The spaces between: ‘In the Margins’ by Gail Holmes
Australian writer Gail Holmes’ debut novel is inspired by a real woman who lived in seventeenth-century England, a time when bitter Civil Wars transitioned into Puritan religious and social intolerance.
Frances Wolfreston is a rector’s wife and as part of her role assisting her husband in his parish duties, the laws of the time require her to record the names of those who do not attend weekly church service. This sits uneasily with her, especially after her own mother is imprisoned for the crime of praying in the old, Catholic, manner. Frances is torn between her duty to her mother, to her husband and her young sons, to the church and the new government, and to those vulnerable souls in her community who need more care.
She is also a collector and lover of books, something her mother passed on to her, and an unusual pursuit at a time when the literacy rate amongst women was very low.
As I often do when reading a novel based on or inspired by a real person or event, I went straight to the author’s note to see which bits of the story were from the historical record. I was delighted to learn that one of the ways historians have learned about the real Frances was her habit of inscribing her name in her books. Something many of us do today without much thought, but as the author points out, a subtly powerful gesture at a time when married women had almost no property rights of their own.
After years of researching and writing about women in my own family history, I am very attuned to the challenges of ‘finding’ women in historical documents, confined as many were to birth, marriage, and death records, and largely absent elsewhere.
So a novel woven around the life of a real woman who lived over 370 years ago about whom sparse records exist is both a stretch and an invitation – and the author has taken up the latter with enthusiasm and sensitivity.
This is a story about the tragedy of intolerance in all its guises (and let’s not kid outselves it went out with the Puritans). It’s also about the oppression of women in small ways and large – it touches chillingly on the witch trials of the seventeenth century – and the persecution of anyone deemed ‘different’.
But it’s also about the small acts of kindness and even of defiance that can glue families and communities together: the seemingly insignificant things done or words spoken, often by women and sometimes by men, too, that can make a difference in one life or many.
‘We are like the spaces between the words of a book. The words are what people see, what they argue over, fight wars over, swoon over, collect. Yet without the spaces between, there is nothing at all. We are the spaces, Mrs Edwards.’
‘Yet you want to teach all these common children to read those very words.’
‘If you can read the words, you can begin to see the spaces.’
In the Margins pp 273-274In the Margins was published by Ultimo Press in 2024.
My thanks to the author for a copy to review.
Harsh realities: ‘A World of Silence’ by Jo Skinner
Classified as contemporary women’s fiction, A World of Silence deals with the all-too-timeless and pervasive issue that blights so many lives: intimate partner abuse and coercive control.
The three women at the centre of the novel, all entirely believable and relatable, have been connected since their youth. Now in their thirties, their lives have taken different trajectories but now have reconnected, in ways not entirely welcome or comfortable for each of them.
Kate is a psychologist with two young kids and a husband who seems more intent on reviving his music career than on his family duties. When a former client commits suicide after her violent partner is unexpectedly released from gaol, Kate can’t shake the awful images of the suffering Bea had endured at that man’s hands.
Her best friend is Tori, a single mum who has created her dream business, a vintage clothing and furniture store, while raising her son. Tori is determined not to let the man whom she knows to be unworthy of the title of father into her boy’s life.
When superstar football player Daryl turns up in their seaside town, complete with his beautiful blonde wife Shelley and their three children, both Kate and Tori are shaken. Daryl and Shelley have played important – and not always positive – roles in both their pasts. And now it seems they are back to upend their worlds once again.
There is an undercurrent of tension that builds to an almost unbearable climax towards the end as the three women at the centre of the story try their best to sort out the complexities of their own situations and to help each other.
They make mistakes – don’t we all? – and as a reader I felt moments of intense frustration (similar to watching a TV program when I want to yell at a character ‘don’t go outside! there’s someone out there with a knife!’ You know the kind of thing I mean…it seems obvious to us as readers or viewers, right?) But of course, when we are immersed in a situation in real life, it is anything but. So, good on the author for allowing her characters to be human with everyday frailties and make real, human mistakes.
One of the key mistakes the characters make in this novel – and that people make in real life, especially around issues of partner violence and coercive control – is to keep silent. Not to speak up, speak out, share concerns, worries, hunches. So the title of this novel is spot on. And the cover illustration chillingly evocative.
A World of Silence is a gripping read. Chances are, it may remind you of someone you know. Sadly. Novels like this are a good way of getting more understanding of these difficult issues out there into the wider community. I was pleased to read it.
It’s published by Hawkeye Publishing in April 2025.
My thanks to the publisher for an early 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.
Powerful family story: ‘Tears of Strangers’ by Stan Grant
The title of this extraordinary memoir is from a Russian proverb: The tears of strangers are nothing but water. These words echoed in my mind as I read this story of his family, that is also a powerful and sometimes challenging examination of the concept of race, of Australian history, and the author’s own position within the black and white worlds of modern Australia. It’s also a call for empathy: for Australians of all backgrounds to learn and understand the historical events that have shaped us all, and to feel more than indifference at the past and present suffering of others.
It is beautifully written, canvassing his own family’s roots in both black and white Australia and the complications and challenges that involves.
He is searingly honest, writing as he does about his relationships with family members, his search for truth, and his hopes for a better future for all First Nations people. The narrative does not skirt around issues such as violence, alcohol and drug use, poverty, incarceration. He describes the so-called ‘Bathurst Wars’ and other conflicts where whites and indigenous communities clashed over encroaching white settlements, and the sickening violence that occured there and in many other parts of the country.
He describes indigenous heroes of history and more recent years, tracing the steady thread of resistance since white settlement. Contrary to past assumptions by many, Aboriginal people did not meekly submit to colonisation. We should all know more about these figures from the past, who were at the time regarded by white settlers and authorities as troublesome, criminals and threats, but to their own people were freedom fighters.
As a way to learn about these and other aspects of Australia past and present, I can highly recommend Tears of Strangers. It’s focus on the micro, on positioning one person and his family within the context of wider events and the past, allows readers to read with empathy.
Part of this search means unlocking secrets, always painful and often tragic. I hesitate now as I stare at a blank page that I know I will soon reveal perhaps more than I would like to. But the truth demands courage. I hope only one thing: that one day Aborigines can be free of the all too painful choices our blackness has forced upon us.
Tears of Strangers (loc 8% ebook version)
Tears of Strangers was published by HarperCollins in 2002; the edition I read published 2016.
Breaking book news!
Check out the ‘Books & Projects’ page on this website for more info, but my big news is that my family history book is now published.
If you are interested in a copy, contact me via the contact form.
Am I excited? Just a little bit.
Photo by Belle Co: https://www.pexels.com Memory lane: ‘Dropping the Mask’ by Noni Hazlehurst
My son spent a portion of mornings and afternoons in his early childhood, enjoying the company of Big and Little Ted, Jemima, Humpty, the square and round windows – and Noni Hazlehurst, among a cast of other beautiful and engaging presenters and characters. PlaySchool was a ground-breaking progam when it began on the Australian Broadcasting Commission in the 1960s and is still the longest-running children’s TV show in Australia.
The show’s guiding philosophy is about respect for children, kindness, familiarity along with new experiences, and a simple approach that ignites imagination rather than dictates what young viewers should think and feel.
Perhaps unsuprisingly, these qualities have been reflected in Noni’s own approach to life and to her many roles in TV, film and theatre.
Dropping the Mask is her story: from a sheltered childhood in suburban Melbourne, to attending the drama school at Flinders Univeristy in Adelaide in the heady times of the early 1970s, her first steps into the world of performance, a successful acting career, and the inevitable ups and downs of any life lived well.
The book follows a fairly straight chronology, with asides here and there where Noni reflects on experiences and draws out her themes, the main one of which is about living an authentic life rather than ‘pretending’ (kind of ironic if you think about how acting is perceived by most viewers). The motif of the mask appears often. Noni’s view of performance is that when inhabiting a dramatic role, she has always felt able to be her most authentic self, drawing on her own experiences and emotions to present the truth of a character, rather than simply performing the words of the script.
There is so much I loved about her story. I was born at the tail end of the ‘baby boom’ era, but with two older sisters I recognised so much of Noni’s experience as a youngster: the conservatism of Australian society and politics at that time; the emergence of teen culture and the more radical ideas coming from the UK and USA; the rampant growth of consumerism; the agonies of the teen years; memories of the 1969 moon landing; the beginnings of genuine multiculturalism. I know the feeling of suddenly becoming, in effect, an only child when older siblings leave home. I remember starting university and the realisation that there was a whole world of new thoughts and ideas to experience.
For fans of film and stage, Noni’s many reflections on the growth of Australia’s movie, TV and theatre industries are fascinating. There are some anecdotes from behind the scenes – some startling, some very funny.
She describes the joys and challenges of family life while trying to balance an acting career; her experiences living in the Blue Mountains of NSW and Tamborine Mountain in Queensland; the sad fact that the arts in general appear to be held in higher esteem in other parts of the world than in Australia.
Among the masks that Noni has observed in her life were those worn by her parents. Even as a child, she always had a sense that they were ‘acting happy’, that things were not quite right. Their world was tiny, protected, safe, with a small circle of friends from church. Her mother seemed anxious, her father very protective. It was not until after their deaths, when Noni appeared on an episode of the Australian version of the TV family history show Who Do You Think You Are? that she understood why.
Even if you are not a regular fan of the show, this episode is definitely worth watching. Seeing Noni realise how her newlywed parents’ WWII experiences in England created enduring emotional legacies for their family, is very moving. And the show’s other revelations about the long family history of performance artistry are incredible.
Dropping the Mask was for me, rather like enjoying a long conversation with an old friend about family, life, the choices we make, and the things that are important to us. Highly recommended.
Dropping the Mask was published by HarperCollins in October 2024.
My thanks to the publishers for a review copy.The fight for the vote: ‘An Undeniable Voice’ by Tania Blanchard
I have always felt a certain pride that Australia was one of the first countries (after New Zealand) to allow (white) women to vote. And puzzled by the slowness of Britain to do the same. Was it because of centuries of entrenched attitudes in Old Europe – attitudes towards women and men, and their relative roles in social, economic and political spheres? After all, many of those attitudes were transplanted to the Antipodes, along with convicts, rabbits and a cornucopia of noxious weeds. So why did Britain lag so far behind us before bestowing on half its population the basic democratic right to vote for their representation in government?
An Undeniable Voice traces the long-drawn-out fight for women’s suffrage in Britain. It’s a follow-on from an earlier novel by Tania Blanchard, A Woman of Courage, which I have not read – and I found that it reads perfectly well as a stand-alone.
It is 1907, and we meet Hannah Rainforth, an active member of her small northern colliery community in England. She and her husband run the pub she inherited from her parents, which she has turned into a kind of community hub, a meeting place for people to come together for various groups and projects, and support when times are hard.
But when her husband dies suddenly, Hannah is left with three children to support, and comes face to face with the inequalities experienced by women in all spheres of life: in marital laws, property, finance and employment. She knows that nothing will change unless all citizens are entitled to vote for those who make the laws that affect them.
Hannah has to make some hard decisions when she loses the right to continue as publican: moving to London, she returns to her teaching career but must leave her two sons to do so. Working to regain her old life and reunite her family, she also throws herself into the suffrage movement.
The narrative gives a comprehensive and compelling account of the activities of those working for women’s suffrage: from polite petitions to smashing windows, from peaceful marches and deputations to imprionment and hunger strikes. The brutal treatment of women on the streets and in prisons at the hands of police, government spies and prison guards is hard to read at times. What were these men so afraid of? Obviously the thought of losing their tight grip on the reins of power drove their violent and at times, bizarre responses.
Some readers may be surprised at the historical facts highlighted in this novel: that even for men, ‘suffrage’ was not then universal. There were property qualifications that attended the right to vote. In other words, men had to own a certain value of property before could register to vote. How much harder was it for women, then, when there were barriers for women owning property or taking out a loan in their own right?
The struggle for women’s suffrage took much, much longer than it should have in Britain. It was not until the ravages of WWI so thoroughly shook the nation that it was impossible for things to return to the old ways, that true progress began to happen.
In those long years, Hannah and her compatriots risked and suffered a great deal.
We all owe these women, and the men who supported them, a great deal.
An Undeniable Voice is published by HarperCollins in October 2024.
My thanks to the publishers and NetGalley for a review copy.
Monsters and angels: ‘All the Beautiful Things’ by Katrina Nannestad
Australian children’s author Katrina Nannestad has a gift: to convey real (and often distressing) past events to younger readers, in a way that illuminates rather than overwhelms.
As with her earlier middle-grade books set in WWII Europe, the focus is again on the experiences of children (here are my reviews for We Are Wolves, Rabbit, Soldier, Angel, Thief and Waiting for the Storks ).
All the Beautiful Things takes us to the heart of Nazi Germany, a village nestled under the mountain where Hitler’s Bavarian home, the Berghof, stands.
Anna and her friend Udo are eleven, coping with the restrictions and hardships of wartime life as best they can. Like all German children they are members of the Nazi organisations for youngsters, are taught to love and obey the Fuhrer, and give the Nazi salute when required.
They both have a secret: they and their families hate Hitler. And upstairs in the apartment where Anna lives with her mother, is another secret: little Eva, Anna’s sister, hidden away from the world because if she were discovered, her differences would likely mean her death.
This is the core historical fact of this story: the shocking program of involuntary euthenasia carried out by Nazi doctors on Hitler’s orders, in their distorted efforts to eliminate any ‘weaknesses’ from the pure Aryan race.
As the war drags on, Anna and Udo learn that there is a network of other people in their community who feel the way they do about the Nazis – sometimes the most surprising people. They also learn that people are not always simply ‘monsters’ or ‘angels’: that they can be both and it can be hard to tell one from the other.
‘So how do we tell the monsters and the angels apart?’ I ask.
‘Well, there’s the problem, Anna,’ says Dr Fischer. ‘It can be tricky because the two can look so very similar. But one day, I assure you, it will be plain for all to see. A monster’s deeds, no matter how prettily they’re packaged, will ultimately lead to death and destrucion – for everything and everyone they touch.’All the Beautiful Things p152
In the first chapter, readers are plunged into Anna’s world, trying to understand the different views and experiences of Germans during this terrible time. They see how brainwashing occurs, through programs such as Hitler Youth and in schools. Moral choices abound: is the safety of my family more important than yours? Is it wrong to disobey laws if they are bad laws that hurt others? They also witness Anna’s confusion as Germany’s defeat looks more and more likely. She longs for the end of Nazi rule but that means that she must also want the defeat of her own country.
Underlying all are the themes of love, of family and friendship, kindness and compassion. There is also the best description of the value of difference I have ever read, using the metaphor of a jigsaw puzzle:
‘The world is a jigsaw puzzle, every person a unique piece. There is a space for each one, but it must be a space made just for them. And if we leave one piece out, no matter how small, plain, insignificant or odd it may seem, the jigsaw puzzle remains incomplete. The picture looks ugly because there’s a gap.’
All the Beautiful Things p32
Martina Heiduczek’s lovely illustrations once again add another dimension to the unfolding story.
All the Beautiful Things is published by HarperCollins Children’s Books in October 2024.
My thanks to the publishers for a review copy.
