JESS JUST READS

A BOOK REVIEW BLOG

The Only Child by Kayte Nunn

Almost every graduating class had a girl who disappeared. A decades-old crime threatens to tear apart three generations of women in this unputdownable mystery that will keep you gripped until its last heart-wrenching page.

1949 It is the coldest winter Orcades Island has ever known, when a pregnant sixteen-year-old arrives at Fairmile, a home for ‘fallen women’ run by the Catholic Church. She and her baby will disappear before the snow melts.

2013 Frankie Gray has come to the island for the summer, hoping to reconnect with her teenage daughter, Izzy, before starting a job as deputy sheriff. They are staying with her mother, Diana, at The Fairmile Inn, but when an elderly nun is found dead, and then a tiny skeleton is discovered nearby, Frankie is desperate for answers.

Kayte Nunn’s historical novel The Only Child follows dual timeline between 1949 and 2013, and centres around a secluded and strict home for unwed, pregnant women in the mid 20th century.

In 1940s United States, unwed pregnant young women were sent away by their families out of shame – once they’d given birth, and pressured to give up their babies, they could return home. The Only Child is very much drawn from real life events, and it’s clear how much research and authenticity has made its way into the book.

In this early storyline we meet one such teenager, star pupil and promising student and now devastated to find herself in the predicament she was in. And in 2013, mystery surrounds an aged care home in the same area – a murder that may be connected to the unwed mother’s home. Police officer Frankie Gray finds herself deep in the investigation as she works to connect this murder with a skeleton found nearby, as well as with her elderly mother who seems to be harbouring secrets.

“Frankie rankled at being ordered around by her mother as though she was a teenager herself, but she let it slide. Besides, it wasn’t such a terrible idea, and it would mean that Izzy was at least able to explore on her own without having to rely on one of them to ferry her around all the time.”

Unlike previous Kayte Nunn novels, The Only Child is more of a steer towards crime/mystery, with decades-old secrets only coming to the surface in 2013. Personally, I really liked this element of her writing and found it kept the story engaging and moving forward at a reasonable pace.

Alongside this, Kayte’s book incorporates strong vivid setting and characterisation. Written in third person, each protagonist and storyline is crafted with clarity. She captures emotion and intimacy with ease, and dialogue is natural and realistic.

“As they got out of the car, she saw two girls sweeping the front porch. Both were obviously pregnant, their bellies stretching the dull fabric of their dresses. The girl didn’t know why but the mere sight of them, in a similar predicament to her, eased the knot in her stomach.”

With a 1949 setting, Kayte establishes the time period well. We experience the public scrutiny, scorn and shame that comes with an unplanned pregnancy. How it changes families, and forces young women to be shipped off with no say in the matter. Women who may want their babies are encouraged to give them up for adoption, and the medical facilities available at the home are sub-par and so mother and baby are put at risk – particularly in The Only Child, as the 1949 Winter is the coldest it’s ever been. The home isn’t necessarily equipped to handle the cold weather.

“The girl hadn’t brought much with her – a couple of changers of clothes, skirts that her mother had let out as far as the waistbands would allow, and an old sweater of her father’s that would stretch over her stomach as she grew bigger – and so she quickly arranged them, closing the suitcase and sliding it under the bed.”

Kayte Nunn’s The Only Child is recommended for historical fiction readers. Readership skews female, 30+

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

The Only Child
Kayte Nunn
September 2022
Hachette Book Publishers

Wildflowers by Peggy Frew

Meg and Nina have been outshone by their younger sister Amber since childhood. They have become used to living on the margins of their parents’ interest, used to others turning away from them and towards charismatic Amber.

But Amber’s life has not gone the way they all thought it would, and now the three of them are together for the first time in years, on the road to a remote holiday rental in Far North Queensland, where Meg and Nina plan on helping Amber overcome her addiction. As good intentions gradually become terrifying reality, these sisters will test the limits of love and the line between care and control.

Peggy Frew’s Wildflowers is a disarming and moving novel about three sisters who test the boundaries of their fragile relationship in an effort to aid their youngest sister Amber as she spirals through a drug and alcohol addiction.

A character-driven exploration of love, family and grief, the book is largely set in the past. The bookend chapters of the novel are the present, where we realise how traumatised the 37-year-old Nina is after a recent family trip away to North Queensland. There, her and Meg had attempted to help wean her sister off drugs, and the results were enough to severely psychologically wound and damage Nina.

As the book progresses, we read about the events that transpired on this family trip away.

“They were still who they always had been, still those sisters, but on this afternoon, in this car, driving with the windows down between cane fields under a deepening sky with purple cut-out mountains in the distance, they were wearing it so lightly, their bossiness and flakiness and wildness; they were wearing it like they used to, like it was supple, slippery, not completely fixed. Like it could be taken off.”

Peggy seamlessly captures three very different women – Amber, Meg and Nina do not blend together at any point of the novel. I did not have to re-read to work out who was speaking, nor did I get confused whose life we were embedded in at any given moment.

She’s crafted three siblings whose lives have catapulted in completely different directions – Meg, whose happiness stems from family and those around her, Nina, who seems to prefer functioning solo and finds solace in distancing herself from others. She resembles the observant one. And then there’s Amber, who finds comfort in the chaotic and unstable nature of addiction.

“In the car Meg had been laughing too. Meg and Amber laughing in the front and Nina in the back hiding secret tears of hope behind her sunglasses. They had been close then, the three of them, together in that moment of lightness…”

Peggy’s writing is taut and highly observant, capturing even the most mundane of actions with intense clarity. There’s an intimacy to her writing that I think readers will love – an introspective and omniscient narrative.

The book does move back and forth between past and present and I did find it a little confusing at times – a little grey in its construction and separation – but other than that, found Wildflowers to be incredibly moving and well-crafted. I haven’t read Peggy’s earlier works yet, but this one certainly is a motivation to steer toward them.

“Amber followed, and Nina came last, eyes on the bags hooked one over each of Amber’s skinny arms. What might be in them? Not heroin – not anymore. And not ice – Amber, thank God, didn’t seem to have gone for ice. Pot? Maybe. Please don’t let her be that stupid, thought Nina.”

Literary fiction with rich, raw characters and a slow-build but satisfying story, Peggy Frew’s Wildflowers is recommended for literary readers. Readership skews female, 25+

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

Wildflowers
Peggy Frew
September 2022
Allen & Unwin Book Publishers

The Stranger by Kathryn Hore

In Darkwater, being female doesn’t amount to much. But Chelsea’s luckier than most. She’s the young lover of the town’s feared leader, which she keeps telling herself is a good thing, what with food getting scarce and the wells drying up. She’s secure and safe and can almost believe she’s happy.

But when a stranger rides into town, gun on one hip, whip on the other, Chelsea can’t look away. Especially when it turns out this stranger is a woman.

Nobody can say what the stranger is there for. But she brings talk of an outside perhaps no longer so chaotic, no longer something to hide away from – and she knows far too much about dark choices made in the town when the world outside was falling apart.

As the rumours fly about Darkwater’s bloodied past and the murder of a woman twenty years earlier, Chelsea finds herself being drawn into someone else’s terrifying quest for justice. Or is it merely deadly revenge?

In a place ruled by fear, Chelsea’s going to have to decide whose side she’s really on, and how far she’s prepared to go to uncover the town’s dirty secrets before more blood soaks the ground of Darkwater – this time, perhaps her own.

Kathryn Hore’s The Stranger is a dystopian feminist Western story, set in the secluded and caged Darkwater community and centring around the arrival of a mysterious but defiant female who enters the town.

Whilst we never learn the country or time period, we don’t necessarily need to. There’s something in the unknown that allows us to stay focused on this incredibly secluded and claustrophobic community.

Our protagonist, 16-year-old Chelsea, grows curious when a woman enters into her town with mysterious intentions. Since the death of her mother and the expulsion of her father, Chelsea’s world has largely been confined by Granger and so we witness as she grows more determined and independent.

“The entire table shifted uneasily. Glances were exchanged, the men confused and frowning. It was akin to asking why a new well should be dug when the old one went bad. There were just some things necessary for survival and surely that was obvious.”

There’s a strong dystopian element to the book, as we learn Darkwater is fenced in because of a raging virus that plagues the world outside. Anyone who leaves Darkwater faces certain death, and so the inhabitants feel both gracious to be in Darkwater and resentful that they must rely on this place.

Kathryn’s exploration of gender is multi-layered. Women are treated as sub-par to men – they’re used and abused, ignored and gaslit. As men group together to lead the town, women are divided, until this stranger arrives and opportunity presents itself for the women to band together and overthrow their oppressors.

“Five months later I was in his bed, his home and under his protection. For what else could I have done? They’d taken everything else from me. I might be young and I might be a girl, but I’m not stupid. I know how to survive. Whatever that takes.”

As we near the end of the novel, and the stranger’s true intentions are divulged, it does at times feel a tad too didactic in its messaging. The stranger explains her actions and her motivations a little too clearly, and so the reader feels spoon-fed.

I think there was room to leave a bit of this dialogue out of the book to give the reader a chance to join the dots themselves.

“Only this stranger needed no protection from anybody. She stood stiff in the middle of the men now staggering to find their feet. Bloodied lip and hair stuck to her forehead with sweat, breath coming in controlled exhales.”

Highly original and addictive, Kathryn Hore’s The Stranger is highly recommended. Readership skews female, 25+

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

The Stranger
Kathryn Hore
September 2022
Allen & Unwin Book Publishers

Marshmallow by Victoria Hannan

Some moments change everything.

For five friends, what should have been a birthday to remember will instead cleave a line between before and after. From then on, the shockwaves of guilt, sorrow and disbelief will colour every day, every interaction, every possibility. Each will struggle. Each will ask why. Secrets will be kept. Lies will be told. Relationships reassessed. Each friend will be forever changed.

And the question all of them will be forced to ask is: can they ever find a way to live without what was lost?

Victoria Hannan’s Marshmallow is a raw literary exploration of trauma and grief, and how easily it can rip apart and irreparably shatter a person’s life. Or, in this case, five people’s lives.

One year ago, the death of a child at a birthday party damaged five adult lives seemingly beyond repair. With grief comes guilt and self-loathing, and each character is struggling to accept what transpired at the party – can they ever come back from what happened?

“They sat quietly drinking their beers for a few minutes. Outside, the ding of the 11 tram, its wheels scuttling along the metal tracks. Outside, the wattle birds squawked and squabbled in the trees. Outside, the world carried on as normal, as though nothing was wrong, as though he wasn’t dead, he wasn’t gone.”

Set over the course of just two days, quite a minute time span considering all the ground that Victoria covers, Marshmallow is a tender and insightful read. Undoubtedly a character-driven story, we follow each of the five adults as they attempt to navigate their lives after the disastrous birthday party. For one, it brings up memories of another death, and for more than one of these characters, they feel immense responsibility for how the birthday party unfolded. A lot of ‘if only’ scenarios rear inside their minds.

Victoria prose is a clean and light – an easy read for such a heavy topic. It doesn’t feel like a chore to turn the page, and Marshmallow can easily be tackled in one sitting.

“Sometimes she tried to tell herself that it was impossible to feel lonely when surrounded by so much outside noise. That there were people everywhere. Loneliness was a state of mind. That she didn’t need someone. That her wants were not this basic. She was a strong, independent woman.”

Set in Melbourne, Marshmallow is as much about grieving what was, as it about discovering a path forward. These friendships have been fractured so much that at first glance it seems there is no way to repair them.

But, as we near the one-year anniversary of the birthday party, the five characters find a way forward, by acknowledging what happened. No more talking around the issue, but actually talking about it. Owning their grief and their trauma and working together to process what happened. Nothing will change what occurred and so it’s about finding a way to accept what has happened and attempt to find happiness in other elements of their lives.

“A sense of dread washed over him. What now? He tried to imagine the scene at home. Annie crying in the front garden. Annie standing in the front garden staring into space. Annie up a tree out the back threatening to jump.”

Heartfelt but also incredibly heartbreaking I actually shed tears, Victoria Hannan’s Marshmallow is for literary readers. Readership skews 25+

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

Marshmallow
Victoria Hannan
September 2022
Hachette Book Publishers

The Night Ship by Jess Kidd

ONE SHIPWRECK.
TWO MISFITS.
THREE CENTURIES APART.

1629. Embarking on a journey in search of her father, a young girl called Mayken boards the Batavia, the most impressive sea vessel of the age. During the long voyage, this curious and resourceful child must find her place in the ship’s stratified world. She soon uncovers shadowy secrets above and below deck and as tensions spiral, the fate of the ship and all on board becomes increasingly uncertain.

1989. Gil, a boy mourning the death of his mother, is placed in the care of his cranky grandfather. Their home is a shack on a tiny fishing island off the West Australian coast, notable only for its reefs and wrecked boats. This is no place for a boy struggling with a dark past, and Gil’s actions soon get him noticed by the wrong people.

Capturing dual timelines, Jess Kidd’s fourth novel The Night Ship reimagines the true story of an Indian Ocean shipwreck in the early 1600s. The Batavia, a Dutch East India Company’s flagship vessel, wrecked off the coast of Western Australia and three-hundred surviving passengers were stranded on a nearby island. Soon, merchants staged a mutiny and began killing off most of the survivors – they imprisoned the rest and by the time help came, over half the survivors were dead.

The Night Ship’s first timeline, set in 1628, follows nine-year-old Mayken on a voyage to find her father. She is accompanied by her nursemaid Imke, who falls ill relatively early into the journey. Mayken, in her naivety, is convinced that Imke’s sickness is caused by an eel-like monster from mythic legend; Mayken journeys throughout the Batavia in search of the creature, trying desperately to save Imke’s life.

The other timeline is more than three centuries later in 1989, where we meet the lost and lonely Gil. His mother has just passed and he’s now living on a remote island with his grandmother. That island happens to be the one that Mayken and her fellow survivors were shipwrecked on when the Batavia fell, and Gil finds himself fascinated by the history of the island.

“By the bottom of the ladder, the heat and the stink overwhelm Mayken: cow dung and something acrid and tarry. A hot stench that suffocates like a grip over the nose and mouth. Mayken breathes as best she can, ignoring the panic rising inside her. It is even darker here than on the gun deck.”

Mayken is highly perceptive and driven to exploring outside of her comfort zone – she dons disguises to venture down to the ship beneath, meeting all sorts of characters who take refuge in the vessel. I did find her storyline to be more interesting than Gil’s largely because tension was building ahead of the shipwreck and knowing the mutiny was ahead proved exciting.

Jess Kidd has quite a mastery with prose, and the balance of description and dialogue – she captures that inquisitive nature of children very well, as well as that lonely, lost feeling when a child craves a parent. Both Mayken and Gil share a sense of independence, Mayken because she already possesses it, and Gil because he’s been thrust into a position where he’s forced to find his own way.

Whilst Mayken’s journey to find and capture this eel-like monster fell to the wayside later in the book, it did add an element of magic realism to the story – an out-of-this-world sense of folklore that I quite enjoy in literature. Some reviewers noticeably felt it didn’t hold the significance or reflection it needed in the book, but without it I feel the pacing on Mayken’s journey would’ve lapsed and it wouldn’t been a slow journey to the shipwreck.

“He takes the scrubby path down the centre of the island. The sky is white-blue and the light beats up off the coral shards. Gil doesn’t want company but wouldn’t mind knowing that living, breathing people are nearby. He’ll go and watch the scientists.”

Towards the end of the book, when tensions on the island are starting to rise, the constant switch in POV was rather jarring. I’d be invested in the mutiny on the island, the murders, the direction of that story, but too often we’d be forced back into Gil’s story and the balance between these two perspectives felt a little off.

Admittedly, there was also capacity for greater exploration into the ‘villains’ of the story – so much bloodshed on that island and yet, not much insight into why that might’ve been. The mutineers felt too clear-cut, not enough depth to them to understand a bit more about their motives.

“It’s dark, they’ve sat at the table that long. Like they do in Italy, says Silvia. Eating, talking, except she’s the only one doing the talking. Gil picks at the burnt cheese on the cannelloni dish. Silvia knocks back the sherry. She sways when she gets up to butter more bread.”

Fierce and haunting, Jess Kidd’s The Night Ship is recommended for readers of literary fiction and historical sagas. Readership skews 25+

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

The Night Ship
Jess Kidd
July 2022
Penguin Random House Publishers