Scrublands by Chris Hammer: Book Review

Author : Chris Hammer

Published 2018 ( softcover)

About the author:
Chris Hammer is a seasoned Australian journalist of thirty plus years experience specialising in International Affairs and Politics. His career obviously provided much fuel for this novel.

Twelve months after a mass murder in a rural Australian town journalist, Martin Scarsden, arrives in Riversend to report on any flow on effect that the local priest shooting five locals may have had on the community.

Riversend could be any isolated country town suffering the effects of drought, bushfires, and a dying economy. The only Hotel in town is now Closed for business, a sure sign that the town is on its last legs.

Scarsden, a damaged character, investigates further into the horrific event that occurred on the church steps and becomes involved with other developments. These tragedies bring hordes of journalists to the sleepy town sniffing out a story for the benefit of city people expecting news with their daily breakfast and dinner. I suspect that the author is every bit as cynical and jaded as Martin Scarsden and his description of the media throng is right on the money.

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Riversend is a parade of odd characters with secrets. Have they escaped to the quiet of the country to hide secret lives or better enjoy their lives in secret?

This is another novel which casts the harsh Australian landscape as a character in itself. It is one of those rural towns we’ve all driven through. You know those towns you would rather drive right through than stop for a bathroom break ? We’ve all been there, haven’t we?

Scrublands is a tightly wound page turner with lots of twists and turns and covers multiple themes. Once again I am fully aware why I never entertained being in the Police Force. I simply have no mystery solving skills.

Read this one in a single sitting too. Oops, don’t think the floors will ever get mopped again.

Tip :

Another one for under the Xmas tree. Make sure you put your name on the gift tag.

Australian Author Jon Cleary and The Sundowners.

Way back in 1969 when I was attending a little primary school in Sydney’s bushland in a suburb dominated by War Service Homes I found myself interested in reading books written for adult entertainment. Instead of “sugar and spice and all things nice” I was brought up on a diet of Robinson Caruso, Treasure Island, and all things Kipling. My favourite tale, The Last of the Mohicans, probably accounts in part for the the cowboy tent in my backyard which I shared with Edward, the cat.

So at ten years of age when I borrowed a book from the school library the teachers were a bit shocked by my selection. Before releasing it, the Librarian sent a note home to my parents asking for for parental permission because it contained “adult themes”.

The book that caused so much kerfuffle? A lovely tale about a family in the 1920’s that live a nomadic lifestyle travelling from one rural town to another around Australia, picking up work where ever they can, including sheep shearing with the wife doing her bit as the shearer’s cook. The Sundowners by Jon Cleary was later adapted into a movie starring Robert Mitchum, Deborah Kerr and Peter Ustinov, filmed in Australia in 1960.

At the 33rd Academy Awards, The Sundowners was nominated for Best Actress in a Leading Role (Deborah Kerr), Best Actress in a Supporting Role (Glynis Johns), Best Director, Best Picture, and Best Writing, Screenplay Based on Material from Another Medium.

Although I haven’t seen this movie for thirty odd years it has stuck with me – I can still clearly see the book cover. Firstly, I was mad keen on Mitchum, and also because it was a story of simple folk, with a simple life, who took pleasure from simple things. There’s a Life Lesson in that……….

In hindsight it was probably my first recollection of  an onscreen Australia. Back in those days you couldn’t get more Dinky Di than Chips Rafferty and John Meillion, and both get a run in this one.

I’ve just read another of Jon Cleary’s novels, Degrees Of Connection, the last in a series of crime books based on the character, Scobie Malone. Never heard of Scobie Malone? Neither had I!

Malone is a fictional Sydney homicide copper. The first book in the series was published in 1966, and Degrees Of Connection has Scobie promoted to Superintendent of Police, published in 2003, seven years before the author’s death.

One of the author’s trademarks is an unusual first line in each Malone book. This one didn’t disappoint. “She’s had more facelifts than the Strand Arcade” said Clements.

I enjoyed this book as an easy read and the trivia orientated information about Sydney suburbs was both familiar and nostalgic. It also made good use of Sydney’s tribalism which made me smile, as now an observer rather than a resident. “ Rooty Hill ? Where’s that? In the outback?”  (Sydneysiders will appreciate this, not so non locals. She’s a beautiful, exciting city but there exists invisible walls depending on your socio-economic standing and geographical situation. Not P C? Maybe, but dead right).

The character of Malone is more brain over brawn and I appreciated the sarcasm and wit over the vulgarity and profanities from some of our other home grown crime writers. I’m no prude, and can drop ‘em with the best of them, but how much can a koala bear?

The second Scobie Malone book in the series was adapted to movie back in 1975, with a young Australian, Jack Thompson, playing Malone. With the title Helga’s Web or alternatively Murder At The Opera House it was by all accounts a stinker.

The author was shown the film at a private screening and was not happy with the result. “When I saw Scobie nibbling on the fourth nipple I thought “that’s not my Scobie“. And I walked out”, Cleary said.

I think I will give that one a miss.

Trivia :

The same shearing shed at Carriewerloo Station was later used in the South Australian Film Corporation film Sunday Too Far Away (1975).

And I reiterate: if you have any notion of visiting a shearing shed for Bucket List purposes, forget it. Putrid things.


The Lost Man by Jane Harper and a Brisi Heatwave.

Queensland is in heatwave mode so the boss asked me to stay home this week. No air conditioning you see. She knows full well I would incite the troops with tales of 14 yr olds being sent down the coal mines for 12 hour shifts. No matter – breakfast in the garden each morning has been delightful, and I’ve caught up on some reading.

Title : The Lost Man

Author : Jane Harper

Published : October 2018

Jane Harper is an Australian Author, whose two previous books, The Dry and Force Of Nature, went straight to the top of the bestsellers list. These books gained a following of Aaron Falk fans, the protagonist in these novels

This stand alone novel is set in rural and remote Queensland, and begins with two brothers meeting at the boundary of their neighbouring properties following the death of a third brother in strange circumstances.

Nathan Bright, a loner and outsider, tries to understand why his much respected and younger brother died from the heat of the Australian sun, having walked 9 kilometres away from his air conditioned car.

The biggest character in this book is the harsh, red dust landscape of outback Australia. The story may seem slow but that’s the pace you have to maintain under a huge Qld sun.

There is just so much happening in this book with so many topical themes being covered including the high rate of suicide amongst farmers. It is a story about family secrets, and how those secrets can cross the generations.

Forget Falk – he’s a wet sock. Nathan Bright is my boyo. This is a great read – I had to finish it in one sitting and did not come close to solving the mystery of Cameron Bright’s death.

TIP.
Make sure you put a treat for yourself under the Christmas Tree as I have being doing so for twenty years. This book is the perfect, slow burning holiday read:)

Lenny and La La

Another week over and it’s been an absolute rollercoaster. Gemini’s don’t do mediocrity.

Had a huge win at a local preloved book sale for charity, scoring interesting reads for both myself and the Little Library.

The local community theatre put on a fun little production with the title Drinking Habits, about a couple of nuns making and selling wine without Mother Superior’s knowledge. Twenty dollars a ticket, with tea and coffee, or the option to purchase vino with a cheese platter. Why these events don’t attract more bums on seats I just don’t know. Great value and good fun. ( and honestly folks, isn’t Theatre so very much better than watching cricket on TV? Shane Warne? Kill me now).

I lost two more very good friends this week : Lenny and La La. The neighbours complained about their squabbling so they had to move out. Still prone to random outbursts of tears, so I’m obviously still grieving.

Lenny and La La were the last of my pets since downsizing and have gone to acreage where they can screech to their hearts delight. Wondering if I should have made the move with them…..

Thank goodness for the funniest movie I have ever watched in my life : Snakes On A Plane – simply hilarious. Highly recommended when you are in the need for absolute rubbish. Rolling-on-the-floor funny/stupid. Cheaper than a visit to the Therapist.

As is the usual practice, fighting sadness by keeping busy. Will see Bohemian Rhapsody this weekend, attend the local fundraiser where I’ll donate some time, and will listen to The Travelling Wilbury’s, eat dark chocolate, and drink some Bubbles. I am taking heed of my GP who encourages the addition of more fruit to my diet. Mangoes and Lychees are delicious in champagne, don’t you agree?

Enjoy your weekend, Peeps.

Miss you heaps, Lennie and La La. xxx

Scrabble and Grass Hoppers

Not a good week with another co-worker collapsing during a friendly game of Scrabble and succumbing to a fatal stroke.

I’ve never encountered a friendly game of Scrabble, have you? In my family this word game is fiercely competitive. And both daughters like to play mind games, setting their mother up with melodic background music, dark chocolate and Grass Hoppers. That’s their queue to go in for the kill and come up with a triple word score with a Q. My eldest even keeps a notebook with all her past scores – just to gloat, presumably.

Trivia: Did you know Scrabble features in the best selling books: Lolita, The Handmaid’s Tale and Rosemary’s Baby?

One of my last tasks before my official retirement (I have requested time off for “good behaviour”), is to arrange a little something in the office as a celebration of our colleagues life. She had worked here twenty years after all. As always, something so simple became bigger than Ben Hur when there was a suggestion that a morning tea in our colleagues honour in the boardroom might be “too upsetting for the young ones”.

Holy Guacamole. I’m too old for this gig…… I think I prefer playing Scrabble to the weaving and ducking required to placate these millennials.

Monopoly has become another No Go Zone. Too many wannabe Real Estate Tycoons in the family. Initially mass marketed in America in 1934, Monopoly actually played a role in World War 2 assisting those who involuntarily became guests of the Third Reich.

As a way of providing information to the allied prisoners who were constantly looking for a means of escape, maps that included safe locations were manipulated onto the Monopoly board game. This is because one of the conditions of the Geneva Convention stated that games were acceptable in “Care” packages distributed by the Red Cross for POWs.

Small red dots were placed on the corner of the “Free Parking” square on numerous game boards relaying important information to aid UK and American prisoners before they set off.

Don’t even get me started on RISK.

So morning tea next week will include 60’s music for my Beatles and Bee Gees mad friend, cheese and fruit platters, and a truly wicked chocolate cake. I’m wondering if the boss will mind if I make Grass Hoppers all round as a send off?

William McInnes and local Trivia.

Attended a literary luncheon at my local, The Grand View Hotel, this week. The Grandy is the oldest licensed hotel in Qld, and has Brisbane’s best beer garden with sweeping views across Moreton Bay to Straddie ( North Stradbroke Island). She is a fine host and I have enjoyed many celebrations under the palm trees over the years : Graduations, Birthdays, and Engagement Parties.

William McInnes is an Australian television and stage actor, although my personal experience of his thespian talents is limited to an ABC miniseries twenty years ago when he poured himself into a wetsuit. And poured himself so very well, may I add.

McInnes is also an author and writes a weekly column in the weekend paper. He gently touches on social commentary with a dash of whimsy and nostalgia.This weekends article was about undertaking trombone lessons at high school and only ever achieving sounds reminiscent of flatulence. Stupid but we’ve all been there, haven’t we?

Born in Brisbane when she really was a country town McInnes speaks with a distinctive deep voice. When you read McInnes you can hear that voice. He tends to write about nothing in particular and includes memories of growing up by the bay, when times were totally different; when fishing off the Redcliffe Jetty with mates was a top afternoon, as was eating hot chips wrapped in newspaper. These were the days when you were thrilled to receive a watch or a pen with your name inscribed for your 18th birthday, and not a brand new car from Mum and Dad like today’s Muppets.

I read his first book over ten years ago, “A Mans Got To Have A Hobby”, which was literally, advice handed down by his father. Like how to master the handshake.Important stuff.

His latest book is based on a subject that is very close to his heart. Fatherhood is about family, about memories of his father and the memories he’s creating as a Dad himself, with his own son and daughter.

The blurb says that this book “contains memories of hot summer days and cooling off under the sprinkler while Dad works in the garden with the radio tuned to the sports results; that time Dad tried to teach you to drive – and then got out of the car and kissed the ground; or taking your own kids on a family road trip.”

McInnes is a storyteller. He is genuine, modest, and I don’t think he is aware that his stories are so funny. Coming from salt of the earth, hardworking stock his family life has provided the basis for many of his stories. It’s the commonality that makes him so endearing.

This is a tale he shares of his dying mother, which I think sums McInnes’ upbringing in a nutshell.

I walked into the hospital one day to visit Mum and found a Sister of Mercy beside her. She leaned in to tell Mum her son was here. Mum asked, without opening her eyes, “Which one? The fat one or the stupid one?” The sister half-smiled and said, “I don’t know.” Then Mum opened one eye and looked at me and said, “The stupid one has gotten fat.”

I grew up in a household of similar ilk.

McInnes’ wife died when the kiddies were School age.

I was brought up by a Storyteller, a storyteller who flew Lancaster’s over Germany during WW2 yet suffered horrific nose bleeds every time he took me out for a driving lesson. A storyteller who listened to the races on the radio whilst gardening and who taught his daughters about equine bloodlines, how to fix a lawnmower, and who encouraged us to run under a sprinkler on those stinking hot summer days because people who had backyard pools were poseurs. I also lost a mother far too young and was shaped by my family.

I’m probably also the stupid one who has gotten fat.

Great afternoon, thanks Bill.

PS. Some trivia :

This waterway is where Angelina Jolie had the actor playing Louis Zamparini in Unbroken cast adrift in a raft until the Japs picked him up, where Johnny Depp filmed parts of Pirates of The Carribean number 2, and the second Narnia movie was filmed. But that’s another story…..

When it’s in the stars…..

The Astrology forecast for Gemini’s this week is “to take the time to read an enlightening book or listen to some uplifting music”.

I’ve just finished reading Jasper Jones by Aussie author Craig Silvey. Fantastic coming of age book based in rural Australia in the 90’s and since adapted into a movie and a theatrical production. It covers incest, murder, domestic violence, race issues, and infidelity. In spite of all that, it is a gently positive tale full of hope, love and friendships. Lost Flowers of Alice Hart by Holly Ringold is another beautifully crafted book which captures all the beauty of Australian wildflowers, the various belief systems of different cultures, and the brutality of domestic violence.

Confined indoors because of much needed rain all weekend I also indulged in a card reading. Why? A girl is allowed to be frivolous, isn’t she? The cards suggested that I should read an uplifting book. I get the hint…..

Interestingly, regardless of the bleak themes of both these books they were quietly uplifting. Naturally, there was non stop music playing in the background and Harry Connick Jr definitely filled the brief.

I’m not really into horoscopes – they are not something I refer to on a regular basis despite being surrounded by chakra, crystal, and aura fanatics – though I do have a favourite astrologist who I read on my birth date each year and who always includes a quote. This years quote totally resonates:

“Follow your inner moonlight, don’t hide the madness”
( Allen Ginsberg)

NOTE : Enlightening Books?

Not sure what makes one of these, although I have just filled a handbag full of personal products for women fleeing from a violent situation as part of Share The Dignity’s “It’s In The Bag” Christmas Cause. Refer http://www.sharethedignity.com.au.

In Like Flynn- The Movie

I was always going to be conflicted about the movie In Like Flynn. Adapted from Errol Flynn’s 1937 ( first) novel, “Beam Ends”, the movie takes us from the goldfields of New Guinea in 1930, to the streets of Sydney and the Razor Gang in 1932, north to Townsville, and then further north to a return to New Guinea.

Here’s my Good, Bad and the Ugly, and not necessarily in that order

Firstly, the really, truly Ugly:

I had a signed copy of this book in my possession and inadvertently tossed it into the bin some thirty years ago. The things you do when you are young and stupid ( or more stupid ).I’ve been chasing this wretched book ever since.

Then there is the Bad:

What’s with David Wenham’s penchant for weird facial hair and creepy voices? Way back when, was there a female with a pulse anywhere across the nation who did not weep tears of blood when Diver Dan dumped Laura Gibson in Pearl Bay to dive the Galápagos Islands?

Wenham’s penchant for woeful mos and odd vocal noises started in Australia, though his presence in In Like Flynn as the Mayor/ Boxing Promoter/ Reverend screams dirty-old-man-in-raincoat. That’s the price you pay when you let a good woman down, David. Thank God Laura finally found happiness with that bloke that’s built like a brick outhouse.

If we were expected to believe Guy Pearce as Flynn (in Flynn) at five foot ten and a half then this chappie is way out in front. Thomas Cocquerel is a good looking lad – we know this as there are numerous scenes not requiring a shirt – and at a couple of inches over six foot with a chiselled chin, does a reasonable job. Don’t waste time with comparisons though : one is vanilla to Errol’s double malted, dark chocolate with a dash of Tia Maria.

So to enjoy this film simply forget that this is supposed to be Errol Flynn before making it big in Hollywood. Instead, treat it as another of the Jewel of the Nile/ Indiana Jones Franchises. It will make the experience so much more palatable. Hang the brain at the door and just go with the adventure, or misadventure, and the crocodiles.

Good :
Don’t you feel we’ve watched Isobel Lucas grow up in front of the cameras, from a pretty and pouty little thing, to an even prettier and poutier little thing, though she does a great job of being both flirty and feisty in this flick. Kills it as a redhead. Hasn’t put on an ounce of weight – just how does that work?

And another :

The scenery is beautiful and there is a definite 1930 vaudevillian feel.

Unfortunately, the sound quality is poor in parts, or is it that the soundtrack is simply too loud? The incorrect answer is that my hearing is poor. Well, it is, but everyone in the cinema was pressing forward to hear better too – all four of us.

First film reviews in within Australia state “ car crash compelling” and “so bad its nearly good”.

And talking of that bloke built like a brick outhouse….. See you at lunch at The Grand View next week.

Dying Shackled To A Desk Is Not An Option

I am staring down the barrel of my last twenty seven days of paid employment. Well, twenty six really because I’m throwing a sickie to be at the first day of viewing of the movie, In Like Flynn. Anyway, so relieved I simply cannot put it into words. So very over regimentation, clock watching, office politics, and lately, millennials telling me how to do things. Such as when you are chasing information. Serious information. I am so fed up with “Check out Pinterest” or “Go to Instagram”.( And I’m sooo close to spitting at the next millennial who whinges about their inability to afford housing. Get off your butts and walk to the local cafe for your lunch: don’t pay for your bespoke sandwich to be uber delivered. WT!)

Kiddies, Life is more than bullet points and pretty pictures. Life is not manufactured. It is so much more.

Most of my circle are pleased for me, aware that I have been working since I was 17 years of age, in one form or another. Good, as no further explanations are necessary. It is correct, as it has been pointed out to me, that I am some years off retirement age. I don’t give a Rats, and neither should you.

Not only did I attend a wedding last week, there was also a funeral on the other side of town. Fun wedding and I paid for the time on the dance floor for two days with a mild level of discomfort in the hips. Go you good thing!

Funeral was fun too, as only a good funeral can be. Lots of food, good company and memories. Chatted to the sons of the deceased for some time sharing stories. It’s funny how much you learn by sharing stories, isn’t it? A yarn with these lads, both of a similar vintage, has me now investigating the music of Pink Floyd, and in particular, the Final Cut album. Pink Floyd – surely the background music for every party held in the 1970’s? The soundtrack in my family home was more Mario Lanza than Roger Waters.

Another funeral next week for a work colleague in a previous life who literally died at his desk at work.

So, I’m feeling fine and looking forward to spending more time. Just spending more time.

Have done the rounds of Financial Planners, Accountants, Banks and all the other experts in the retirement field.

Story in today’s media about a Financial Advisor and his corporate wife who are struggling to pay their bills on a combined gross income of $215k. Well, who would be going to him for advice??? And have you noticed that so many of these Financial Advisors seem to be about 12 ? Okay, so about 28 – 30ish. I’m opting to follow my gut instinct. It’s time to go. No way am I falling off the tree shackled to a desk. There are stories to tell, music to enjoy, books to read and adventures to be had.

These are the books I’ve been lent this week by friends who have concerns that I will get bored. Thankyou, girls. Didn’t your parents give you a clip around the ears if you ever used the B word?

Major retirement goals include :
* Breaking the cycle of waking up at 4 am. A thirty year habit.
* Mop floors weekly and clean house</del
* Listen to more Pink Floyd
* Keep houseplants alive

That will do for now. And that’s okay.

Twenty seven days. I’m pulling up my big girls pants.This is in the bag.

Thanks, Willie. You put a smile on my dial this morning.

ANZAC GIRLS by Peter Rees

In Primary School days, way back in the 60’s, one of the things that made the annual Anzac Day Ceremony so special was that you could wear your Cubs or Brownies uniform to school. My sister and her friends wore their white aprons with red capes and little hats bearing a Red Cross. My Annie Oakley outfit and cap guns were unacceptable.

Tragically, throughout my entire schooling, there was never any other mention of the magnificent work of the nursing services during either World War 1 or 2. Florence Nightingale was it.

I read Anzac Girls after watching the 2014 ABC Mini series of the same name, as well as attending a one act theatre production called The Girls in Grey, both of which were based on Peter Rees’ book.

Using diaries and letters, Peter Rees takes us into the hospital camps and the wards, and the tent surgeries on the edge of some of the most horrific battle fronts of human history. But he also allows the friendships and loves of these compassionate women to shine through and to enrich our experience.

This is a brilliant read. Forgetting about the courage, strength and humanity of these magnificent women amid all the expected carnage, there were some other factors that made this such a fascinating book.

Firstly, Rees cleverly wove other stories into the fabric of the Anzac Nurses which fleshed out Australian history and highlighting the time line and providing perspective. This included references to Banjo Paterson, poet and war correspondent, as well as C J Dennis, another poet who immortalised a “situation” regarding the AIF and brothels in Cairo in his poem , The Battle Of The Wazzir. http://www.middlemiss.org/lit/authors/denniscj/gmick/wazzir.html.

There was little recognition for these women at the time. Despite working in a theatre of war for over four years there was no financial assistance for housing, although soldiers were entitled. Some nurses had to work their passage home attending to soldier’s wives and children on board, and others had to depend on their families paying the passage home even though the British Government was paying the costs for transporting war brides. Woeful, absolutely woeful.

Lastly, and what I found particularly inspiring, is that many of these women went on to do magnificent things in civilian life regardless of the terrible things that they had endured. They were indeed trail blazers.

Best read for the year, and I will just add that I made a much better cowgirl than nurse.

There’s a Rose that grows in No Man’s Land,
And it’s wonderful to see.
Tho’ it’s sprayed with tears,
It will live for years
In my garden of memory.
It’s the one red rose
That the soldier knows,
It’s the work of the Master’s Hand;
In the War’s great curse stands the Red Cross Nurse,
She’s the rose of No Man’s Land.
(American song)