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3.63 AVERAGE
3.63 AVERAGE
When I was a child, the moonlight from my bedroom window used to shine a pattern on the adjacent wall at night. I would fantasise that it was outlining a portal to another world. Depending on my mood, this portal would lead to a mad scientists' lair, or a witches castle. In later years I wished for a library.
Gillian Polack's Borderlanders evokes this sense of magic in the real world: lucid dreaming, Celtic magic, a mysterious library, and portals connected somehow to shadow and light. It's a curiously slippery tale about three women attending a creative residency—only the house is not as it seems and, perhaps, neither are the women.
Despite the magic, the novel is rooted in reality as we explore the house through the central protagonist who suffers from chronic pain. This is written carefully—the author explains in the acknowledgements that she spoke to many people with chronic illnesses, to make this story as accurate as possible—and we follow the narrator through the numerous conscious adjustment she has to make every day, just to live the semblance of a normal life: 'Melissa developed a plan so that she could see everything, do everything, and hurt the least possible.'
Melissa's cutting insights are what powers the story: 'Illness set up problems with verbal transactions... Once one can't talk about the everyday pain, it's hard to talk about other things…' The backdrop of a hard reality against otherworldly potential.
In general, it’s a pleasure to watch the way each woman tackles her creative endeavour, and to observe the slightly obsessive thought patterns that lace the creative mind, as when one character agonizes how best to stack her books in the unlikely event that they fall from her desk and are damaged in an earthquake.
Lovely yet powerful imagery is used: a certain key made of glass, keeping us in fairy-tale mode. The many rooms in the house remind me of my childhood with Polly Pocket: those dolls barely bigger than a fingernail that were swapped from house to house—some houses even hung on a chain around your neck—and you get a sense that such a thing could be possible here.
The first-person point-of-view is the strongest; in third-person, the three central characters bleed into each other, so it can be unclear who we're following. At times we feel excluded from a group who have been friends for years (as is actually the case here). Perhaps this bleeded scope is also what makes the characters take magic for granted—the marvel is treated casually, the strangeness left unquestioned, the wonder too often lost. Some of the slang can be jarring ("suckitude") and certain phrases are overused, which stands out in a vocabulary that's otherwise fluid and considered.
Borderlands is an enjoyable book that has you thinking beyond yourself, yet paradoxically that's exactly what you circle back to. It's the perfect book to read before bed, when your mind is entering that hazy, otherworldly zone; it's a companion you can slip into, as it slips through you; a compliment to any mind in search of a creative wander.
Disclaimer: I received a free copy of the book from the publisher; I thank Odyssey Books for introducing me to the world of Borderlanders.
Gillian Polack's Borderlanders evokes this sense of magic in the real world: lucid dreaming, Celtic magic, a mysterious library, and portals connected somehow to shadow and light. It's a curiously slippery tale about three women attending a creative residency—only the house is not as it seems and, perhaps, neither are the women.
Despite the magic, the novel is rooted in reality as we explore the house through the central protagonist who suffers from chronic pain. This is written carefully—the author explains in the acknowledgements that she spoke to many people with chronic illnesses, to make this story as accurate as possible—and we follow the narrator through the numerous conscious adjustment she has to make every day, just to live the semblance of a normal life: 'Melissa developed a plan so that she could see everything, do everything, and hurt the least possible.'
Melissa's cutting insights are what powers the story: 'Illness set up problems with verbal transactions... Once one can't talk about the everyday pain, it's hard to talk about other things…' The backdrop of a hard reality against otherworldly potential.
In general, it’s a pleasure to watch the way each woman tackles her creative endeavour, and to observe the slightly obsessive thought patterns that lace the creative mind, as when one character agonizes how best to stack her books in the unlikely event that they fall from her desk and are damaged in an earthquake.
Lovely yet powerful imagery is used: a certain key made of glass, keeping us in fairy-tale mode. The many rooms in the house remind me of my childhood with Polly Pocket: those dolls barely bigger than a fingernail that were swapped from house to house—some houses even hung on a chain around your neck—and you get a sense that such a thing could be possible here.
The first-person point-of-view is the strongest; in third-person, the three central characters bleed into each other, so it can be unclear who we're following. At times we feel excluded from a group who have been friends for years (as is actually the case here). Perhaps this bleeded scope is also what makes the characters take magic for granted—the marvel is treated casually, the strangeness left unquestioned, the wonder too often lost. Some of the slang can be jarring ("suckitude") and certain phrases are overused, which stands out in a vocabulary that's otherwise fluid and considered.
Borderlands is an enjoyable book that has you thinking beyond yourself, yet paradoxically that's exactly what you circle back to. It's the perfect book to read before bed, when your mind is entering that hazy, otherworldly zone; it's a companion you can slip into, as it slips through you; a compliment to any mind in search of a creative wander.
Disclaimer: I received a free copy of the book from the publisher; I thank Odyssey Books for introducing me to the world of Borderlanders.
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
No
Loveable characters:
No
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
No
‘Do you believe in magic?’
Meet Melissa. Melissa shares her life with both Hal, to whom she is happily married, and with chronic pain. Melissa has strategies for dealing with her pain, but those strategies do not always work. Especially when the cause of her pain is not obvious to others. Melissa discovers that her artwork can produce magic, and a new journey is about to begin.
‘That’s it, isn’t it? That’s what the magic does. It shows the inside on the outside.’
Once upon a time, Melissa, Zelda, and Bettina were schoolfriends. Each of them is artistic, and all three of them receive a two-week creative residency in a mysterious old house near Robertson in NSW. Friendships and life evolve, different experiences change perceptions. Is it necessary to believe in magic to experience it?
Melissa struggles with and through the constraints imposed by her unlabelled chronic painfilled illness. She is more attuned to the possibilities of this restless, sentient house than her friends. Portals to other places open to her. Portals that Zelda does not see, and Bettina is frequently afraid of. Each will pursue her own creative endeavour with occasional help (and hindrance).
‘The portals are not equal in where they lead.’
There is a marvellous mystical library, magic in water, and danger in shadows. And not everyone means well.
The story unfolds. The lives of each woman: Melissa and Bettina are clearer for me than Zelda is; some of the challenges and fears each face; and the possible opportunities ahead.
‘People weren’t listening to each other.’
I enjoyed this journey, especially the sentience of the house, the imagery of the library and the views through some of the portals. Perhaps I should have been afraid at times, but I felt sure that, like all my favourite childhood fairy tales, there would be a happy ending.
I discovered a new word, as well, which I hated on sight, and will try to avoid hereafter: ‘suckitude’.
Recommended for readers of contemporary fantasy.
Jennifer Cameron-Smith
Meet Melissa. Melissa shares her life with both Hal, to whom she is happily married, and with chronic pain. Melissa has strategies for dealing with her pain, but those strategies do not always work. Especially when the cause of her pain is not obvious to others. Melissa discovers that her artwork can produce magic, and a new journey is about to begin.
‘That’s it, isn’t it? That’s what the magic does. It shows the inside on the outside.’
Once upon a time, Melissa, Zelda, and Bettina were schoolfriends. Each of them is artistic, and all three of them receive a two-week creative residency in a mysterious old house near Robertson in NSW. Friendships and life evolve, different experiences change perceptions. Is it necessary to believe in magic to experience it?
Melissa struggles with and through the constraints imposed by her unlabelled chronic painfilled illness. She is more attuned to the possibilities of this restless, sentient house than her friends. Portals to other places open to her. Portals that Zelda does not see, and Bettina is frequently afraid of. Each will pursue her own creative endeavour with occasional help (and hindrance).
‘The portals are not equal in where they lead.’
There is a marvellous mystical library, magic in water, and danger in shadows. And not everyone means well.
The story unfolds. The lives of each woman: Melissa and Bettina are clearer for me than Zelda is; some of the challenges and fears each face; and the possible opportunities ahead.
‘People weren’t listening to each other.’
I enjoyed this journey, especially the sentience of the house, the imagery of the library and the views through some of the portals. Perhaps I should have been afraid at times, but I felt sure that, like all my favourite childhood fairy tales, there would be a happy ending.
I discovered a new word, as well, which I hated on sight, and will try to avoid hereafter: ‘suckitude’.
Recommended for readers of contemporary fantasy.
Jennifer Cameron-Smith
adventurous
emotional
funny
hopeful
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Flaws of characters a main focus:
No
A fantasy in which a middle aged woman with a chronic pain gets to be the hero and save the day. And while the chronic pain is a dominant part of the protagonist's life, it isn't this that defines them or their role in the story.
Also a look at the way that friendships age.
Also a look at the way that friendships age.
Content Warnings
Moderate: Chronic illness