Book Review: The Morbids by Ewa Ramsey

The Morbids is a story about Caitlin, a young woman, convinced that she’s going to die. She joins a support group of people each of whom have their own issues about death and name themselves The Morbids. What has happened to Caitlin unravels slowly and painfully as we take the road with her towards healing and a better life.  

It’s a sad story yet an uplifting one too. Caitlin has suppressed her feelings after an accident where she blames herself for the death of someone. She copes as best as she can, throwing in her high-power job for a waitressing role, moving to a sordid neighbourhood and turning her back on her friends and family. She believes she is coping with the help of the support group but slowly she begins to unravel bit by bit.  Ever fearful, she avoids rather than confronts.

The impact of mental illness particularly trauma, anxiety and depression are important issues and the author does a superb navigating the reader through it in a very sensitive and touching way. There is no sugar coating so it is quite confronting. Not to say that it is all doom and gloom. There are shades of humour, love and joy. And then there are the moments of kindness, random and otherwise from people in Caitlin’s life. This character is very well drawn, complicated and multi-dimensional.

I also enjoyed the side characters from those in the help group to the ones in Caitlin’s work life. Along the way we meet caring Nic, her boss at the bar where she works; concerned Lina the best friend she’s avoided since the accident two years ago and the gorgeous Tom, the emergency doctor. They all played their part superbly.

The second half is quite intense and I wasn’t sure where it would go but I hoped that Caitlin would be okay. Take a look and see for yourself.

Book Review: The Vanishing Half by Brit Bennett

I’ve heard a lot about this book and I’m in two minds about it.

Identical twins, Desiree and Stella grow up in a southern black community. What’s different about this community is that everyone is light-skinned including the twins. When they turn sixteen, they run away. Soon after, Stella leaves her sister and submerges herself into a white world where she marries and lives as a white woman. She carries her secret, lying about her origins to her husband and only daughter, Kennedy. Desiree is heart-broken when Stella disappears and forges a life without her. She marries a black man and has a daughter, Jude who looks like her father. The marriage breaks down and Desiree goes back to her mother and the community with Jude.

This is a fascinating premise and the themes of race, class and identity are beautifully explored. There were other themes too such as transgender and domestic violence. There are several timelines beginning in 1968, when Desiree returns. Then it ends in 1986 when the two daughters, Kennedy and Jude cross paths with interesting consequences.

This is a big story and could have easily been made into a series. The author takes us through the twin’s childhood, and their initial estrangement from their mother. And although ten years later, Desiree returns to her mother, there’s a gap about Stella and her mother’s relationship. How could Stella disappear without a trace? What guilt did she carry and how did she live with that? By the time we get to Stella’s point of view we are given answers, yet I found I wanted more. And herein lies the dilemma of hiding deep family secrets as well as Stella’s own childhood trauma. Her white husband appears to be totally clueless yet Stella’s fear of being found out might surely have had a toll.

The relationship between Jude and her boyfriend Reece, a trans-man was tender but again, this was another book in itself as was Kennedy’s story. Well, done to the author for trying to contain all of these stories of what is essentially an epic family story.

Yet, perhaps because it is such a big story, I found it hard to engage with the characters as much as I would have liked.  I think I might have enjoyed it more if it was told in first person rather than omniscient as it felt a little removed for my taste.

Otherwise, it’s definitely a well-written story worth reading and appreciating given the themes.

Book Review: Bowl the Maidens Over by Louise Zedda-Sampson

It’s often been said by friends and family that I don’t have a sporting bone in my body. There is, however nothing wrong with my appreciation of history particularly when it comes to women’s place in it. And I was delighted to pick up a book about the first female cricketers in Australia and more specifically in my home state of Victoria.

Bowl the Maidens Over helps us understand how women came to play what was originally known as a man’s game. Yet as a man’s game there’s no physical barrier for a woman to play. I have been known to play the game with men and although I have no real talent, I can bowl, bat and throw the ball, well perhaps not terribly well. I can also appreciate the strategy and of course the thrill of being on a winning side.

In fact, whenever women have made the initial attempts to play a man’s game there has always been opposition and derision. Who can forget that not long ago— read within the last ten years —when women’s football in Australia was greeted with great uncertainty? Indeed, the first sold-out match with a crowd outside the stadium floored the male dominated organisers. The innuendo and vitriolic comments on social media platforms could only be described in the sea of positive comments as vile and nasty.

Not much has changed since a group of women in 1874 played an exhibition cricket match to raise funds for charity. Where did they play? In the town of Sandhurst, now known as Bendigo. It was a match attended by thousands and soon after the initial praise, some media whipped up a storm about how unladylike these women were, describing their attire rather than their skill. Oh goodness, what a shock it must have been when ‘they paraded their ankles to the public gaze’ or engaged in ‘an unwomanly game.’

This small delightful volume packs a punch of history giving us a brilliant snapshot of an unknown group of pioneering women who dared to take on a sport with skill and talent. Zedda-Simpson does a fantastic job of weaving the narrative around the media’s debate about the match. Although we don’t really know how the women felt about the attention, the author gives us an insight by revealing the flurry of forthright and entertaining letters to the editor.

A really good read even if it does make you feel indignant about how far we have still yet to go.

Check it out. Bowl the Maidens Over

Author interview

I was recently interviewed about my latest book, The Good Child. You can check it out below.

Historically, men have power over the lives of both nations and women. Commerce and politics are traditional realms of masculine influence in cultures worldwide. The latest Australian historical fiction by S.C. Karakaltsas (see my review here), The Good Child explores the public and private aspects of how the behaviour of some influential men affects their loved…

The Good Child: exploring how power is shaped — Clare Rhoden

New Book Release: The Good Child by S.C. Karakaltsas

We’re finally out of lockdown mark 6 in Melbourne and after three straight months I’m emerging into a social life and a little retail therapy.

It might look like I’ve spent my days reading and reviewing other people’s books, but in between I’ve been slowly and methodically and sometimes haphazardly writing another historical fiction novel.

It’s taken a little over three years and any writer will tell you that it’s hard work even with a pandemic to distract in between.

The cover was done by the brilliant, Anthony Guardabascio from Continue , and doesn’t it pack a punch of vibrant colour?

About The Good Child:

The Good Child is a compelling story of two very different women: 72-year-old Lucille, with a hidden tragic past, and 30-year-old Quin, whose ambitions lost her everything.

Everyone hates Lucille for what her son Tom, did and she can’t blame them. He’ll probably go to jail. She’s to blame too — she ignored all of his faults perhaps even encouraged them. She never wanted him in the first place. But that wasn’t her first mistake. She’d ignored her grandmother’s warning that if she married the man she loved, her life would be a disaster. She was right too.

Now Lucille’s on a train with no money and no home. All she’s left with is a blind overprotective love for her son, but even that is now pushed to the brink as she comes to terms with her actions and those of Tom’s.

Quin worked for Tom and knows exactly what he’s done because she helped him do it – she turned a blind eye to the corners he cut and the lies he told. Now, she’s lost everything and it’s her own fault. She wants revenge.

Then she meets Lucille on the train and finds herself facing her past and her future.

Rich in detail and epic in scope, The Good Child is a powerful novel of emotional and financial resilience, loss and unexpected friendship.

First Reviews

And the first reviews have started. Check out this lovely 5 Star review for The Good Child 

The Good Child is available on Amazon.com or Amazon.au

Book Review: The Other Side of Beautiful by Kim Lock

Pic courtesy of Goodreads

What a charming read this one was despite the subject matter and perfect for an escape from Melbourne’s interminable lockdown.

We meet Mercy a woman who in the first chapter is thrust out of her burning home in the middle of the night and with nowhere to go finds herself back in her ex-husband’s house with his unwelcoming partner. She is a woman riddled with grief, anxiety and panic attacks but finds herself way out of her comfort zone when she purchases a run-down campervan and takes off from Adelaide for a three-thousand-kilometre trip through outback Australia.

The opening line packs a punch compelling you to read on and on. “Mercy Blain’s house was on fire, but that wasn’t her biggest problem.”

And we wonder what her biggest problem is and how she got into her predicament. It’s a road trip of stunning landscape but it’s also a journey of healing as Mercy meets her fears head on in order to survive. Little by little the reader gains an understanding of Mercy, willing her on despite the obstacles of a huntsman spider passenger, an unreliable vehicle, the cremated remains of unknown woman, dubious phone reception and of course, a journalist who had humiliated Mercy in the media. Along the way she meets other campers, grey nomads and a young Scotsman who all try to help in their own friendly ways.

The other star of this novel is Wasabi, a sausage-dog whose personality and love for Mercy is very touching. Not being a dog lover myself, I was almost yearning for my own Wasabi by the time I finished this book. You can’t help but fall in love with him.

As for the journey, it’s a wonderful travelogue of a part of Australia I have yet to visit. And yes, I’m planning my own trip and with the help of a very handy map at the beginning of the novel, it should be easily achievable. Oh wait, I still have to get a very old campervan. Perhaps another mode of transport then instead?

A very enjoyable book to read and a terrific advertisement for travel up the middle of Australia.

Book Review: Witness by Louise Milligan

Witness is an important book to read as it exposes gaps in Australia’s legal system.

Louise Milligan is an incredible investigative journalist who has spent years reporting on sexual abuse crimes. Her latest book exposes the toll on victims (known by the legal system as witnesses perhaps to dehumanise them) who attempt to seek justice using that very system. Milligan knows only too well what the experience is like when she took the stand in the case of George Pell’s trial. And although she was not a victim, the process she went through to protect those who had entrusted her with their experiences took a toll. She questioned that if she with resources and skills found the whole thing traumatic, what then of the actual victims of sexual abuse. And what she finds is enough to turn off most except for those who have the strength to take on their perpetrators.

Milligan’s interviews with barristers, judges, defence counsel, and victims together with meticulous research including transcripts, reveal how the wheels of justice operate, and it’s not pretty. It’s brutal and terrifying and more so for the victims who face the system.

“A system where, even if they received what is considered to be justice, they came away from the experience worse than when they went into it.”

 Milligan gives us Saxon Mullins case, a young eighteen-year-old girl raped in an alleyway. The trial itself raised the issue of what is consent but more importantly, what Saxon went through for five years to see her rapist brought to account can only be described as horrendous. The adversarial role the defence counsel uses to discredit, nit-pick and dehumanise a rape victim is put on show with Mullin’s case.

Then the legal system itself is dissected where the pattern of male patriarchy is still strong, where although numbers of women are growing, it’s an industry of self-employed barristers whose livelihood gives little encouragement for the female barrister who has a family or wants one.

Then there’s the environment of the legal industry and the challenges women face as workers. Who could forget Dyson Heydon who sexually harassed several women whilst serving as a High Court judge?

And Peter O’Callaghan QC who was on a retainer for the Catholic Church to manage their response to the hundreds of allegations of sexual abuse by members of the catholic church. A man who received $7.8 million in remuneration from the Catholic church from 1996 to 2014 to administer and hand out compensation of a mere $9.7 m with an average of $32k for each survivor of paedophile priests. Few were recommended for police investigation.

“For victims of sexual crimes, the unquestioning decision to use O’Callaghan’s name for their gallery speaks volumes about the Victorian Bar’s attitude to victims of sexual abuse.”

Milligan paints a vivid picture of what being a witness is like even through her own eyes on the witness stand where the barrister was aggressive, demeaning and disrespectful. Or the room she explains where they put child victims who aren’t allowed to have their dolls or teddy bears in case that should remind the jury that the victim is indeed a child.

Milligan has also endured threats to her life and online twitter trolling yet without people like her, nothing would ever change. And change is happening and Mulligan give us a glimmer of hope that eventually perpetrators of sexual abuse will be brought to account and victims will be treated with care and compassion and consideration of the trauma they’ve gone through.

This book doesn’t hold back. It’s confronting, gripping, eye-opening and terrifying making you think twice about raising a complaint of sexual abuse. Which makes it even more incredible that victims who go through the court system must surely be lauded as true heroes. I thank Louise Milligan and every other investigative journalist who has ever put themselves out there. What they do is enlighten and educate us so that we can stamp our feet and yell out loud to get things changed. This is an important book for everyone to read.