Weekend Reads

Too Close to the Falls by Catherine Gildiner book cover in front of a 1950s era family sitting in their loungeroom.

Too Close to the Falls by Catherine Gildiner

Do you have a book that you spend your life recommending to people? For me that book is Too Close to the Falls by Catherine Gildiner. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve hyped up this memoir.

The thing is, this book doesn’t even look like it’s my vibe – its sepia cover presents like a tame story about an ordinary person. And that’s not what this book is like at all. (What they say is true – you can’t judge a book by its cover.)

Our heroine, Cathy McClure, is an extraordinary girl growing up in a very conventional time and place – Lewiston, a town near Niagara Falls, in the 1950s.

Diagnosed as having an overactive “metronome” (what we would now call ADHD), the family doctor declares the solution to keep young Cathy calm is a job in her dad’s pharmacy – at four years old.

Whether she’s dispensing sleeping pills to Marilyn Monroe (in town to film “Niagara”), losing part of her ear while stuck in a deadly snowstorm (never scratch frostbite!), or causing complete havoc at her conservative Catholic school (stabbing her bully), Cathy is an incredibly endearing character.

Gildiner’s storytelling is like listening to someone fascinating at a dinner party who tells the best stories – you just want to hear more from her. Her writing is unpretentious and conversational, and the scenarios she tells are just so funny.

I particularly love Cathy’s stories about her mother, an amateur historian who refuses to cook (like, ever) and whose reaction to visitors is to yell “Hit the deck!” at which the entire family lies on the floor and pretends not to be home, so they don’t have to receive guests.

The best thing about this book is that Cathy’s story continues, with two more books that follow her up to her college days. So once you finish Too Close to the Calls, you can reach for After the Falls, and then Coming Ashore. And rest assured, Cathy’s life is never boring.

Amaryllis Night and Day by Russell Hoban book cover. Image courtesy of Cherie Cooper. With an upside-down cityscape behind it at night.

Amaryllis Night and Day by Russell Hoban

What would you do if you kept dreaming about a woman urging you to board a bus made of rice paper? And then one day (in real life) she walked up to you in a museum and asked why you wouldn’t get on the bus?

Amaryllis Night and Day by Russell Hoban is a love story that takes place mostly in the subconscious. It’s the story of artist Peter and the mysterious Amaryllis, who finds him in a dream – and then teaches him how to “glim”, a kind of lucid dreaming that forms most of their courtship.

This is a playful and unusual story. It’s a short book, but it’s packed with insightful and funny metaphors. Disoriented after he begins having odd dreams, Peter is beset by “the feeling you get when you reach for something on the top shelf of a cupboard and everything falls on your head.” Before his life is enriched with Amaryllis, he sees empty buses and thinks them “Coachloads of emptiness (that) waited for their children to return”, foreshadowing his eventual dreamland coach adventures with his future love.

This whimsical book is a weird but charming love story, and I really liked how unserious it was – and at 176 pages it can easily be demolished in a weekend.

The Tall Man: Death and Life on Palm by Chloe Hooper book cover in front of an Indigenous Australian's feet in water.

The Tall Man: Death and Life on Palm Island By Chloe Hooper

Chloe Hooper is one of those writers who only produces solid gold. Fiction, true crime, memoir – she does it all.

I first came across her when I read her excellent novel The Engagement, a mind-bending modern fairytale of a date gone wrong (or right – it’s hard to tell.)

The Tall Man: Death and Life on Palm Island follows the court case of Cameron Doomadgee, an Indigenous man who died in police custody on Palm Island.

This book shows us the past is never really that far away. It’s an examination of justice, the complexities of race in Australia, and the multi-generational trauma experienced by many Indigenous Australians. Hooper delves into the horrors of colonisation to help examine the tragedies of today.

Hooper is truly journalistic in the balanced and detailed way she tells this complex story. But her own personal observations, when they do surface, are invaluable, lending heart and perspective to a deeply sad and difficult story.

Her writing is skilled and nuanced, weaving together Indigenous history and culture with contemporary law and society.

This year marks 10 years since the death of Doomadgee. If you haven’t heard his story, Hooper’s book is an excellent place to start.

The Nickel Boys by Colson Whitehead book cover with Florida beach in the background

The Nickel Boys by Colson Whitehead

“Even in death the boys were trouble.”
Some books are propelled forward by an incredible story. Others are notable for beautiful writing. If you’re lucky, you find a book that has both, like this one. The Nickel Boys by Colson Whitehead (winner of the 2020 Pulitzer Prize in Fiction) has been on my “To read” list for a while, so when I spied it secondhand, I grabbed it instantly.

It’s the story of the intelligent and sensitive Elwood Curtis, a young black boy growing up in turbulent times – 1960s Florida. With his sights set firmly on a future studying the classics in college, Elwood isn’t a boy who goes looking for trouble – until trouble finds him. He is hauled away to the Nickel Academy, a horrendous “reform school” where black and white children are segregated, and the punishments range from the awful to the unthinkable.

This book grabs you and won’t let go. Whitehead’s elegant prose simmers with outrage as the reader witnesses the outrageous cruelty the “Nickel boys” are subjected to, suffering under a “pitiless constellation of negligence” and Elwood is irrevocably changed by his imprisonment.

This isn’t an uplifting book and nor should it be – but among the terrible brutality the characters experience, there are rays of hope – friendship and immense courage shine through. It’s a compelling story and one I kept thinking about long after the final page

When I Forgot by Elina Hirvonen book cover being held by a hand in front of a snow-covered road

When I Forgot by Elina Hirvonen

This short read is an emotional punch to the gut, but it’s also very beautiful.

When I Forgot by Elina Hirvonen is about Anna, whose parents are urging her to visit her brother Joona in hospital. Struggling to work up the courage, Anna retreats to a cafe where her thoughts drift from the present to a past mired in sadness and confusion.

Anna’s relationship with her brother is burdened by enormous guilt. She loves him deeply but struggles to reconcile their unmistakable bond with his extremely unsettling behaviour. Anna’s memories of their life together are interspersed with her boyfriend’s reminiscences of his own traumatic coming of age.

When I Forgot is densely packed with insights about familial and romantic love. For a slim novel, it’s very deep. It’s really about the difficulties of accepting people who can be hugely damaging to those around them.

It might sound bleak, but this story is ultimately hopeful. Hirvonen’s writing style is sparse yet elegant – she’s so good at describing Anna’s point of view that you feel like you’re seeing through her eyes. It’s well worth a read.

The Patron Saint of Liars by Ann Patchett

The Patron Saint of Liars by Ann Patchett

It’s a glorious feeling when you realise…

A. Ann Patchett exists!

B. You can safely pick up any book with “Ann Patchett” printed on the cover knowing it’s going to be a great read.

My mum loaned me The Patron Saint of Liars, Patchett’s first published novel. And appropriately, it’s a book about what motherhood means for different people: Those having babies, those giving them away, and those who mother people who aren’t their children.

We follow the mysterious young Rose, who leaves her husband and beloved mother in the 1960s to travel to a remote home for unwed mothers – despite being married. As her journey progresses, we get to know Rose’s (new) husband’s tragic backstory, and eventually meet her daughter Cecilia.

Patchett’s writing is unhurried, deep, and emotional – never fussy or maudlin. She’s a literary writer who is also incredibly readable. This book is about the experiences that shape us as people, and how difficult it can be to ever truly know another person, despite how much you love them.

The Road by Cormac McCarthy

The Road by Cormac McCarthy

You’ve probably heard of The Road.

It not only snagged the 2007 Pulitzer Prize for fiction, it was adapted into a fantastic movie. It also regularly appears on lists of most disturbing books.

Personally, I love unsettling books (that’s just me) but don’t let that description put you off. The Road is gloriously readable, thrilling, and moving. Cormac McCarthy’s prose is staccato, boldly quotation mark-less, and gorgeous – it’s like poetry carved into granite.

The Road follows the journey of an unnamed father and son, making their way through the treacherous landscape of a world blackened by an unspeakable disaster. In true McCarthy style, he only tells us what we need to know – our imagination does the rest.

The Road really asks, in an environment of unspeakable horror, where hope is all but extinguished, can love really endure? This book is ultimately a story about the sacrifices we make for the people we truly love.

Yes, it’s bleak. Yes, it’s disturbing. But it’s also gorgeously written, incredibly worthy, and ultimately uplifting. This read is also a great introduction to the work of a truly masterful writer.

We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson book cover

We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson

Halloween is officially here, and this weekend’s read has it all. Haunted house? Check. Witchcraft? Check. Mysterious family secrets? Double check!

We Have Always Lived in the Castle (epic title) comes to us from the Queen of Horror herself, the legendary Shirley Jackson.

Portrait of a Killer: Jack the Ripper - Case Closed, book being held by a hand with a spooky skull print in dark blue in the background. Image courtesy of Cherie Cooper

Portrait of a Killer: Jack the Ripper – Case Closed By Patricia Cornwell

We’re well into October and what better way to get in the spooky spirit than with a creepy read?

Currently I’m devouring Patricia Cornwell’s Portrait of a Killer: Jack the Ripper – Case Closed, because what’s scarier than an unsolved crime?

Cornwell’s CERTAIN she’s found the true identity of the Ripper and her book outlines exactly why she’s pointing the finger at a respected artist and actor.

The best thing about this book is how it draws you into the murky, smokey 1800s Whitechapel – the details of daily life in this time are just as fascinating as Cornwell’s killer-catching thesis.

Beware – it’s not for the faint of heart. But if you love true crime with a touch of historical whimsy, this could be the right read for a cosy candlelit weekend read.

The TAO of Coaching by Max Landsberg

The TAO of Coaching by Max Landsberg

Max Landsberg offers a refreshingly practical guide for those of us who could use a bit of structure in talking ourselves off the ledge and onto the path of progress. It’s not about grand revelations, but about nudging yourself toward clearer thinking, better decisions, and the occasional self-high-five for a job well done.