Life, Death, a huge Topical Divergence, and some thoughts.

Hello Reader(s),

I can't believe it is already February.  January went rather quickly didn't?  It feels like it was only just New Year, and now it's already February.  In two weeks classes finally go back!  I'm not sure if I am just super enthusiastic to get started already, or if it's because I'm so nervous that I just want to get on with it already.

Things I am glad about so far this year:

·         I have finally gotten back the ability to read a book all the way through and actually enjoy it.  In fact I have read several novels, in the last couple of weeks.  I'll talk about them in a minute.

·         The success of my Jelly Bean plant cuttings.

·         Hanging out and lazing with my cat.

Things I am not glad about so far into this year:

·         My current lack of purpose.  I seriously feel like I don't have anything all that important to do.

·         I currently have so much free time, I am abusing it.  I will regret this in exactly two weeks.

·         I feel fat and not at all motivated to really do anything at the moment.  I have to force myself to do anything.  I will also more than likely regret this in exactly two weeks as well, when I realise how much free time I really don't have to do things anymore.  Like going for an hour and a half walk around the neighbourhood, with the luxury of knowing I haven't got anything due tomorrow.

·         I think maybe, this could all be lumped under - the heading, Distinct Lack of Routine.  No further explanation really necessary.

Seriously what do unemployed people do all the time?  Being on holidays for a little while is fun, being unemployed for a little while can be fun too. Oh, to be unemployed with no end of the monotony in sight?  What do you do to pass the time?  Doesn't doing nothing get exhaustingly boring?  I have been off since the end of November, and am still doing my 10 hours a week at work, but other than that - feel entirely purposeless.  Cleaning the house or weeding the garden is only so rewarding.  And smashing through novels, although I properly enjoy it, I need something to break up the monotony.  Don't you?

Two weeks of freedom to abuse/savour.  And counting down the days.

And now, let's talk about glorious, fabulous books.

I began the year with Markus Zusak's, The Book Thief, which was pretty spectacularly written.  I actually regret not reading it all those years ago when it was a brand new book that I borrowed from the library. I think it's a really important novel, set in Nazi Germany, as it demonstrates the position of regular everyday Germans during the Nazi regime. It is filled with thought provoking material, and encourages one to not only sympathise with the Jews, or to simply choose a side, as most WW2 narratives do, but to also sympathise with ordinary Germans.  I love that the novel was narrated by death, who is both an impartial narrator and figure in the war.  I think the beautiful thing about having the novel narrated by Death is, that as a reader you are not forced to choose a side, you don't want all the Germans to die, just as much as you don't want all the Jews to die, you're aren't rooting for the allies either - ultimately, you end up rooting for humanity and life, despite all the horrendous crap that happens in the war and the world.

One of my favourite quotes from the novel basically conveys this, much more eloquently than I could myself:

"It's probably fair to say that in all the years of Hitler's reign, no person was able to serve the Fuhrer as loyally as me.  A human doesn't have a heart like mine.  The human heart is a line, whereas my own is a circle, and I have the endless ability to be in the right place at the right time.  The consequence of this is that I'm always finding humans at their best and worst.  I see their ugly and their beauty, and I wonder how the same thing can be both.  Still, they have one thing that I envy.  Humans, if nothing else, have the good sense to die." -Zusak.

Ultimately, it's a very similar sentiment to the one expressed in a line from the Harry Potter film Series, "We've all got both light and dark inside us.  What matters is the part we choose to act on.  That's who we really are."  Basically, we have the capacity for both good or bad, to be ugly or beautiful (not in the superficial sense), it's never just black and white, it is much more complex.  And I think The Book Thief communicates this rather well, suggesting that despite all this, we die all the same: 'I've seen so many young men over the years who think they're running at other young men.  They are not. They're running at me."

I then read The Railway Man's Wife, which I have already briefly reviewed in a previous blog, you can also find it by clicking the book tab on this page.

Coincidentally, I began this year, by reading books written primarily by Australian authors, which was in no way deliberate.  With exception to Victoria Connelly's, A Weekend With Mr Darcy, which was fun, enjoyable, but entirely predictable and not exactly amazing, or worth bragging about - harsh, but true.

Back to the Australian literature, I confess, I have never been a huge fan or supporter of Australian literature or writing.  I'm not entirely sure if this was due to content or character's I didn't particularly relate to, or the lack of attention given to books written by Australian authors in the Australian media.  Additionally, it would seem that Australian books only really get that kind of attention if they are being made into film, like, Tomorrow, When the War Began , Looking for Alibrandi or Mary Poppins, (but who even really knew that Mary Poppins was a book written by an Australian author?), or Bryce Courtenay's books being turned into a number of  miniseries.

There are a number of great books and series out there written by Australian authors, but I don't recall any of them getting the kind of attention given to books written by international authors.  Then again, I'm not sure my examples will be all that good, because I guess that just because I read and enjoyed them, doesn't mean that others will.  It's also easy to assume, that many will never become screen adaptations, or an HBO series or even hugely popular, like Harry Potter, Twilight, The Hunger Games, or Fifty Shades of Grey. (Please note: I am talking about overall popularity, not necessarily quality writing - I acknowledge that the quality of writing in both Twilight and Fifty Shades is debatable). Great books by Australian authors are just not given that same kind of attention, Isobelle Carmody's Obernewtyn Chronicles is not likely to become an HBO series, Garth Nix's Old Kingdom Trilogy, probably will never be a three part movie franchise.  Australian books are important too, we just don't hear about them, as much.  Is Looking for Alibrandi still a thing?  (This is partly another reason why I am excited to start my teaching degree this year, I want to know what the hell we are making young people read - Is it still John Marsden, Melina Marchetta, Paul Jennings and Morris Gleitzman?).

I understand a diverse range of literature is important, but it's equally important to support and encourage Australian literature and to promote it. All books are important, they help us understand a number of complex things and enable us to understand and think about our past, present and future, and the kind of society or kind of person/people we want to be, as well as broaden our world view.  Which is why I think books written by Australian authors is equally important.  Although international books and film are vital to culture and global perspective, they are often a situated in a different (although similar) social setting or use language and cultural references which are slightly different.  It's necessary to provide literature that is unique to a country or region, as it provides readers with a better understanding or view of their own society, as well as highlighting past or current social issues and explaining how our society has evolved.  This is particularly interesting in Australia's case, due to the fact that our social structure has evolved rather quickly in comparison to other societal configurations around the world.  Furthermore, specifically Australian literature enables one to see where and how we fit within the larger global community.

Now that went in a completely different direction than where I began, what a divergence.

I think I will continue with this theme again, when I review Jackie French's Matilda Saga.

Also in the comments, feel free to list or discuss great books that you've read or heard about by Australian authors.  Sharing is caring.

Until next time, TTFN, Ta Ta For Now.