This year will be the first year of the Writers Festival at Federation Square, rather than our beloved (albeit somewhat crowded) Malthouse Theatre.
Organisers announced the dates yesterday - 22nd to 31st August, so we'd better start preparing holidays, comfy shoes and the whole box and dice.
I like reading dedications in books and imaging the story behind them. Absolution has a ripper - To Jessie Ramsay, born 1904. You can tell a Sheffield lass, You just cannot tell her much.
The book has two main sections, so I thought a little grab from each:
Anna, Glasgow 1984
Nothing but white.
No sense. No awareness. Only white.
Nothing more than the ebb and flow of life.
Blurbed as Five Hunters. Thirteen hostages. One reluctant hero, the first paragraph of POWER PLAY is:
"If you've never killed someone, you really can't imagine what it's like. You don't want to know. It leaves you with something hard and leaden in the pit of your stomach, something that never dissolves."
Over on my partner's own blog (which you can now see via News and Views as well), he's been posting some reviews of books read whilst travelling recently.
The first review is
and the second is for
(Both are books which he is recommending incidentally).
Recently, on his way back from Orlando, storms there held Adam up, which meant an unexpected overnight in LA, and a quick trip to Small World Books in Venice Beach - lucky me scored some great Bitter Lemon and SOHO Crime titles. The first of these I read was Goat Song by Chantal Pelletier. Opening paragraph:
This is actually the first Ed Loy book - I read the second, The Colour of Blood a while ago and really liked it - so I've been meaning to get to this first book for a while.
"The night of my mother's funeral, Linda Dawson cried on my shoulder, put her tongue in my mouth and asked me to find her husband. Now she was lying dead on her living-room floor, and the howl of a police siren echoed through the surrounding hills."
In an article today on The Sydney Morning Herald's site it's been announced that Sandra Harvey has died after a short battle with cancer. She was 49 years old.
Just a short snippet from the article:
"Harvey, a former Sydney Morning Herald and AAP journalist, wrote a number of acclaimed non-fiction books about notorious Australian crimes.
Paranormal crime fiction, which should be interesting for me at least. First paragraph:
"She didn't feel quite right about the red dress; it wasn't a red dress kind of day. The blue one was nice. She'd tried on the blue one twice already, but the more she thought about it, te more she knew it had to be green. Yes, green would be best for today."
Not having quite finished with my current run of "darks" - Dark Flight, by Lin Anderson. This is my second book from this Edinburgh based author.
Little more than a first paragraph this time, to give you a general feel for how the book opens
"'You can go outside, but stay in the garden. Do you hear me, Stephen?' His mum's voice was shrill, like a witch's.