Jane Sullivan writing in this Saturday’s Sydney Morning Herald, suggests that writers aim for 100 rejections as a new year’s resolution. She cites an American literary writer being pleased with her 43 rejections in a year, and shellacking (there is a word I have not read in a long time) her rejection slips onto her […]
Breach
Read Miracle Cure, just click here.
The gods of the gaps
I feel a great sense of gratitude that the great conspiracy that is life and the universe unfolded in a way this week that I was able to see David Byrne perform in concert in Sydney. I saw Talking Heads perform at Narara ’84 as part of the Stop Making Sense tour, and it was […]
“You will be free; you will die and be reborn. I will guide you to what you want, and to what is fit and proper for you. Tell me what it is.” “You don’t want me to kill the others …”. The Intercessor inclined his head in a nod. “It is for each of them […]
Following on from the last instalment, I am moving books around because if you move them from one spot to another quickly enough, you can magically make space for other books. In my hands I have a book I enjoyed, Real Dirt by James Woodford. James is / was a journalist and writer on environmental […]
Just came across the latest / last volume of Dave Hutchinson’s “Fractured Europe sequence” – well, that’s how they describe it on The Book Depository, where it is available for pre-order. The timing is perfect – a big chunk of my book collection returns home on Wednesday, including the previous volumes of this series, so […]
This from the SMH last weekend (the Saturday SMH is the only newspaper I buy anymore, for the occasional nugget like this, but their review section is becoming so dire I may give up on newspapers altogether): “My memory bank is not my brain: its my book collection. I can’t do without it. When I […]
My review of the Apollo / Neil Armstrong biopic is that it is bloody brilliant and you should run out and see it. There you go. I am about as young as you can be and remember the first lunar landing. I recall where I was – climbing on the back paling fence at home. […]
Nobody is looking 