On launching a debut novel, my bad reading habits, conquering the cultural cringe, and Deadloch
Hello there,
How has everyone been? Any major life events in the last couple of weeks? Nothing much as been going on around here, I’ve just been running some errands, doing some housework, LAUNCHING MY DEBUT NOVEL, watching some TV, that kind of thing.
My launch was as lot of fun—thanks to everyone who made it along! Everyone was lovely and gave me lots of compliments, which made a nice change from my normal life where people reel away in horror when I reveal my hideous visage and throw fruit at me on the street. For those of you wondering if I was brave enough to wear the jumpsuit I featured in my newsletter a few weeks back, I’m afraid I was not. However, I did wear a dress which was equally loud and out of character:
Large parrot seeks giant pirate for friendship….and maybe more
Due to spending most of the evening dissociating (yes, I went to The White Room) I remember almost nothing that happened. One thing that did stand out, however, was that my lovely launcher and long-term pal Louise Swinn described my personality as ‘sunny’. This is, I am confident, the first time that has ever happened—and yet it’s not inaccurate. I am the sunniest nihilist you will ever meet.
Anyway, in lieu of trying to remember anything else that happened, here are some photos of some of the delightful people who were there:
I completely failed to take any pictures so thank you to everyone who sent me these shots!
Books
In recent months I’ve developed the terrible habit of beginning a lot of books, and finishing very few of them. It’s not the books’ fault; it’s definitely me. I’ve become a total fuckboy when it comes to books, a complete cad and a bounder. I’ll be having a great time with some gorgeous novel, admiring its sinuous writing or its muscular plot, taking it everywhere with me, rolling around in its pages until late into the night—and then out of the corner of my eye I’ll notice another book I’ve been meaning to read just lying around wantonly on my bookshelf. In a flash, that novel I was brazenly love-bombing moments earlier will be completely forgotten. It pains me to confess that sometimes I’ll just leave it face-down on the bedside table without even the courtesy of a bookmark!
I always mean to get back there and finish the job, and it’s never my intention to ghost anyone, but…look, I’ve been spending so much time in bookshops lately. It’s sometimes tough to remember my existing commitments when everywhere I look there is a fresh stack of foxy paperbacks just begging for my attention. I must be dipping in and out of eight different books at the moment, and I have my eye on at least ten more. The variety is exciting, but in my heart of hearts I know that this is no way to treat a book. None of them are getting the best of me.
I’m not proud of it
I have been trying hard to fight my baser instincts, and in the last fortnight have finished a few books by fellow writers in my debut authors group. These include:
But the Girl, by Jessica Zahn Mei Yu, a wonderfully wry and witty novel that riffs on Sylvia Plath’s The Bell Jar from a post-colonial perspective.
The Modern, by Anna Kate Blair, a lovely, delicate novel about art, love and indecision, set in New York.
Grace Notes, by Karen Comer, a terrific YA verse novel about a young musician and a graffiti artist during the pandemic that took me right back to those surreal, sad lockdowns.
At the Foot of the Cherry Tree, by Alli Parker, a pacy, heartfelt novel set in the aftermath of WWII which fictionalises Alli’s grandparents’ real interracial love story and their battle with Australia’s racist immigration policy.
I’ve enjoyed exploring these local books that I might have otherwise overlooked had I not been part of the debut author group. Historically, I have tended to read more overseas fiction than local work. There are a couple of reasons for this, the most obvious being that I have subconsciously absorbed the cultural cringe, but also because Australian novels used to set off my inner competitive bastard. The competitive bastard is still in there, still active—but she seems to cope better now that I’ve thrown my own hat in the ring. I’m not sure exactly what kind of hat my novel is (a pirate hat? tin foil? one of those hats you can drink a beer out of?) or how seriously anyone is going to take it (I mean…it’s no beret), but it’s definitely better than my previous situation (hatless, miserable, crippled by a lifetime of longing to cover my naked head).
me right now
Television
This week I finally watched Deadloch, which has been on my list of must-watch TV since I first heard it was in production. I’ve enjoyed everything Kate McLennan and Kate McCartney have done from way back in their Katering Show days (my first introduction to them was watching them make and eat a lasagne out of McLennan’s actual placenta). Their comedy always has a hardcore edge to it, taking things to unexpected places and remaining funny despite (or because of) how uncomfortable they’re making you feel. It’s frequently political, exploring and exposing sexism, racism and homophobia amongst other things, but for the most part it gets away with this without feeling overly earnest, partly because it’s fuelled by such compellingly immoderate rage.
This is all to say that I went in to Deadloch with high expectations. Not only do I love the Kates, but I also enjoy crime noir, dramedy, shows made by and about queer people, shows featuring beautiful shots of Tasmania, and shows with a lot of inventive swearing. I was probably smack bang in the middle of their target audience.
wait a minute
It should therefore come as no surprise to anyone that….I loved it! It was funny, scary, twisty, and gripping, using all the enjoyable tropes of crime noir, but blending the the scenes of dead bodies on lonely beaches with slapstick comedy, mixing in some feminist and anti-racist politics, and making it all very gay. I also enjoyed that it represented Australian characters outside the usual categories we see on TV (ie, laconics or eccentrics from the outback/smug inner city people with anxiety). The acting was also excellent—I loved Kate Box playing the straight guy to Madeline Sami’s irascible NT detective, and I particularly enjoyed Nina Oyama as their sweet genius offsider and Tom Ballard as a slacker-cop who just wants to clock off for the day.
Highly recommend to anyone who can cope with a lot of swearing and a little bit of torture and murder.
Other things
Some other things I have enjoyed this week are:
The sale currently on at Elk, where I spent an excessive amount of money on the dress I wore to my launch and a gorgeous winter coat (it was half-off!).
Listening to Zadie Smith on Changes The Podcast, where she talks about so many interesting things. I particularly loved what she had to say about parenthood, the neo-liberal myth we’ve all been sold about individualism, and the idea that freedom lies in connection.
Voting YES to the Voice to Parliament—because of course Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people should have a say on decisions that affect them. Happy to chat to anyone about my own reasons for voting yes if you are undecided or have concerns!
Until next time,
Eleanor xo
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