01. Yay! Favel Parrett has a new book coming in September – There Was Still Love.
Sample Saturday is when I wade through the eleventy billion samples I have downloaded on my Kindle. I’m slowly chipping away and deciding whether it’s buy or bye.
Seems people have strong feelings about celebrity memoirs (usually along the lines of ‘Haven’t you had enough of the spotlight already?!’). I don’t seek them out but nor do I avoid them. I picked up Mara Wilson’s Where Am I Now? because she was appearing at the 2018 Melbourne Writers Festival.
Wilson’s name might not be instantly recognisable but her six-year-old face is. She was the ‘cute’ little star of Mrs Doubtfire and Matilda, as well as many other films and television shows (including Melrose Place!). As the title of the book suggests, Wilson tackles what happens after the ‘cute’ is over (seemed no one wanted Matilda with boobs…). Continue reading
Spoiler alert (yes, you can have a spoiler for non-fiction) – if you’re a white male who has been publicly shamed on social media, rest assured it will all blow over very quickly. If you’re not a white male, prepare to go to hell and back. Continue reading
01. My favourite tweet this month. No, scratch that. This year.
01. So it really has been ages since I did a Bookish post… Over the last two months I’ve had a terrific holiday in Hong Kong; had a tense wait for results after having three more moles removed (all clear. Get your skin checked everyone); wrote eleventy-billion words for uni; and moved house. Our new house has a superb Crepe Myrtle in the backyard. I can’t wait to see it flower. Continue reading
01. It’s old news now, but the interview that broke Twitter last week is one of the best things I’ve seen in years. I’m torn over my favourite part: the ‘what’s goin’ on in here?’ dance; the man swatting kid; plot twist baby’s entrance; wife’s crouching door close; or the background wailing. Continue reading
01. Saw James Reyne last week at a very dicey venue. Not ashamed to say that we had the BEST night. Continue reading