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

Bliss Montage by Ling Ma

What happens when fantasy tears through the screen of the everyday to wake us up? Could that waking be our end?

In Bliss Montage, Ling Ma brings us eight wildly different tales of people making their way through the madness and reality of our collective delusions: love and loneliness, connection and possession, friendship, motherhood, the idea of home. From a woman who lives in a house with all of her ex-boyfriends, to a toxic friendship built around a drug that makes you invisible, to an ancient ritual that might heal you of anything if you bury yourself alive, these and other scenarios reveal that the outlandish and the everyday are shockingly, deceptively, heartbreakingly similar.

Ling Ma’s speculative short story collection Bliss Montage presents eight surreal stories exploring the limits of fantasy on the everyday.

A couple of my favourite stories are Los Angeles, G and Returning. Set largely in the confines of reality, there is a small tweak to each story that introduces fantastical and speculative elements. From a housewife who lives in a mansion with 100 of her ex-boyfriends, and a woman who crafts a short story that differs from how her mother remembers the documented events, to a story of two estranged friends reuniting over a drug that turns the user invisible.

“The conversation was smooth and friendly, all surface. I told him a bit about my job now, as a copy editor at a law association. He told me about dog walking, but mostly about his monied clients. He seemed to know a lot about them, their vacation homes and travels, their careers and connections.”

Across the course of the collection, explored themes include isolation, relationships, memory, abuse and immigration. And with women driving each of these stories, they take centre stage in each of these absurd realities and act as a haunting observer.

Ling Ma’s stories capture the ongoing trajectory of the plot and are less focused on the aftermath. We meet characters in the midst of the tension that builds in their life, and with such a calm nature to Ma’s writing, our attention is maintained throughout each story.

“After my roommate kicked him out, the phone would ring periodically in the middle of the night, back when we still had a landline. When I picked up, a voice would say, ‘I miss you.’”

Arguably, some characters feel too detached from their reality – they observe but there doesn’t seem to be much engagement with the actions or characters around them. We don’t gain a full sense of how the characters feel about their circumstances. Whilst the writing is stripped and observant, sometimes I would’ve loved a bit more interaction and understanding of the protagonists.

“But that wasn’t even it, not really. There wasn’t any defining incident that convinced me to finally stop speaking to Bonnie. More that, after college, I began to notice how she increasingly critiqued me, mostly with jabby comments about my body.”

Observant and taut, Ling Ma’s Bliss Montage is a strong collection of surreal and uncanny short stories. Accessible for reluctant readers and those who aren’t overly keen on shorter fiction. Readership skews 25+

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

Bliss Montage
Ling Ma
September 2022
Text Publishing