Back when I worked in international aid and development I went for an interview with an international non-government organisation. It was one of the ones you’ll have heard of and they do a lot of great work in developing countries.
A compelling and beguiling voice shines through Debbie Howells‘ psychological thriller, The Bones of You. Unfortunately the voice is also one of regret and heartbreak because it belongs to 18 year old Rosanna (Rosie); who dies before we meet her.
The book’s been compared to Alice Sebold’s The Lovely Bones for that reason. (Australian novel, What Came Before by Anna George is another which comes to mind featuring someone who’s *supposedly* dead.)
In my review of the Nicci French novel, Thursday’s Children I was fairly blunt in relation to my antipathy toward psychologist, Dr Frieda Klein. Prickly and unlikeable I struggled to care a lot about her (and her welfare). I still enjoyed the book—predominantly because the Gerrard / French combo can still spin an absorbing tale. Despite Frieda.
Unfortunately I’m assuming Frieda’s going to stay in play right through the week, so we have a Saturday and Sunday to get through yet. <Insert sigh here.> However… on a happier note, I actually found her less grating this time around and almost… almost
cared whether she lived or died found myself on her side.
I used to avoid Australian books like the plague. They were too familiar, their landscapes too prosaic and characters too mundane. I didn’t want to read about my own backyard. I wanted something different. I needed to escape.
But slowly and surely I’ve found myself reading Australian author after Australian author and bewildered at the talent on my doorstep. I’ve been entertained by fascinating stories and enchanted by beautiful words and phrases.
Some who’ve read Alex Hourston’s debut novel In My House, have been disappointed that it’s not been more of an expose on the important issue of human trafficking. The marketing of disempowered and vulnerable women is certainly the genesis of the book, but I wasn’t disappointed when it focussed instead on the less-dramatic issue of human frailties.
Eleven years ago 12yr old Reggie LeClaire was kidnapped by Daryl Wayne Flint and kept in his basement for four years. Her rescue was fortuitous, having been found in the trunk of Flint’s car after an accident. Flint suffered brain damage in the accident allowing him to be incarcerated in a mental institution rather than prison.
I haven’t participated in a Wordless Wednesday link-up for ages, so figured the time was ripe. Or perhaps overly-ripe… But here I am nonetheless.
And I thought I’d share some of the coping mechanisms I’ve been employing to keep me sane. I’ve posted some personal stuff recently which has probably given you the impression I’m teetering on the edge. Well, thankfully I’m not that bad (at least during the day 😉 ) but I’ve developed a few interesting crutches.
Australian author Nicole Trope is a former high school teacher with a Masters in Children’s Literature and four published novels to her name. I’d heard of her but not read any of her work when her latest book arrived for my reading pleasure. And… you don’t need to wait in suspense until after the ad break for the verdict… it was most definitely a pleasure.