JESS JUST READS

A BOOK REVIEW BLOG

Tender is the Flesh by Agustina Bazterrica

Working at the local processing plant, Marcos is in the business of slaughtering humans—though no one calls them that anymore. His wife has left him, his father is sinking into dementia, and Marcos tries not to think about how he makes a living. After all, it happened so quickly. First, it was reported that animals had been infected with a virus and their meat had become poisonous. Then governments initiated the Transition. Now, human meat—“special meat”—is legal. Marcos tries to stick to numbers, consignments, processing.

Then one day he’s given a gift: a specimen of the finest quality. He leaves her in his barn, tied up, a problem to be disposed of later. But she haunts Marcos. Her trembling body, her watchful, knowing eyes. Though he’s aware that any form of personal contact is forbidden on pain of death, little by little he starts to treat her like a human being. And soon, he becomes tortured by what has been lost—and what might still be saved.

Tender is the Flesh by Argentinian author Agustina Bazterrica is a dystopian horror novel set in a world where humans are being bred and harvested for food. Translated from Spanish by Sarah Moses, the novel explores what society would be like if animals couldn’t be eaten — a virus that is fatal to humans spreads through them all — and humans relied on cannibalism to survive.

This novel explores themes of consumption and greed, and how quickly we’re willing to sever our morals if it means feeling satiated. Tender is the Flesh explores a depressing response from humankind. The world is suffering, people are poor or hungry or neglected, but instead of helping others they do whatever they can to feel comfortable, happy, and content. And that’s to eat other humans.

Tender is the Flesh explores society’s priorities — what’s important to us? what would we fight for if animal meat was suddenly fatal? Would we adapt, and eat plant-based meals? Or would we kill others to continue our lifestyles?

The book is a short read — approx. 200 pages —and you feel ensnared in the story and intrigued by the plot progression. The intensity of this story is maintained throughout the entire novel; you can’t look away from what’s happening.

The setting is bleak. Marcos’ father is in a nursing home and requires a lot of care, he has a strained — and mostly forced — relationship with his insufferable sister, his son died from cot death, and he’s estranged from his wife. And his job is killing humans and preparing them to be eaten.

“He thinks this man is dangerous. Someone who wants to assassinate that badly is someone who’s unstable, who won’t take to the routine of killing, to the automatic and dispassionate act of slaughtering humans.”

Agustina must be commended on the pacing of the novel. The premise of the novel is intense and a little anxiety-inducing, and that never falters throughout the story.

The writing is spectacular. The prose is filled with imagery and metaphors that evoke a crystal clear story. The subject matter in the book may be filled with blood and horror, but the writing feels light, quick, and uplifting — a considerable irony.

There is a key stylistic element to this book that is worth noting — humans are not called humans or even people. They’re called ‘heads’ and they’re housed and transported in ways very similar to how cattle are treated today. Perhaps it’s to illustrate how de-sensitised we are to the killing of animals and how we don’t really take the time to think about what’s being killed and how they’re bred to be killed. And so when it’s humans, which should repulse or disgust the reader, the complete omission of the word ‘human’ or even ‘person’ clouds the image and makes the characters seem like the ‘meat’ we all know in the present.

“He explains that when the heads arrive, they’re given a spray wash and then examined. They need to fast, he adds, and are given a liquid diet to reduce intestinal content and lower the risk of contamination when they’re handled after slaughter.”

Tender is the Flesh delves deep into the meat industry, and how the killings occur. Trucks bring humans to Marcos’ factory, and it’s clear the poor and the marginalised have very little chance of surviving in this world. The rich have means to work and live without being eaten — the struggling do not.

There is an underlying political element to this book as well. The powerful decision-makers weave in and out of the story. They’re greedy, unfeeling, and treat the business of slaughtering humans as just that — business.

“El Gringo tells him that this female is a luxury, repeats that she’s got pure genes, as if he didn’t know it, and says that she’s from a consignment that’s been given almond-based feed for over a year now.”

At times, hard to stomach. Terrifying, gut-renching and chilling, Tender is the Flesh will entice and excite readers as much as it will repulse them. Recommended for adults, 18+

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

Tender is the Flesh
Agustina Bazterrica
April 2020
Allen & Unwin Publishers

The Salt Madonna by Catherine Noske

This is the story of a crime.
This is the story of a miracle.
There are two stories here.

Hannah Mulvey left her island home as a teenager. But her stubborn, defiant mother is dying, and now Hannah has returned to Chesil, taking up a teaching post at the tiny schoolhouse, doing what she can in the long days of this final year.

But though Hannah cannot pinpoint exactly when it begins, something threatens her small community. A girl disappears entirely from class. Odd reports and rumours reach her through her young charges. People mutter on street corners, the church bell tolls through the night and the island’s women gather at strange hours…And then the miracles begin.

A page-turning, thought-provoking portrayal of a remote community caught up in a collective moment of madness, of good intentions turned terribly awry. A blistering examination of truth and power, and how we might tell one from the other.

The Salt Madonna by Catherine Noske is literary fiction set on an imaginary island off the coast of Western Australia, following a small and ageing population as they start to believe a religious delusion that sets in motion a number of unfortunate consequences.

The strengths of this book lie in establishing that fanatical, overdramatic hype when a group of people convince themselves that something is bigger than it is. After young, 14-year-old Mary falls pregnant, the town believes it’s a religious blessing. They’ve fallen on tough times, and Mary is the answer. Tensions builds as residents clash, and poor Mary is caught in the middle of their hysteria and mania.

Protagonist Hannah returns home to the island to care for her ill mother, and whilst there are other character POVs throughout the book, Hannah’s perspective is the only one we know to be true. The others — particularly Mary’s POV — is actually just an exploration of what Hannah *thinks* happened. This method of storytelling allows for a multi-layered novel that will draw in readers of all ages.

“Dinner is uncomfortable, the three of them around the table, the television flickering on mute from the lounge. Mary’s father is propped up on one elbow, leaning over his plate, his fork in his free hand. He hasn’t showered yet. Mary can tell he would rather be in front of the TV.”

The writing is beautiful — evocative prose and imagery, a wonderful flow of lyrical sentences that I’m sure Catherine spent many months perfecting. However, the complex sentence structure and metaphorical language just meant I spent most of the novel convinced there was something I was missing. I could follow the plot, for sure, but I’m sure there was symbolism I was missing. Or metaphors, or just something *bigger* than my brain could comprehend.

Truthfully, the writing was difficult to get through. The book is overly descriptive, and it felt incredibly impenetrable. The vocabulary and sentence structure sometimes made it a chore to get through and by the end, I’m not sure I felt it was worth it. I think this says more about me as the reader than the book itself. Not every book is for every reader, and I just don’t think I’m the target audience.

“Thomas follows with everyone else as the parade winds up towards the church, but his eyes don’t leave Mary. For a moment, as he watches her, it is as if everyone else disappears. He is the only one there. The street is empty, it’s just him and her.”

The pacing is slow and the plot kind of uneventful. Nothing really happens and you find yourself going back and re-reading chapters because you think, wait that can’t be right? Something has to happen and I’m just missing it?

And then you re-read and realise, ah yes, this is one of those literary novels where it’s all about character and not as much about plot and so you spend most of the novel feeling just that little bit dumb and confused.

“She sneaks out in the end. It makes it more exciting. The summer evening means it isn’t dark but violet with dusk, an electric sort of half-light filled with shadows. She walks to the village through the grapevines rather than along the road and comes out at the pub.”

Worthy and lyrical. For fans of literary fiction; for readers who love atmospheric, multi-layered stories that aren’t too plot-driven. If you don’t dabble in literary novels, this isn’t the book for you. The writing style is not for everyone.

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

The Salt Madonna
Catherine Noske
March 2020
Pan Macmillan Publishers

REVIEW AND AUTHOR INTERVIEW: Island on the Edge of the World by Deborah Rodriguez

Haiti. A poor country rich in courage, strength and love. As these four women are about to discover.

Charlie, the rootless daughter of American missionaries, now working as a hairdresser in Northern California. But the repercussions of a traumatic childhood far from home have left her struggling for her way in life.

Bea, Charlie’s eccentric grandmother, who is convinced a reunion with her estranged mother will help Charlie heal.

Lizbeth, a Texas widow who has never strayed too far from home. She is on a daunting journey into the unknown, searching for the grandchild she never knew existed.

And Senzey, a young Haitian mother dealing with a lifetime of love and loss, who shows them the true meaning of bravery.

Together they venture through the teeming, colorful streets of Port-au-Prince, into the worlds of do-gooders doing more harm than good, Vodou practitioners, artists, activists, and everyday Haitian men and women determined to survive against all odds.

For Charlie, Bea, Lizbeth and Senzey, life will never be the same again . . .

Deborah Rodriguez’s Island on the Edge of the World is a charming novel about family, destiny and home.

In the chaotic streets of Haiti, four women come together to recover what they’ve lost. They’re all searching for a person — someone missing from their family. For Charlie, it’s her mother April. Bea, Charlie’s grandmother, is along for the search. For Senzey and Lizbeth, they’re searching for a lost baby, kidnapped in Haiti in a cruel scheme to capture and sell as many unwanted babies as possible.

A common thread that runs through Deborah’s work is setting, and a strong sense of location — more often than not, the setting feels like a character in the book. I’ve never been to Haiti, but I could imagine every street mentioned, every smell described, email location visited. Capturing setting authentically in a far-away location is not always done effectively, but I think Deborah did a marvellous job of bringing her readers to a vibrant Haiti and making them feel at home.

“As she left behind the hillsides stacked with little houses climbing halfway to the sky, she found herself surrounded by green. But even this far from the city centre, life was led on the streets — vendors chatting as they crouched near their wares, children skipping and running and just plain goofing around, and always plenty of people walking to and fro.”

All four women in the book are resilient — strong and reassured, willing to do anything to find what they’re looking for. They won’t take no for an answer, and they fight for the people they love. There is much to like about Charlie, Bea, Lizbeth and Senzey and readers will find themselves drawn to these four women as they progress through the novel.

Structurally, the novel moves around so that we learn as much there is to know about these four women. We come to learn how they came to be in their situation, but we also really come to understand their emotions — their doubts, fears, moments of joy, and their hopes for their future and their family’s future.

“In retrospect, Charlie could recognise the signs. She and her mother had adapted quickly to life in the jungle, learning the language and making friends. They were easily embraced by the community.”

There is much to learn about Haiti and Haitian women — the clothes and the lifestyle but also the poverty and what that forces young women to do to survive. Island on the Edge of the World highlights the current state of affairs in Haiti. Whilst Haitian people are full of spirit and hope that they can rebuild after the earthquake, there is a lot of corruption and poverty in their society and it’s going to take a long time to fix that.

There are some gorgeous, inviting recipes at the end of the book for any readers who fashion themselves a good chef.

A marvellous adventure of a novel, suitable for lovers of fiction, historical fiction, literary fiction and romance. The streets of Haiti will invite you in, and the characters will keep you there.

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

Island on the Edge of the World
Deborah Rodriguez
November 2019
Penguin Random House Publishers

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AUTHOR INTERVIEW WITH DEBORAH RODRIGUEZ

Many of your works have been inspired by — or based on — your own personal experiences abroad. What is it like translating something real world, into something on a page?
It feels magical, almost like time traveling. I get to experience a place over and over again. But sometimes it can be hard reliving my own personal drama in a public way. It can be draining and emotionally exhausting and, very often, tears are shed. But I use that emotion while working. I think it really helps in taking the readers along on the journey. I often draw on my experiences of living in Afghanistan and Mexico, because both countries are difficult, complex, and remarkable in their own way. They’ve prepared me for the challenge of absorbing a culture and accurately sharing the experience with others.

Location and setting are such dominant elements of all your works. How do you research or prepare ahead of writing, to ensure you capture the true essence of that place?
First, I read anything and everything I can get my hands on, both fiction and non-fiction. I speak to as many people from that place as I can. When I feel that the basic storyline is ready, I travel to the location and try to trace the steps of my characters. While I am in a location I make as many contacts as possible so that while I am writing, I can ask questions. I record interviews, and I am continually taking photos and shooting video. By the time I’m done, I am completely exhausted, and need a vacation. I never go alone on these trips, because it is too difficult to remember everything yourself. I always need back-up. I work hard at forming relationships with drivers, guides, hotel managers, vendors, and often tell them parts of the story to see if it feels authentic to them. I listen to anyone and everyone willing to tell me their story.

You have written both memoir and fiction. Do you have a preference?
The upside with memoir is that you know the ending, but writing the truth can get complicated. I have been sitting on a personal story that I would love to turn into another memoir, but the timing isn’t right yet, and I do worry that it could get messy. That said, many of my ideas for fiction start with a true story. I love to start with the real story and use every bit of my imagination to birth a novel I’m not answering your question very well. I think the answer is that I enjoy both.

Are you able to give us some insight into your writing and editing processes?
I always start by verbalizing different versions of the the story. I am very visual, and when I tell a story out loud, I see it like I’m watching a movie. I figure if you can’t tell the story, it will be challenging to write the story. I always work with someone, going over and over the different storylines for weeks, sometimes months on end, just talking and working through plots and characters. Then comes the massive amount of research on the location and culture. Lots of interviews with people from the area. The story gets put into a synopsis, and then the travel to the site begins. After that it’s writing and rewriting. I rely on a great group of people who lend their sharp eyes to my drafts, and offer amazingly useful criticism and suggestions. It truly takes a village. Finally, a complete draft is sent to the editor, and the process continues. I think the best way to describe writing a book is that it’s like combing tangled hair. You start at the top, get partway there, start over again, smooth out the snarls, and do it over and over again until it is all neat and tidy.

If there was an aspect of the writing process that you could skip, what would it be?
The very beginning, when you are still searching for the correct storyline and getting to know your characters. You know that there is a story there somewhere, but you still only have fragments of it. You know that if you keep pushing forward, you’ll eventually have that breakthrough. But it can be frustrating if it takes a long time, especially when you are on a deadline.

What are you working on next?
I am so excited about the book I am working on now. This book is set in Morocco and my two favorite characters, Charlie and Bea, will be returning. They travel to Morocco together to help a friend. Basically, it’s a modern tale of forbidden love, set in a country where family honor and tribal culture still rule.

Damascus by Christos Tsiolkas

Christos Tsiolkas’ stunning new novel Damascus is a work of soaring ambition and achievement, of immense power and epic scope, taking as its subject nothing less than events surrounding the birth and establishment of the Christian church.

Based around the gospels and letters of St Paul, and focusing on characters one and two generations on from the death of Christ, as well as Paul (Saul) himself, Damascus nevertheless explores the themes that have always obsessed Tsiolkas as a writer: class, religion, masculinity, patriarchy, colonisation, exile; the ways in which nations, societies, communities, families and individuals are united and divided – it’s all here, the contemporary and urgent questions, perennial concerns made vivid and visceral.

In Damascus, Tsiolkas has written a masterpiece of imagination and transformation: an historical novel of immense power and an unflinching dissection of doubt and faith, tyranny and revolution, and cruelty and sacrifice.

Acclaimed Australian author Christos Tsiolkas’ latest novel, Damascus, is an incredible surprise to read — an astonishing feat, tackling such a huge scope of a story in just 400 pages, but one of my favourite novels of the year and a book I felt completely blindsided by.

Damascus is an ancient biblical story about St Paul and the birth of the Christian Church, introducing us to Paul’s journey and involvement in the Church and other people along the way whose stories intersect with Paul. Christos explores class, family, status, reputation, faith and acceptance, set against the backdrop of the Roman Empire many years after the death of Jesus Christ.

“I was outraged. After such a brazen insult I was ready to go. But just then the screen was drawn and an old woman emerged, her head shrouded, her thin hands clutching a basket laden with dried fruits, breads and pickled nuts. The crowd rose as one and rushed to her….In an instant the basket had been emptied.”

If this book wasn’t written by someone as talented and acclaimed as Christos, I wouldn’t have requested it from the publisher. A tale such as this needs to be tackled properly, respectfully, compassionately, but it also needs to be interesting enough to bring in readers — like me — who don’t care that much for religion or faith. And Christos has done a marvellous job.

I can’t begin to imagine the level of research that would’ve gone into this book — the amount of time it took reading about the life of St Paul. At the end of the book, Christos’ author note tells us why he decided to write about St Paul, and I almost wish I had read this before starting the book. It’s reflective and eye-opening but it also adds a level of depth to the story that altered my perspective and made me think about Damascus on a much deeper level.

“They kill us, they crucify us, they throw us to beasts in the arena, they sew our lips together and watch us starve. They bugger children in front of their mothers and violate men in front of their wives. The temple priests flay us openly in the streets. We are hunted everywhere and we are hunted by everyone …”

Three quarters through the book and I do feel like the momentum slows down a little too much — I felt lost in the story, not entirely sure where it was headed and why we were meant to continue pursing this story. The storyline and characters become a little slow and beige, and my attention wavered. I’m glad I stuck it out though, because the conclusion to the story is authentic and welcome.

Recommended for literary fiction readers. Readers must possess some sort of interest in the Roman Empire because that forms the backdrop for this entire book. I have no interest in religion or Christianity — I am an avid Atheist and nothing will ever change that. And I loved this book. I’m therefore confident this book will appeal to many readers, and will find many loyal fans.

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

Damascus
Christos Tsiolkas
November 2019
Allen & Unwin Publishers

Wearing Paper Dresses by Anne Brinsden

You can talk about living in the Mallee. And you can talk about a Mallee tree. And you can talk about the Mallee itself: a land and a place full of red sand and short stubby trees. Silent skies. The undulating scorch of summer plains. Quiet, on the surface of things.

But Elise wasn’t from the Mallee, and she knew nothing of its ways.

Discover the world of a small homestead perched on the sunburnt farmland of northern Victoria. Meet Elise, whose urbane 1950s glamour is rudely transplanted to the pragmatic red soil of the Mallee when her husband returns to work the family farm. But you cannot uproot a plant and expect it to thrive.

And so it is with Elise. Her meringues don’t impress the shearers, the locals scoff at her Paris fashions, her husband works all day in the back paddock, and the drought kills everything but the geraniums she despises.

As their mother withdraws more and more into herself, her spirited, tearaway daughters, Marjorie and Ruby, wild as weeds, are left to raise themselves as best they can. Until tragedy strikes, and Marjorie flees to the city determined to leave her family behind. And there she stays, leading a very different life, until the boy she loves draws her back to the land she can’t forget…

Wearing Paper Dresses is a debut literary novel from Australian author Anne Brinsden, set in rural Mallee in the 1950s, which explores notions of family, land, mental illness and responsibility.

Glamorous, sophisticated, talented Elise leaves the city and moves with her two children and her husband to her father-in-law’s wheat and sheep farm in Mallee. The townsfolk are instantly suspicious of her and her ‘city’ ways. She drinks coffee and not tea and she doesn’t understand what it’s like to live in such a harsh environment.

Most of the novel is from the POV of Elise’s daughter Marjorie, and over the years, we witness Elise’s mental health deteriorate. She starts talking to plastic flowers and wearing tea cosies on her head. Her husband and father-in-law acknowledge her health but pretend to ignore it; they assume it’ll solve itself. Wearing Paper Dresses highlights how poorly mental illness was received in the 1950s.

“The talk might have stopped but the hint of a glittery look didn’t. The tea in the teapot went cold from then on. But naked teapots and cold tea didn’t bother Elise because she drank coffee — and coffee percolators didn’t generally dress themselves in cosies.”

Through Marjorie’s perspective, we experience the hurt, confusion and the embarrassment that she feels growing up. But we also witness the solid bond she forms with her sister Ruby, and there’s definitely a strong sense of camaraderie there as they both work together to get through their mother’s troubling illness and the effect it has on their childhood.

This book certainly wasn’t what I expected it to be, after reading the blurb and looking at the cover. I anticipated this to be a chick-lit, perhaps a rural romance novel. And whilst there’s an element of romance in this book between Marjorie and one of the boys in her class, this book is about the relationship between Marjorie and her family, and about the events that lead to Elise’s many nervous breakdowns.

Wearing Paper Dresses is as much a character-driven novel as it is plot-driven. I was pleasantly surprised by this book, and found myself enchanted by the setting, the characters, and the plot. Whilst the book explores difficult themes such as mental illness and domestic abuse, you can’t help but fall in love with the characters.

“Marjorie stayed home from school after that and helped Elise. They dug and raked and swept. And Elise was alive and burning with energy. Their waking hours were consumed with garden making. They piled red dirt into neat garden beds all over the yard, Marjorie imaging all the while the rose garden to come.”

The setting is one of the strengths of the novel — Anne has perfectly captured the harsh, sunburnt landscape of the Mallee, and it’s easy to imagine just how difficult life would be like for Elise and her family. The setting feels incredibly isolating, but also claustrophobic at the same time, a juxtaposition that evokes great unease for most of the novel.

The writing is lyrical, funny and descriptive, the imagery drawing you in and holding you hostage with enticing vocabulary and prose. The pacing is on point — authentic and realistic to the storyline. Wearing Paper Dresses is an impressive debut.

Recommended for literary fiction readers, and those readers who love a rural setting. Fans of historical fiction will also find much to love about this book.

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

Wearing Paper Dresses
Anne Brinsden
October 2019
Pan Macmillan Publishers