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3.42 AVERAGE
3.42 AVERAGE
First read 07/2025 for Farnham book club
Unquestionably a book with a good half and a bad half; unfortunately, I read the bad half first, and it rather spoiled the good half. There is a throwaway moment in the Lyle section in which he holds up the murder of Ivy's cousin Lilian as a cautionary tale, and that being the name of the other protagonist, I assumed that was how her half of the book would end. This was reinforced by a throwaway moment in her half, when she declares her intention to write a novel where the female protagonist is murdered on the last page, which no one will see coming on account of the first person narration. Aha, I thought. Metafiction. But nothing happened. The Lilian half feels even gloomier than it is, with that sword of Damocles hanging over it.
Lilian's half is strongly reminiscent of any number of other works about impoverished Parisians, scraping by, in love or wishing they were or wishing they weren't, whilst political movements and moments rumble by in the background: see Les Miserables or Giovanni's Room for canonical examples; Last Letters from Montmartre or The Committed for less well known works; The Gilded Wolves or the Secret Books of Paradys for a fantasy spin on the concept. Sometimes, like Isherwood's Berlin Diaries, they get on the wrong flight and take place in a different city, but the essence is much the same. Perhaps there ought to be a literary equivalent of the term 'Oscarbait'—nonetheless, it's good, evocative stuff. The sexual aspects feel overdone, as though trying to shock, but that's never an easy thing to do well and it could be argued that the book is throwing itself up against the general reticence to discuss sex. (Not that I would make that argument myself.)
The Lyle half, however, jumps ahead to a future so near that I'd almost hesitate to call it a dystopia, excepting a few absurd elements, like the "government hatespokesperson" on telly and the "Whack-A-Mullah" app (whose players the government insists it doesn't favour). Lyle works at the Department, his wife Chanel at The Other Corporation, and it's all a bit too much. I don't think you can really do Orwellian science fiction for the same reason you can't write a fantasy novel about small group of heroes facing off against a Dark Lord: it's been done too many times before. By all means, be influenced, but do something different. Le Guin says it better than I can:
Unquestionably a book with a good half and a bad half; unfortunately, I read the bad half first, and it rather spoiled the good half. There is a throwaway moment in the Lyle section in which he holds up the murder of Ivy's cousin Lilian as a cautionary tale, and that being the name of the other protagonist, I assumed that was how her half of the book would end. This was reinforced by a throwaway moment in her half, when she declares her intention to write a novel where the female protagonist is murdered on the last page, which no one will see coming on account of the first person narration. Aha, I thought. Metafiction. But nothing happened. The Lilian half feels even gloomier than it is, with that sword of Damocles hanging over it.
Lilian's half is strongly reminiscent of any number of other works about impoverished Parisians, scraping by, in love or wishing they were or wishing they weren't, whilst political movements and moments rumble by in the background: see Les Miserables or Giovanni's Room for canonical examples; Last Letters from Montmartre or The Committed for less well known works; The Gilded Wolves or the Secret Books of Paradys for a fantasy spin on the concept. Sometimes, like Isherwood's Berlin Diaries, they get on the wrong flight and take place in a different city, but the essence is much the same. Perhaps there ought to be a literary equivalent of the term 'Oscarbait'—nonetheless, it's good, evocative stuff. The sexual aspects feel overdone, as though trying to shock, but that's never an easy thing to do well and it could be argued that the book is throwing itself up against the general reticence to discuss sex. (Not that I would make that argument myself.)
The Lyle half, however, jumps ahead to a future so near that I'd almost hesitate to call it a dystopia, excepting a few absurd elements, like the "government hatespokesperson" on telly and the "Whack-A-Mullah" app (whose players the government insists it doesn't favour). Lyle works at the Department, his wife Chanel at The Other Corporation, and it's all a bit too much. I don't think you can really do Orwellian science fiction for the same reason you can't write a fantasy novel about small group of heroes facing off against a Dark Lord: it's been done too many times before. By all means, be influenced, but do something different. Le Guin says it better than I can:
For example: A writer sets out to write science fiction but isn’t familiar with the genre, hasn’t read what’s been written. This is a fairly common situation, because science fiction is known to sell well, but, being “subliterary,” is supposed to be not worth study. It’s just Sci-Fi—what’s to learn? Plenty. A genre is a genre by virtue of having a field and focus of its own, its appropriate and particular tools and rules and techniques for handling the material, its traditions, and its experienced, appreciative readers. Ignorant of all this, our novice is about to reinvent the wheel, the space ship, the space alien, and the mad scientist, with cries of innocent wonder. The cries will not be echoed by the readers. Readers familiar with the genre have met the space ship, the alien, and the mad scientist before. They know much more about them than the writer does.
In the same way, critics who set out to talk about a fantasy novel in ignorance of the history and extensive theory of fantasy literature will make fools of themselves, because they don’t know how to read the book. They have no contextual information to tell them what its tradition is, where it’s coming from, what it’s trying to do, what it does. This was liberally proved when the first Harry Potter book came out and literary reviewers ran around shrieking about its incredible originality. This originality was an artifact of the reviewers’ blank ignorance of its genres, children’s fantasy and the British boarding-school story, plus the fact that they hadn’t read a fantasy since they were eight. It was pitiful. It was like watching a TV gourmet chef eat a piece of buttered toast and squeal, “But this is delicious! Unheard of! What genius invented it?”
Ursula Le Guin, 'Genre: A Word Only a Frenchman Could Love', in Words Are My Matter (unrevised version available here)
The Lilian half is sympathetic towards the young; it's a big world, they're trying their best to come to terms with it. This, incidentally, is set in the period of the author's youth. The half set in the near future feels rather more disdainful, young adults popping up from time to time to sigh at the ignorance of their elders, brandishing words like "patriarchal" and "gaslighting" with no real effort to relate them to the discussion at hand, cocksure brats convinced that the right words bestow sound arguments. There's a conversation to be had about the use of 'therapyspeak', certainly, but this is not it. This is sneering at the youth for not falling into line, for having lives that are messy in a new and unfamiliar way. Of course you have blue hair and pronouns.
The portrayal of immigrants' difficulty in feeling at home in any country is striking stuff, though in the Lyle half it has to cut through a lot of nonsense. The exploration of social pressures that problematise the idea of a 'pure' decision to go the euthanasia route was excellent, despite everything. Lili's half was fairly easy to get swept up in. All the same, I was awfully glad when it was over.
The Lilian half is sympathetic towards the young; it's a big world, they're trying their best to come to terms with it. This, incidentally, is set in the period of the author's youth. The half set in the near future feels rather more disdainful, young adults popping up from time to time to sigh at the ignorance of their elders, brandishing words like "patriarchal" and "gaslighting" with no real effort to relate them to the discussion at hand, cocksure brats convinced that the right words bestow sound arguments. There's a conversation to be had about the use of 'therapyspeak', certainly, but this is not it. This is sneering at the youth for not falling into line, for having lives that are messy in a new and unfamiliar way. Of course you have blue hair and pronouns.
The portrayal of immigrants' difficulty in feeling at home in any country is striking stuff, though in the Lyle half it has to cut through a lot of nonsense. The exploration of social pressures that problematise the idea of a 'pure' decision to go the euthanasia route was excellent, despite everything. Lili's half was fairly easy to get swept up in. All the same, I was awfully glad when it was over.
emotional
reflective
tense
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
No
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
The story of Lyle is better, when compared to Lilci, however that doesn't make it better. The story is scattered, ends abruptly. Frankly, the cover was very promising, however the plot disappointed on multiple fronts.
challenging
reflective
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Complicated
I get where it's going but honestly I found it kind of dull
Very entertaining set of two mostly unrelated novels. One about an Australian girl, or young woman, working as an assistant teacher in France in the eighties, one about, mainly an Australian man living in the near future in Melbourne under a "climate no policy". Lili and Lyle.
I think I liked the part about Lily best. It is about a woman who's grown up, but not yet starting a career, who takes life easily, apart from her horror inspired fear of being killed by a serial killer. She has this close friend, an art student who is into uglification of clothes, who she hangs out with. Race is a theme, as is class, to a lesser extent (the close friend is English, rich and white). Very entertaining, because of the way De Kretser describes people, relationships and life in southern France in general, mostly through the eyes of the main character. And also because I was the same age in the eighties.
The Lyle part is obviously less realistic, because it is situaties in the future, where Australia is hit by climate trouble, like extreme heat, permanent smoke clouds because of bushfires, I gather, and Sydney has been swallowed by the ocean it seems. Also, Australia is very tough on immigrants, who are deported for the slightest transgression. Lyle, and his wife, try to blend in as best they can. At some point they decide that is better to move to a better neighbourhood, both careerwise and in order to be more Australian, but they can't afford to house Lyle's mother there, who is already ailing, or they just need her money. As there is an Amendment that facilitates, if not encourages euthanising the elderly, they decide to use that. All this is described quite vividly and cheerfully. The characters really come to life.
I got this book because I am interested in every novel that tries to visualize life under climate disaster, but I liked the eighties novel better. Still the other is frightfully plausible.
I think I liked the part about Lily best. It is about a woman who's grown up, but not yet starting a career, who takes life easily, apart from her horror inspired fear of being killed by a serial killer. She has this close friend, an art student who is into uglification of clothes, who she hangs out with. Race is a theme, as is class, to a lesser extent (the close friend is English, rich and white). Very entertaining, because of the way De Kretser describes people, relationships and life in southern France in general, mostly through the eyes of the main character. And also because I was the same age in the eighties.
The Lyle part is obviously less realistic, because it is situaties in the future, where Australia is hit by climate trouble, like extreme heat, permanent smoke clouds because of bushfires, I gather, and Sydney has been swallowed by the ocean it seems. Also, Australia is very tough on immigrants, who are deported for the slightest transgression. Lyle, and his wife, try to blend in as best they can. At some point they decide that is better to move to a better neighbourhood, both careerwise and in order to be more Australian, but they can't afford to house Lyle's mother there, who is already ailing, or they just need her money. As there is an Amendment that facilitates, if not encourages euthanising the elderly, they decide to use that. All this is described quite vividly and cheerfully. The characters really come to life.
I got this book because I am interested in every novel that tries to visualize life under climate disaster, but I liked the eighties novel better. Still the other is frightfully plausible.
challenging
dark
emotional
reflective
sad
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
No
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Complicated
challenging
dark
funny
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
I shouldn’t have used this as a chaser for Vladimir because this has absolutely the same elements that don’t work in that. It’s meta in a short hand didactic way I find to be lazy writing. There are heavy subjects broached with regards to immigrant experience, mostly in the only section I made it 80 pages into (Lilly) it deals with racism and misogyny culturing intense fear. And so Camus’s Stranger and Algeria are used as intertextuality to talk about the past, literature, and this current experience for the protagonist. But it’s all vignettes that devolve into this toothless satire because what is actually unfolding on the page is not the thing doing the work! Her emotion is a proxy via references, as is her consumption of the environment. Yeah, I get it, it’s taking the piss on systemic, entrenched cultural staples—but things also need to actually happen in a novel. Presumably meaningful things, yes?
The notion of Satire on its head is made in it as well. With a double figurative meaning in this case, since the protagonist talks about how the immigrant experience is one of being on your head and seeing things from different angles. No doubt another meta nod to the format of the book. But I just didn’t want to finish this story, let alone take up a whole new perspective. There’s just not enough there, there, for me. It’s exasperating to be intentionally discombobulated and yet situated in a intertextuality bubble all the Damn time for the purposes of “satire”. No to this trend in lit. No.
The notion of Satire on its head is made in it as well. With a double figurative meaning in this case, since the protagonist talks about how the immigrant experience is one of being on your head and seeing things from different angles. No doubt another meta nod to the format of the book. But I just didn’t want to finish this story, let alone take up a whole new perspective. There’s just not enough there, there, for me. It’s exasperating to be intentionally discombobulated and yet situated in a intertextuality bubble all the Damn time for the purposes of “satire”. No to this trend in lit. No.
challenging
emotional
sad
fast-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
emotional
reflective
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Complicated