The Australian book to read next: My Father’s Moon by Elizabeth Jolley

For Carrie Tiffany, reading the 1989 novel once wasn’t enough. She wanted to carry its narrator inside her as long as she could

Elizabeth Jolley.
 Elizabeth Jolley received 39 rejections in one year alone. In My Father’s Moon she created a protagonist you’ll want to keep alive forever. Photograph: Fairfax Media Archives/Fairfax Media/Getty Images

It is proof of a fine novel when its characters enter your spirit as you are reading and take up residence there. The experience is akin to falling in love. You are vividly enveloped by thoughts of another. They are alive inside you, perceiving the world with you, breath by breath. It is the most intimate of feelings. Film can’t achieve this, or theatre, or visual art; perhaps music gets closest. It’s only the novel that can show you the grain of another’s soul.

Vera Wright narrates Elizabeth Jolley’s 1989 novel My Father’s Moon.

The streets of suburban Melbourne are silent. I live alone. But here I am with the young nurse Vera in cold, mean London during the second world war, as she clanks around the wards of a training hospital with her ration jars of jam and butter hanging from her belt.

Vera cloaks me as I walk along the railway line at dusk watching the brightly lit carriages slide by on their return from the city – empty, empty, empty, empty. We stand in front of the bare supermarket shelves that have been freshly ransacked by anxious lock-downers. How insubstantial the world feels without its goods.

I read the novel quickly. As soon as I finish it, I begin again. It is told in reverse order in a series of jagged, impressionistic short stories. I think I’m trying to keep Vera alive for as long as possible, but also to enhance her narrative with this circular reading. If the dire events at the beginning of the novel (the result of all of the miss-steps and cruelties that come later) can be recast, perhaps there is a better life for Vera Wright?

I carry Vera around inside me. I want her to be free and to be loved. I want her to be sensually and sexually alive. The borders are closed but I dream of taking her to Queensland and laying her down in a warm green sea, feeding her a pineapple, showing her the whitest and purest of moons. Of course, I want these things for myself too.

The relationship between us isn’t smooth. Vera is meek, naive and loveless. She is also bitter and forlorn. She lies. She is bullied and she bullies others. Happiness must be grasped at and stolen, never shared. Vera is unable to see the world around her outside the narrow punishing hierarchies of the boarding school and the hospital. I love Vera, although at times I would gladly strangle her. She invites her entrapment not just with waywardness, but wilfully.

The young nurse Vera Wright is an aspiring writer. She is engaged in that dual impulse I know so well, to conceal and reveal. Vera’s mother tells her she is too young to be a writer, she has no experience yet. This is from the pen of Elizabeth Jolley who wrote for years without success. In one year alone Jolley received 39 rejections for her writing. She was in her fifties when her work finally found favour.

Read Elizabeth Jolley’s My Father’s Moon. You may want to go on and read the Vera Wright trilogy. You may want to go on and read and re-read Elizabeth Jolley, as I do, and as I will continue to do.

The huge Easter moon, as if within arm’s length, as if it can be reached simply by stretching out both hands to take it and hold it, is low down in the sky, serene and full, lighting the night so that it looks as if everything is snow covered, and the deep shadows lie across pale, moon-whitened lawns. This moon is the same moon that my father will have seen. He always told me when I had to leave for school, every term when I wept when I did not want to leave, he told me that if I looked at the moon, wherever I was, I was seeing the same moon that he was looking at. ‘And because of this,’ he said, ‘you must know that I am not very far away. You must never feel lonely,’ he said. He said the moon would never be extinguished. Sometimes, he said, it was not possible to see the moon, but it was always there. He said he liked to think of it as his.

– Elizabeth Jolley, My Father’s Moon, Penguin, Australia, 1989. p. 26.

Elizabeth Jolley

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Jump to navigationJump to search

Elizabeth Jolley
Elizabeth Jolley.gif

Professor Elizabeth Jolley
Born
Monica Elizabeth Knight

4 July 1923

Birmingham, England
Died 13 February 2007 (aged 83)

Occupation Novelist, professor of creative writing
Spouse(s) Leonard Jolley
Children 3

Monica Elizabeth Jolley AO (4 June 1923 – 13 February 2007) was an English-born Australian writer who settled in Western Australia in the late 1950s and forged an illustrious literary career there. She was 53 when her first book was published, and she went on to publish fifteen novels (including an autobiographical trilogy), four short story collections and three non-fiction books, publishing well into her 70s and achieving significant critical acclaim. She was also a pioneer of creative writing teaching in Australia, counting many well-known writers such as Tim Winton among her students at Curtin University.[1]

Her novels explore “alienated characters and the nature of loneliness and entrapment.”[2]

Life[edit]

Elizabeth Jolley and (younger) sister Madelaine Winifred reading, ca. 1927

Jolley was born in Birmingham, England as Monica Elizabeth Knight, to an English father and Austrian-born mother who was the daughter of a high ranking Railways official.[3] She grew up in the Black Country in the English industrial Midlands. She was educated privately until age 11, when she was sent to Sibford School, a Quaker boarding school near Banbury in Oxfordshire which she attended from 1934 to 1940.

At 17 she began training as an orthopaedic nurse in London and later in Surrey. She began an affair with one of her patients, Leonard Jolley (1914–1994), and subsequently became pregnant. Leonard Jolley was already married to Joyce Jolley, who was also pregnant. Elizabeth moved in with the Jolleys, and her daughter Sarah was born five weeks before the birth of Susan Jolley, the child of Leonard and Joyce.[4][5]

Elizabeth and Leonard subsequently emigrated to Australia in 1959 after they had married. They eventually had three children and Leonard was appointed chief librarian at the Reid Library at the University of Western Australia, a job he held from 1960–1979. Leonard told his family in England that it was Joyce and Susan with whom he had moved to Australia. For several years, Elizabeth wrote letters purportedly from Joyce and Susan to Leonard’s British relatives. Leonard eventually asked his former wife to tell their daughter Susan that he had died.[4]

Elizabeth and Leonard lived in the riverside Perth suburb of Claremont. In 1970 they also bought a small orchard in Wooroloo, a town in the Darling Ranges approximately 60 kilometres inland from Perth.[6]

Elizabeth Jolley worked at a variety of jobs including nursing, cleaning, door-to-door sales and running a small poultry farm, and throughout this time she also wrote works of fiction including short stories, plays and novels. Her first book was published in 1976, when she was 53.

From the late 1970s, she taught writing at the Western Australian Institute of Technology, later Curtin University, and one of her students was another Australian novelist, Tim Winton.[7] Her students have won many prizes including “several Australian/Vogel Awards (for a first novel), several different Premier’s Awards, the Commonwealth Poetry Prize and the Miles Franklin Award”.[1]

She developed dementia in 2000, and died in a nursing home in Perth in 2007. Her death prompted many tributes in newspapers across Australia, and in The Guardian in the United Kingdom. Her diaries, stored at the Mitchell Library in Sydney, will be closed until after the deaths of her children or 25 years after her death.[8]

Andrew Riemer, the Sydney Morning Herald’s chief book reviewer, wrote in his obituary for her, “Jolley could assume any one of several personas – the little old lady, the Central European intellectual, the nurse, the orchardist, the humble wife, the university teacher, the door-to-door salesperson – at the drop of a hat, usually choosing one that would disconcert her listeners, but hold them in fascination as well”.[9]

On 16 November 2007, the performance of Johannes Brahms‘s A German Requiem by the West Australian Symphony Orchestra, chorus and soloists, under conductor Lothar Zagrosek, was dedicated to Jolley, for whom the Requiem had been a great source of joy and inspiration.[10]

Literary career[edit]

Jolley began writing early in her twenties, but was not recognised until much later. She had many rejections by publishers, 39 in one year alone. Delys Bird suggests that it was the post-modern features of her writing – “motifs repeated within and between novels and short stories, self-reflexivity and open-endedness”[11] – that made it hard for them to be published at that time. She suggests that her eventual success owes a little to “the 1980s awareness of ‘women’s writing'”, which had been catapulted to the mainstream after the success of other Australian female writers such as Helen Garner and Germaine Greer.[11]

In the 1960s some of her stories were accepted by the BBC World Service and Australian journals, but her first book Five Acre Virgin was not published until 1976. Soon following were Woman in a Lampshade and Palomino, but it would not be until much later that these books would receive either positive reviews or high circulation.

She lapsed in her writing, discouraged by earlier failures, and was only to be published again in 1983 with Miss Peabody’s Inheritance and Mr Scobie’s Riddle. The latter won The Age Book of the Year and high acclaim, especially in Australia and the United States. A year later, Milk and Honey was awarded Christina Stead Prize for fiction in the New South Wales Premier’s Literary Awards. In 1986, The Well won the top Australian literary prize – the Miles Franklin AwardThe Sugar Mother was, as Riemer writes, “her characteristically idiosyncratic way of fulfilling a commission to write a novel commemorating the bicentenary of 1988”.[12]

Later in her career she wrote an autobiographical fiction trilogy, “My Father’s Moon” (1989), “Cabin Fever” (1990) and ‘The George’s Wife” (1993). In an article in The Age newspaper, 20 February 2007, written after her death, literary critic Peter Craven, was reported as saying, “She was a master of black comedy and she went on to write a wholly different form of autobiographical fiction that was lucid, luminous and calm”.[13]

Lovesong, her third last novel, is, Riemer suggests, “the riskiest book she wrote”.[12] It deals with the subject of paedophilia and demonstrates “an admirable refusal to be deflected from what she must have seen as the demands of her art and vocation”.[12]

In 1993, a diary she kept before her novels were published which recorded the experience of buying a hobby farm was published as Diary of a Weekend Farmer. A partly autobiographical collection of pieces, Central Mischief, appeared in 1992. She also wrote numerous radio plays broadcast by the Australian Broadcasting Corporation, and several of her poetic works were published in journals and anthologies during the 1980s and 1990s.

Jolley was made a Professor of Creative Writing at Curtin University in 1998.

On 8 February 2008, Curtin University Library launched the online Elizabeth Jolley Research Collection, a virtual research centre for scholars interested in studying her and her work.

Awards and nominations[edit]

Literary works[edit]

Novels[edit]

Short stories and plays[edit]

Non-fiction[edit]

Game Theory, the Internet of Things and 5G Networks: … books.google.com.au › books

https://books.google.com.au/books?id=AruXDwAAQBAJ&pg=PA80&lpg=PA80&dq=TIT+The+Internet+of+Things&source=bl&ots=RlgbU-v-ru&sig=ACfU3U3jqD6Aum7SMgqk4tGyz1apykN7rQ&hl=en&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwiCurP9v5jpAhWkxTgGHcxOCLUQ6AEwEHoECAoQAQ#v=onepage&q=TIT%20The%20Internet%20of%20Things&f=false

Game Theory, the Internet of Things and 5G Networks: …

books.google.com.au › books
Josephina Antoniou – 2019 – ‎Technology & Engineering

… combinations (1st simulation Rec. node payoffs Sending node strategies set) Rec. node strategies Tit-for-tat Cheat&return Grim 793.14 4.42 Cheat&leave 6.62 …

Thinking Errors and the Coronavirus

Martin Cohen (Twitter @docmartincohen) is a writer, lecturer and researcher who specialises in social science whose books have been translated into twenty different languages. His doctoral research involved looking at social and psychological myths constructed around the power of computers and his books, including, Paradigm Shift: How Expert Opinions Keep Changing on Life, the Universe, and Everything (2015) have explored key issues in philosophy of science including food myths and previous pandemic scares as well as the groupthink that enabled them.

“The end of everything we call life is at hand and cannot be evaded”
H. G. Wells (1946)

Thinking Errors and the Coronavirus

“The coronavirus doesn’t just make individual people ill – it threatens the whole of society too. Measures used to control the virus destroy people’s livelihoods, trample basic freedoms and, if prolonged, could eventually bring about wholesale societal collapse. . . .”

Big Farms Make Big Flu

Book Details

Dispatches on Influenza, Agribusiness, and the Nature of Science

by Rob Wallace

Published by: Monthly Review Press

400 pages, 6.00 x 9.00 in

  • PAPERBACK
  • ISBN: 9781583675892
  • PUBLISHED: JUNE 2016

$24.00

BUY

  • HARDCOVER
  • ISBN: 9781583675908
  • PUBLISHED: JUNE 2016

$89.00

BUY

Thanks to breakthroughs in production and food science, agribusiness has been able to devise new ways to grow more food and get it more places more quickly. There is no shortage of news items on hundreds of thousands of hybrid poultry – each animal genetically identical to the next – packed together in megabarns, grown out in a matter of months, then slaughtered, processed and shipped to the other side of the globe. Less well known are the deadly pathogens mutating in, and emerging out of, these specialized agro-environments. In fact, many of the most dangerous new diseases in humans can be traced back to such food systems, among them Campylobacter, Nipah virus, Q fever, hepatitis E, and a variety of novel influenza variants.

Agribusiness has known for decades that packing thousands of birds or livestock together results in a monoculture that selects for such disease. But market economics doesn’t punish the companies for growing Big Flu – it punishes animals, the environment, consumers, and contract farmers. Alongside growing profits, diseases are permitted to emerge, evolve, and spread with little check. “That is,” writes evolutionary biologist Rob Wallace, “it pays to produce a pathogen that could kill a billion people.”

In Big Farms Make Big Flu, a collection of dispatches by turns harrowing and thought-provoking, Wallace tracks the ways influenza and other pathogens emerge from an agriculture controlled by multinational corporations. Wallace details, with a precise and radical wit, the latest in the science of agricultural epidemiology, while at the same time juxtaposing ghastly phenomena such as attempts at producing featherless chickens, microbial time travel, and neoliberal Ebola. Wallace also offers sensible alternatives to lethal agribusiness. Some, such as farming cooperatives, integrated pathogen management, and mixed crop-livestock systems, are already in practice off the agribusiness grid.

While many books cover facets of food or outbreaks, Wallace’s collection appears the first to explore infectious disease, agriculture, economics and the nature of science together. Big Farms Make Big Flu integrates the political economies of disease and science to derive a new understanding of the evolution of infections. Highly capitalized agriculture may be farming pathogens as much as chickens or corn.

Strange New World

Strange New World

By 

Fatefulness about the survival of the species is not new. Religious thinking has end-time built in, and for most of our sentient life on the planet human­kind has been predominantly religious. That has changed in Westernized countries, but only relatively recently, and alongside advances in scientific knowledge. Our new pessimism no longer depends on a deity to wipe out this wicked world. Since the Manhattan Project, we have learned how to do it ourselves.

Nuclear, ecological, chemical, economic — our arsenal of Death by Stupidity is impressive for a species as smart as Homo sapiens. Yet fire or flood may belong to an Armageddon whose awful grandeur may not be our fate. Plague — unlovely, heroic, unstoppable, might well get us first. That’s what happens in Margaret Atwood’s new novel, “The Year of the Flood,” her latest excursion into what’s sometimes called her “science fiction,” though she prefers “speculative fiction.” If we have to have a label, that’s a better one, since part of Atwood’s mastery as a writer is to use herself as a creative computer, modeling possible futures projected from the available data — in human terms, where we are now.

Her 1985 novel “The Handmaid’s Tale” imagines a United States taken over by God-fearing fundamentalists sick of democracy and civil rights, especially women’s rights. Atwood is chillingly brilliant in depicting the slick twists a technology of freedom can take, shifting ease of access — in this case to financial records and personal information — into theft and surveillance. Overnight, the bank accounts of every woman are transferred to her nearest male relative.

Image
Credit…Illustration by Sam Weber

In “Oryx and Crake,” published in 2003, Atwood leads us through a bioengineered world where a new species, the Crakers, has been invented by a Dr. Frankenstein figure — Crake — and given a chance at remaking the world, thanks to a near decimation of the human race, also masterminded by Crake. At the end of that novel, we are left in a clearing in the woods with a tribe of bewildered Crakers, a few old-­fashioned human beings and Jimmy the Snowman, who’s wondering whether he should finish off the last of his own kind and leave the whole rotten and rotting show to the nonviolent, unclothed human herbivores cell-created by his best friend, Crake.

That end is also the end of “The Year of the Flood.” Here Atwood has brilliantly re-told her own tale, through other mouths and focusing on different details, showing us how the kids Jimmy and Glenn become the Snowman and Crake, and how an end — or the End — can happen in the name of a new beginning.

  • Unlock more free articles.

Create an account or log in

The Waterless Flood has long been predicted by God’s Gardeners, a back-to-nature cult founded by Adam One. Its members live simply and organically, sing terrible hymns, have no dress sense and peddle a bolted-together theology, difficult to think about if you think at all. With values diametrically opposed to those of the ruling CorpSEcorps, the Gardeners aren’t “the answer,” but at least they’ve asked enough questions to avoid a life of endless shopping and face-lifts.

The Gardeners sometimes do evangelical work in the mean streets, known as the pleeblands, or picket a fast-food joint like SecretBurgers because it’s wrong to eat anything with a face. At Secret­Burgers they rescue a young woman named Toby from the murderous clutches of her sex-crazed boss, Blanco the Bloat, and it’s Toby who is one of the central characters in the post-plague part of the story. As a Gardener, Toby rises to the position of Eve Six, in charge of bees, herbs and potions, but Blanco never stops pursuing her, and to save herself, and the group, she receives a new identity in the health spa AnooYoo. Recovering from plastic surgery, she avoids the deadly wipeout germ of the plague.

Image
Credit…George Whiteside

Less cosmetically, but just as effectively, Ren, a pole dancer at a local sex joint called Scales and Tails, is in an isolation room after a bloody attack by a punter, so she too misses the bio-bug. The women’s past and present stories alternate and inter­twine, bringing to life the world they must survive in — a world where pigs have human brain tissue and sheep are bred with human hair in different colors, silver and purple being hot hits for whole-head implants, providing you don’t mind smelling of lamb chops when it rains.

My favorite Atwood genetic invention is the liobam — a cross between a lion and a lamb, engineered by a lunatic fringe religious group that’s tired of waiting for the prophecy of the lion lying down with the lamb to come true. Their own breed has curly golden hair and long, sharp canines, and will look at you very gently while it rips your throat out — which is pretty much the metaphor for the world of lethal paternalism created by CorpSEcorps.

The sensitive CorpSEcorps elite boy Glenn, who becomes Crake, starts out as a teenage sympathizer for the Gardeners but is too seduced by his own brainpower to trust nature. Like his friend Jimmy, Glenn doesn’t know how to love, and the awkward devotion he feels for the girl he calls Oryx is not returned. Atwood is very good at showing, without judging, what happens when human beings (usually men) cannot love. In the worst of them, like Blanco the Bloat, brutality and sadism take over. In the better of them, like Crake, a utopian desire for perfectability re­places the lost and lonely self. Crake designs out love and romance because he wants to design out the pain and confusion of emotion.

In this strangely lonely book, where neither love nor romance changes the narrative, friendship of a real and lasting and risk-taking kind stands against the emotional emptiness of the money/sex/power/consumer world of CorpSEcorps, and as the proper antidote to the plague-­mongering of Crake and Jimmy, for whom humankind holds so little promise. As ever with Atwood, it is friendship between women that is noted and celebrated — friendship not without its jealousies but friendship that survives rivalry and disappointment, and has a generosity that at the end of the novel allows for hope. Atwood believes in human beings, and she likes women. It is Toby and Ren who take the novel forward from the last page, not the genetically engineered new humans.

Atwood is funny and clever, such a good writer and real thinker that there’s hardly any point saying that not everything in the novel works. Why should it? A high level of creativity has to let in some chaos; just as nobody would want the world as engineered by Crake, nobody needs a factory-finished novel. The flaws in “The Year of the Flood” are part of the pleasure, as they are with human beings, that species so threatened by its own impending suicide and held up here for us to look at, mourn over, laugh at and hope for. Atwood knows how to show us ourselves, but the mirror she holds up to life does more than reflect — it’s like one of those mirrors made with mercury that gives us both a deepening and a distorting effect, allowing both the depths of human nature and its potential mutations. We don’t know how we will evolve, or if we will evolve at all. “The Year of the Flood” isn’t prophecy, but it is eerily ­possible.

THE YEAR OF THE FLOOD

By Margaret Atwood

434 pp. Nan A. Talese / Doubleday. $26.95

Jeanette Winterson’s latest novel is “The Stone Gods.”

THE LUCK OF POLITICS: TRUE TALES OF DISASTER AND OUTRAGEOUS FORTUNE Andrew Leigh

THE LUCK OF POLITICS: TRUE TALES OF DISASTER AND OUTRAGEOUS FORTUNE

https://www.dymocks.com.au/book/the-luck-of-politics-true-tales-of-disaster-and-outrageous-fortune-by-andrew-leigh-9781863957557

“A delightful look at chance and outrageous fortune. In 1968, John Howard missed out on winning the state seat of Drummoyne by just 420 votes. Howard reflects- ‘I think back how fortunate I was to have lost.’ It left him free to stand for a safe federal seat in 1974 and become one of Australia’s longest-serving prime ministers. In The Luck of Politics, Andrew Leigh weaves together numbers and stories to show the many ways luck can change the course of political events. This is a book full of fascinating facts and intriguing findings. Why is politics more like poker than chess? Does the length of your surname affect your political prospects? What about your gender? From Winston Churchill to George Bush, Margaret Thatcher to Paul Keating, this book will persuade you that luck shapes politics – and that maybe, just maybe, we should avoid the temptation to revere the winners and revile the losers. ‘Andrew Leigh takes the simplest idea there is – luck – and threatens to remake your basic understanding of politics with it. Then he succeeds. Lucky for us.’ Waleed Aly ‘It’s rare to find a politician prepared to acknowledge the role of luck – sheer chance – in political success and failure. Andrew Leigh doesn’t just acknowledge it, he interrogates it, using fascinating historical anecdotes to illustrate his tale.’ Lenore Taylor”

Andrew Leigh

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Jump to navigationJump to search

Dr Andrew Leigh
Andrew Leigh 2017.jpg

Leigh in 2017
Member of the Australian Parliament
for Fenner
Assumed office
2 July 2016
Preceded by New seat
Member of the Australian Parliament
for Fraser
In office
21 August 2010 – 2 July 2016
Preceded by Bob McMullan
Succeeded by Division abolished
Personal details
Born
Andrew Keith Leigh

3 August 1972 (age 47)
Sydney, Australia

Nationality Australian
Political party Australian Labor Party
Spouse(s) Gweneth
Children 3 sons
Residence Canberra, Australia
Alma mater University of Sydney
Harvard Kennedy School
Occupation Politician
Profession Lawyer, academic, political adviser
Website andrewleigh.com

Andrew Keith Leigh (born 3 August 1972) is an Australian politician, author, and former professor of economics at the Australian National University. He has been a Labor member of the Australian House of Representatives since 2010 representing the seat of Fraser until 2016 and Fenner thereafter. He briefly served as the Parliamentary Secretary to Prime Minister Julia Gillard in 2013 and then served as Shadow Assistant Treasurer and Shadow Minister for Competition from 2013 to 2019. Leigh is not a member of any factions of the Labor Party.

Prompt Day 10: What was the best book you read in 2019? What did you like about it? #Manifest20

I like to mention here three books I did read one year ago and that made quite an impression on me.  Last year I copied some details about these books without mentioning my own opinion about any of the books. But as an introduction to the first book I wrote:

DI MORRISSEY seems to be my favourite author at the moment. The most recent book of hers that I read is: “The Winter Sea”.

Peter said, I should write something about what I felt about these books.

So, the first thing that came to mind is that in each book there are some main characters that I feel very comfortable with. And of course there are some other characters that I would not feel very comfortable with but even the more ‘bad’ characters do have a few likable features. That means the characters feel quite real to me.

In each of the three books there are some male/female relationships that are great to read about. In each book there are some rather strong female characters. But even these very strong females do like a good man a lot! Despite a number of difficulties all these females end up with simply good men –  at least for a while.

‘The Winter Sea’ novel by Di Morrissey is for the most part set into an environment that I am very familiar with. It deals with a family history that encompasses nearly one hundred years and shows what happens to immigrants to Australia that come from different backgrounds, for instance Italian and Irish.

Greg Iles is a New York Times bestselling author. He wrote BLOOD MEMORY. Cat (Catherine) Ferry is a most interesting character. It shows what may happen to a person that has been abused as a child.

Well, the third book ‘THE GOOD DAUGHTER’ by Karin Slaughter, is a very well written book too. There are actually wo daughters, both of them I see as main characters. To my mind both are ‘good’ daughters, even though they are totally different. Maybe one is more the good daughter of the father, the other one the good daughter of the mother. So which counts for more?

The following three links to my auntielive site show you some interesting details  about the three above mentioned books:

https://auntielive.wordpress.com/2018/12/18/books-i-read-in-november-december-2018/

https://auntielive.wordpress.com/2018/12/18/continued-from-books-i-read/

https://auntielive.wordpress.com/2018/12/18/continued-from-books-i-read-2/

A Short Summary of the three Books I read in Nov/Dec 2018

Last year I wrote about these three books on my ‘auntielive’ site.

https://auntielive.wordpress.com/2018/12/23/summary-of-three-books/

https://auntielive.wordpress.com/2018/12/18/books-i-read-in-november-december-2018/

https://auntielive.wordpress.com/2018/12/18/continued-from-books-i-read/

https://auntielive.wordpress.com/2018/12/18/continued-from-books-i-read-2/

I copy here some of my short summary about these three books. It helps me to have another look at what I wrote about these books, meaning it helps me a lot in memorising these books!

In each book there are some main characters that I feel very comfortable with. And of course there are some other characters that I would not feel very comfortable with but even the more ‘bad’ characters do have a few likable features. That means the characters feel quite real to me.

In each of the three books there are some male/female relationships that are great to read about. In each book there are some rather strong female characters. But even these very strong females do like a good man a lot! Despite a number of difficulties all these females end up with simply good men –  at least for a while.

The Winter Sea book by Di Morrissey is for the most part set into an environment that I am very familiar with, namely the South Coast of NSW, Australia.  It deals with a family history that encompasses nearly one hundred years and shows what happens to immigrants to Australia that come from different backgrounds, for instance Italian and Irish.

Greg Iles is a New York Times bestselling author. He wrote BLOOD MEMORY. Cat (Catherine) Ferry is a most interesting character. It shows what may happen to a person that has been abused as a child.

Well, the third book ‘THE GOOD DAUGHTER’ by Karin Slaughter, is a very well written book too. Two daughters are actually very main characters. To my mind they are both ‘good’ daughters even though they are totally different. Maybe one is more the good daughter of the father, the other one the good daughter of the mother. So which counts for more?