Book Reviews

Back with her second full-length graphic novel, CANNON, Lee Lai is here to suckerpunch you with the visceral experience of one woman’s impending breakdown.

Metaphysical Hell is weird and rightfully horrifying, and it’s left me with auditory echoes of bones clattering. The magic system is opaque but interesting, and there are some hilarious snipes in the characters’ bickering. If you’ve had a wandering interest in Kuang’s books and have been looking for a more character-driven pick, this might be the one for you.

I would whole-heartedly recommend [Mad World] to anyone with an interest in our world because, as the author writes, ‘when we see that our oppression is so closely interrelated, it becomes easier to dismantle it, and build new worlds together.’ ... I found so much to treasure in this exploration of how madness/mental illness permeates through our lives and societies.

Oscillating through various perspectives, Fierceland gives voice to those silenced by the turning tides of colonialism, steadily propelling the plot towards its inevitable conclusion. Musa navigates generational inheritances and collective responsibilities, asking what one might owe as a descendant of people who have caused wide-reaching harm, and how we navigate these relationships on a personal level.

Expansive yet tightly plotted, When Sleeping Women Wake is a deeply empathetic novel that examines the devastation of war. ... Written in atmospheric prose and propelled by an urgent narrative pulse, When Sleeping Women Wake is an immersive and compelling read.

This is a book that will be in the history books.

Half Truth shines in its evocation of the environment and atmosphere of its settings and eras. In its characters is an inherent, multifaceted exploration of empire and conquest in Morocco and the multidimensionality of the country’s people and cultures today. Through this all is the heartbeat of womanhood and resilience.

Theory & Practice is a quietly experimental new novel from two-time Miles Franklin winner Michelle de Kretser (Scary Monsters). Set mainly in St Kilda in 1986, it captures a snapshot in the life of its narrator, a young woman recently transplanted from Sydney to begin her postgraduate studies on the novels of Virginia Woolf. With a narrator who reflects on her evolving approach to writing, de Kretser has written a novel that doesn’t read like a novel but rather an artfully melded combination of fiction, memoir and essay. In this form, being not quite fiction but not quite nonfiction, Theory & Practice occupies a hazy in-between, exploring the intersection of its titular concepts and carving out a genre of its own. Reading as autofiction, the novel makes it impossible to know where de Kretser’s reflections end and her imaginings begin, but each moment and musing of the narrator’s chaotic inner life ring true. As ever with de Kretser, there is a timelessness to her prose—the novel feels entirely contemporary, and yet it reads as though it may have been in the canon for decades. ‘Writing back’ to Woolf’s literary legacy, Theory & Practice calls to mind Jessica Zhan Mei Yu’s But the Girl and echoes Sigrid Nunez’s A Feather on the Breath of God, sitting at a neat intersection of the two, where it is sure to please fans of both. ___ This review was first published in Books+Publishing in November 2024.

THE BURROW follows a family unit of three, formerly four, their newly adopted bunny, and their mother/grandmother/mother-in-law. Each short chapter shifts perspectives and takes you through their lives through the lens of their relationships.It’s set in the tail-end of the Melbourne lockdowns (those bleak days of lockdown technically lifting but the world seeming sort of half-vacant and inherently infectious), which sets up the narrative’s sense of isolation even further. Instead of claustrophobic though, it feels cosy, in a (bear with me) weighted blanket sort of way where yes, it’s technically a bit oppressive, but once you sink in to the feeling it provides a lot of comfort.It’s a beautifully self-contained story that zeroes in on the daily processes of coming together after a loss, the way that that grief impacts each person differently (and how it also then affects the others, too). It’s much more slice-of-life, but reminded me of what I loved in Weike Wang’s Joan is Okay with its economy of word choice (it never feels sparse, but it’s very precise), and although a wildly different book, the exploration of grief and family that I loved from Saraid de Silva’s Amma.

Translations is a powerful, character-driven debut novel by Jumaana Abdu. It follows young mother Aliyah and her daughter, Sakina, who leave Sydney for a property in the Northern Rivers region of New South Wales in the wake of a personal tragedy. Set almost entirely on this rural property, the novel is a microcosm of Aliyah’s life with her daughter, reflecting the ups and downs of their experiences with the people Aliyah allows into their lives. Although they are building a new community for themselves, Aliyah, fiercely independent and reluctant to depend on others, often retreats. Among their new acquaintances are Shep, an imām and now farmhand; Billie, a Kamilaroi woman and colleague at the hospital; and Hana, a beloved childhood friend with a complicated history. Much of the novel explores these relationships and the entwinement of these characters with Aliyah, dissecting how the parallel but conflicting worldviews of the people around her contribute to how Aliyah finds her footing in a new life and self. Abdu’s writing is tender and deliberate, conveying the most through what is left unsaid and the emotions experienced in each moment. The novel explores grief, religion, dispossession, Palestinian–First Nations solidarity, and the many shapes of the quiet but enduring strength required to live and continue through it all. With an intimate plot and rich in nuanced dialogue, Translations is literary fiction for fans of Etaf Rum and Yumna Kassab. This review was first published in Books+Publishing in June 2024.

THE DEGENERATES was a fever dream of a read and I've been thinking about it for months.If you're a lit fic reader but you feel like you've been in a bit of a slump, this is the book to grab. It's very Big Brain™️ Lit Fic and classically character-driven, but it's also weirdly mesmerising and has a really steady pulse that gives it a sense of urgency you don't often find in the genre's typically 'quieter' reads. It is very much not Skins (UK) but in a lot of ways the reading experience felt a lot like the first two seasons (in a very good way, I am a Skins apologist).To plagiarise myself — pulsing and hallucinatory, THE DEGENERATES is a visceral and stylish novel that reveals a story of human connection and loneliness. It follows three characters and the ways that their messy lives intersect and weave around each other, and their lives are kind of all over the place. It examines grief, abuse, generational trauma, mental illness, and poverty, but it also delivers some solid (dark) giggles.The writing style is also super interesting with huuuuge chunks that do so much for the Reading Experience ™ to manipulate the physical way that we read in line with the emotional and psychological experience of reading.I've genuinely never read a book like this before and I cannot WAIT to discuss it with people.The Asian Australian debut game is strong this year and we love to see it.

JADE & EMERALD scratched the One Hundred Days-shaped itch in my reading in a way I wasn’t expecting at all. It explores class dynamics, queerness, the model minority myth, and Asian Australian girlhood with so much heart. It’s also delightfully full of 90s nostalgia (was I alive? No. Did it make me very sentimental? Yes.)

What an exquisite debut. ... It is sprawling but intimate, and deeply generous in its exploration of love, loss, and the ways that our decisions shape both our own lives and beyond them. ... This book was devastating, gorgeous, and going straight in the ‘always recommend’ pile.

BUTTER! A 400-and-something page book that I devoured (hah) in two sittings, this book explores the intersections of food, class, gender expectations and societal norms, all through the lens of an investigative journalist spiralling into obsession 🧈🔪 Based on the true crimes of the 'konkatsu killer', it hits on some of the more unpleasantly unique characteristics of Japanese society's obsession with the 'perfect woman' (including beauty standards and gender roles) and the perils of internalised misogyny and fatphobia. It's actually also a genuinely heart-warming and endearing book. Alongside the journalistic angle, there's a character-led story of found family, so much to learn about the joys of cooking and eating, and a vivid portrait of finding connection in an isolating world. One to pick up if you were a fan of the social analysis in Kim Jiyoung, Born 1984 by Cho Nam-Joo but would've liked it with a bit more intrigue! (I also haven't shut up about this book in literal months and convinced my mum to buy it in the original Japanese, sooooOOOOOOOO). I'll read basically anything if I'm interested in the social commentary it offers, but in this one, I reeeeeally wanted to know: did Kajii DO IT? And maybe even more importantly — HOW DO I MAKE THE PERFECT BEEF BOURGINON? (I'm a vegetarian 😭) NOT to be read on an empty stomach (reading this literally made my tummy grumble). DEFINITELY to be read if you have easy access to high quality butter!

Insightful but simple, this short work will appeal to fans of Ozeki’s fiction, anyone who’s trying to take the time to reflect on themselves, or anyone who’s ever been in crisis about the way that their appearance has shaped the way the world has responded to them (so, mixed gang — probably most of you).

This review was originally published on Books + Publishing.Forty Nights is the literary debut of photographer turned lawyer and writer Pirooz Jafari. The novel weaves together three separate timelines, moving between 1360s Sweden, 1980s Iran and present-day Australia—with some detours into present-day Somalia and Kenya. Forty Nights primarily follows protagonist Tishtar, a fictional representation of the author, as he helps a neighbour seek asylum for her nieces and reflects on his own experiences that led him to seek refuge in Australia. Full of poetic refrains, Forty Nights is a love letter to Jafari’s native Iran and its history, while also a condemnation of the country’s political conditions since the 1979 revolution. With the characters of his novel displaced by war and political turmoil, Jafari implores the reader to consider the after-effects of these events on people both individually and as a society. Although the sweeping story spans continents and historical eras, the novel’s narrative threads ultimately converge as a reckoning with the contemporary concept of home. Melding the magical elements of Exit West by Mohsin Hamid with the harsh realities of Marjan Satrapi’s Persepolis, this debut gives voice to those who have fled their home nations due to conditions beyond their control.Review by Marina Sano.

The Upwelling is a breath of fresh air for both the genre and Australian literature. Lystra Rose has expertly crafted a captivating and enchanting fantasy world filled with magic and heart, while reminding us of the rich cultures and histories that were taken during colonisation.

This review was originally published on Books + Publishing.Mirandi Riwoe’s The Burnished Sun comprises a series of short stories sandwiched between two novellas, opening with Annah the Javanese and closing with her award-winning The Fish Girl. Despite the brevity of some of the stories, Riwoe expertly transports the reader to the unique worlds and minds of the characters in each. Annah the Javanese is a fascinating and agonising postcolonial exploration of the life of a servant girl who is passed between people like objects, and the impossibly frustrating doublethink employed by the people around her who ‘save’ her. As the girl comes to live with the artist Gauguin, Riwoe further weaves in commentary on the art world of the late 1800s and attitudes around the starving artist mentality, while also offering a critique of the style of orientalism and exoticism in artwork from that era. As always with Riwoe’s work, there is a beautifully ethereal element to her writing throughout the collection. While the shorter stories are generally more contemporary and closer to home in Australia, they cover an astounding range of voices. From grieving mothers and wives to teenagers just trying to fit in, The Burnished Sun offers the reader a glimpse of the many different forms that the same feelings of alienation and disenfranchisement can take. This collection is the perfect read for existing fans of Riwoe and her style of postcolonial historical fiction, as well as readers of Foreign Soil by Maxine Beneba Clarke or Lucky Ticket by Joey Bui. Review by Marina Sano.

This review was originally published on Books + Publishing.Michelle Cahill’s debut novel tells the story of a struggling writer, Mina, as she expands upon the often disregarded character Daisy Simmons from Virginia Woolf’s Mrs Dalloway. Daisy & Woolf follows in the tradition of Jean Rhys’s exploration of Charlotte Brontë’s Bertha in Wide Sargasso Sea, with Cahill’s protagonist endeavouring to write Daisy as a three-dimensional character in contrast to the fleeting mentions of her given in the source material. Mina’s research takes her around the world despite her dwindling funds and increasingly precarious footing in her own life. Although written in response to Mrs Dalloway, Cahill’s novel critiques Woolf’s white feminism and the racist judgements evident in her work, and how these led her to ‘slay’ Daisy in the novel. Cahill also goes further, criticising the publishing industry at large, with Mina condemning the industry’s tendency to focus on novels such as her own as symbols of resilience, rather than simply examining characters like Daisy in their own right. In taking on the unknown world and life of Daisy from the perspective of a writer from a similar ethnic background, Cahill organically includes discussion around the pressures faced by writers of colour and how ‘the voice of whoever speaks determines the storytelling’. Entangling the queer subtext of Mrs Dalloway with both Mina and Daisy’s lives, Daisy & Woolf also expertly parallels the nuances of Woolf’s life and work. Told in a mix of alternating epistolary and stream-of-consciousness formats, this novel will appeal to lovers of Virginia Woolf and The Hours, as well as anyone interested in the art of writing. Review by Marina Sano.

In crisp and precise prose, Desi Girl maps Malik’s life around Sydney’s suburbs and beyond. ... Desi Girl will resonate with readers from migrant or immigrant backgrounds, and anyone else who has lacked seeing their own reality reflected in mainstream culture.

This review was originally published on Books + Publishing.Chai Time at Cinnamon Gardens immerses the reader in the microcosm of the Cinnamon Gardens Nursing Home. Against the backdrop of the heartbreaking trauma of the Sri Lankan Civil War, the novel explores how the family behind Cinnamon Gardens came to be in Sydney and how they’ve made a home for all in the community. Through five different perspectives and an ensemble of supporting characters, Shankari Chandran expertly weaves in multiple issues of intersectionality as tensions grow in the fictional suburb of Westgrove. With the breakdown of a friend of the family’s marriage, we follow a detailed exploration of white male fragility and how dangerous it can be when people in power present themselves as victims of oppression, as well as what happens when extremists feel vindicated by mainstream media support for their anti-immigrant views. Chai Time warns against complacency in power vacuums, where those harmed the most are those with the least power. Snuck in with this is a subplot involving the owner of Cinnamon Gardens’ writing career, in which she finds success only by catering to white audiences. Quiet but firm in its messaging and condemnations, Chai Time at Cinnamon Gardens filled this reviewer’s heart with both hope and rage at witnessing history repeat itself, while somehow preserving optimism about how communities can be rebuilt. This novel will be loved by readers of The Other Black Girl and The Reading List with its exploration of the power of community and commentary on white fragility, as well as fans of The Little Coffee Shop of Kabul.Review by Marina Sano.

This review was originally published on Books + Publishing. ‘Books have been my lifeline, my escape.’ Jasmine’s family was forever changed by the loss of her sister when she was three. Now a lawyer, Jasmine is invited on a literary tour of England and, surprising everyone, invites her mother, Della, along in hopes of strengthening their strained bond. As Jasmine considers her education while discovering the histories of her literary heroes, Della examines the historical sites in reference to her family and home. The tragedy that occurred decades prior is continually revisited, permeating the thoughts of both mother and daughter as they explore English history. I am not a First Nations person myself and cannot speak to the way that the characters’ culture has been represented in this book, and I implore readers to prioritise the critiques and comments of First Nations reviewers in this area. However, I believe the nuanced way After Story approaches the topic of intergenerational trauma will resonate deeply with anyone who has faced the harsh reality of losing pieces of their culture with the passing of loved ones. After Story is a love letter to the English classics, without shying away from examining the parallels between Australian colonial history and the memorialisation of English literary greats. The novel explores these parallels through both its dual-perspective narrative and the voices of the tour’s other members, each offering their own take on Western canonical figures and their legacies. After Story will warm the heart of any bibliophile whose favourites include Shakespeare, Woolf and Austen, or contemporary readers invested in the familial ties explored in Celeste Ng’s Everything I Never Told You. Review by Marina Sano.

This review was originally published on Books + Publishing. Is there a right way to love? Karuna feels suffocated by her mother — and her entrapment multiplies when her dad leaves and she’s forced to move away from private school and into council housing in Melbourne’s south east. Somehow, her mother controls her every move, even while working two jobs. Then, when Karuna becomes pregnant at 16, her mother locks her in their 14th-storey flat, with no key and no way out. One Hundred Days is a heartachingly personal story about love, motherhood and the different forms they both take. Alice Pung deftly approaches the colourism present in Asian communities and the confusing reverence that mixed-white children are viewed with, capturing the perplexing doublethink in communities where people maintain a strict adherence to white beauty norms while also sneering at ‘White Ghosts’ (Karuna’s mother’s term for white people). Though not a story explicitly about race, One Hundred Days expertly manoeuvres themes of classism, racism and sexism through the narrative framework of Karuna’s pregnancy. Written in her characteristic first-person direct perspective, Pung’s first novel for adults is a biting exploration of Karuna’s journey as she fights to gain independence from her mother’s suffocating love while learning to be a mother herself. One Hundred Days is a must-read for fans of The Mothers by Brit Bennett and the forthcoming Pizza Girl by Jean Kyoung Frazier.Review by Marina Sano

This review was first published on Books + Publishing. Lyrical, rich, oftentimes dark and sometimes hopeful, Danged Black Thing is a speculative fiction collection that takes the reader on a journey from Africa to Australia. The cities and villages the stories are set in are sometimes familiar, while others are plucked fully formed from author Eugen Bacon’s imagination, providing a vast backdrop to her exploration of the emotional costs of being a woman. In ‘Unlimited Data’ Natukunda is coerced into accepting a microchip implant in her neck that provides unlimited data for her partner: ‘A woman is the queen of the earth. The code needs your fertile body to work properly.’ This chip inevitably kills her and many others. Meanwhile in ‘Phantasms of Existence’ a mother loses a child during birth, while another prays she’s not pregnant. ‘Still She Visits’ explores the familial ghosts that follow us, and the trauma of leaving everything behind in hopes for a better life. These are just a handful of the 17 stories that can be found in Danged Black Thing. Its pages contain vibrant and complex female characters that I have come to love and admire. Their strength and resilience inspire, but Bacon does not shy away from the bleak and devastatingly harsh nature of being a woman in a patriarchal society. Where men rule, there will be women who suffer. With the lyricism of Toni Morrison and the worldbuilding of Ken Liu, Bacon secures herself as an important voice in Australian genre fiction. Danged Black Thing is the feminist science fiction debut that brings women and Blackness to the forefront. Grab your copy of Danged Black Thing here. Review by Jing Xuan Teo.