Reading List as May turns into June

Hollier than Thou-Laura Buzo. This is YA fiction, and some characters don’t quite seem real, but I still enjoyed reading it and was even more pleased to read an interview with her, in which she describes her upbringing as part of a literary family, living and educated in inner city Sydney, and how much she liked “Tirra Lirra by the River” by Jessica Anderson. 

The Push-Julia Lawrinson. Also YA, Julia Lawrinson is a WA writer published by Fremantle Press, but in this novel she has convincingly created a young Glebe late teenager, who socialises with The Push via her work friend Trish, and romantic interest Johnno. Side note-Radio National thought fit to interview Julia Lawrinson, with others, on the topic of “sex in young adult fiction”. As my friend Craig once mused, “teenagers-they’re getting it on!”

Sarah Hopkins-Speak to Me. Have ruined this by skipping to the back and then trying to read the novel in reverse chronological order, which does it no credit, as she has a clean style and writes of contemporary Sydney lives. The set up is of a psychiatrist who is blind since his pituitary tumour was removed (maybe the recognition factor had me skipping ahead), his workaholic lawyer wife who is angry and tired, self loathing teenage daughter and seeker/Christian teen son. Lots of ideas there!

Junky-William Burroughs. Every bit as sordid as you imagine. Becomes a heroin addict as a way of life, a way of being. Gives good details on the 40s NYC heroin scene, what is involved in scoring, but it’s all very depressing. Found this on my shelves, may have picked it up from the Birchgrove Primary School fete.

Harvard Psychedelic Club-Don Lattin. Segued nicely with Junky. I’d reserved this from the library, so obviously it had been cited in something I’d previously read. Details the psychedelic scene of early 60s Harvard, which was interesting to learn of it’s early legitimacy and associated with research psychology, also the involvement of the CIA etc. Made me think a bit harder about the whole “war on drugs” and unlikelihood of doing any meaningful research in this area, given the risks as well as moral outrage as well as black market repercussions. Also gave a good sense of why spirituality is so important, the search for purpose, enlightenment, a bridge. See review below

Gabrielle Carey-Just Us. Have only read two thirds. Her mid section details her time in Ireland when she realised that she wanted to embrace the Catholic spirituality/social justice/seeker self that had been missing from her secular protestant upbringing. A Benedictine abbott explains to her that the word religion comes from Latin religare “meaning to tie back, tie tight, fromed from the verb ligare-to tied, to bond, to link, to connect, to bridge. So in modern terms, religion is really about connectedness and relationships, about forging bonds and making things whole”. Nice. 

She too talks about what is like to seek mentors, the embarrassing letters she must have written, what it is like to experience self disgust about one’s younger narcissistic self, and the abbott tries to reassure her that she can incorporate past and present selves into her vision. Later on she reflects again about having mentors, and being sought for advice, what it is like to be a writer living a solitary life, and to be given advice, to want to pass on advice, to commune with another, and decides to be more forgiving of past mentors, instead of desiring them to be perfect, paragons.

An amusing story-of wanting to meet the neighbourhood piano player so they could perform together-and discovering she’d been wooed by a pianola...  “in the end, it was meaningless if the music wasn’t attached to a human being...It was the person at the piano that I was really interested in, I realised, the breathing in rhythm with music, the slightly brush of forearms over the keyboard, the warm buttocks against the piano stool, the physical presence. Music mattered, of course, but not as much as the people playing it”

Reminded me of the Knievel gig, when Wayne Connolly was on stage only, playing guitar, singing into a microphone and he lost his place-a human moment. Reminds me also of what I love about printmaking-I can see the hands in the print.