Aussie Readers discussion

My Tuesday Teaser is from my new read, Gravity Is The Thing by Jaclyn Moriarty:

You are invited to
An all expense paid Retreat
Where you will learn the Truth about
The Guidebook.

The 'Truth" about The Guidebook! That made me laugh. A chapter from this book had been sent to me, out of the blue, when I was fifteen years old, and chapters had been arriving in the mail ever since. It was a self-help book that offered advice on how to live my life. I knew nothing about who was sending the excerpts (or why), other than that they called themselves 'Rufus and Isabelle'.

"I'm going to tell you something. I took me too long to deal with the hurt my father caused me. Your mother was grown and married to your father before I could see how little I knew about letting shame go and loving myself. Instead, I gave all these wounded lessons to your mother as a child and she in turn gave them to you. Oh, what a marvellous job we all do of passing brokenness down through the generations. Maybe you don't want to keep that particular tradition?"

There are many, many gorgeous paragraphs, phrases, sentences in this book. The above is Grammy speaking to 33 year old Willa in 1990.

A Lifetime of Impossible Days by Tabitha Bird

Carolyn wrote: "My Tuesday Teaser is from my new read, Gravity Is The Thing by Jaclyn Moriarty:

You are invited to
An all expense paid Retreat
Where you will learn the Truth about
T..."

Loved that book!

'So I am sniffing around, and it doesn't have a whiff of Things We Share either.' Mr Tongo made snuffling noises on the other end of the line to show he was on the scent. 'We discuss a lot of intimate things with our friends, but our genitals, and those of our children, are private. Many of my patients and clients - kids as well as their parents, people dealing with a whole range of conditions, not just this one - find they don't want to explain themselves every time they meet someone new. They don't want to be responsible for educating everyone they meet. They don't consider what's in their pants to be anyone else's business.'

Advice being given to parents of a child with gender dysphoria.

This Is How It Always Is by Laurie Frankel

"You may as well tell your side of the story," Lila confided, stepping to the door. "She's going to publish the series whether you contribute or not. For the record, I was against it, but-" She shrugged. "You can't fight city hall or the press."
'Can't you?' Rachel thought and, in this case, silently vowed to try.

From Paranoid by Lisa Jackson

Alexander McCall Smith is in fine form in The Second Worst Restaurant in France:
She did not look for cans of sardines but they were there, she suspected - and saw them later, when she saw Claude drain them of their oil as he began the process of rendering them Portuguese. She had the chance to look at one of the empty tins and saw that they were North African. Geography, she thought, smiling to herself; countries were not always where you wanted them to be.

Nicole's wearing extremely high leopard-print heels that make my ankles scream just from proximity. Her skirt is too short and her top too revealing, her hair too blonde and her lips too plump. Her dress hugs her curves so perfectly I almost have to avert my eyes. She is a Botticelli, Marilyn Monroe. I am in awe. She looks amazing.
Even Max, who is revolted by vaginas, can't stop staring. Nicole smiles, and her hair moves, a shimmering chestnut rug of Pantene and regular keratin treatments.
I suddenly feel self-conscious. My scrubs are so baggy the crotch hangs almost to my knees, making me look like a cross between a gangster from an early nineties MTV music video and an obese man.

From Going Under by Sonia Henry

As she read the field guide by the red beam of her penlight, something shifted in the atmosphere to her right. Without moving, she slid her eyes in that direction. And there he was: a tiger, standing alongside the jeep. She could have reached out and touched him. In the gray half light, his body blended into the forest like a ghost. He turned his head and looked right into her eyes. Then he stepped past her into the headlights, and Sanjay whispered, “Tigertigertiger!” and the four of them rose to their feet. In the light, he was no ghost but a big, glossy male, long and lean, close enough that Sarah could see the individual hairs in his fiery orange coat. His breath turned to smoke as it hit the air. Without taking her eyes off the animal, Sarah raised her camera.

Three Ways to Disappear by Katy Yocom

I know it's Thursday, but I had to share!

Andrea wrote: "As she read the field guide by the red beam of her penlight, something shifted in the atmosphere to her right. Without moving, she slid her eyes in that direction. And there he was: a tiger, standi..."

I'm glad you did! Love the sound of this!

He stood up, all of a sudden conscious of being in a place he was not supposed to be in, and being there alone. The courage Bani seemed to bring with him had vanished with his going. Kal got up and hurried out, though his body felt heavy and unresponsive. There is a first tine for everything. A first time for drinking kava, a first time for making new friends. There are times enough, later, to regret them.

From Cloud Permutations by Lavie Tidhar

There had always been a tall tree there, she said; it was important to keep a new one coming along or it would be bad luck for the island. 'Superstition,' my father once said. My mother looked at him with a hint of something knowing and tartly replied, 'And who is to say that doesn't matter, pray tell, Harald Schonfeld?' And he, hearing her tone, would say, 'Why, no one of any sense, my dear, I am sure. ' I loved my father, but agreed with my mother in this regard. What we feel is as true as what we think.
Wolfe Island by Lucy Treloar

The house was overburdened with flowers. Andrea didn’t think we’d get enough, and so she ordered dozens of arrangements. If she’d been clever, she would have thought to forge some cards. Andrea had never understood our father’s place in the community; the flowers poured in from everywhere, from the people at church and the men who worked construction, the people in his office and at the bank. There were flowers from cops and restaurateurs and teachers, people my father had done quiet favors for over the years. The flowers came from the tenants who paid their full rent every month, as well as the ones he had carried in lean times.

The Dutch House by Ann Patchett

Some people just need killing. And maybe I'm one of them.
My husband certainly seems to think so, but then, he feels that way about most women. I may not survive his style of love.
His first wife didn't. Neither did his second.

From the opening paragraph of The Third Mrs. Durst by Ann Aguirre

Oh, Nathan, Nathan. How much effort is required to restrain a child with a great mind and equally great arrogance? Several contradictory sensations are at war within me, but one wins out: my commitment to reduce the suffering of his siblings by his hands.

From The First Mrs. Rothschild by Sara Aharoni

Here's a lovely example of authentic dialogue: Harry is 13 years old and the novel is set in 1948 in country NSW

'I have gossip,' Harry said as he came up the verandah stairs late that afternoon. Kate wondered what he'd heard. He dropped himself into the other chair, opposite her.
'Lots of news,' he added. 'I can't tell ya all of it, but."

The Burnt Country by Joy Rhoades
I have to say, I can remember kids around me ending sentences with "but" in the 1960s (I probably did it myself)

From The Great Alone by Kristin Hannah where 14 year old Leni is learning to hunt to help keep her family alive through the Alaskan winter:

When they reached the hare, Leni stared down at it, the soft white body sprayed with blood, lying in a pool of it.
She'd killed something. Fed her family for another night.
Killed something. Stopped a life
She didn't know how to feel about it, or maybe she just felt two conflicting emotions at the same time - proud and sad. In truth she just wanted to cry. But she was Alaskan now, this was her life.

A book I thoroughly enjoyed Carolyn!

I've been meaning to read it for ages Brenda. Finally got around to choosing it as part of a challenge and am really enjoying it.

That's good to hear :)

The beginning of the end of our happy days goes back, I think, to that Feast of Saint-Nicholas, out on Jacques's large terrace in Bukavu, Zaire. Once a month we paid old Jacques a visit, it had become our tradition. Maman joined us that day, although she had barely said a word to Papa in several weeks. Before setting off, we went to the bank to pick up some local currency. 'We're millionaires!' said Papa as we left the building. In Mobutu's Zaire, hyperinflation meant paying for a glass of water with banknotes of five million zaires.

From Small Country by Gaël Faye

Carolyn wrote: "Some people just need killing. And maybe I'm one of them.
My husband certainly seems to think so, but then, he feels that way about most women. I may not survive his style of love.
His first wife d..."

I'm sold!! What an opener!

From How to Train Your Knight by Stella Marie Alden

“By God, drag her down here! Naked, if you must! Bread and water from now to eternity if you can’t!” Sir Marcus Blackwell slammed his fist on the well-worn table and the sound echoed back from every direction. Of all the bad luck. Forced into marriage with a foul-mouthed, murderous widow.

'The prime minister's office is about to put out a statement. Gardner's fronting the cameras in an hour, they're raising the terror-threat level to expected.'
Nicole Gardner had only been prime minister for a few months, but she knew how to play the politics of fear. Look strong, get out in front of a story. Be a leader who knows how to protect the public. Someone who's good in a crisis. A fixer.
'Remind me, how high's expected on the chart?'
'One down from certain, which is where it will go if we don't find Tariq inside the next twenty-four hours.'

From State of Fear by Tim Ayliffe

"I'm supposed to tell you that you are not the first and you are not the last. You are in The Chain and this is a process that goes back a long time. I kidnapped your daughter so that my boy will be released. He's been kidnapped and is being held by a man and woman I don't know. You must select a target and kidnap one of that person's loved ones so The Chain will go on."

From The Chain by Adrian McKinty

"Trevor, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I have this ridiculous condition that I've spent my whole life apologising for. Prosopagnosia, weird as that sounds."
"Face-blindness...?"
You know it then? Yes, I'm sorry. Oh, there I go again. Most people make horrible expressions when I say it. I'm incapable of remembering and recognising people by their faces."
....
"Most people," she adds, "think prosopagnosia is some kind of brain rot. Or a twisted spine, like scoliosis, or worse - something to do with the uterus."
"Did you know," he says, "that magpies have facial recognition? Of humans."
She sags slightly.
"Is that meant to make me feel better?"
The Returns by Philip Salom

Erin woke up shivering again. It was dark. She could hear the sprinklers and droplets of water hitting the outside of the box.
Hot during the day. Cold at night. She wasn't sure which was worse.
She was always thirsty. She couldn't remember if she'd gone twenty-four hours without water or forty-eight. Her mouth felt like sandpaper. She'd read somewhere that a person could live three days without water.
The smell inside her confined space was becoming unbearable. But that was the least of her worries. She dragged the coin against the decaying wood, back and forth, back and forth.
Scraping, scraping, scraping.
Her Last Day by T.R. Ragan

All the rest of the night I paced, running through Athena's words. My son would grow up to do something she feared, something that touched her deeply. But what? Something that I would be sorry for as well, she had said. I paced, turning it over and over, but I could find no answer. At last I forced myself to set it aside. There was no profit in chasing riddles of the Fates. The point was: she would come and come.

From Circe by Madeline Miller

I didn’t hate our town, but it was hard to feel lyrical or sentimental about the reservoir, the precinct, the scrappy woods where porn yellowed beneath the brambles. Our recreation ground was universally known as Dog Shit Park, the pine plantation Murder Wood; for all I knew those were their names on the Ordnance Survey map, and no one was ever going to write a sonnet about that.

Sweet Sorrow by David Nicholls

The unusual ring of gravity in his voice told me that he spoke the truth. It took a good deal to make Ralph grave.
'In fact,' he continued, 'I can't see my way ahead... I'm damned if I can.'
'If I could help-,' I suggested diffidently.
But he shook his head very decidedly.
'Good of you, doctor. But I can't let you in on this. I've got to play a lone hand.'
He was silent a minute and then repeated in a slightly different tone of voice:
'Yes-I've got to play a lone hand...'

From The Murder of Roger Ackroyd by Agatha Christie

From 29 Seconds by T.M. Logan.

Rules made by female staff to protect themselves from their sexual predator boss:

The Rules were simple enough. Don't be alone with him if you could possibly avoid it. Don't do or say anything which he might take as encouragement. Don't get in a taxi with him when you were away from the office, particularly at hotels and conferences. And most of all, the number one rule that must never, ever, be broken: don't do any of the above when he had been drinking. he was bad when sober, but he was worse - much worse - when he was drunk. Tonight he was drunk. And Sarah realised, too late, that she was about to break all of the Rules at once.

Ooops! Sorry, I thought it was Tuesday when I posted (this is what retirement does to you. lol!).
Will leave it for now - I did start reading it yesterday.

It's fine Carolyn - others (unnamed) post on Friday ;)

I have my hand up for that offence. If it's too good not to share, I'm afraid I ignore the day...

Haha! Well picked up Marianne ;)

Yes, it's Thursday, I know.
She began to rout around in her bag, producing empty water bottles, an old apple core, a half-empty bag of sweets and fistfuls of receipts. Andrew watched, mesmerized, as she swore and continued to pull things out like an angry magician. Eventually she found what she’d been looking for.

How Not to Die Alone by Richard Roper

Marianne wrote: "Yes, it's Thursday, I know.
She began to rout around in her bag, producing empty water bottles, an old apple core, a half-empty bag of sweets and fistfuls of receipts. Andrew watched, mesmerized, a..."

Maybe we should change it to share a teaser and then there will be no guilt - lol!

That's probably a good idea Sally ;)

That would be good ;)
Sometimes my Tuesday book doesn't have a handy teaser, but other days there's one I'd like to share.

I have made it so!

And here is a teaser from me from The Vampire's Cursed Kiss by Kristen Painter.


“...’A family dinner?’ She got a sudden strange look. ‘Is your whole family vampires?’
‘Yes. And dinner isn’t us devouring some hapless guest, so calm down...

Love Kristen Painter’s work - this is the second book in a paranormal Romance series that I am lapping up at the moment - have book 3 ready to go when I’ve finished.

Sally906 wrote: "I have made it so!"

Thank you!!!

This is a great idea because I never know what day it is!!!

Sally906 wrote: "I have made it so!"

Good job!

Ace wrote: "This is a great idea because I never known what day it is!!!"

LOL!!

I'm trying to think of something snarky to say to you, Katie. But at my age it might take a while and I haven't the time. Think of it yourself and pretend I said it.

93 year-old Willa Waters getting exasperated with her carer in A Lifetime of Impossible Days by Tabitha Bird

Marianne wrote: "I'm trying to think of something snarky to say to you, Katie. But at my age it might take a while and I haven't the time. Think of it yourself and pretend I said it.

93 year-old Willa Waters getti..."

This one is on my wish list - my local library doesn’t have it :(
I have just requested the library to purchase it - you would think a Queensland library would prioritise Queensland based writers!

I think it's taking a lot of our libraries to catch up with Aussie authors. I agree they should always come first, but they don't!

From the prologue of The Fifth Season by N.K. Jemisin

This is what you must remember: the ending of one story is just the beginning of another. This has happened before, after all. People die. Old orders pass. New societies are born. When we say "the world has ended", it's usually a lie, because the planet is just fine.
But this is the way the world ends.
This is the way the world ends.
For the last time.

See if you can guess what I'm reading ;)

"Your father's right," she said. "Mockingbirds don't do but one thing but make music for us to enjoy. They don't eat up people's gardens, don't nest in corncribs, they don't do one thing but sing their hearts out for us. That's why it's a sin to kill a mockingbird."

Haha! The last line tells it all (if it hadn't before!) Wonderful book Carolyn :)