JESS JUST READS

A BOOK REVIEW BLOG

The Silent Listener by Lyn Yeowart

Propelling the reader back and forth between the 1940s, 1960s and 1980s, The Silent Listener is an unforgettable literary suspense novel set in the dark, gothic heart of rural Australia.

In the cold, wet summer of 1960, 11-year-old Joy Henderson lives in constant fear of her father. She tries to make him happy but, as he keeps reminding her, she is nothing but a filthy sinner destined for Hell . . .

Yet, decades later, she returns to the family’s farm to nurse him on his death bed. To her surprise, her ‘perfect’ sister Ruth is also there, whispering dark words, urging revenge.

Then the day after their father finally confesses to a despicable crime, Joy finds him dead – with a belt pulled tight around his neck . . .

For Senior Constable Alex Shepherd, investigating George’s murder revives memories of an unsolved case still haunting him since that strange summer of 1960: the disappearance of nine-year-old Wendy Boscombe.

As seemingly impossible facts surface about the Hendersons – from the past and the present – Shepherd suspects that Joy is pulling him into an intricate web of lies and that Wendy’s disappearance is the key to the bizarre truth.

Set in rural Australia, Lyn Yeowart’s psychological thriller The Silent Listener follows the decades-long saga of the Henderson family, and the daily domestic abuse at the hands of Joy’s father George. Switching between the 1940s, 1960s and 1980s, the story is mainly told from Joy’s point of view, although in the earlier setting we do get a small glimpse into Gwen Henderson, before and shortly after she marries George.

Anxiety and fear bubbles beneath the surface of every chapter. The domestic abuse runs heavy through this tale, and at times is both descriptive and hard to swallow. Like many men in society, George is incredibly violent behind closed doors but to the outside world he’s a pillar of the community. After he’s murdered, neighbours and community members express deep sympathy to Joy for her father’s passing, and his funeral is expected to receive a massive turnout. Joy wishes everyone knew the truth about her father.

“I can’t believe he’s confessed. Just like that. I want to shake him, but I’m scared it will kill him, that his body will disintegrate into millions of fragments of dry skin and bone. And I’m not going to let him die that easily.”

I like to think all narrators are somewhat unreliable, but Joy is next level. Her memory of certain events is hazy, and her inner monologue portrays her as a calculating and intelligent, but unhinged. Her father’s violence breaks her as a child, and decades later, she’s still traumatised by what happened. She’s spent most of her life trying to find her brother, who fled the family when she was a teenager.

The chaotic structure of the novel and the surprise twist about her sister Ruth adds another layer to Joy’s unreliability. Just how much of what Joy describes is happening? How much can we trust her?

“Walking down the aisle wearing a borrowed wedding dress, Gwen thought about how quickly the two months had gone by since her first dance with George. But everyone got married quickly these days, at least in Willshire, thanks to the wars and the Depression. Everything was precarious, except marriage, which was forever. Especially, she thought, marriage to George Henderson.”

The Silent Listener captures a secluded setting. The Henderson farm is far enough from neighbours that no one can hear the children scream, and George chooses his friends wisely. Joy suspects people knew about the abuse, but chose not to do anything about it out of loyalty to George.

Lyn also captures the dense, isolated setting of rural Australia with ease. Her description evokes instant imagination in the reader. We can see the dilapidated houses, and the sparse farmland. The dam and its eels, and the danger of snakes. The method of burning rubbish, and the horrid smell that resulted. The one florist in town, and the long, sometimes hot journey into town for supplies once a week. Gwen really couldn’t leave George, even before she had children. She was trapped and George knew it.

“She wondered if the Felicities would go to Hell too, because as Joy knew all too well, it was harder for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of Heaven than it was for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle, no matter how hard they prayed or how much they thanked the Lord for their wonderful food.”

Lyn’s prose is swift and brutal, her sentences flowing seamlessly. This is a somewhat long read at 460 pages, but with more than one mystery to solve, there’s plenty to keep the reader hooked.

Visceral, gripping and seductive, crime thriller The Silent Listener is highly recommended. For fans of Jane Harper and Chris Hammer.

Thank you to the publisher for mailing me a review copy in exchange for an honest review.

The Silent Listener
Lyn Yeowart
February 2021
Penguin Random House Book Publishers

New Animal by Ella Baxter

It’s not easy getting close to people. Amelia’s meeting a lot of men but once she gets the sex she wants from them, that’s it for her; she can’t connect further. A terrible thing happened to Daniel last year and it’s stuck inside Amelia ever since, making her stuck too.

Maybe being a cosmetician at her family’s mortuary business isn’t the best job for a young woman. It’s not helping her social life. She loves her job, but she’s not great at much else. Especially emotion.

And then something happens to her mum and suddenly Amelia’s got too many feelings and the only thing that makes any sense to her is running away.

It takes the intervention of her two fathers and some hilariously wrong encounters with other broken people in a struggling Tasmanian BDSM club to help her accept the truth she has been hiding from. And in a final, cataclysmic scene, we learn along with Amelia that you need to feel another person’s weight before you can feel your own.

Ella Baxter’s debut novel New Animal explores sex, family, death and grief. Our protagonist — Amelia — is using sex to mask emotional pain. Not quite ready to process the suicide of a friend one year earlier, her chaotic life is disrupted even further when her mother unexpectedly passes.

New Animal certainly feels unique, a compact read sitting at just over 200 pages. It almost feels like a slightly extended short story, delicately weaving through Amelia’s life with intimacy and ease. The reader feels like some sort of passenger along a journey, intimate enough that we quickly grow to love Amelia, but at times so closely following this life that we find ourselves feeling a little claustrophobic — in a good way — when Amelia’s experiments with sex escalate.

Trigger warning around suicide and also BDSM. There is one particular scene in a Tasmanian BDSM club that took me quite some time to process.

“Once, I told a man what I needed from him and he recoiled, appalled. He said that I was basically using people, crushing them between my pincers. He tapped his thumb and forefinger together to demonstrate.”

Ella’s biggest strength is how easily and expertly she writes in first person. The prose is eloquent, as if pored over for hours. But we also get such fascinating insight into Amelia’s state of mind — her pain. Amelia’s observations about others are insightful and imaginative, but the prose is also lean and brief, allowing for a succinct and quick-moving plot.

Another admirable aspect to the book is the family dynamic, and Ella’s ability to capture Amelia’s family with an authentic sense of warmth. Despite Amelia’s struggles, she’s got a really beautiful family who all come together in a crisis. Their voices are very different, and Amelia’s relationship with both of her fathers adds layers to the family make-up.

“People can sometimes act boldly around the bereaved. They can quickly take care to an unfathomable level. It’s part of the horror of it all really. One person rolls out of your life and half-a-dozen others roll right in. I’ve seen people turn up to funerals ready to harass Judy for extra biscuits or seat cushions. In it for the long haul.”

I think there was room to further explore Amelia’s relationship with her family, in particular her fathers. Her siblings in particular are absent for most of the novel, and I think there was more that could’ve been explored with their presence in Amelia’s life.

Interestingly, a lot of messaging around this novel positions it as ‘funny’, which isn’t how I would describe this. I found the story moving and tender, at times situationally awkward. It’s heartbreaking, yes. But I wouldn’t call this a laugh-out-loud comedy.

“Most nights I find myself trying to combine with someone else to become this two-headed thing with flailing limbs, chomping teeth, and tangled hair. This new animal. I am medicated by another body. Drunk on warm skin. Dumbly high on the damp friction between them and me.”

Original and engrossing in style and characterisation, recommended for readers of literary fiction. Ella offers incredible insight into humanity and its multitude of emotions. Readership skews female, 25+

Thank you to the publisher for mailing me a review copy in exchange for an honest review.

New Animal
Ella Baxter
March 2021
Allen & Unwin Book Publishers

Fog by Kaja Malanowska

She thought she was done with the trances. She risked too much. Not just her own life, but also the lives of others.

When a young woman is found murdered in her Warsaw apartment, the investigating detectives—Marcin Sawicki and his new colleague, the talented but enigmatic Ada Rochniewicz—are under pressure to close the case quickly. But Ada’s powers of intuition have already got her into trouble once before. And the sexist police force is not on her side.

As the investigation proceeds, we meet the victim’s jilted lover, a mentally unstable working-class youth; her cleaner, a Chechen refugee in desperate circumstances; the man who broke her heart and joined a cult. And let’s not forget Ada’s eccentric sister, Kasia, nor her grumpy cat Albert-Amelia.

Getting to the truth becomes a darker and more complex matter than Marcin and Ada can imagine, as they confront a corrupt political and religious establishment. Translated by Bill Johnston.

Translated into English, Fog by Polish writer Kaja Malanowska is an enticing crime novel that investigates the murder of a young woman in her Warsaw apartment.

Written in omniscient third person, Fog has two protagonists — the secretive, blunt but intelligent Ada, and the brash, impulsive and overtly sexist Marcin Sawicki. They each bring different personalities, opinions and tactics to their detective work.

Whilst Marcin’s methods could be deemed questionable at times, even Ada makes mistakes in her career. As a team, they’re able to work together to solve the crime, uncovering all the layers to the murder that were not immediately obvious.

“Normally he was annoyed when fellow officers were talkative — it tired him to have to take part in a conversation, react to jokes. He knew he had a reputation as a curmudgeon and a loner. Today, though, with Ada, he felt bothered by the quiet.”

It’s hard to know whether this is compliment to Kaja or Bill, but the prose is exceptional. Particularly description around dialogue — describing Ada and Marcin’s interactions, facial expressions, movements in a way that conveys their characterisation really vividly.

There’s a lot of elements to this novel, between the characters and their secrets, the murder itself and how that evolves into something larger than anyone expected, but also the office politics in Warsaw and the secrets that Marcin and Ada’s colleagues are hiding. Whilst other reviews point out this might’ve been too many elements for one novel, I liked it. Fog is complex and layered, intriguing the reader and keeping them engaged throughout.

“She knew Sawicki felt uncomfortable in the presence of women, but that he would step out of their way rather than try to dominate. Why did this nice young woman with her broad, bright face and round eyes rub him up the wrong way? One moment more and they wouldn’t have got another word out of her.”

Fog is unnecessarily long — 400 pages, small font, small margins. The story did lull a bit through the middle, the intensity wavered, and I think a procedural crime story such as this could have progressed more succinctly. Ada’s ‘visions’ that are mentioned in the blurb don’t actually seem to have a large presence in the novel, and I think they’ve could’ve been cut from the entire story.

Additionally, some of the characters weren’t overly likeable. Even Marcin is a sexist, homophobic, judgemental character, and some of his outbursts didn’t seem overly authentic. The dynamic between him and Ada felt too much like Kaja was trying to establish ‘good cop bad cop’.

“He trailed after her, struggling to keep up; he was moving as if he were in a bubble. He stared at Ada’s back, resenting the fact that not once had she allowed her emotions to get the better of her. At the same time he was immensely grateful to her. His memory of the last hours blurred into a multicoloured haze, like a film projected too quickly.”

Compulsive and addictive, Fog is a procedural thriller that crime readers will devour.

Thank you to the publisher for mailing me a review copy in exchange for an honest review.

Fog
Kaja Malanowska
March 2021
Text Publishing

My Daughter’s Wedding by Gretel Killeen

Nora Fawn’s daughter, Hope, disappeared four years ago. Nora has never known why. Refusing to answer her mother’s calls, emails or texts, Hope maintained contact only with her big sister, Joy. Having once considered her mothering to be the greatest achievement of her life, Nora’s spent these Hope-less years searching, aching, mother-guilting, working for a famous yet talentless artist and avoiding her own emotionally repressed mother, Daphne.

But … last night Hope rang out of the blue to say, ‘I’m coming home, I’m getting married, the wedding is in three weeks and it’s your job to organise it.’ Desperate to prove her worth as a mother and regain her daughter’s love, Nora commits to the task – assisted by her own increasingly dementia’d mother and her two best friends, Soula (an amateur bikini-line waxer) and Thilma (whom they found in a cab in the 1980s).

Contemporary women’s fiction about three generations of mother-daughter love, Gretel Killeen’s My Daughter’s Wedding is a fast-paced exploration into the complex family dynamics between women, and how broken relationships can always be mended.

I liked the structure of the novel, and the premise. My Daughter’s Wedding is formatted as a diary entry, which feels instantly accessible. You’re placed right in the centre of the action, and you’re involved in the journey the entire way. The concept of the estranged daughter allows Nora to reflect on her past mistakes, and we also witness a lot of similarities between Nora and her own mother.

The book is filled with a large cast of eccentric characters, all with interesting backstories and tiny quirks that make them memorable. This definitely feels similar to Gretel’s other fictional works — all quite out-of-this-world, wacky tales.

“Yes, it was after all that, when I was looking for Hope’s birth certificate in preparation for registering her wedding, that I found you, Dear Diary. And it was then that I decided to quietly start writing in you over the forthcoming wedding week as evidence of how perfectly I’ve behaved should anything untoward come to pass and anyone/everyone try to blame me.”

Unfortunately, this book didn’t live up to its potential. Yes, it’s a unique, funky story. No doubt about it. But I felt that the characterisation and the growth that’s required in a novel — even a comedic one — just wasn’t present in this. I think Gretel was going for a mad cap adventure, but the main character is in her 50s and the readership are adults and I’m just not sure that it works. No spoilers, but the entire storyline/premise about Aspen was too over-the-top to be enjoyable.

“I didn’t know what to say. Mum has always been great at winning arguments with me but appalling at confronting what we’re actually arguing about. I can’t blame her, I’m guilty of this too. I obfuscate and pussyfoot and hedge around the subject, for fear in fact of exactly what happened just now, an argument that leaves Mum feeling victorious and me feeling violated.”

Admittedly, I just didn’t find this book as humorous as the blurb suggested. There were a few chuckles, but mainly, I found the voice to be quite impenetrable. Nora is supposed to be in her 50s but she reads like an adolescent — stream of consciousness, scatty, unfocused, and just a little too silly to be believable as a character.

Additionally, the plot gets more absurd as the book goes on. There are commendable moments of depth, and character development, but the absurdity of the storyline seemingly dilutes these profound, notable aspects in the book. And the pacing is so quick, there isn’t really enough time to get to the know the characters, and so you don’t really find yourself warming to them.

“It’s been said that a mother is only as happy as her unhappiest child. I know this to be true. When a woman becomes a mother she loses all emotional independence. And this can never be changed. The umbilical cord is never cut. The scissors just make it invisible.”

A very light read. Recommended as a beach read, or an airport purchase.

Thank you to the publisher for mailing me a review copy in exchange for an honest review.

My Daughter’s Wedding
Gretel Killeen
February 2021
Hachette Book Publishers

A Crooked Tree by Una Mannion

Rage. That’s the feeling engulfing the car as Ellen’s mother swerves over to the hard-shoulder and orders her daughter out onto the roadside. Ignoring the protests of her other children, she accelerates away, leaving Ellen standing on the gravel verge in her school pinafore and knee socks as the light fades.

What would you do as you watch your little sister getting smaller in the rear view window? How far would you be willing to go to help her? The Gallagher children are going to find out. This moment is the beginning of a summer that will change everything.

Set in the early 1980s over one long hot summer in Pennsylvania, Una Mannion’s A Crooked Tree explores the unintended consequences of an ill-fated, split second decision.

With elements of coming-of-age bleeding throughout the story, but far from a typical YA novel, A Crooked Tree is told from the first-person perspective of Ellen’s fifteen-year-old sister Libby. She’s observant and mature — a little timid, introverted and withdrawn at times — and when Ellen’s sister returns home after being cast aside on the road, Libby helps pick up the pieces. What results is a sequence of events that change their lives forever. None of them will be the same again.

“Why hadn’t I told her? I put my hand on the door to open it and call her back, to say we needed help. But I hated asking people for things. Maybe she would pass Ellen on her way down the mountain. I began to think of all the people that might pass Ellen on their way home.”

A Crooked Tree is about how fast events can spiral out of control, and how powerless you can feel to stop them. After Ellen returns, she reveals she hitchhiked from the road and was molested by a creepy, blonde-haired man. She jumped out of his car and scrambled home before he could find her. When their sister Marie gets local boy Wilson McVay involved, things escalate.

Una balances dark scenes and themes with moments of humour and teenage angst. The secluded woods that surround their home give Libby and her siblings some comfort amidst a tumultuous summer. Their mother, Faye, is quite absent in the story, but we witness enough of her to understand she’s exhausted and stressed. Libby’s father died years earlier and the family were still struggling to comprehend the absence in their dysfunctional family unit.

“Everyone was running to the fence by the woods; some were already halfway up. I panicked, looking for the ladder, trying to orient myself. Then I realised that the surface of the pool was shimmering with red and blue light. The police had pulled the car up across the lawn to the gate. They had another amplified light angled at the pool.”

At times, the plot feels as if it’s on slow motion. Events slow, tension builds, and readers feel a sense of dread as each chapter passes. What did Wilson do to Ellen’s abuser? And what will this man do in retaliation? Una is an incredibly talented writer.

Exceptionally well-written and complex, I adored this book. It was just a nice surprise and an utter delight to experience. Una crafts vivid and three-dimensional characters, drawing us into their plight and ensnaring us in their journeys. A Crooked Tree captures the era of the 1980s incredibly well, and explores the complexities of youth within a compact package.

“The night we left Ellen on the road we were driving north up 252 near where it meets 202 and then crosses the Pennsylvania Turnpike. To the west were open fields, stretches of golden prairie grass and butterfly weed, the final line of sun splintering light through them.”

Tense, evocative and ominous, A Crooked Tree is recommended for readers of literary fiction. Mature young readers may also delight in this tale.

Thank you to the publisher for mailing me a review copy in exchange for an honest review.

A Crooked Tree
Una Mannion
February 2021
Allen & Unwin Book Publishers