2016 – oliver of the levant – debra jopson

Oliver of the Levant Debra Jopson

I photographed my neighbourhood, where fresh concrete walls climbed skyward, leaving crumbs of soil around their edges, as if they were plants pushing up out of the weeds. I knew every speck of view from seven floors up. If I pressed my nose against my bedroom window, I could follow the bony backs of cats stalking invisible prey in the giant hole gouged from orange clay, which we called ‘the quarry’ … The quarry reeked of cats’ piss and rotting fruit mingled with sweet, poisonous exhaust fumes. It didn’t stop people from climbing to the quarry top on the evening to watch the sun drop into the sea. I’d train my lens on them as they munched snacks and danced to tinny taped songs, while their faces turned yellow, then red.

Here’s a little extract from Debra Jopson’s “wise, nuanced coming-of-age story”, Oliver of the Levant, which I reviewed for Newtown Review of Books last week. My thanks, as always, to editors, Linda and Jean. Click here to head over to NRBland and have a read.

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(And as for returning to blogging, I have a lot to say, it’s just a matter of working out how to say it…and if it’s even worth saying. You know. The usual.)

2016 – everywhere i look – helen garner

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One day I heard what sounded like music, very faint and far away. I thought I was hallucinating, and kept walking. But every time I passed the entrance to a certain west-running hallway, the same thing would happen: fragile drifts of notes and slow arpeggios, as if a ghost in a curtain-muffled room were playing a piano. I was too embarrassed to ask if anyone else had heard it; was I starting to crack up? But one day when there was no one else around I went in search of it. I found that an intersection of two corridors had been roofed in glass or Perspex. Two benches had been placed against a wall, and from a tiny speaker, fixed high in a corner, came showering these delicious droplets of sound. It was a resting place that some nameless benefactor had created, for people who thought they couldn’t go on.

Linda and Jean from Newtown Review of Books were kind enough to let me review Helen Garner’s latest, Everywhere I Look.

(Needless to say, I’m a bit of a Garner fan…)