Ali Alizadeh’s critically acclaimed book of poetry Ashes in the Air was shortlisted for the Prime Minister’s Literary Awards last year and I would be surprised if Transactions doesn’t receive similar attention, as it is a powerful work of prose fiction. Through a series of interconnected stories, Alizadeh has created a truly global and uncompromisingly frank narrative, spanning the Red Light District in Amsterdam; various war-torn countries, including the Democratic Republic of Congo and Afghanistan; an Iranian prison; and a British literary festival. His characters are often caught between East and West and dwell in the harsh fringes of a cultural collision. A Ukrainian sex worker, a spoilt Emirati teenager, an Iranian asylum seeker and a young woman seeking bloody retribution for her mother’s death—among others— are characters glimpsed and yet fully realised through Alizadeh’s poetic yet direct storytelling. Cruelty is spliced with humour, such as the story set in a Melbourne theatre company, in which hilariously terrible dialogue captures the power dynamics being played out to much greater effect elsewhere. The stories intersect in surprising ways: a character reads a book of poetry, later we meet the poet, and even later we find her new book shortlisted for a farcically judged literary prize. This is a challenging and surprising collection from a talented writer.
Portia Lindsay is a former bookseller who now works at the NSW Writers’ Centre. This review first appeared in the Issue 2 2013 of Books+Publishing magazine. View more pre-publication reviews here.
Australian novelist and poet Jennifer Mills’ first collection of short stories offers an evocative and thought-provoking exploration of the human condition in its rich emotional complexity. Although The Rest is Weight spans seven years of Mills’ short fiction, it has a graceful coherence of style and theme. With crisp, vivid prose, Mills inhabits the inner lives of individuals confronting their thoughts and desires in diverse circumstances: an expat in China barely tolerates a visit from his well-meaning parents; a girl in Quintana Roo, Mexico, wonders what her mother does with the mysterious tall man who visits at night; a woman drives to Adelaide to visit the sister she hasn’t spoken to for 15 years. Mills has a knack for capturing moments that define what it is to be human. At the heart of these tales is our universal search for meaning, love and belonging, and Mills illuminates these powerful themes with dry wit and lyrical expression. Mills has compared assembling these stories to crafting the perfect mix tape. It’s an apt analogy for this intriguing and elegantly crafted collection, which cements Mills’ reputation as one of Australia’s most versatile young writers.
Carody Culver is a bookseller at Black Cat Books in Brisbane, a PhD student and a freelance reviewer. This review first appeared in the April/May issue of Bookseller+Publisher Magazine. View more pre-publication reviews here.
Australia had one of the worst records of so-called civilised countries for the banning of books. Sir Robert Garran, chairman of the Australian Commonwealth Book Censorship Board, dismissed George Orwell’s socially critical novel of 1930s London, Keep the Aspidistra Flying, with one line: ‘No literary merit, and I consider it indecent.’ Any frank discussion about sex or its free expression would see a book banned, often when it was freely available elsewhere. Citizens’ freedom to read what they liked was pitted against the notion of ‘community standards’ and the supposed tendency of ‘obscene’ material ‘to deprave and corrupt’. Literary academic Nicole Moore’s new and comprehensive study of book censorship is based on her remarkable discovery of Australia’s ‘censor’s library’ in the National Archives—793 boxes of banned books prohibited from the 1920s to the 1980s. Many are first editions and taken as a whole they constitute a rare historical and literary resource. The field of concern may have shifted to film, the internet and electronic media generally, but Australian book censorship is part of our trade, cultural and political history and is well analysed in this comprehensive, illuminating and highly readable study. This is a book for students of Australian cultural history and people interested in the history of civil liberties, and is a valuable contribution to the history of the book in Australia.
Dr David Dunstan teaches in the Graduate Publishing and Editing program at Monash University. This review first appeared in the Summer issue of Bookseller+Publisher magazine.
It’s 1984 in a small silo town in Queensland, and 19-year-old Neil Gentle is part of a mismatched group of dreamers and cultural outcasts: JD the DJ; Stephen the Modernist; Phil the Hipster; Peaches who hates machines and Kennychan who lives for them; Meg, Neil’s friend from childhood; and Charley, the first girl he could talk to about the Beatles, along with others. Neil’s been drifting since high school ended, rock’n’roll dreams fraying at the edges, but 1984 is the year of change. What connects the characters is their shared obsession with music, and the same thing holds the book together. The musical references are eclectic and wide-ranging, dipping in and out of eras, genres and movements, and the serious enthusiasm for all is joyously infectious. This is a book with heart, delicate characterisation and a striking sense of place: the small-town world with its wide open spaces and narrow minds, and the vibrant music aficionados scene that springs up around the record store RPM come together in a way that is both idealised and deeply honest. It will appeal particularly to anybody who has been part of a music scene or wished they could have been.
Jarrah Moore is an editorial assistant at Cengage Learning. This review originally appeared in the July issue of Bookseller+Publisher. Sign up for the free fortnightly Bookseller+Publisher Newsletter here.
Shortly after Rod Moss moved to Alice Springs, he met a black couple living in the gully behind his flat. Giving them access to water for their billy widened into a friendship that took in a clan. Over the next 25 years, Moss lived, taught and painted on the lands of the Eastern Arrernte. Sadly, he also attended 60 funerals. This memoir’s title is drawn from a gloss accompanying the author’s painting, Raft. Patterned after Gericault’s Raft of the Medusa, here it depicts five Arrernte men and women and decries the vicissitudes of grog in ‘the Alice’. Without an agenda, this book is Moss’ own beautifully written story, and while he barely conceals his exasperation at so many premature deaths, it’s also a positive recollection of his deep and personal friendship with the elder Arranye (‘Ah-run-yah’), who lived to something resembling old age, 71. This book’s careful design––with its jacket of a black snake (Moss is associated with this animal) on red ochre sand––is further enhanced by the reproduction of 40 of Moss’ startling artworks and their accompanying gloss. Mention should also be made of Raft, the memoir by Moss’ good friend Howard Goldenberg (Hybrid), published last year.
Michael Kitson is a bookseller at the Sun Bookshop Yarraville. This review first appeared in the April 2010 issue of Bookseller+Publisher magazine.
The Hard Light of Day is the winner of the nonfiction award in the 2011 Prime Minister’s Literary Awards.