Kissing frogs & eating snails

Inner peace

noreply@blogger.com (Ylla Wright) — Wed, 30 Nov 2011 08:23:00 +0000

I am passing this on to you because it definitely worked for me this afternoon, and we all could probably use more calm in our lives.

Some doctor on TV this morning said the way to achieve inner peace is to finish all the things you have started. So I looked around my house to see things I'd started and hadn't finished so I have managed to finish off a bottle of Merlot, a bottle of Chardonnay, a bodle of Baileys, a butle of sum, a pockage of Prungles, tha mainder of bot Prozic and Valiuminun script ions, the res of the chesescke an a box a chocletz. Yu haf no idr how bludy fablus I feel rite now.

Plaese sned dhis orn to dem yu fee ar in ned ov iennr pisss. An telum,u blody luvum.!! xyzlpdq X

(Thank you anonymous-internet-forwarder-with-too-much-time-on-your-hands - I'm glad you do; I will be taking this advice to heart!)

This is a rock

noreply@blogger.com (Ylla Wright) — Sat, 30 Jul 2011 08:31:00 +0000

There's quite a lot of interesting psychology behind how people read menus and how clever menu design can influence or increase diners' orders, however one trend I can't get my head around is restaurants that simply list the ingredients of a dish. A cassoulet might, for example, become 'pork, duck confit, haricot beans'.

I can't help feeling it rather misses the point. Where's the connection? The cooking method? The culinary influences? The evocative turn of phrase that makes me want this dish? Admittedly some menus go too far in the opposite direction, seasoning their menus with adjectives as if they were Maldon salt flakes, but surely a happy medium is the way to go?

The menu at Bilson's Restaurant, where I sampled the L'omnivore Grand degustation last week, was a case in point - 'baby carrot, calamari, ink, macadamia, cocoa' read one description; 'polenta, zucchini, Parmesan, hazlenut' read another; 'marscapone, beetroot, orange, white sesame' was the sum total of a third.

Okaaay, but what exactly will I be eating?

The answer, it quickly became apparent, was 'soil', 'rocks', 'foam', 'gel', 'powder', 'air' and any number of 'smears'. The single most substantial item in the whole 10-course menu was a solitary quail breast. Moist, delicious and beautifully cooked, but demolished in two bites.

I'm not singling Bilson's out for special attention; I've been to half a dozen other restaurants recently where a chemistry set is obviously part of their regular mis en place. Why simply emulsify a sauce when, with the help of maltodrexin, you can turn it into a powder?

Nor am I saying that such feats of culinary wizardry are all bad (have I mentioned my big foodie crush on Heston Blumenthal?), but they are definitely over-used, and I'm prepared to hazard a guess, the reason why some menus have been pared back so far. Just look at the amount of inverted commas I've used in this blog post - I'd have to use all those and more to rewrite Bilson's menu to adequately describe the dishes on there.

I'd like to see the pendulum swing back from so-called molecular gastronomy to food where beautiful, fresh, seasonal produce is allowed to take centre stage. It's already starting to happen but not fast enough for my liking.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a rock-free, soil-free, smear-free meal to prepare. Bon appetit.

Memories are made of this

noreply@blogger.com (Ylla Wright) — Tue, 05 Jul 2011 10:54:00 +0000

There are few things as wonderfully evocative as food. Good or bad, just one taste of a dish can catapault you back in time, conjuring up the sights and sounds, even the emotions you experienced. A perfectly ripe strawberry, warmed by the sun, leads itself to reminiscing about idyllic late summer afternoons picking your own berries at a local farm. The dry scratch of yet-to-soften Weetabix recalls the sensation of trying to choke down a British hospital breakfast (see Notes from a hospital bed for a whole blog on this topic) after a tonsilectomy.

I won't try to pretend to be the first person to have made this link; there's a whole genre of food memoirs that
testify to the power food has to transport us through time and space.

In his charming memoir Cooking for Claudine film critic John Baxter links his early attempts seduction techniques in '60s Sydney with the theatrical hiss of steam caused by wine splashed into a hot pan. In Giulia Melucci’s deliciously funny and sometimes poignant book I loved, I lost, I made spaghetti she reminisces about the dishes she used to seduce the men in her life and the comfort food she consoled herself with after her relationships fizzled out. For food writer and television host Nigel Slater, author of Toast: The Story of A Boy's Hunger, the smell of burning toasts conjures up his memories of his mother, who died when he was nine.

I had one of those moments tonight when I made French onion soup, served with the cheese toasts we used to call crostini when we used to have this dish back in the '80s. The sweet silkiness of the onions, buttery broth and the soup-soaked bread took me back to those Sunday evenings when dad would roll up his sleeves and peel and slice onions galore to make a huge pot of this classic soup. The house would fill with the aroma of caramelised onions, fresh thyme, bay leaves, stock and a healthy splash of brandy; the kitchen window would steam up and I would start my not-so-stealthy campaign for more crostini and less soup.

I wasn't actually sure when I decided to make this soup, the recipe for which can be found here, whether I would like it (it has been a very long time between tastes) but it seems that I like both the soup and the memories it evokes.

Oh, and if your only memories of French onion soup are of adding a packet of the powdered variety to a tub of sour cream to make "French onion dip", then it might be time to create new ones...

In my opinion

noreply@blogger.com (Ylla Wright) — Tue, 24 May 2011 10:14:00 +0000

Not everyone will agree with me but one of the defining characteristics of blogging is how egotistical it is - most blog posts are, after all, about what the writer has seen, done or thinks about the topic they're writing about. There are very few opportunities in journalism for a writer to insert themselves into a story.

That is unless you happen to be someone like food and travel writer AA Gill, who has made a career from sharing his very strong, very subjective opinions, and was in Sydney last week for the Sydney Writers' Festival.

I wasn't lucky enough to get a ticket to his session with globe-trotting chef/writer Anthony Bourdain (not for lack of trying; they seemed to sell out in about two minutes), but I was inspired by the brilliant profile by Nick O'Malley in Saturday's Sydney Morning Herald to pick up a copy of Gill's 2007 book Table Talk. How could I not after this description:

His writing is precise and poised, profane and savage. It is famously, horribly funny. It is marked by wild, mean metaphor and simile. In an evisceration of the Parisian bistro L'Ami Louis published last month (now the subject of 752,000 web references) he bestowed upon its waiters the "meaty malevolence of gouty buffalo" and described its oversized snails as "dinosaur boogers".

Gill's burlesque prose would collapse under its own weight if it weren't for the carefully crafted frame on which it is built. Phrases and sentences tumble over one another and rhythms erupt before he sinks the slipper. "It's all timing, everything is timing," he says. "Iambic pentameter. We speak in threes."

Gill has pissed a lot of people off with his iambic pentameter. His Wikipedia entry is a list of complainants. There are the Welsh ("loquacious, dissemblers, immoral liars, stunted, bigoted, dark, ugly, pugnacious little trolls"; the English ("lumpen and louty, coarse, unsubtle, beady-eyed, beefy-bummed''); residents of Norfolk ("the hernia on the end of England''); of the Isle of Man ("[it has] fallen off the back of the history lorry to lie amnesiac in the road to progress"); the Albanians (''short and ferretfaced, with the unisex stumpy, slightly bowed legs of Shetland ponies'').

As I said, brilliant! (And I'm saying that about both Gill and O'Malley's prose.)

I am less than a third of the way through Table Talk and already Gill has eviscerated vegetarians, pandas, dinner parties, Milton Keynes (a British "New Town" which undoubtedly deserves it), holier-than-thou organic restaurants, the ballet Coppelia, politicians and fat picnicers in clip-on bowties.

Given that I don't usually write about books until after I've finished them, why am I writing about this one now? Because it will go some way to explain, if you happen to see me on the bus or train tomorrow, why I'm giggling, sniggering and guffawing helplessly.

And because I can - it's my blog...!

One night at El Bulli

noreply@blogger.com (Ylla Wright) — Mon, 23 May 2011 10:51:00 +0000

Someone asked me earlier today what I would do for one night only if I could do anything in the world, with no ramifications, and if money was no obstacle.

My answer? Dinner at chef Ferran Adria's El Bulli restaurant in Spain, arguably the most famous restaurant in the world and definitely one of the most innovative. Admittedly it would involve it a little bit of magic carpetry, and I'm assuming that a booking would also be no obstacle (the restaurant receives more than 2 million enquiries for just 8000 places a season), but yes, please!

While most of my culinary fantasies centre around being a guest at one of Heston Blumenthal's Fantastical Feasts (the man is a genius and honestly, who are those simpering reality TV starlets they invite on to taste his creations? Pfft!), Ferran Adria is front and centre in my mind because I have just finished reading The Sorcerer's Apprentices: A season at el Bulli by Lisa Abend.

This book provides a behind-the-scenes account of what it's like to do "a stage" (ie. work long, back breaking hours for free, for up to to six months, for the experience) at El Bulli, following the group of 30 or so young chefs from around the globe who work in the restaurant during its 2009 "season".

Despite Adria being the drawcard for the 8000-plus chefs who apply for these positions every year, as well as the avid foodies who'll read this book, the funny thing is that he's strangely distant from this book. I suspect he was as unavailable to the author as he appears to be to the staigaires. Just because you orbit the sun doesn't mean you can look at it directly.

The thing that most strikes me about the the picture this book paints of the kitchen at El Bulli is that, for one of, if not the most, innovative restaurants in the world, it is a terrifyingly dull and regimented place. It may have reputation for creativity but if there's any place closer to a production line staffed by robots, I don't know where it is. A stagiaire - who might have come from running their own kitchen at home - might spend all day making congealed milk "skins" (like those on hot chocolate when you let it cool), six days a week, for three months at a time. And doing nothing else. Did I mention they're doing it for free??

And yet this is a restaurant that serves Artichoke Roses, "roses" which appear to be made of artichoke leaves that are in fact made of cooked edible rose petals and dressed wth artichoke and rose oils, to play up the flavours of both references the dish makes.

It seems to me that the take home message from this book is that the reason that El Bulli is able to be so creative is that they have so much free labour, all worshipping at the feet of the elusive Senor Adria.

Unbeknownest to the author or the stagiaires, it is during this period that Adria decided to close El Bulli at the end of the 2011 season, in just a few months from now, and reinvent it as a think tank for gastronomic creativity. It seems I may have missed my chance to dine at El Bulli...

Hello, my name is ...

noreply@blogger.com (Ylla Wright) — Tue, 05 Apr 2011 12:33:00 +0000

Photo by Ramzi Hashisho.

Listening to my national advertising sales manager chat to a new member of the ad sales team about the challenges of cold calling and how to deal with those calls that don't go to plan (that is, the client can't be convinced to buy squillions of dollars worth of advertising) I was struck by the similarities between sales and internet dating. Yes, really. Off the top off my head:

1) Prospective clients/partners are probably talking to two or three "potentials" at any time.
2) Meeting up is either super-urgent or postponed endlessly.
3) Once a meeting is postponed, there's a fair chance it won't happen, full-stop.
4) Subtlety gets you nowhere; being pushy can turn people off.
5) Everyone wants a demonstratable result. Fast.
6) Chemistry is everything.
7) The moment the bill is presented is always a little awkward, no matter how friendly relations are.
8) Definitive yes or no decisions are delayed to the "nth" hour, if you get a decision at all.
9) Prospective clients/partners can stop taking your calls if they want to let you down gently or avoid confrontation.
10) Sealing the deal can really pay off.
11) Building an ongoing and fulfilling relationship requires work.
12) If things don't work out with the first choice, you'll often get a call sometime down the track.

I could go on...

I'm in love

noreply@blogger.com (Ylla Wright) — Thu, 10 Mar 2011 11:23:00 +0000

Ohmigod, Schulz Bacon from the Barossa Valley in South Australia, named Australia's Best Bacon in the PorkMark Bacon Awards for Excellence earlier this week, and described to me as bacon "crack", really is that good!

The really, really good news is that it's sold nationally. And if it isn't sold somewhere close to you, consider a trip to South Australia. Seriously.

Habits of sucessful people

noreply@blogger.com (Ylla Wright) — Thu, 10 Mar 2011 10:24:00 +0000

The mysterious "they" say that it takes around three weeks to form a habit, which seems strange to me because it seems to take me about one night to form a "bad" one, such as smoking (a habit now broken, phewww), avoiding tackling that last packing box from my most recent move (in early December) and most recently, playing endless games of Mahjong online.

However, because I am a gullible soul and believe most of the things people tell me (unless it involves a discredited businessnessman offering to transfer a hundred squillion dollars into my bank account right after I email him the account number), I have been attempting to forge a habit of going to the gym. So far it's been less than two weeks and I'm not entirely sure that four visits constitiutes a promising start, but hey, even going twice a week can become a habit, can't it? Can't it?

Having been a bit of a hermit lately, I am also determined to get back in the habit of doing a few other things such as getting off my beaten restaurant/cafe/bar track (aka getting "off my arse") and blogging about my experiences. If you haven't heard back from me in the next three weeks, feel free to email/text/slap me with a wet kipper (hmmm, maybe not the last one) for an habit-forming update.

Random things that made me happy this week

noreply@blogger.com (Ylla Wright) — Sun, 20 Feb 2011 04:44:00 +0000

In no particular order:

My first ever attempt to poach eggs wasn't a total disaster - in fact it was good! For years I've only been ordering poached eggs at cafes because I thought they were "hard to make" but I wrong. Yippee!

The Qantas lounge.

A friend "picking me up" from the airport even though his car had broken down and he'd had to catch the train out.

Being licked by a neighbour's labrador puppy on my way to work.

Discovering a cool, new "small bar" in Surry Hills while it's still possible to get a table there without reserving one a week in advance.

Finding exactly what I was looking for, at the right price, in Myer and then having the sales assistant mark it down 60% at the cash register.

Striving for authenticity

noreply@blogger.com (Ylla Wright) — Sat, 12 Feb 2011 09:00:00 +0000

I received a text this afternoon from someone who was worried about me because, the text said, in part "your blog has stopped". Well no, it hasn't, but it has been on a brief hiatus.

Despite not posting here since early January I have been thinking - and talking (most recently at this afternoon's Inner West Social Saturday "tweet-up" at the Warrenview in Enmore #IWSS) - a lot about the direction I want to take this blog in this year.

I don't, after all, want to continue my Book Project 2010 here into 2011, although the list is ongoing, with 15 titles on it so far this year.

Most of all though, I don't want this to be a negative space, where I just whinge about all the things I don't like. Who needs that kind of energy in their life? Instead, I want this to be an positive, uplifting place that I, and anyone who drops by, enjoys to spend time in.

I watched a wonderful talk by blogger Neil Pasricha on TED.com this morning (if you're not familiar with these talks, they're definitely worth checking out). Neil's 1000 awesome things blog, is all about the simple pleasures in life - clean sheets, the smell of rain on hot tarmac, horror movies with goofy monsters, popping bubble wrap... His talk, 'The three A's of Awesome', was thoughtful, funny and uplifting (there's that word again) and I was particularly struck by the last of his three As - authenticity (the first two are attitude and awareness).

His point was that by being yourself and following your heart, putting yourself in the places and conversations that you can enjoy, and going to the places that you've dreamt about, you'll find fulfillment.

And that's what I want to do here, and in my life in general, in 2011: strive for authenticity.

How that manifests itself in my blog posts moving forward I'm still not entirely sure (bear with me), but overall I want to concentrate on the positive; step into the unknown with a sense of adventure; learn how to say no to the things and people that don't make me feel good, and generally, be the best version of myself that I can be.

Here is Neil Pasricha's talk. I highly recommend it.

Some thoughts on good service

noreply@blogger.com (Ylla Wright) — Sun, 02 Jan 2011 13:33:00 +0000

Since I've been on holiday I haven't been doing much - some chores, reading, socialising with friends... Not surprisingly, being a caffeine lover, some of my socialising has been done in cafes.

Australia has an amazing cafe culture but gee whiz, could we do with some help in the service department. Just because you're a "cool" joint does not mean that your staff should be surly.

Why not say hello to customers who walk in to your establishment, rather than just snarl at them on the way out; offer them a menu, even if the blackboard does say in incy wincy handwriting "pay and order at the bar"; and maybe not ask "eat in or take away?" when all their gear is still at the table one metre away where they've just spent the last hour eating lunch...

I rue the lack of professional waiters (which is not to say there aren't many) in Sydney. Everyone here seems to see it as a stepping stone to something "else", but in Europe it's considered an honourable career.

I have had some wonderful experiences in restaurants, made especially so by the waiters who've attended my table. One example that springs to mind: the waiter at Quay, who, when asked what the fireworks exploding over the harbour that night were in aid of, answered "your dessert Madam" - brilliant!

Yes, I understand that a local cafe in Newtown or Leichhardt isn't Quay and vice versa, but a smile and a hello never hurts.

Drum roll, please... Book project 2010: conclusions

noreply@blogger.com (Ylla Wright) — Sun, 02 Jan 2011 08:08:00 +0000

About this time last year I read a fellow book lovers’ blog post about her struggle to pick a “best book” for 2009. Unable to pick just one, she narrowed her list down to a tried-and-tested top 10.
Scanning my brain for the books I’d read in the past year I realised I couldn’t remember most of the titles, let alone the content. In my defence I am a voracious reader, regularly reading two or three books a week and capable of devouring one in just a few hours so it’s entirely possible I’d read anywhere up to 150 books in 2009. A few stood out of course, but most, meh...

Light bulb moment: why not keep a list of all the books I read in 2010, so I’d be able to put together a top 10 in January 2011?

And so started my “Book Project 2010”, which has involved documenting all the books I read last year – for the record 136 (not counting work and cook books) of them! While some people probably think I need to get a life, I have had so much fun doing it! In fact, there’s a fair chance I’ll keep on doing it this year – why not?

Of course, the whole point was to find a top 10. The funny thing is that while choosing the list below was easy, choosing a number one is all but impossible – how can you compare a book about grammar with a Danish horror story? Twist my arm and I’d probably pick The Lacuna by Barbara Kingsolver but I’d recommend Justin Cronin’s creepy vampire tale The Passage as a fantastic holiday read.

Reading is such a personal thing, I’m sure many of you will disagree with my choices, but they’re my choices. So, here are my top 10 books for 2010, in the order I read them:

1. The Book Thief by Markus Zusak

2. The Road by Cormac McCarthy

3. Eats, Shoots and Leaves by Lynne Truss

4. Grotesque by Natsuo Kirino

5. The Passage by Justin Cronin

6. The Luminous Life of Lily Aphrodite by Beatrice Colin

7. Let the right one in by John Ajvude Lindquist

8. The Good Mayor by Andrew Nicoll

9. The Lacuna by Barbara Kingsolver

10. Winter’s Bone by Daniel Woodrell

I’m also going to cheat a little and add Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides and The Handsmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood, which are two old favourites I reread in the week between Christmas and New Year – I already knew they were good!

If you have any recommendations for 2011, let me know - there's always more reading to be done...

Book project 2010: update #26

noreply@blogger.com (Ylla Wright) — Sat, 01 Jan 2011 02:14:00 +0000

Happy New Year! I have a good feeling about 2011!

I plan to draw up a list of my top five books for the year (or possibly 10 if that proves too hard) but for now here are the books I've been reading this fortnight. It's a longer list than most but hey, I'm holidays and livin' is easy...

The church of dead girls by Stephen Dobyns

When a young girl goes missing, suspicion falls on an outsider – any outsider – but when two more vanish, a sleepy town in middle America starts to implode. Neighbours and lifelong friends start to look at each other with suspicion, pressure mounts and when the town finally tears itself apart, everyone bears some of the blame. This is a truly creepy psychological thriller, narrated with an eerie kind of omniscience by a local schoolteacher, who is at once part of the establishment and, as a gay man with his own secrets to hide, outside of it.

Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides

This magnificent book follows three generations of the Stephanides family from Greece in the 1920s to the US and ultimately contemporary Berlin. Both epic and domestic in scale, Middlesex is narrated by Cal, a grandchild who is born a girl and grows up to be a man. I find this book endearing and moving every time I revisit it.

Last night at Chateau Marmont by Lauren Weisberger

The devil wears Prada, supposedly based on Weisberger’s experience working for American Vogue, was a wonderfully entertaining read (and who can forget Meryl Streep’s icy portrayal of Miranda Priestly in the movie version?), but this book lacks both the insight and humour. Dreary.

The Boys’ Club by Wendy Squires

Ok, this book about a female journalist-turned-PR-exec working in the boy’s club environment of “Network Six”, is fiction, but if Squires didn’t find inspiration in Channel Nine and Kerry Packer, I’ll eat my hat. A fluffy but fun read.

Carry Me Down by MJ Hyland

Obsessed with discovering the truth, disturbed adolescent John Egan is determined to become a world famous lie detector, regardless of the cost to his family. As in This is How, Hyland paints a sympathetic and compelling portrait of a character who is out of touch with reality.

The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood

The Handmaid’s Tale is a much-loved favourite of mine; sweeping me up in its disturbing web every time I read it. I’ve realised on rereading it this week how much it has a lot in common with PD James’ The Children of Men, inasmuch as it deals with a future where fertility is no longer taken for granted and highly regulated. In this book religion is used to subjugate women and ensure the future of the human race, while in The Children of Men it’s science that takes the upper hand but unfortunately both scenarios are all too believable. Scary.

The Woods by Harlan Coben

Twenty years after four teenagers walk into the woods one night, never to be seen alive again, the secrets and mistakes of those left behind come back to haunt them. This is a thoroughly enjoyable thriller with lots of hooks and twists to keep you guessing right to the last page. However, the plot did seem somewhat familiar...

In the woods by Tana French

I pulled this book out of the bookshelf to reread because from memory it had a very similar plot to The Woods (above), and yes, it does. Here, three children walk into the woods. Two disappear forever; one comes out alive but with no memory of what happened that night. Twenty years later the discovery of another child’s body in the woods triggers off a chain of events which leads inexorably back to the earlier mystery. The style and tone of the two books is quite different however. I wouldn’t exactly say The Woods is a cheerful, upbeat read, but French’s book is darker and more psychologically demanding of both its characters and the reader.

Book project 2010: update #25

noreply@blogger.com (Ylla Wright) — Sat, 18 Dec 2010 06:56:00 +0000

Well, here we are again in the closing few days of the year. The Christmas presents are wrapped, my fridge is stocked with goodies, work is winding down (sort of) and unbelieveably I have now been writing these book posts for almost a year. And what fun it's been! I do realise though that at some point in the near future I have to revisit this list and see if I can actually pick my ultimate book list for 2010. I'm looking forward to it!

The Half Brother by Lars Saaybe Christensen

If I was going on Mastermind I wouldn’t choose Norway as my “special subject”. I know very little about the country, but after reading this book I would at least like to be able to read Norwegian. This is a magnificent, hugely readable story about an ordinary-yet-extraordinary Norwegian family, set over several decades, but I wonder whether it hasn’t suffered a little in the translation. If language weaves a rich tapestry, a poorly chosen word or phrase is the niggling moth hole which mars the masterpiece. There is no doubt however that Barnum, screenwriter, drunk, person-of-short-structure and sibling to enigmatic half-brother Fred, is an unusual and engaging lead character. Or is it Fred that drives the narrative, even in his absences? Intriguing.

Winter’s Bone by Daniel Woodrell.

Oh, my, they breed ‘em tough in the Ozarks. Ree Dolly, a child-woman whose cares outweigh the resources she has to fend for her two younger brothers and mentally failing mother after her father, a “crank” cook (Crystal Meth), disappears, is one hell of a tough chick. With the family home on the line and winter closing in, Ree confronts the violence, lawlessness and in-bred secrecy of this isolate mountain community as she attempts to find her missing father before they lose everything. Unusually for me I read this book after seeing the movie, a haunting, heartbreaking adaptation which has recently screened here in Sydney. Even more unusually, I can’t choose between them – both are brilliant.

The Fashion Pack by Marion Hume

Fashion! Turn to the left
Fashion! Turn to the right
Oooh, fashion!
We are the goon squad
and we're coming to town
Beep-beep
Beep-beep

After two serious reads and a hellish move I confess I wanted a little fluff in my life, so what better than this insider view of the international fashion scene from former Australian Vogue editor Marion Hume. Having been on the periphery (row Z) of this scene myself, I can relate to the truth beneath the froth of this book, but honestly, this is not a book to analyse too carefully - it's just fun!

Now pass me the Champagne darling, a girl's got to have some sustenence, you know...

Book project 2010: update #24

noreply@blogger.com (Ylla Wright) — Thu, 02 Dec 2010 09:34:00 +0000

I hate moving and moving hates me. Yep, I'm moving house on Saturday, which means I am currently in packing box hell (including 14 of books). Wish me luck...

On the other hand, I love reading. Here's what I've been immersing myself in this fortnight...

The Good Mayor by Andrew Nicoll

This is a sweet, lyrical novel about love, loss, ghosts and magic, set in an obscure town in a forgotten region of the Baltic. The story of “Good Mayor” Tibo Krovic, who is in love with his lonely, married secretary Agathe, nothing much happens for most of the book but you can’t help be enchanted by it.

Fall on your knees by Ann-Marie MacDonald

This was apparently a Canadian bestseller and I can see why. A complex family drama spanning several generations, Fall on your knees is beautifully written with a raft of engaging, colourful characters and a multi-textured plot that keeps readers on their toes.

The Fall by Guillermo Del Toro

The follow-up novel to The Strain, The Fall is a fast-paced and blood curdlingly entertaining read. I’ve said this before but these are seriously nasty vampires...

Reading Lolita in Tehran by Azar Nafisi

This book has a lot in common with Talking about Jane Austen in Baghdad which I read earlier this year. In fact I thought the Austen book was this book when I picked it up. Again this a memoir about the effect that reading and talking about forbidden works of Western literature has on the lives of women living in fraught (to say the least) circumstances. As the women in Nafisi’s book group, students drawn from all walks of life, begin to open up about the novels they’re reading, their own stories are revealed. At its heart this is a book about dreams and disappointments, and the everyday lives of women living in revolutionary Iran. Mesmerising.

The Lacuna by Barbara Kingsolver

I came to Kingsolver’s work late but honestly, I think Kingsolver could make a shopping list riveting reading. As demonstrated in The Poisonwood Bible (featured in my first ever Book Project post!), the author has the most beautiful grasp of language and characterisation. I’m only about half way through this tale of a young American-Mexican making himself useful in the household of muralist Diego Rivera and painter Frida Kahlo but it’s quickly proving itself a contender for Book of the Year.

Sustainability matters: lunch with Stefano Manfredi

noreply@blogger.com (Ylla Wright) — Tue, 30 Nov 2010 12:21:00 +0000

Sustainability has become a buzzword in the last few years but settling on a firm definition of what it actually means is tricky. At its simplest sustainability is about meeting our current needs in a way that ensures that future generations will be able to do the same. A social, economic and ecological concept, sustainability means different things to different people and, as we’re increasingly seeing, there are many, many ways to incorporate sustainability into everyday life.

Proving the point is chef Stefano Manfredi, who was kind enough to invite a bunch of Sydney food bloggers and writers including myself up to Bells at Killcare, home of his latest restaurant Manfredi at Bells, for lunch and a tour of the property’s gardens last weekend.

Stefano and his chefs don’t just talk about sustainability, they really “dig it” (sorry, bad pun), planting, tending and harvesting herbs and vegetables including artichokes, white radishes, rainbow chard, zucchini, chicory, sorel, lemongrass and rosemary in the Bells’ kitchen garden. Several dozen free-range hens, protected by a gorgeous Maremma sheepdog, produce eggs for the kitchen daily and beehives in a neighbouring paddock produce honey. Kitchen scraps are used to feed “the girls” (Stefano’s name for the chickens) or composted for use on the garden later. Produce that isn’t grown on-site is sourced from ethical (in the case of meat) and sustainable (fish) sources, and from local producers where possible.

Currently around 20% of produce used in the Stefano’s kitchen comes from the Bell’s garden but with a second garden bed recently planted he hopes to see that percentage increase in the months ahead. A soon-to-be built greenhouse will extend the period the garden can keep producing for, and they’ve even talked about breeding pigs.

Not surprisingly the menu at Manfredi at Bells has been designed around the goodies harvested from the estate’s kitchen gardens, changing with the seasons. “More and more it is the garden that drives the menu,” Stefano is quoted on the menu as saying.

On our lunch menu on Saturday were dishes including Polpettine di melanzana (crisp balls of eggplant and melted cheese, served on a bed of tangy salsa verde); Pomodoro primavera, carfioci, crema di cannellini (a single plump tomato dressed with fresh spring herbs, artichoke pieces and glossy cannellini

cream); Petto d’anitra arrosto, rapa all’agro, cime in padella (roast duck breast served with pickled turnips and braised turnips tops, a combination illustrative of the Italian philosophy of never throwing anything away), and Torta di cillegie, gelato di pinoli e rosmarino (an absolutely sublime baked cherry custard tart, pine nut and rosemary gelato I could eat for breakfast, lunch and dinner).

For me at least, it was a feast which tasted all the better for being sustainably-produced. I may be being a little romantic about it, but I honestly believe that food which is grown locally (minimising the amount of time it spends in transit and resources it uses to travel from paddock to plate) and using smaller scale production techniques (which tend to use less herbicides and pesticides) does actually taste better. A little bit of passion, which Stefano clearly has in spades, doesn’t hurt either. Bellissimo!

Random picture post (just 'cos I like it)...

noreply@blogger.com (Ylla Wright) — Sun, 28 Nov 2010 11:13:00 +0000

And while I'm on the subject of Thailand, have you come across Thai Sangria - tequila, triple sec, beer and starfruit? It sounds bizarre but try it - yum!

Memories are made of this

noreply@blogger.com (Ylla Wright) — Thu, 25 Nov 2010 05:59:00 +0000

There are some things that it is good to be remembered for: discovering penicillin, electricity, the pill; writing the "great Australian novel", or rescuing small children from a burning building, for example. And there are some things you really don't want to be remembered for: knock-'em-dead body odour or drunkenly flashing colleagues at the office Christmas party perhaps.

It seems that I am remembered, at least in one circle, as the journalist who got hit in the ear with a champagne cork at a book launch. Oh joy.

The funny thing is that I'd forgotten about my run-in with an errant cork, right up until I saw author Hayden Wood at the launch of his new book Green Food Generation earlier this week and it all came flooding back. The accident happened at the launch of Hayden's first book in, oh, I don't know, 2004 maybe, and Hayden had been the man popping the cork.

Even funnier (or do I mean stranger?) was the fact that 30 seconds after I'd recounted the story to my companions, Hayden loped up and said something to the effect of "Oh my god, you're the girl I hit in the ear with a cork at my first book launch. I've been dining out on that story for years!"

Oh well, at least I'm memorable, I suppose... It could be worse.

Book project 2010: update # 23

noreply@blogger.com (Ylla Wright) — Sat, 13 Nov 2010 07:24:00 +0000

I know everyone has been complaining about the incessant storms of the last fortnight but hey, when it's bucketing down outside, there's no excuse not to read to curl up and read... Here's what I've been reading this fortnight:

The innocent by Harlan Corben

Nothing is what it seems in this thriller, from the fight at its start, which lands protagonist Matt Hunter in jail for manslaughter, to the text message many years later purporting to show Matt’s wife having an affair. With more twists than the Bilgola Bends, this is a slippery read and all the more intriguing for it.

The Lost Symbol by Dan Brown

I have to confess that I enjoyed The Da Vinci Code as, you know, a piece of page-turning fiction, but I was perplexed by all the hoo ha after its publication. Did I mention that it’s fiction?

Like hundreds of thousands of other people I then went on to read Brown’s other novels, which were fine but had, perhaps justifiably, gone largely unnoticed pre-hoo ha, and I even saw the execrable movie.

I wasn’t however in any great rush to read this follow-up novel, again featuring the frightfully earnest Robert Langdon, waiting instead for a second-hand copy ($3) to turn up. Starting it on a rainy Sunday afternoon I did in fact find it “unputdownable” as the back cover promised me I would, but only because that would have meant having to tackle the washing up instead.

Generally speaking I found this a pretty dull read, with a “been there, read that before” feel to it – obviously Brown has found his winning formula and he’s going to stick to it. Expect more of Langdon’s friends/colleagues to die/lose body parts in highly public circumstances, with all evidence pointing towards an ancient and mysterious organisation, and a loony zealot orchestrating the moves... Ho hum.

The Memory Box by Margaret Forster

This, on the other hand, is a lovely thoughtful book about the relationship between a mother and her child, the impact of nature versus nurture, and the secret meaning of objects. A dying woman puts together a mysterious, sealed box of “memories” for her daughter Catherine to open and remember her by. Brought up by another woman, who she thinks of as her “real” mother, Catherine only seeks out the box after her step-mother dies. Investigating its contents, she is forced to confront her relationships with both women and how they inform her own self-absorption and inability to form bonds as an adult. Just beautiful.

The Unknown Terrorist by Richard Flanagan

Frighteningly, this book about a pole dancer who through a set of coincidences comes to be suspected of being a home-grown terrorist is all too believable. In this particular social and political climate, it’s all too easy for people to believe what they think they see without enquiring further. This is a thought-provoking book, and just a little bit scary...

The Strain by Guillermo Del Torro and Chuck Hogan

Regular readers of this blog will know I love vampire novels. Not in an insipid Twilight-sparkly-“vegetarian”-only-drink-animal-blood way but for books where the bloodsucking undead raise “bloody hell”.

Ever since reading an anthology of classic horror tales as a child I have been fascinated by vampires, in part because there was something so, well, romantic, about the mythology surrounding them. Not romantic in a hearts and flowers kind of way perhaps, but in an intense, exciting, hedonistic, emotionally expressive, and yes, erotic way. Is there anything more intimate than being all-consumed by another being’s passion and being reborn to live together forever? Don’t tell me that Stephenie Meyer hasn’t cottoned on to this. Her angsty books are all about teens denying themselves this connection. And you just know that both sexy Viking vamp Eric Northman and earnest “Vampire Bill” Compton from the True Blood TV series and books would give up their left fang to spend all eternity drinking in the luscious Sookie Stackhouse.

As a child, when most of the other kiddies wanted to be firemen or ballerinas, I wanted to be a vampire. Talk about being disappointed when I discovered that it wasn’t a viable career option... (Instead I decided to become a journalist, which some people would suggest is the same thing, but I say phooey to them.)

Ok, so I understand that none of this quite ties in with the “bloody hell” idea but it does go some way to explaining my enjoyment of vampire-themed novels.

The Strain, by Guillermo Toro, the director of a raft of disturbing flicks including Mimic, Hellboy and Pan’s Labyrinth, and Chuck Hogan, author of Prince of Thieves, doesn’t disappoint. The first part in a trilogy, this is a pacey, very contemporary tale that combines recent historical events, America’s fears of international terrorism and high-tech disease control procedure with some truly unpleasant monsters. Can’t wait to read part two.

Let the right one in by John Ajvude Lindqvist

As far as I know the only books I’ve read translated from Swedish before are the Millennium Trilogy, so I don’t know if all Swedish authors have such a dark sensibility, but oh boy, is that a scary little book. Still musing about vampires and the appeal of vampish literature after reading The Strain, I couldn’t resist this tale of the undead but the words “vampire love story” led me to believe this was going to be a Nordic version of Twilight. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

This is a genuinely horrifying tale of abuse and despair amongst the lowest echelons of Swedish society and the vampires who live amongst it.

The Killing Place by Tess Gerritsen

I’ve always found religious cults fascinating, not in a “where do I sign?” way, but as in “why do they do it”?

To follow the words of any “prophet” without question, to the risk of your own health, well-being, integrity and sanity, seems like madness rather than salvation to me. Obviously I will be engulfed in fiery fury when "The Rapture" (that is, the idea that God’s chosen people will be transported to heaven after Armageddon, while everyone else are left behind to die horribly) happens.

The concept of The Rapture is only one element of this intriguing thriller about the disappearance of the inhabitants of “Kingdom Come”, an insular religious community in a secluded mountain location, and the group of sightseers who are snowed in there after an accident. It pays not to be sidetracked while reading this book though - there are twists and turns galore and a very unexpected ending.

A thousand little pieces by James Frey

The first time I heard about this memoir by former alcoholic and crack addict Frey was a few years ago when my-then-boyfriend, who’d already confessed he’d had some substance abuse problems in the past, told me that it had resonated with him. James Frey appeared on Oprah, who praised him for the “emotional truth” of the book. And then it was revealed that James Frey had, ahem, embellished the truth somewhat, and that my ex still had some substance abuse problems. Oprah blasted him on her show and Bouncy Boy and I broke up.

Since then I’ve always vaguely wanted to read A thousand little pieces but in a low-priority, it’ll turn up one day kind-of way. When it did recently, on a friend’s bookshelf, I borrowed it post-haste.

Overall I found this book a gritty and disturbing portrayal of addiction and recovery, although parts of it seems just a little too pat, but would I have thought that if I hadn’t read it I hadn’t known about the controversy? It’s impossible to tell. What’s undeniable is that Frey is a good writer and this is a gripping read. I understand that many people feel that they were duped, believing this to be a “real” story, but does it really matter if the book if fiction, rather than memoir?

Personally I’ve always believed that every memoir/biography/diary is, if not tainted then at least coloured, by the subjective filters an author looks at their life through. My version of my “real” life would undoubtedly vary from your version of my life.

Interestingly, subsequent editions of A thousand little pieces feature a note from the author apologising for making up some portions of the book and for making himself seem "tougher and more daring and more aggressive than in reality I was, or I am." Haven’t we all done that at some point?

Dinner game: what your food choices say on dates

noreply@blogger.com (Ylla Wright) — Sun, 07 Nov 2010 00:31:00 +0000

In one of those weird cosmic coincidences I received a press release this week about a survey claiming to reveal what a person's food preferences say to potential partners, not more than two hours after having a discussion with a friend whether he could, should or would date a vegan he'd recently met.

According to the survey most singles (84%) would prefer a partner with a relaxed attitude to food choices, with 72% saying they'd like a partner that "eats anything". Around 50% of both genders said that choosing a vegetarian meal suggested that a date was a finicky eater or just plain boring, and almost 40% of respondants admitted that they would reconsider dating someone if they discovered they were a vegetarian. Only 4% of singles professed a preference for a vegetarian or vegan partner.

Meat eaters on the other hand were seen as "easy going and enjoying life". According to the press release "females who order beef are more likely to be viewed as confident and outgoing and male beef-eaters are viewed as more masculine, especially among city slickers".

Given that the survey was commissioned by Meat & Livestock Australia it would be interesting to see how the questions were phrased (I, for example, have never mused over whether eating Beef Bourguignon makes a man more masculine or not), however I do think the survey probably does reflect attitudes pretty accurately.

I have nothing against vegetarians or vegans; quite often order the vegetarian option on a menu, without considering myself boring, and am determined to master cooking with tofu, but would I want to date someone who didn't eat meat? Or any animal products, in the case of vegans?

I am one of those people who will eat just about anything (except olives, offal and, my nemesis, sea urchin); enjoys eating a wide variety of different foods, dishes and cuisines, and in fact searches them out. My main concern about vegetarian and vegan diets is that they are by their very nature restricting. And while there are an infinite number of delicious, exciting vegetarian dishes out there, have you looked at the vegetarian options available on the average restaurant menu lately? When there's only one meat-free entree and one main on a menu choice goes out the window. Of course that needn't worry me, if I was only dating a vegetarian; there's no reason I couldn't breezily order a steak, being the "confident and outgoing" woman that I am.

The more I think about this the more I think that the food choices we make do reflect elements of our personality to a certain extent, but not in the broadly generalised way this study suggests. Human psychology is far too complex to be distilled down purely to whether a person chooses the beef or vegetarian lasagne.

It also seems to me that I wouldn't really want to date someone superficial enough to judge me on what I do or don't eat.

Book project 2010: update #22

noreply@blogger.com (Ylla Wright) — Thu, 28 Oct 2010 23:41:00 +0000

Hmmm, not entirely sure what I've been doing this fortnight - I certainly wasn't knocking myself out reading...

I did however buy a stack of novels at last weekend's second-hand book fair in Leichhardt so I have no excuse not to immerse myself in a good book (or five) in the next couple of weeks. Yippee!

Sanctuary by Raymond Khoury

I’m not sure I gave this book much of a chance and yet I gave it more of a chance than my instinct told me to. Neither sword fights involving 17th century French aristocrats nor American army units on the hunt for chemical weapons are really my thing; in one book, definitely not.

Queen of the South by Arturo Perez-Reverte

What an unexpectedly fantastic read this book is. I had no expectations and could barely work out from the back what it was about – all superlative-heavy reviews, no actual blurb – but I loved it. The plot is gripping from go to whoa and Teresa Mendoza, a young Mexican woman who through circumstances beyond her control becomes a major player in the international drugs trade, is a superb, complex, sympathetic character. I may have to search out some of Perez-Reverte’s other books.

The thirteenth tale by Diane Setterfield

Enigmatic novelist Vita Winter is a fantasist, bewitching her readers and never telling the same story twice to journalists. Commissioning biographer Margaret Lea to write her life, she promises to tell the “truth”, in the process opening a window to the secret of Margaret’s own birth. This is a strangely brooding, almost gothic, novel with elements of Henry James’ Turn of the Screw and Jane Eyre to be found. Ghosts, madness and the ties that bind us to our siblings are at the heart of this book and along with the two main characters the reader has to confront them before it’s done. I’ve always enjoyed stories about literature and storytelling (A S Byatt’s Possession is still one of my favourite books) and I wasn’t disappointed with this one – this is one of those books you can’t help but stay up late to finish.

"Dine out to help out" on again

noreply@blogger.com (Ylla Wright) — Tue, 19 Oct 2010 06:23:00 +0000

The impending arrival of the silly season always seems to inspire a run of "we must catch up"-type plans with friends, family and random acquaintances you've happily not seen since, oooh, let me see, last November...

One positive in this flurry of festive social activity is lots of opportunities to contribute to StreetSmart Australia's "Dine Out to Help Out" campaign which raises money for grassroots charities supporting the homeless, on again this year from November 8 to December 24.

During the campaign StreetSmart's participating restaurant partners ask customers to add a small donation to their bill - even as little as $2 helps - with the money going to support homeless refuges and charities selected based on their need and proximity to the restaurant.

Last year StreetSmart raised $351,400, while the scheme has raised a grand total of $1,180,000 since launching in 2003. With the proceeds of the 2009 initiative, StreetSmart apparently funded 84 grassroots projects with 100% of funds raised going to homeless organisations.
Participating Sydney restaurants include Longrain, Otto, Coast and Universal. A full list of restaurants is available on the StreetSmart website. Or make a donation here anytime.

Now, who's for dinner?

Book project 2011: update #21

noreply@blogger.com (Ylla Wright) — Thu, 14 Oct 2010 11:50:00 +0000

My internet is still playing up so I’m posting this today, just in case it won't be tomorrow.

Since I last added to my book list I’ve spent a week in Thailand, mostly for work but including one very satisfying day spent reading on a shady sun lounger by the swimming pool of the Hua Hin resort I was staying in. Sadly, there was a distinctive lack of plastic monkeys and paper umbrellas dressing up the cocktails on offer (it seems even Thai pool bars have gone upmarket) but otherwise it was bliss!

My only regret is that so far I haven't managed to enjoy any of the many fabulous Crave Sydney International Food Festival events on this month. Hopefully I can make up for lost time before Halloween rolls around....

Clara Callan by Richard B Wright

I found this portrait of the lives of two sisters, Clara and Nora Callan (respectively a small town schoolteacher and a small time radio star), in the late 1930s both understated and poignant. The personal journeys both women take from innocence to experience are as compelling as the picture Wright paints of the period itself.

So cold the river by Michael Koryta

I picked this supernatural thriller to read on the plane to Bangkok on the basis of my enjoyment of The Passage (somewhat irrationally as the two books share neither the same author nor subject matter), but I think, in the end, I don’t actually like supernatural thrillers. Just vampire tales.

A white arrest by Ken Bruen

A serial killer knocking off British cricketers? Ah ha, finally someone’s come up with a make to test match more interesting! While surprisingly “gritty” this contemporary British crime novel was ultimately unsatisfying, perhaps because it was always intended to be the opening book of a trilogy, rather than a stand-alone book. I won’t be rushing out to find parts two and three.

Arms and the women by Reginald Hill

There is a parable drawing heavily on Greek mythology at the heart of this thriller featuring detectives Dalziel and Pascoe however as a creative device it annoyed me while I was reading it, and now that I’m not, I can’t be bothered revisiting and decoding it. Suffice it is to say the story takes its main protagonist on a voyage of discovery. Heavy handed is the phrase that comes to mind.

Freedom by Jonathan Franzen

When I asked a dear friend if she’d recommend this book, she suggested that if I’d liked Franzen’s previous book The Corrections I’d like this one. Hmmm, it seems that The Corrections is one of those books that I can’t remember... I definitely read it – I’m looking at it on my bookshelf right now – but what was it about? Did I enjoy it? No idea. Will I remember Freedom in a year’s time? I suspect not. I did enjoy it but I didn’t find that it captured my imagination much. I simply didn’t care enough about the characters, which is a bit of a problem in a character driven novel such as this.

Luke Mangan: Making of a chef

Far be it from me to suggest that bad, abusive or drug-abusing behaviour be rewarded but when it comes to chefs’ biographies it certainly makes for a more interesting read. In this book about Sydney chef Luke Mangan (Glass Brasserie), he comes across as a pleasant, if somewhat arrogant at times (by his own admission), bloke. Hmmm....

Book project 2010: Update # 20

noreply@blogger.com (Ylla Wright) — Thu, 30 Sep 2010 20:51:00 +0000

My home internet has been off and on in the last two weeks and since I can’t take the risk of being late again – apparently you guys miss me! – I’m posting before work, sitting up in bed eating brekkie. Who knows if there will be any connection when I get home.

Splendor and squalor by Marcus Scriven

I bought this book by accident, after browsing the Book Depository website one evening. Although I had clicked on the “notify me when this book comes in” tab, I was very surprised to see it arrive in the mail. Somehow I’d imagined I’d simply be notified when the book came into stock and be given the choice to buy it or not. Silly me... Oh well, not to worry, this tale of British aristocracy gone bad is actually quite interesting, in a salacious/tragic kind of way. After reading it I was left thinking, ‘where are the white sheep in these families’...

Flicker by Theodore Roszac

Wow, this is a dense book. I didn’t expect it to be – it’s about Hollywood and movie making, after all. Oh, and, a few other things like medieval heresy, the secret and technological history of film, the power of non-procreative sex, paranoia and the coming apocalypse in 2014. Good heavens. I quite enjoyed it though, even if some of the technical aspects of film craft and religious theory went over my head. I don’t know anything about Roszac but I’m going to hazard a guess, based on his tone, style and “factual” information and say he’s an academic...

Ahh, yep (thank you Google), he is (or was) a history professor at the California State University. QED.

Case of lies by Perri O’shaughnessy

Oh, what a lovely Irish name, to be sure, to be sure – it gladdens my heart. There’s nothing particularly “Irish” about this novel - set in Tahoe in the US, of all places – but it’s a gripping enough thriller. I’m writing this about 36 hours after I finished this book and I can’t remember much about the plot, which suggests something I think...

Roadside crosses by Jeffery Deaver

Ok, this is shaping up to be another bog standard thriller by a man who, let’s face it, churns one out about every 10 minutes, however I am learning a few things about the interweb and history of blogging. Apparently the http in website addresses means “hypertext transfer protocol”, blog comes from web blog (ie. web diary), RSS stands for "resource description framework site syndication", and there is a war going on between the “tech blogs” and “war blogs”... Who knew, blogsters and tweeps?

Book project 2010: update # 19

noreply@blogger.com (Ylla Wright) — Mon, 20 Sep 2010 07:50:00 +0000

Ooops, this post went up late and incomplete, but in my defence my internet was down all weekend and I was so excited to have it back last night I pressed "post" before I'd finished. It happens, right? Right?

Here is what I have been reading this fortnight...

My booky wook by Russell Brand

Sometime last year I dated an incredibly smart and serious academic who, somewhat improbably, introduced me to Russell Brand (figuratively). The comedian and TV presenter had previously only appeared on my radar as a tabloid figure, pictured looking shifty under headlines such as “Brand shagger of the year”. I’ve been intrigued and slightly attracted to him ever since (apparently that whole shaggy haired, eyeliner-wearing shtick works for me since I also think Captain Jack Sparrow from Pirates of the Caribbean is sizzlin’ hot). A former junkie and sex addict, outrageously flamboyant performer, and up-for-anything Essex boy, it’s really no surprise this autobiography is such an entertaining read. Yes, as the book seller at Rozelle markets said, Brand is a “obnoxious little tosser” (way to get sales, dude) but I enjoyed this book anyway.

The luminous life of Lilly Aphrodite by Beatrice Colin

Orphaned in scandalous circumstances, Lilly Aphrodite is in turns a half-starved and unloved waif, a fallen woman, a demure office girl, a glamorous silent movie star and a loving wife, yet most of all she is an enigma. This dark, seductive tale of loss and reinvention is set in Berlin in the early decades of the 20th Century and is a study of both the heady decadence and grinding poverty that categorised the period. Mesmerising stuff.

Truth by Peter Temple

After reading The Broken Shore a few weeks ago (see Book project 2010: update #16 I want to be able to say that I enjoyed this follow up which won the 2010 Miles Franklin prize but I got a little lost towards the end. The book is undeniably well written – Temple’s dialogue is brilliant – but I don’t have a clear picture of where all the characters fit in or how the myriad threads of the story came together. Hmmm, perhaps I shouldn’t have been reading it at the same time as...

After America by John Birmingham

Set four years after the first book in the series, Without Warning, which saw America as we know it destroyed by a mysterious “wave” of energy, this book is about the battle to rebuild, with the forces of “good” taking on a mixed bag of looters, pirates, religious extremists and political opportunists at every turn. Great fun!

The Chrysalids by John Wyndham

Whenever I pick up a Penguin Classic and read the blurb (“He just wanted a decent book to read... Not too much to ask was it? It was in 1935 when Allen Lane stood on a British railway platform...”) I always think I’ve read this book...

As it happens I have read this particular Penguin Classic before, but not to worry; I enjoyed this post-apocalyptic novel just as much this time as previously. What’s interesting is that this book was written in the 1950s, at the height of the Cold War, which both explains the context of the story and makes the key intellectual themes of the book (genetics, evolution, religious dogma, cultural relativism and generational change) all the more prescient. In this book Wyndham asks the question “what is the true form of mankind?”; a question that 50+ years later we don’t have an adequate answer for.