Australian literature

Two memoirs, one fiction? Or one family history, two fictions entwined into a single narrative, and a ‘reflection on the arc of a life’? All three of these books show women writing themselves into being, as they construct narrative from the raw materials of unwieldy lives, whether imagined or real. Each writes and rewrites sensation, tactile detail, exchange or confrontation, revising and rediscovering through the process. Sophia Barnes on new work by Drusilla Modjeska, Debra Adelaide and Beth Yahp

Why do critics line up to write about some books – and shy away from others? The current eddy of interest in a new, young experimental Australian writer, Jack Cox, presents an irresistible opportunity to comment on the reception of difficult literary fiction and the difficulty of separating a debut novel such as Dodge Rose from the buzz that precedes it.

‘There are other Australian poems about cricket, but no one but Nick Whittock has taken it for their major theme. For Whittock, cricket – the matches, the players, the history, and its accompanying discourse: of commentary, commodification (sponsorship), and sensation (cricket on the front pages) – is not only his subject, but his medium.’ Michael Farrell on Nick Whittock and the Australian avant-garde.

Taking the means of production and dissemination into your own hands through self-publication throws a spanner into the established system of book marketing and promotional recognition. Is that why Moya Costello’s brilliant, beautiful book, Harriet Chandler, slipped through the net?

‘Net Needle indicates in its title the poem as net, an often-recurring, even talismanic word throughout Robert Adamson’s work. The net is both catcher and sifter, with the needle able to repair and renew. Net Needle then is also the constantly revitalised net accentuating the craft of making – ‘They stitched their lives into my days’ (‘Net Makers’) – and achieves a precarious equilibrium through its scrutiny of life’s twists and reinventions.’

‘Far from imagining hunger as an art of discarnation, Wright seeks to give it body, simultaneously remarking on the physicality, the sensuality of the experience, and objectifying it as something outside of herself, material enough to protect her from the world.’ Alys Moody on Fiona Wright’s Small Acts of Disappearance.

Michael Farrell enjoys a reputation as one of the foremost experimental poets in the contemporary Australian scene. In Cocky’s Joy, while experimentalism is strongly evident, he seems to have struck a superb and playful balance, a kind of lyrical abstractionism that generates pleasure and intellectual satisfaction at the same time as it continues to question and resist the urge to meaning. The consequence is a free-wheeling, idea-shifting, constantly suggestive, sometimes touching, politically acerbic and often very funny book of poetry. Farrell shows himself to be a ludic master, and reading Cocky’s Joy is as refreshing as going on a holiday.

‘In his 1930s memoir Berlin Childhood around 1900, the philosopher Water Benjamin writes from exile of Berlin on the cusp of modernity. Among the images governing Berlin Childhood are snowflakes. The flurries Benjamin compares to the play of words on the page, his apprehension of snowflakes and stories (and allegory itself), while not describing the narrative of Gail Jones’ A Guide to Berlin, can be pressed to illuminate the book’s figurative gesture: something new and unremittingly dense breaking through the familiar.’

‘In Antarctica, Garner harbours a deep anxiety. “Forgive me”, she states, “I’m not here for the wildlife.” She has come on this journey in search of blankness, or at the very least a blank canvas on which to project her moods and emotions. She wants to gaze at ice.’ Bernadette Brennan immerses herself in Helen Garner’s prose.

‘When publishers have a big new novel to promote, one with buzz and the potential for significant sales, they will often market it to women readers. To attract these readers, a novel might be given a cover featuring images of women or children, it might come with a reading group guide, and it might be emblazoned with a sticker from another female-oriented media organisation. What effects might such packaging have on a novel’s critical reception?’ Beth Driscoll on three new novels