Review: ‘Begin, End Begin’ by Danielle Binks (ed.)

The #loveOzYA hashtag was created to promote and celebrate Australian young adult literature. Danielle Binks wrote about the origins of the movement in Kill Your Darlings . Danielle further discusses the origins and intent of the movement in a foreword to Begin, End, Begin, adding ‘It was not born out of patriotism or a rejection of international voices – far from it. LoveOzYA has been about the inclusion of voices. And it has been a movement, as the name suggests, about love.’

Begin, End, Begin contains contemporary, urban fantasy, and speculative fiction short stories, to name a few. A range of themes are covered, including teen pregnancy, sexuality, bullying, and sibling relationships. I’ve reviewed a few of my favourite stories.

 I’m screaming inside my own private little world, stuck inside my suit.

‘One Small Step … ’ had me holding my breath during intense thrilling scenes, laughing  at deadpan humour, and teary-eyed during poignant moments. Amie Kaufman’s sci-fi explores the weight of parental and societal expectation at conflict with the personal growth and choice through the narration of 17-year old Zaida. The world-building feels effortless, and the action and suspense is beautifully complimented by moments of humour and tenderness. I couldn’t help but speed-read through this piece, before going back and re-reading. A brilliantly crafted short story, which left me with a sense of a world that endured before the first page and would continue on long after the last.

9 p.m.
This it how it goes.
       I am standing in a corner, ‘cause I always seem to find myself standing in corners. Not in the centre of the sweaty, heaving dancers, and not in the back sunroom with the stoners and smokers. Definitely not too close to the front door – that would imply that I’m eager to escape, or eager to be seen.

Gabrielle is a playing the role of a supporting character in her own life, as she lives vicariously through her best friends. But, when she sees Cam kissing a girl who is not his girlfriend, Gabe is forced to examine why their relationship is so important to her, and to find a way to forge ahead with her own life. Book reviews are subjective, right? I know that. I’m hyper aware of the prejudices I bring to my own reading. But, from the very first paragraph of ‘Sundays’ I was hooked in; it felt like Melissa Keil had crept into my brain and was rehashing my teenage years. So, on the one hand, you could say I am automatically biased because I relate to the protagonist’s detachment from her own life, but this wouldn’t be possible if not for the almost tangible sensory atmosphere of the party, the way in which the pace is maintained by structuring the narrative in time segments and the banter and bickering between friends.

‘Lucy’s thoughts are so loud she worries the whole bus can hear them.’

The only story in the anthology written in third-person, ‘The Feeling from Over Here’ follows Lucy as she finds herself sharing an eight-hour bus trip from Wagga to Albury with Cameron Webber. With no phone reception to provide a welcome distraction, Lucy is forced to evaluate her conflicting feelings about Cameron. Tozer has created an emotionally evocative story filled with multifaceted characters. There’s no room for cardboard cut-out characters, as even the bus driver delivers nuance in his limited appearance.

It’s hard enough being an outsider, without having to watch something end that you’ve always wanted to be a part of’.

14 year-old Bowie isn’t prepared to watch her brother King disappear out of her life, so she follows him to the pub where he meets up with his friends. When Bowie is spotted by his friends, King reluctantly lets his younger sister tag along for his last night out. Danielle Binks beautifully captures the love and tension between the two siblings, and the shifting family dynamic, as King is determined to break away from the prejudices and pity he has endured living in a small town community, and Bowie struggles to adhere to the invisible sibling boundaries while grappling with impending change. ‘Last Night at the Mount Solemn Observatory’ had me in tears by the end.

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Danielle Binks will be hosting a #LoveOzYa session at the Melbourne Writer’s Festival on Saturday, 03 September. The session will feature Amie Kaufman, Melissa Keil, Ellie Marney and Alice Pung. I’ll put up a recap of the panel, as well as the YA Keynote featuring Angie Thomas.

Review: Narrative structure in ‘Burial Rites’ by Hannah Kent

Burial Rites is a compelling début historical fiction novel by Hannah Kent that explores the life of Agnes Magnúsdóttir, the last woman to be executed in Iceland. In 1829, Fridrik Sigurdsson, the son of the farmer at Katadalur, and Agnes Magnúsdóttir and Sigrídur (Sigga) Gudmundsdóttir, Illugastadir workmaids, are convicted of the murders of Natan Ketilsson, a herbalist and owner of Illugastadir, and Pétur Jónsson, a convicted robber. All three are sentenced to death. Agnes is delivered into the custody of District Officer Jón Jónsdóttir. She awaits her sentence at his home under the watchful eyes of his wife Margrét and their daughters Steinvör (Steina) and Sigurlaug (Lauga). Agnes prepares for death by recounting her story to her spiritual advisor, Assistant Reverend Thorvardur Jónsson (Tóti).

The focus of the novel is not on the crime itself – Agnes has already been convicted and is waiting to die – the question is whether she was fairly judged. The reliability of characters’ perceptions of events and of one another are explored through different narrative perspectives. There is no single authoritative voice in the novel, as it alternates between first-person narration by Agnes, and third-person narration, primarily from the perspectives of Tóti and Margrét. Switching between perspectives creates suspense and prevents the reader from getting too engrossed or dependant on one narrator. The prejudices of other characters and the perception of Agnes as a hardened criminal are explored through third-person narration. First-person narration allows Agnes to intimately and selectively convey her experience to other characters, and to convey to the reader her fears of sharing those experiences.

The emotive and intimate exchanges between Agnes and her captors contrasts heavily to the historical documents that open each chapter of the book. The documents add an authenticity and depth to the story while also dehumanising and damning Agnes and her co-accused. The absolute damnation by the courts is conveyed at the outset in letters from District Commissioner Björn Blöndal, who writes ‘…after the anticipated authorisation from the Supreme Court in Copenhagen, I intend to execute the Illugastadir murderers’.  The bleakness of Agnes’ existence is exemplified through court documentation of her meagre belongings, which include ‘a white sack with useless odds and ends in it’ and ‘an old shift of faded blue’. The public perception of Agnes as a calculated murderer is communicated through the poems of Poet-Rósa, which include the lines ‘For you have stolen with your scheming / he who gave my life meaning, / and thrown your life to the Devil to deal.’

While Agnes’ story is bleak, Burial Rites is by no means a depressing read, as hope is offered by questioning those in power and by providing a voice to the powerless. Hannah Kent is currently working on her second book, a historical novel set in 19th-century Ireland.

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Review: The Fault in our Stars

FaultinOurStars

Who doesn’t love reading about two well-crafted characters in an us-against-the-world (death) story? “The Fault in our Stars” is endearing in the way the protagonists face their mortality, and their otherness amongst those who don’t have to LIVE FOR TODAY or feel like a side effect of life, through frank discussions of their respective experiences and flirtatious interactions with each other. 

I was reluctant to read this book because I was worried about a romanticised approach to terminal illness, or a moral copout at the end (“My Sister’s Keeper” still pisses me off when I think about it). While I found the plot and ending predictable, this didn’t lessen the impact of the story.

Review: Gone Girl

GoneGirl

‘You think you’re reading a good, conventional thriller, and then it grows into a fascinating portrait of one averagely mismatched relationship.’ – The Times.

The Times review almost fully encapsulates why I enjoyed reading this book. 

Gone Girl is a captivating read, told in first person via the musings of Nick Dunne and via the diary of his wife, Amy. 

The benefit of a first person narrator is the directness of the narration; a story that isn’t bogged down by exposition or mind-numbing similes, metaphors, etc.

I love reading books containing unreliable narrators (‘Fight Club’ is still my favourite, closely followed by ‘Alias Grace’), and it made reading Gone Girl all the more enjoyable.

The ending was quite frustrating – with so many strong-willed characters, I was expecting a grand finale of sorts. Still, as other reviewers have sorted out, it does stay true to the overall feel of the story, rather than feeling like a cop-out.