#191: Pick a top five
After reading like crazy for a month in preparation for the Melbourne Writers’ Festival and the CYA Later, Alligator conference in Brisbane, here are my top five picks (limited to (a) people I’m going to see, and (b) books available from the public library):
5. James Roy – Anonymity Jones
As a rule, I get very bored by books about high school/teenage life. This one hooked me by having style. I’m incapable of resisting a fabulous narrative voice. It also turned out to go farther than the norm, dealing with some scary/creepy older man issues.
Rating: M for the possibility of a much older man liking a teenage girl.
Recommended: Teens (especially girls) and up.
4. Prue Mason – Camel Rider and Destination Abudai.
Both of these books are set in or near the fictional city of Abudai, a town based on many oil-rich towns in the Middle East. I liked the high-adventure stories (Camel Rider is better), I liked the setting (it’s not fantasy, but the desert landscapes are wonderfully harsh and detailed), and I liked most of all that Mason really knows Middle Eastern Islam – the good, the bad, and the simply different.
Rating: PG for religion including polygamy (worth a discussion with kids), and mild violence.
Recommended age: 9 and up, including adults. I think teenagers are the best age for these books.
3. David Metzenthen – Jarvis 24
I told you I’m a sucker for narrative voice. Metzenthen may just be the king of the masculine voice (and yes, being a man is an advantage, but no-one writes boys this well). The whole time I read the book, I felt like I was a teenage boy. His thoughts (mostly about girls, and sport, and how to impress girls with sport) were my thoughts, his random conversations were completely involving (and hilarious), and the girl he fell for meant everything to me, too. Metzenthen also handles homosexuality honestly, via another character (it’s not really about homosexuality, it’s about other people’s reactions).
Rating: PG for homosexuality, mild violence, and the world’s most subtle sex scene (I’d consider it child-safe. That’s how subtle it is).
Recommended for: All straight people. All teenage boys. All teenage girls. And everyone else, too.
I buy about a book a year. I’m buying this one – mainly so that in 20 years, when I have teenagers, they can read it. Seriously.
Free sample: So Trav and I go to the movies, and although it’s a long way below our dignity, it is better than doing nothing at all.
“At least we’ll see chicks,” says Trav, as my dad drops us off, somewhat uncoolly, in a Disabled Parking Zone.
This is true, as going to the movies on a Saturday night obviously isn’t considered such a bad option by girls. In fact, the place is packed. Some of them are probably even here to see some of that subtitled arty-farty rubbish where grumpy French chicks shout non-stop, smoke topless in bed, or carry home their shopping through Paris in the dark, often in the rain.
PS I’ve also read the Aussie Bites story, The Really Really High Diving Tower by the same author, for younger kids. It was funny, and one of the best in the excellent Aussie Bites series. And it also had a fabulous masculine energy about it.
I may have mentioned I like boys.
2. Glenda Millard – A Small Free Kiss in the Dark
My heart broke on every page of this book. It was frightening (I absolutely believed that Canberra was getting bombed – although Canberra isn’t specifically named as the setting), and uplifting, and utterly vulnerable. The narrator is a runaway 12-year old boy living on the streets. And then the city is bombed, and it’s wartime. There’s also a war veteran (also homeless), a 15-year old ballerina, and a baby. Most importantly, there is kindness.
Rating: M for sex and violence and both (none of it is graphic, but because she’s a good writer, the bad stuff hurts)
Recommended for: Teens and up.
1. Chris Moore – The Stupidest Angel
This is simply one of the funniest and most eccentric books I’ve ever read. The thing that made it the very best, for me, was a B-movie actress trying not to slip into her delusion that she really is a warrior woman (particularly confusing since she has sword skills, and memories of slaying monsters). It is hilarious, but also (in my opinion) a realistic depiction of those times when you realise, “Oh, I really should be on medication right now. But I’m not. So how do I TRY to act sane?” It’s fantasy in the sense that impossible stuff happens (eg. an evil zombie Santa), but it’s set in the real world. The relationships are wonderfully described – for once, it’s about how to stay in love, and what that actually looks like. I told a friend how much I liked “this crazy, funny book” and when I said it was by Chris Moore, his eyes widened (literally) and he said, “Ah. Yes. He is a very strange man.”
Rating: M. Moore has written a warning himself, that includes, “zombies, tasteful depictions of cannibalism, and people in their forties having sex”. Having read the book, that warning says everything anyone needs to know. I read an edition that added a darker short story at the end – it had a serial killer, and more violence. Still funny, though.
Recommended for: Precocious teens, adults. People in their forties 🙂
I will definitely read more books by this hilarious nutcase. Unfortunately, he’s not actually at the conferences I’m going to – I ordered his book by mistake.
From flickr.com, here’s your pic of the day:
PS Today’s Friday, so normally I’d be posting the twitter tale so far. Since it ends tomorrow, I’ll hold off and post the complete tale then.
Three-Ingredient Thursday: Lunch
This is it: the end of ten weeks of three-ingredient Thursdays. I hope you enjoyed looking at food you weren’t eating, and perhaps making and eating it yourselves.
Today’s is a classic Australian school lunch that for some reason hasn’t crossed the Pacific. Maybe today’s the day.
Yep, it’s a peanut butter and honey sandwich. Aussie readers will be frowning at this, saying, “That’s not a recipe. That’s LUNCH.” American readers will be frowning at this, saying, “But where’s the jelly? Oh, those silly Australians don’t know how to make a sandwich.”
Perhaps we can all try one another’s sandwiches, and unite the world. Peanut butter and honey/jam/jelly (we antipodeans call “jelly” jam – our “jelly” is American “jello”) is delicious, believe me.
If, gentle reader, you have a new sandwich-related cultural experience this week, do come back and tell us all about it.
Tomorrow: My pick of the top five novels that I’ve read in preparation for the mighty writing conferences of August/September. There will be zombies, first love, an evil Santa, a gay best friend, war, and Anonymity Jones.
In other news, “Peace Hostage” ends this Saturday – but I’ll continue posting rainforest pics until the end of the month. On September 1, the new story, “Killer Robot Cat” begins. Personally, I can’t wait.
In the meantime, here’s your rainforest pic for today:
Photos courtesy of www.amazonwatch.org, Thomas Marent, impactlab.com, wikipedia, and Sipa Press/Rex Features
Original Source: Rainforest facts, The Guardian, and cn.dk.com
#188: Edumacation
Last Saturday I went to CSIRO (Canberra’s rather impressive science centre – they invented wireless technology, and a whole lot of other stuff) for Science Week. They have the world’s most awesomest foyer, with live plants and trees, a bridge to walk in on, and GIANT BUGS. Plus, if I’m not mistaken, that’s Joseph Banks walking down the stairs (appropriately, I didn’t notice him when I took the photo – since he is, after all, dead).
During Science Week, one of the many free things on offer was a day of science lectures designed specifically for writers – with ten actual scientists who then answered our specific questions (such as, “So it’s pretty easy for one identical twin to frame the other using DNA, right?”*)
I learnt quite a bit, including the rather disturbing info that indentikit methods of facial reconstruction are not only inaccurate, but they actually impair memory (because we remember faces holistically, so ANY method other than holding the whole image in our heads – including writing down a description – makes the memory disintegrate).
I also found out that DNA scientists bought whale meat in a Japanese market and tested the DNA. Unsurprisingly, they discovered that:
1) Some of the whale meat was from species that are not used for scientific testing.
2) Some of the whale meat was not from Japanese waters.
3) One of the whales was a specific whale that had died in Iceland. . . four years earlier.
So, whaleburgers, anyone?
Someone in Japan has one seriously large freezer. I wonder what’s at the VERY bottom of it. Personally, my freezer has a kind of brown goo. I bet theirs has a LOT of brown goo. And at least one work experience kid who took a wrong turn.**
One of the scientist types answering our macabre queries was actually a cop – the one Gabrielle Lord’s Jack McCann is based on (they’re now friends). He was quick to point out that Gabrielle had changed various details about him – including his physical prowess. He told this story:
After telling the suspect who I was and that he was arrested, I took him by the arm and led him outside, where my car was parked. When he saw my car, he pulled away and bolted. I ran after him.
After a hundred metres, I was slowing down – but so was he. Hoping to psychologically break him, I called out, “You’ll have to run faster than that!”
He turned back, looked at me and said, “No I won’t.”
In the end, the suspect was apprehended, but the poor cop was so puffed he was unable to call it in for half an hour.
Awesome.
We also discovered that CSI is unrealistic (WHAT?!?!?! My thesis is RUINED), and that Gulliver’s magnetic island technology doesn’t actually work (although for a decade or two it was increasingly plausible).
Oh, and I stopped to chat to Charles Darwin (which was weird, when one of our lecturers clearly had a giant crush on him. I felt like I should call her over and say, “The guy you like is here!”)
I liked the dinosaur, too.
And here’s your rainforest picture of today, from flickr.com:
*Well – yes.
**Or DID they???
#186: What’s in the box? Part 2: The father-in-law
Alternative title: Break and enter.
I have a father-in-law. He’s pretty much like Macgyver, but with normal hair and without the bad acting.
So tonight, we took the mysterious cedar-wood box to his house (and his tools. And his many keys).
CJ and his dad did That Man Thing while the mum-in-law and I oohed and aahed over the various jewellery pieces we already had access to.
Can we be any more stereotypical?
The menfolk had dozens of keys (none the right shape) since the dad-in-law is something of a hoarder (the neatest I’ve ever seen). They also had a variety of lights and tools.
Some time passed. We were all having a marvellous time.
“I can see something red,” said the dad-in-law, squinting through the crack. “And something yellow.”
“Is that. . . easter eggs?” said CJ (on the other side of the box).
More time passed. We began to discuss locksmiths. And then. . .
It opened. Pow! Boom! Shimmy!
Helloooo plastictown! And also, some wood.
Here’s how things probably happened:
My mum and I, a little dazed at the collection when Grandma had just died, sorted it out into “possibly valuable” and “certainly not valuable”. We put them in different places. I amused myself by locking the pretty box. We cunningly put the key somewhere safe, since that’s what you do with keys.
Years passed.
And you know the rest. But “all that doesn’t glitter isn’t not gold”, as they say. Here’s a few features I discovered today:
The first is real sapphires and diamonds (definitely real), the second is a wedding and engagement ring set (so presumably a real diamond), the next is opal, then three purple mysteries, then jade, a yellow mystery, possible emeralds and diamonds (because fake diamonds wouldn’t be that small) and a butterfly ring with three diamonds (I think).
I’ll have everything valued (it’ll take a while) and let you know the truth of these 11 pieces when I know it. For now, they’re all in a friend’s safe (speaking of breaking and entering). When I know how much things are worth, I’ll sell almost everything.
And here’s another pretty thing, from flickr.com:
#187: What’s in the box? Part 1
Some are born awesome. Some achieve awesome. And some have awesome thrust upon ’em.*
My mum likes to be mysterious. She sent me an email a few days ago saying she’d “had an idea” and I should “drop in so we could talk about it”.
Things are a little crazy at the moment, so I didn’t take the bait right away.
Today, however, I became utterly convinced she’d bought a kitten.** Yes, a kitten. Therefore, I was incapable of waiting any longer. I grabbed CJ and we went over there – just now, at 9pm at night.
Remember how my mum recently had my sister and I take out huge boxes of cr– treasured items — from her attic? Today there was more stuff. This time, it was from the depths of her newly-renovated cupboard.
One of my grandmothers left all – literally all – her jewellery to me when she died. She had a brain tumour at the time, so I interpreted the gift as more of a “caretaker” role and sat down at the time with my family to see what everyone liked. The rest I kept – 99% of it in the back of mum’s cupboard, since I’m not big on jewellery.
As you can see from the picture above, Grandma’s biggest weakness was jewellery. Let’s look a little closer, shall we?
See that box? It’s inscribed – to my great-grandfather, a banker, on his retirement on the 31st of May 1930. It’s silver.
See those rings? There are only two kinds of gemstones I can recognise with certainty: opal and jade. There are four opal rings and a jade ring there, on top. The bracelets are silver – you can tell by how tarnished they are. I dunno what the rest is – glass? plastic? zirconia? Haven’t the faintest! One of the rings in one of the individual boxes was originally bought (twenty years ago) for $250. Another is still in its original box from the jewellery store – so those two aren’t made of glass. It’s perhaps interesting that the other bracelet – the one made of some kind of yellow metal – isn’t tarnished at all. Or perhaps not.
But here’s the thing. See that really BIG box at the back? The one that looks like a pirate’s treasure chest, bound in brass?
Can’t open it.
We’ve collectively lost the key. My parents have tried several keys without success. CJ had a go at it too (with tools).
Still can’t open it.
It’s full, and quite heavy (although to be honest, that’s mostly the box).
So what’s in the box???
I really hope we all find out soon. (And yes, I’ll be paying for a jeweller’s kid to go to college when they value all this.) I hope it drives you as crazy as it’s driving me.
To ease your contemplatory torment, here’s a soothing rainforest pic from flickr.com:
Coming soon: Finding out what’s in that box. Finding out what it’s all worth. Maniacal laughter and cries of, “I’m rich, I tell you, RICH!!” Also, patting a lizard.
. . . and chatting to Charles Darwin. And the final Three-Ingredient Thursday. And I’ll be flying to Melbourne on Friday for a whole lot of high-calibre schmoozing.
*three points if you know who I’m misquoting – be precise.
**I could take you through my train of thought, but it’s way less interesting now I know I’m an idiot.
#185: Experiment on a cat
The myth: That if you tie something around a cat’s middle, it won’t be able to walk.
The video:
The conclusion is at the bottom of this post.
And here are some gratuitously cute photos to show Ana was not disturbed by her latest adventure (or WAS SHE???) Those are CJ’s feet, by the way.
There’s a three-track soundtrack to these photos, too. You’ll have to recreate it in your minds.
Track one: Me saying, “Hold still! I need another photo. No, another one! It’ll just be a second. Oh, stop whining.”
Track two: CJ giggling, then saying “Ow! Ouch! OUCH!” with great surprise.
Track three: Ana, purring.
And here’s your pic of the day, from flickr.com:
The result of the experiment: Myth busted. It’s true she walked sideways at first, but she was completely fine after that.
If this was really Mythbusters, I’d replicate the results – but since that would involve tying her feet together, I decided not to.
Conclusion: Myth busted.
#189: Vote
I just voted in Australia’s national election.
I waited in a little line, wrote numbers in boxes, and made a difference to governmental policy for the next few years. My vote could help save a few more refugees, or legalise gay marriage, or help slow global warming. No one shot at me, disinherited me, or used my name to vote against my wishes.
That’s pretty awesome.
And here to assist your contemplation of peaceful democracy – a picture from flickr.com (if you’ve lost track of the “Peace Hostage” tale, I just posted the story so far):
Tomorrow: Experiment on a cat (the video is prepped and good to go. . . although the experiment didn’t turn out the way I expected*)
*The cat is FINE**
**For certain values of “fine”.
#184: All day in a wired cafe
I love the smell of cliché in the morning.
Taking advantage of a day when I didn’t have any tutoring, I decided to snap out of my recent pre-conference chocolate binge by distracting myself with writing and pancakes (pancakes being less evil than chocolate, believe me). So I went to the Pancake Parlour, an underground cave of a cafe, and ate a Red Dawn for breakfast:
And yep, that’s bacon and cheese you see baked into the pancake.
Then I wrote. And wrote some more. One of my books has been under major reconstruction for over a year, and it happens to be one I’ve promised to one of my shiny new contacts at a big publisher, so I armed myself with bacon and entered the fray. It wasn’t pretty, but I emerged with a rough new (ish) beginning, which should be good to go in about a month’s time.
I also ate lunch – in this case, cottage fries (with sour cream), and traditional lemonade.
It’s an expensive way to go, but I’ve now gone 8 waking hours without chocolate AND I have a workable opening to “The Princess and the Pirate”.
Play along at home: Are you a student or a writer or someone who sometimes works from home? Try taking your laptop to a cafe and seeing if the new environment helps. Let me know!
And here’s your “Peace Hostage” companion pic for today, from flickr.com:
PS: While at the cafe, I received news that one of my stories was honorably mentioned in a short-short story competiton. This is the tale:
“Untitled”
They say it’s impossible to defy a dragon. But I manag–
Three-Ingredient Thursday is CURSED!!!
Another near-death experience this week. It’s becoming a habit.
In other news, I made fish and chips. I use the word “made” in its loosest sense.
I sprayed two trays with oil, and put the fish in one. I washed, peeled and cut the potatoes and put them in the other tray with more oil sprayed over the top. Then I cooked them all (fish on the top tray) for about 35 minutes at about 200 degrees celsius. Then I bathed them in salt and lemon juice. Soooooo gooooooood.
Sorry, what’s that you say? Something about a near-death experience? Oh yes, of course.
Are we sitting nicely?
So I was once again driving along the Tuggeranong Parkway at 100 km/hr. This time it was raining and misty, so visibility was low and the tyres had ADHD. Now LAST time I wrote about the parkway (precisely one week ago) I observed an idiot move into the right lane and almost hit a truck. THIS time the part of the innocent victim was played by yours truly.
It’s always surprising when a car suddenly veers into one’s lane at high speed. I hit the brakes and the horn at the same time, as well as attempting to squeeze our wagon into a smaller slice of lane. The car was determined to plough into me, however, and casually disregarded my frantic beeping. I pushed harder on the brake and watched with a certain curiousity as the back corner of their car narrowly missed the front corner of mine.
If I’d braked half a second later, I’d probably be in hospital right now.
By the rules of narrative writing, I should be the one changing lanes without head-checking next Thursday (which also happens to be the Final Three-Ingredient Thursday – this curse is neat, isn’t it?) and due to the rule of three (third time succeeds where two previous attempts didn’t) will cause chaos and death. The narrative would particularly benefit from me doing so while crossing a bridge on that same road, since a bridge further up partially collapsed last weekend. That’s some nice foreshadowing.
Fortunately I’m not superstitious.* Also, unlike apparently everyone else, I tend to look where I’m going before changing lanes.**
Feeling paranoid now? Here’s a calming rainforest from flickr.com
*Being narratively aware is a completely different issue.
**Which explains why I only ever crash into objects directly in front of me.
#182: Go to a 90th birthday
Remember Steve Irwin? Remember how he was so alive it was like he filled the whole room just by being on TV?
He’s got nothing on my grandpa. Nothing.
My grandpa recently saw a doctor because he felt “slightly puffed” when he went upstairs.
My grandpa asked my grandma to marry him on their third meeting.
My grandpa once held his breath under water (he and his friends had been skinny-dipping, so they were naked) while getting shot at by US friendly fire in World War 2 (a story that never fails to make him laugh).
My grandpa was terribly offended at his 90th when someone said he looked 80 (“WHAT!?! I don’t look that old at all.”)
My grandpa is learning Mah Jong – and his aim is to start telling his teacher, “No, actually, you’re wrong. THIS is how you play.”
He has/will have at least three parties this year, since he lives in Perth. CJ and I went to the Sydney one – with over twenty people, almost all of them relatives of mine.
Apparently it was the type of party at which I felt the need to show my muscles. I have no recollection why that was the case.*
And the masses gathered for the inevitable photo:
And here to give you a teensy bit of longevity yourself, is a rainforest picture from flickr.com:
*apparently it was that type of party.
Felicity Banks 