A wondrous novel by one of Australia's most well-regarded writers. Somewhere in the kaleidoscope between life and art sits Clare, whose story is Marion Halligan's latest novel. Clare, like Marion, is a woman of a certain age whose much-loved husband of thirty odd years has just died.
Marion Halligan AM was an Australian writer and novelist. Born and educated in Newcastle, New South Wales, she worked as a school teacher and journalist prior to turning to full time writing.
A long time resident of Canberra, she was a member of a group of women writers based in Canberra known as the "Canberra Seven" or "Seven Writers" (1980-1997).
She has won and been shortlisted for numerous significant awards, notably for The Point, Lovers' Knots, Spider Cup and The Golden Dress.
In 2006 Halligan was made a Member in the Order of Australia (AM), General Division, for services to literature and for her work in promoting Australian literature.
Apparently in an interview she gave Marion Halligan gave some advice on reading which was “Read a wise book and lay its balm on your soul.” This is one of those books.
DNF. This book reminded me of Luther's quote to Erasmus: "your book... struck me as so worthless and poor that my heart went out to you for having defiled your lovely, brilliant flow of language with such vile stuff. I thought it outrageous to convey material of such low quality in the trappings of such rare eloquence; it is like using gold or silver dishes to carry garden rubbish or dung."
I appreciate the respect that the book deserves as it is clearly part of Halligan's own journey of grief in personal loss. The character, however, who is similarly facing loss, seemingly looks for meaning in comfort in sexual experiences. To me at least, the book strikes as wildly self-indulgent & introspective - not to mention vulgar. There is no hope or vision (at least there wasn't up until the point that I put it down, just couldn't stomach any more), although Halligan is simply a product of the dominant worldview and culture of Western Society at that point. Sexuality is reduced to a search for self-fulfillment.
A friend once said to me that you can go through the dumpster and piece together an edible meal, but you're still going to come out with filth all over you (and you still might get food poisoning...). Why not take a shower and sit down to a nice meal without the hassle in the first place? This is a fitting analogy for this book.
A long time since I read this but having just re-read some of Marion Halligan's early short stories I'm adding books of hers that I read in the past. This was a meditation on grief, written after the death of Halligan's husband. I have often found the fog garden in the National Gallery in Canberra a place to reflect and find solace and I liked the way Halligan used the metaphor in this novel. I remember laughing and shedding tears when I read this book. It's on my bookshelf so I'm promising myself a re-read soon.
I tried to read a paperback (Goodreads does not have a paperback edition, and I can't be bothered to try and add one), this is relevant because it was the lack of quote marks for speech killed it for me.
I just can't deal! I have no idea who thinks this is a good idea, but all it means is that I can't tell what the story is meant to be, who is speaking, is ANYONE even speaking? It is annoying and frustrating. Poignant, wistful and erratic novels - I can enjoy them sometimes, but not without punctuation.
The beautiful gentle descriptive prose just drew me in to this book. It certainly is no run of the mill novel of grief and love but that clearly was her intent. I found myself sharing and feeling her emotional journey in a very profound way. A book to start reading and not put down - not one for reading just a few pages at a time. You need to allow yourself to be fully absorbed.