I hate not having The Next Book ready to go. And in the absence of a reading waitlist - damn you Cardinia-Casey library and your ridiculous queue (I am 207th for the Elena Ferrante book which I really wanted to read next).
Never without a back-up plan, I frequently trawl Brotherhood Books Online (they deliver to the door, free, for 3 or more books) to provide with me with back up reading, which I like to affectionately call The Lesbian Library. I like a good read, and having nothing against heterosexual people (I have two as children and a number as friends), but let's face it, it's always nice to read about your own community.
And it was here, in my back up library, that I found McCrary Boyd's book, published in 1992, and purchased by me about five years ago.
What a treat. What a lovely lyrical, unwinding story. Really lovely.
The intro talks about a childhood memory where she and a mate played Tarzan and no one wanted to be Jane.
The author bio says McCrary Boyd teaches writing. Well, it shows.
The writing and recollections never seemed forced. They are vague. Like memories are. There are questions, traumas and they all build naturally to the end.
The southern plantation house is gothic in its mystique and description. Even it's history appears to have a story to tell.
The relationships seem real, the connection with her partner naturally everyday and the strained relationship with her mother very believable. The struggles she has seem like a friend is telling you about a hard time and you don't really know what to say and the story goes on, anyway.
Just lovely.