Fiction mini-reviews

One Hundred Days, Alice Pung 

This is a pretty searing read. Set in the 1980s, sixteen year old Karuna writes to her unborn baby. She lives under the very protective eye of her Chinese mother from the Philippines, Grand Mar. Since her father Grand Pa left (an older Australian man who Grand Mar came to Australia to marry), they live in housing commission flats in Melbourne and struggle to make ends meet. One summer, almost because she is bored, Karuna ends up pregnant. Once discovered, it becomes a battle of wills with her mother, who tries to control every aspect of her life. Those who have Asian heritage might recognise the numerous comments Grand Ma makes about the impending risks to the baby with every thing Karuna might do, eat or think, and her ignoring of all medical advice. It’s funny, but also sad and depressing. Grand Ma is threatening to raise the baby as her own, and Karuna is figuring out how to stand up for herself. I began to wonder if there would be any positive resolution at all. Without giving the ending away, there is certainly hope that begins to grow as to how this might all be sorted out. Not a relaxing read, but an excellent book nonetheless. 

Sorrow and Bliss, Meg Mason

Like the one above, this also confronts some significant topics, but with humour and insight along the way. Set in the UK, Martha has just turned 40, and her husband Patrick has moved out after years of love and strife. The reader then travels back to Martha’s early years and her onset of significant depression and mental illness at age 17, which impacts her at points over the following two decades. Her bohemian mother is mostly drunk, her loving poet father is trying to write again, and she and her sister Ingrid are devoted to each other. Alongside their aunt, uncle and cousins, and Patrick, all the stories of their lives are woven together. Feeling the range of emotions more than most, Martha moves between ecstasy at the wonders of life, and deep despondence and despair. Patrick’s love stands as the rock alongside her waves. It’s an insightful view into mental illness, and how it can shape people but does not need to define them. I read Mason’s humorous biography of motherhood (Say it Again in a Nice Voice) 10 years ago, and really enjoyed it. I am keen to turn to her other book You Be Mother now too. 

Go Tell the Bees that I am Gone, Diana Gabaldon 

Long term readers will be aware I am a Gabaldon fan, having read all her books over the last 15 years or so. This is the ninth in a now intended series of ten, and it’s been seven years since the publication of the last. So fans have to be in this for the long haul, not only time wise between book publications, but for the length of book - this one is almost 900 pages, with small font. It picks up exactly where Written in My Own Heart’s Blood left off, continuing the story of Jamie and Claire, and numerous family members including Roger & Brianna, Fergus & Marsali, Ian & Rachel, William, Lord John, etc. There’s no point in giving more details for fans will be keen to read it, and those who want to start need to go right back to Outlander. I imagine Gabaldon has more fans since the release of the Netflix series, but there is so much more detail in the books than the TV series can manage. (As with the TV series, there is a fair amount of sex and violence, and sometimes both together). I enjoyed it, having been long invested in the series, and I partularly like the details she includes of history, medicine, and people. (The last two books are partially set in the American Revolution, with some overlap of events covered in Hamilton). Having said that, it is getting overblown and starting to feel a little indulgent. I’m hoping she doesn’t take another seven years to write the final! One particular quote that I did like: 

“One of the benefits of long marriage is that you can see quite clearly where some conversations are likely to lead - and occasionally you can sidestep the booby traps and choose another path by silent mutual assent.”