Books and reading
Nurturing peace: ‘The holy and the broken’ by Ittay Flescher
Since the Hamas attacks on Israel in October 2023 and the resulting devastation of Gaza by Israeli defence forces since, I have been silenced. How could I put into words my revulsion at the violence, my despair at the apparent intractability of the centuries-old enmity? I knew too little about the history of the conflict, the bewildering tangle of geo-political and religious factors that have contibuted to the bitterness poisoning generations of Israelis and Palestinians.
Many of my left-leaning friends and contacts were vocal in their criticism of the Israeli government for the brutality of the retribution wreaked on innocents in Gaza, including women, children, the elderly, the sick. I could not disagree with this. Bombing hospitals, denying medical and water supplies to civilians surely can never be justified.
But the chant at ‘pro-Palestinian’ rallies of from the river to the sea, Palestine will be free – what does that mean? That the Jewish population should be expunged from the land? To go where? And then?
When I saw Ittay Flescher’s book title and subtitle, I knew I had to read it. The holy and the broken references a line from Leonard Cohen’s beautiful song ‘Hallelujah’, which Flescher argues would be Jerusalem’s anthem if she were a soundtrack rather than a city. As a place of deep and abiding significance for three of the world’s major religions, Jerusalem and the land that surrounds it is certainly holy. But torn apart over centuries by ancient battles, crusades and modern warfare, it would be difficult to argue that it is not also broken.
And the subtitle: A cry for Israeli-Palestinian peace from a land that must be shared positions both the book and its author from within the land in question, not a book written by an outsider, but by someone intimately familiar with the land and its people. And importantly, someone who believes that the way forward is to imagine a different future for both Palestinians and Israelis.
The author is someone who has worked as a peace builder and educator for many years, both in Jerusalem as the education director at Kids4Peace, an interfaith youth movement for Israelis and Palestinians, and as a high-school educator in Melbourne.
His book opens with a personal account of the October 7 Hamas attacks from the perspective of an Israeli man in Jerusalem: hour by hour, then day by day, both absorbed and repelled by what he was seeing and hearing on the news, wanting to turn away but also needing to know. Seeing his country become instantly united by this existential threat; opposition to the government seemingly shut down overnight.
Then he draws back and begins to reflect and to question.
In Flescher’s view, the core of the tragedy between the river and the sea is a deep and reciprocal misreading of the other. Here he touches on education, media and journalism, language difference, even religious texts: all can play a part in either cementing difference and stereotypes, or affirming the humanity of everyone who lives there.
All have suffered historic and ongoing trauma. Palestinian and Israeli families experience daily pain and heartache at the loss of loved ones in senseless acts of violence. Their religious traditions feature deep, historic connections with the same land.
He emphasises the importance of building grassroots connections across religious and language divides; the kind of connections that occur outside political structures. Take the politics out of it; the people who have the most to gain from peace are youngsters, their parents, friends and neighbours. People who just want to get on with their lives.
It involves recognising each other’s humanity, and understanding that the love Palestinian and Israeli parents hold for our children is the same, as is the profound grief we experience when they are taken from us.
It means embracing the notion that injustice anywhere poses a threat to justice everywhere and that security of one side requires security for the other.
The holy and the broken pp 222-223The most moving section of the book for me was found in the two letters the author wrote to future Israeli and Palestinian teenagers, which come towards the end of the book. They beautifully encapsulate his vision for what the land he holds so dear could be like, ‘when there is peace.’
If, like me, you have been at a loss as to how to think about or discuss the Palestinian/Israeli conflict, or wish there was an alternative to the black-and-white rhetoric of much of the public debate on the issue, I urge you to read this book. It offers another perspective and a welcome glimmer of hope on an otherwise very dark horizon.
At the time of writing this post, the author has planned a number of book launch dates in Australia. I am going to the Sydney one. Perhaps I will see some of you there.
For more information about Ittay, his book or his lifelong work for peace, you can visit his website here.
The holy and the broken is published by HarperCollins in January 2025.
My thanks to the publishers for a review copy.
2024: My year in books (and what’s in store for 2025)
In 2024 I participated in three reading challenges again, always a fun way to keep variety in my reading diet. Sometimes the results at the end of a year can be surprising; this is one of those times.
In the Historical Fiction Reading Challenge I undertook to read 15 books of historical fiction – I came in right on target. It is easily my favourite genre of fiction.
For 2025, I will choose that same target in this challenge.
In the Cloak and Dagger Reading Challenge, I chose the ‘Amateur Sleuth’ target of 5-15 books, and hit 14 books, so that’s a giveaway that crime fiction is another favourite of my genres. I’ll go for around that many again this year.The surprise result for me this year was the Non-Fiction Reading Challenge, where I chose a conservative target of ‘nibbler’, aiming for 6 books. Instead I read a whopping 16 non-fiction books in 2024! I’m not sure what that means, but perhaps I should choose a higher target for 2025? Well, I’ll probably aim for ‘nibbler’ again and see how I go.
I have a private challenge of my own, to read more books by First Nations authors, in any genre. In 2024 my reading included 10 works by Aboriginal and/or Torres Strait Islander writers: encompassing fiction, non-fiction, and children’s books. In 2025 I hope to equal or better that number.
As always, I am indebted to publishers, especially HarperCollins, and to NetGalley, for sending advanced copies of books for review. I also thank authors who have approached me asking if I would read and review their work.
I know it can be a scary thing to put your writing out into the world and ask for feedback. I never approach the task of reviewing a book lightly. Someone has put months (usually years) of work into research, drafting, rewriting, redrafting, editing, rewriting, editing again, and again, and again…until the finished product is finally put into their hands. For this reason I treat each and every book with the respect it deserves. And I thank each author and publisher for allowing me the opportunity to read and review their work.
So, on to 2025. I wish all my fellow readers a wonderful bookish year ahead.
Photo by Sumit Mathur at pexels Brilliant insight: ‘More or Less Maddy’ by Lisa Genova
I’ve read two previous novels by American nueroscientist and author Lisa Genova, and loved them both. Still Alice (made into a feature film) and Left Neglected offered fascinating insights into early onset dementia and a brain injury known as Left Neglect, respectively. More or Less Maddy likewise tells a very human story behind a medical diagnosis that devastates individuals and their families.
When bipolar disorder strikes Maddy, a young college student from a comfortable middle class family in Connecticut, she is already struggling with a sense of not fitting in. While her sister and brother seem to belong to the picture perfect world of their parents, happy with the already mapped-out life trajectories of education and career pathways, marriage, family and lovely home, Maddy dreams of a career as a stand-up comedian in New York.
Her first episode of mania at first feels wonderful. It rockets her out of the depression she has suffered for months, seemingly overnight. Suddenly she feels she can do anything, achieve anything. She doesn’t need to sleep, she writes brilliant comedy, and is sure she will soon be writing an authorised biography of Taylor Swift, her artistic heroine.
It all comes to a sticky end and that is when her distraught and frightened family step in and she is confronted with hospital, therapy, doctors and medication. She is fortunate to be connected with a knowledgable and empathic doctor who skillfully guides both Maddy and her troubled family on this new and frightening journey.
But there are plenty of pitfalls, not least of which is the diagnosis itself. Maddy’s struggles with the lifelong nature of her condition, and the burden of the stigma it carries, are brilliantly and sensitively portrayed in the novel; as are those of her family, who only want to keep her safe.
How to, or indeed whether to tell friends, old and new, of her condition, is a preoccupation. As is coping with the side effects of the various new drugs she must take. Keeping to a pretty strict lifestyle regimen: no late nights, no illicit drugs or alcohol, eating a healthy diet, watching her mood like a hawk, keeping a mood journal…all rather tiresome for a ‘normal’ twenty year-old.
But of course that’s just it. Once she has heard that word – bipolar – Maddy can never feel normal again.
I cared for Maddy a great deal, and could not wait to return to her story each time I had a chance to pick up the book.
The author does not pull punches. Maddy’s situation is not prettied up: there are relapses and mistakes, some that made me want to skip pages. But I read on because I knew this was all a necessary part of Maddy’s story. The ending is not tied up in a neat bow but there is hope for a better future for Maddy and those who love her.
If you see this book in your local bookstore or library, please do read it. It goes a long way to humanise this mental disorder that a suprising number of people live with. Lisa Genova has such a gift and I can’t wait to see what topic she might tackle next.
More or Less Maddy is published by Allen & Unwin in January 2025.
My thanks to the publishers and NetGalley for an early review copy.Vivid colonial story: ‘The Governor, His Wife and His Mistress’ by Sue Williams
The third work of Australian historical fiction by Sue Williams, The Governor, His Wife and His Mistress tells the story of the naval officer who became the third governor of the British colony of New South Wales, but also the lesser-known entwined stories of the two women who shared parts of his life.
Williams has done this twice before, with great effect. Elizabeth and Elizabeth focused on the wives of Governor Lachlan Macquarie and John Macarthur. That Bligh Girl introduced Anna Bligh, the daughter of the notorious William Bligh (of ‘Mutiny on the Bounty’ fame) who replaced Gidley King as Governor in 1808.
As with those earlier novels, this new book gives a fabulous insight into the earliest, troubled years of the colony, from the point of view of women. A point of view usually overlooked in official histories of the men who, let’s be honest, made most of the decisions in those times.
Actually, this novel gives a vivid picture of the establishment of two colonies, because Gidley King was sent to put down British roots on Norfolk Island before returning to New South Wales. The author’s research is lightly handled but readers are privy to the many difficulties at both Port Jackson (later Sydney) and the even more remote Norfolk, and the logistical, moral and emotional challenges faced by successive governors.
By most historical accounts, Gidley King was an able and a fair and even handed adminsitrator. It is in his personal affairs that the other side of the man’s character are illuminated.
In this, he was definitely a man of his time and milieu. Men of his rank and situation often thought nothing of taking a convict wife as mistress, especially on the long voyage to the colonies. By the time the transport ships arrived, many had a baby on the way.
This is what happened to Ann Inett, a seamstress who had fallen on hard times when her soldier lover was killed in the Revolutionary War in America, leaving her with two small children to raise alone. One desperate crime sees Ann wrenched from her children, transported to New South Wales on a First Fleet ship, part of the great experiment of setting up a settlement from nothing on the other side of the world. Gidley King invites her to be his housekeeper, attracted by her obliging nature and quiet demeanour and, as they say, ‘one thing leads to another…’ A very common tale, part of Australia’s foundation story.
Dare I say it, more relevant to many modern Australians than the ANZAC story?
Before long, Ann has two young children with him, they are sent to Norfolk Island to endure even harder conditions there, then he is ordered to return to England…what will become of her?
It’s no spoiler to relate the next bit. Gidley King does return to Sydney. He had promised Ann marriage on his return but instead he brings back a wife, who is already expecting a baby!
It is to the author’s credit that she manages to relate this part of the story in a way which made me want to keep reading, rather than throw the book across the room. She took me into Gidley King’s head and his world view. Not a pleasant place, I admit, but it allowed me to see the constraints (as he saw them) on his moral and personal choices. So very different to today’s views. As I often say, people are no different, essentially, but society’s beliefs and expectations certainly change over time.
And as mentioned above, he was among many, many soldiers, sailors and officers who did exactly the same thing back then. Not an excuse. Just background. Captain David Collins, for example, who became the colony’s Judge Advocate, took convict Nancy Yeates, as mistress. She features in this novel too.
The real heroine of this novel, I believe, is the woman Gidley King marries, Anna Josepha. Can you image marrying a man after a very brief courtship, then boarding a ship to sail across the world to a rudimentary outpost of society, arrive heavily pregnant, to be confronted by your new husband’s mistress and his two children with her?
It seems that this quiet, ‘plain’ little woman rose to the occasion magnificently, smoothing what must have been a fraught and humilating situation for all concerned. She built a bridge between herself and Ann, between her husband, his existing children and those she went on to have with him. She took responsibility for the education of his children with Ann (to Ann’s credit also, as this meant losing her children yet again for a time).
And in doing all this, Anna Josepha was Gidley King’s right hand in his role as administrator and as Governor, acting as informal secretary, First Lady, diplomat, helping to sooth fractious tempers and care for her husband when illness took its toll.
An old story, isn’t it? And depressingly common: the faithful, loyal wife or mistress, supporting, helping, building up their menfolk. And then being forgotten in the annals of history.
So it’s wonderful to see their stories being told, both in more recent non-fiction and through the lens of fiction as in this novel.
The Governor, His Wife and His Mistress is published by Allen & Unwin in Janurary 2025.
My thanks to the publishers and to NetGalley for an advanced reading copy to review.
More Australian history adventures for kids: ‘Tigg and the Bandicoot Bushranger’ by Jackie French
I’m delighted that my final book review post for 2025 is another brilliant historical fiction for middle-grade readers by Jackie French. Did I mention I am a fan? Maybe once or twice…
The reason is that she effortlessly tells stories about Australia’s past that ignite imagination and a passion to know more, wrapped up in tales of adventure featuring characters we can both admire and relate to.
Tigg is such a character. Growing up an orphan on the fringes of the rough and dangerous Victorian goldfields of the 1850’s, Tigg has had to learn many things to survive. Under the less-than-careful eye of ‘Ma Murphy’ who runs a shanty on the diggings but gambles and drinks most of the takings, Tigg has learnt how to grow vegetables from her neighbour, a Chinese gardener; bush skills from Mrs O’Hare, a Wadawurrung woman; and reading and writing from ‘Gentleman Once’, who used to be a teacher at a grand school for English boys.
She has also learnt how to be a bushranger.
Disguised as a boy, she holds up coaches on the way to and from the diggings, but only ever takes half of passengers’ money, and never anything precious like a wedding ring. And she only robs to get money so that Mr Ah Song can pay rent for the land he gardens.
But one day everything goes very badly wrong and Tigg has to go into hiding, until a plan can be hatched to smuggle her out of danger – disguised this time as a Chinese man on his way to the goldfields. To do this, she must join with hundreds of other desperate, poor and hungry Chinese on what became known as the ‘Long Walk’, a journey across unmarked territory of hundreds of miles, facing thirst, hunger – and attacks from angry white men and sometimes even children.
So the author weaves in another of the astonishing stories from Australian history; one that has until relatively recently been hidden or forgotten. The shameful racism directed specifically against Chinese people which reared its ugly head during the gold rush period of the mid 1800s. It persisted for decades, manifested in the so-called ‘White Australia Policy’ of the early 1900s and, it could be argued, rose again with politicians like Pauline Hanson seeing an opportunity to score points on the back of anti-Asian sentiment.
The power of Jackie French’s writing for children is that she is not afraid to introduce these topics for younger readers. She treats her readers with respect, knowing that children can learn about difficult things that have happened in the past and reflect on how they have impacted on the present. Seeing the nineteenth century world of colonial Australia through the eyes of someone like Tigg allows a perspective other than our own, like putting on a magic pair of glasses or stepping into a time machine. Tigg grows up in an environment of poverty, deprivation, surrounded by racists and opportunists – but also by people of many races, and people of generosity and kindness. In other words, people.
Towards the end of the novel, Tigg discusses the appalling attacks she has witnessed with a businessman she comes to know, hoping he can do something to help:
‘You’re a wealthy businessman. I want you to convince the colonies’ parliaments to welcome the Chinese into Australia.’
He looked at her, amused. ‘I am afraid that is beyond my ability.’
… ‘Why?’ demanded Tigg. ‘The Chinese here are peaceful and hard-working and have skills the colonies need.’
‘None of which matters in the slightest. The Chinese look different, and that is enough. Starving miners need to think there is at least one class more miserable than themselves, and so they choose the Chinese, or indeed any Asian to look down on, be afraid of, or hate. Don’t you have a slightly easier request?’Tigg and the Bandicoot Bushranger pp277-278
So we go into Tigg’s world, not wanting to put the book down when it’s lights out time or we are tired. We want to keep reading because we care about Tigg and all the other amazing but believable characters around her.
Jackie French’s novels can do that. They are magic.
Tigg and the Bandicoot Bushranger is published by HarperCollins Childrens’ Books in December 2024.
My thanks to the publisher for a review copy.
A jolly Christmas…murder! ‘Everyone this Christmas has a secret’ by Benjamin Stevenson
I so thoroughly enjoyed Benjamin Stevenson’s first two mystery novels featuring Ernest Cunningham that I leapt at the chance to review this one, in time for Christmas.
In keeping with the catchy naming pattern of the first two books: Everyone in my Family has Killed Someone and Everyone on this Train is a Suspect, readers are advised straight up that everyone in this new story should likewise be regarded as a suspect.
Ernest is an amateur detective who writes ‘how to write detective’ books – which is sort of funny in itself when you think about it. Stevenson is a comedian as well as an author, so the comedy is a big part of these novels along with the mystery. Ernest’s schtick is that he writes rules for what he calls ‘fair play mysteries’: like those written in what is sometimes called the golden age of crime fiction.
I loved two things about this one, on top of the main character – Ern is endearing and doesn’t take himself too seriously, though he is very serious about solving the crimes that he inevitably stumbles upon in the novels.
Firstly, the Christmas theme. The motif of a Christmas advent calendar is used so cleverly throughout, each chapter giving a clue as a new window on the calendar opens. It’s done so well, blending the narrative of the crime and the various characters’ motives and movements, with the Christmas setting.
Secondly, the novel is set in Katoomba in the Blue Mountains, just up the road from where I live. The second crime novel set in the Blue Mountains I have read this year! While I would not want people to think that my little part of the world is more prone to murder than any other, it is a beautiful and evocative setting for a novel and I am pleased to see it getting its share of the limelight.
If you haven’t yet met Ernest and his family, I would heartily recommend beginning with the first two of Stevenson’s books and then reading this one. The audio versions are also excellent. They are light-hearted reads, while keeping you thinking as the complexities of the twisty plots are revealed. And give plenty of chuckles along the way.
Everyone this Christmas has a Secret is published by Penguin Books Australia in October 2024.
My thanks to the publishers and to NetGalley for a review copy.
What stories tell us: ‘Finding Eliza’ by Larissa Behrendt
Euahleyai / Gamillaroi author, filmmaker, lawyer and academic, Larissa Behrendt writes both non-fiction and fiction which illuminate aspects of Australia’s history from an indigenous perspective. Her writing is always thought-provoking and perceptive, and Finding Eliza is no exception.
The book takes as its starting point the power of stories to teach, explain, and create beliefs and attitudes. She takes the well-known historical event of the 1836 shipwreck of the Sterling Castle on an island off Australia’s east coast. The only woman among a handful of survivors, Eliza was kept alive by the Butchulla people of the island called K’gari (later named by the English after the ship’s captain – and Eliza’s husband – Fraser Island). She spent several weeks there, separated from other white people, after witnessing -according to her account – her husband’s death after being speared by a Butchulla man.
This story has been told and retold many times since then, including by Eliza herself after her rescue and return to England. There have been so many versions that it is difficult to know what parts are based on real events and what has been changed, embroidered or created.
The author’s focus, however, is how the stories that grew up around Eliza’s experiences, illustrate the themes and motivations of those telling them. There are elements needed for a story to work, both for those telling and hearing the story. Eliza had to be ‘good’ and the Aboriginal people ‘bad.’ She must conform to the Victorian-era stereotype of the virtuous, middle-class, loyal wife. It was commonly believed by Europeans at the time that the Australian ‘natives’ were savage, unpredictable, and prone to cannabalism – therefore, to be feared and seen as inferior.
So it is not surprising that Eliza and the Butchulla were represented accordingly in the tales that grew up around her experiences.
The Butchulla people had their own world view and beliefs. They were not just a silent backdrop to the adventures of a white woman, nor were they an undifferentiated source of threat. But in order to provide the tension necessary in Eliza’s story, they had to be portrayed in this way. The truth is that without their assistance and care, Eliza would have most likely perished on the island before she could be rescued.
…{Eliza’s} survival of the shipwreck is not the climax of this story; it is just the beginning. The heart of her story unfolds when she makes contact with the Aboriginal people who populate this land, and it is her alleged captivity by these ‘brutal’ and ‘cannabalistic savages’ and her eventual rescue that gives her tale its compelling drama.
Finding Eliza, ebook version, location 7%
The author takes this a starting point, to then explore a range of aspects of colonialism in Australia.
These include: the ‘Enlightenment’ ideals of the nineteenth century viewed alongside the dispossession and savagery of occupation and colonisation; black / white relations including sexual relations, sexual slavery and prostitution; the silence about the contribution of Aboriginal women to the colonial economy; the control over Aboriginal lives wielded by the colonists; why the trope of cannabilism held such power among whites; cultural appropriation, and how positive stereotypes can be as damaging as negative ones.
As Ms Behrendt concludes:
In… stories, we learn much more about the coloniser than we ever learn about the colonised, but by looking at them through different lenses and different perspectives we begin to appreciate the complexities and nuances of our own history.
FInding Eliza loc 89%
This is a book that made me think, review my own preconceptions about the past and the stories I grew up with. It is as relevant today as when it was first published by University of Qld Press, in 2016.
Celebrate the difference: ‘Hank and Bee’ by Kate Ryan
There is a growing number of publications for children, illuminating and celebrating difference. Hank and Bee, by Australian children’s author Kate Ryan, is one.
A sweet little picture book, it’s all about autism and ADHD, exploring how neurodivergent children can bring unexpected and welcome talents and abilities to many situations.
Rumbunctious pup Hank loves to chase and play all day with his tiny friend Bee, sometimes upsetting the flowers with his rolling and his tail-flicking. But when Bee loses his hive and needs to find his way home, it’s Hank’s amazing sense of smell that guides them on their way.
Together, the friends just can’t be beaten.
The simple, appealing text is nicely illustrated by Uliana B.
A lovely addition to the picture book world and one which will help very young children understand themselves and their friends a little better.Hank and Bee is published by Kare Ryan in 2024.
My thanks to the author for a review copy.Not just ‘The Birdman’ or even ‘the man’ ‘Mr & Mrs Gould’ by Grantlee Kieza
When I was in primary school I was a member of the ‘Gould League’, an organisation set up to promote interest in, and conservation of, Australia’s marvellous array of birdlife. When I think about it, it seems a little ironic that I joined this organisation, because as a child I’d developed a bird phobia (long story, but a psychotic nesting mapgie, persistent attacks from said magpie over many weeks, and my father’s rifle all played a part.) Odd, then, that I signed up to a group celebrating all things feathered.
To be honest, I think the attraction was getting club newsletters, pins and stickers in the mail.
But my memories of this time did make me keen to read Grantlee Kieza’s fat volume Mr & Mrs Gould, which tells the story of the Goulds and their family, and their own adventures with birds. Though, not just birds. John Gould developed his knowledge of many more of Australia’s unique fauna, particularly its remarkable marsupials.
So, not just The Birdman, although he was certainly known as such in his lifetime and beyond. He was acknowledged as one of the most important ornithologists of his time and one of the most important publishers of scientific works.
He and his wife Elizabeth visited Australia and he named 328 of the 830 Australian bird species, and almost all newly identified Australian birds passed through his hands during his life. (Mr & Mrs Gould p366)
A couple of years ago I read Melissa Ashley’s fictional account of the life of Elizabeth Gould, The Birdman’s Wife, so I was keen to follow with this non-fiction book. This is where the ‘not just the man’ bit of my title comes in.
Because Elizabeth played a vital role in her husband’s success.
A talented artist and devoted wife, she drew and painted many of the extraordinarily beautiful illustrations in his scientific publications, until her untimely death from an infection after giving birth to her eighth baby in 1841. Her husband was a hard taskmaster and even being heavily pregnant, or recovering from childbirth, had never been a reason for downtime; her output was astonishing and brought to life the wondrous creatures her husband was collecting, classifying and naming.
She accompanied him on collecting trips while in Australia, when transport was difficult, the climate challenging and conditions even more so.
Kieza makes the point that John’s success in his chosen field was even more notable given his relative lack of formal education and his father’s lowly status as a gardener. He attributes much of this to the man’s personal drive and ambition, hard work and a streak of ruthlessness, but also includes Elizabeth’s unwavering support and sacrifice as a crucial factor.
Modern readers may well be horrified by the accounts of the jaw-dropping number of creatures that perished in the name of scientific research then. So many beautiful and even rare creatures died at the point of John’s double-barrelled shotgun, or those of his collectors. My feelings of revulsion were only slightly tempered by remembering that this was a time before photography, when specimens had to be killed and their skills preserved in order to be studied, classified and drawn. Taxidermy was hugely popular among natural scientists, but also collectors, hunters and the wealthy who followed the dictates of fashion and fads. John himself began his career as a taxidermist. I understand the context and limitations of the era, but still experienced a stomach-turning dismay at the many accounts of mass slaughter of creatures in the name of science.
Like many ambitious young men of his day, Gould spent as much time as he could hunting for wildlife to trap and kill, ironically in order to make them as lifelike as he could. If trapping didn’t work, he had his muzzle-loading shotgun.
Mr & Mrs Gould, p21
There is much in this book to enjoy for those interested in the history of this period, including Gould’s connections with many famous people from the era. Joseph Banks, Sir Stamford Raffles, Edward Lear, Tasmania’s Governor and Lady Franklin, the eccentric and doomed explorer Ludwig Leichhardt and Charles Darwin are all figures from history whose stories connected with the Goulds.
The narrative is engrossing, though rather detailed in parts; however it always returns to the very human story at its centre. Gorgeous glossy coloured plates demonstrate the talent of Elizabeth and the other artists who worked so hard to bring Gould’s newly identified creatures alive on the page.
Mr & Mrs Gould was published by HarperCollins in October 2024.
My thanks to the publishers for a review copy.Picture book treasures for Christmas
Christmas is peak book-buying time and picture books make perfect gifts and stocking fillers for littlies. The bright colours and enchantment of a good story and illustrations never fail to delight.
Three of the books shown above are being published by HarperCollins in early December, just in time for busy parents, grandparents, uncles, aunts, friends (and Santa) to buy for the big day.
The fourth, How to Make a Snowman, has been in bookshops since October this year. I have written previously about how much I love Nick Bland’s Bunny and Bird series. As always, in this new version of the friends’ adventures, Bunny is embroidering his fanciful tale whilst being completely oblivious to the action going on behind his back. While he talks of a magical hole from which emerges a bull, a tiger, a bear, sticks, stones and a wombat, Bird has been quietly building a snowman. When it starts to snow, Bunny decides they had better head home when – oh look! – the magic hole has turned into a snowman!
Small readers can again use their observational skills to enjoy the sly humour of this story that plays out in the pictures: an early lesson in subtext, if you will.
The Hullabaloo About Elephant Poo will definitely appeal to the scatalogical tastes of youngsters while teaching them something about the many uses for elephant dung: compost, paper, coffee (!!) gas to power stoves or lights, smoke to repel mosquitos… It is funny, colourful and educational. A nice little package. Dee White’s rhyming text works well with the bright illustrations by Christopher Nielsen.
Costa’s Garden: Flowers by ABC TV favourite Costa Georgiadis and Brenna Quinlan is all about – well, flowers. The motif of a garden gnome is a clever device to get up close and personal many types of flowers we might see in our gardens, and the parts of flowers and the special roles they each play. There is also reference made to the the role of watching and noticing by First Nations people:
Flowers tell stories. They are like a bush billboard. First Nations people read Country and have shared their science and stories of connection to land, sea and sky for generations. Flowers are a signal that other things are happening in nature.
Costa’s Garden : Flowers
There are also some lovely references to Costa’s early garden love, sparked by his grandparents; early memories of sweet peas, carnations and orchids grown by them.
I once lived next door to a four year old who was mad about plants and gardens. He’d be in his late 30s now, but I imagine that if this book had been available then, he’d have absolutely loved it.
Last but not least, Boss of Your Own Mind is the latest offering by the Teeny Tiny Stevies (Byll & Beth Stephen, with illustrations by Simon Howe.) This one is among a welcome and growing number of books addressing young people’s mental well-being. Boss of Your Own Mind talks about some of the situations in life where children can’t control their circumstances (and, being children, there are many.) From the trivial (changes of plans or routine, the weather) to the more profound (hurt feelings, unfair behaviour by others.) The one thing anyone, child or adult, can control, is their response. It’s actually quite a grown-up concept but presented in very child-friendly language and with examples and illustrations that all youngsters could identify with. And definitely finishes on a positive note:
And even though you’re the one deciding,
you might find some days YOU need reminding.
YOU’RE THE BOSS OF YOU’RE OWN MIND!All four books are published by HarperCollins Children’s Books and I thank the publishers for the copies to review.
