thing has been happening.  The writing muscle has begun to work and tone up!  We have more finely tuned goals.  We help pull each other out of the slumps.   It really helps to have a writing buddy, someone who also believes in your writing, someone who will read it and give you some good honest feedback.

Book Review - Bad Hair Days by Pamela Bone

Well, this is one of those books that I was recommended when I was talking with a friend about books women have written when they are dying.

Pamela had myeloma and gives the reader a great understanding of what someone may go through when they (if they) are unfortunate enough to get this illness.  She doesn't spare the reader any detail.  Pamela's writing is very factual, even when talking about her own fear as she was going through the worst of the chemotherapy.

Pamela Bone is the columnist who became well known for declaring her support in the Iraq war. She spends a great deal of her book bouncing back and forth between illness and the current affairs - drawn to her passion, into the columnist style of writing.  She writes to correct or compel the reader into understanding the issues about the war, famine in Africa, and then as she progresses in her illness, into the issues surrounding euthanasia. She is a very knowledgeable woman who, it seems, has a desire to get the most important issues out in this book.  She knows that this will be the last chance that she has as the cancer is terminal.

This is not a pithy read of woman dying of cancer, but a woman who has been through a great deal, seen famine in Africa, war in Iraq, and slow death in public hospitals.  She takes the chance that she can to make her voice heard when she no longer has her position as leader in The Age.

Worth a read.

A simple thank you

All it took was thanks.

We wrote a letter to say thanks for the cling wrap that we used when travelled around Australia. It was a really well travelled box. I really wish I had a picture to show you but we sent it to them to show them how well travelled it was. It had lasted us 18 months all in all. The cling wrap outlasted the box (something to do with the way we travelled).

When we travelled in our truck and trailer we didn't have a great deal of 'stuff' so we were thankful for the things that worked well. We were thankful for moments and meetings with people.

It is worth remembering to thank people.

Sometimes you surprise people and make their day. Very occasionally you may get something back like this - just don't expect it!

Thank you x Meg

Autumn Laing by Alex Miller

Fantastic. Alex Miller is now one of my new favourite authors. This is the first of Alex's books I have read and I am truly grateful to him for his brilliant story telling. Thank you Alex for throwing me into the depth of Autumn Laing and Pat Donlan's lives. This is a story loosely based on Sydney Nolan and Sunday Reed and those involved in the art scene at the time when Sydney was about to come onto the scene in Australia. It is a clever and wonderful piece of writing.  It is a story of love and betrayal, grief and acceptance, art and poetry, and memory.

I really love the way this story is told by an old woman remembering as she writes. We learn so much of this woman, Autumn Laing, as Alex gives us her in her adult years that it is hard not to feel the pain and guilt she carried with her near to her death bed.

This is a slow novel, to be consumed the way that food should be consumed. Each word, phrase, and paragraph needs to be read, felt and understood. It is clear that Alex is a thoughtful writer, he understands, lives his characters deeply. He gave us the beautiful unconditional love of Arthur, Autumn's husband and a wonderful understanding of each of the group of artists who would collect at the Old Farm. A truly outstanding novel.