Bill Brydon

“The Incredible Woman raged through the skies, lassoed a planet, set it in orbit, rescued a starship, flattened a mountain, straightened a building, smiled at a child, caught a few thieves, all in one morning, and then, took a little time off to visit her psychiatrist, since she is at heart a really womanly woman and all she wants is a normal life.”
― Suniti Namjoshi, The Fabulous Feminist

“The Beast considered these arguments circular, but she discovered also that she was unhappy. Boys didn’t interest her. She fell in love with a girl. The girl disapproved, and she found that she was now the object of ridicule. She became more and more solitary and turned to books. But the books made it clear that men loved women, and women loved men, and men rode off and had all sorts of adventures and women stayed at home. ‘I know what it is,’ she said one day, ‘I know what is wrong: I am not human. The only story that fits me at all is the one about the Beast. But the Beast doesn’t change from a Beast to a human because of its love. It’s just the reverse. And the Beast isn’t fierce. It’s extremely gentle. It loves Beauty, but it lives alone and dies alone.’ And that’s what she did. Her”
― Suniti Namjoshi, The Fabulous Feminist

“Indeed, on their respective days of owning the tongue, each of the neighbours could not help but echo the mouth of the previous owner. The Italian family eventually developed a taste for the occasional cardamom tea, the Filipino adventurously spread some Vegemite on his pan de sal and, at one time, the Australian couple stirred fish heads into their sour soup. Meanwhile, the Sri Lankan began hosting summer feasts by the barbie, and the Turkish baker even serenaded his wife with songs about love and volcanoes as he prepared a tray of almond biscotti for the oven. You see, the tongue had an excellent memory. Even when it had moved to a new mouth, it still evoked the breath of spices, sweets and syllables of the former host. It was never known to forget anything, least of all the fact that it was once the soft, pink flesh of a South Coast mollusc; it yielded itself to a higher good one winter night when the ocean was formidably wild.”
― Merlinda Bobis, White Turtle

“She ran around the lawn, holding the box with the dying yellow which was pleading to be divested of its heart. When she reached the gate of her husband’s estate, she couldn’t stand the breathing or the pleading any longer. She flung the box away and fled to the house without looking back. Her husband returned six months later. While inside her that night, he remarked about the pretty new shrubs at the gate. He congratulated her on the choice. Where did she get them, he asked, but in a knowing voice. They were just beginning to bloom, too, he said. Yellow flowers, chick yellow, no, a deeper shade actually. The yellow”
― Merlinda Bobis, White Turtle