'A body buried in a suburban backyard.
'A suicide pact worthy of Chekhov.
'A love affair born in a bookshop.
'The last days of Bennelong.
'And a very strange gift for a most unusual Prime Minister...
'Tantalising, poignant, wry, and just a little fantastical, this subversive collection of short fiction - and one singular novella - from bestselling author Debra Adelaide reminds us what twists of fate may be lurking just beneath the surface of the everyday.'
Source: Publisher's blurb.
Dedication: For my father, who always loved a joke.
'Adelaide’s sharp, casual, to-the-point sentences are both silently aesthetic on the page and a pleasure to read aloud.'
'Often, short story collections seem arbitrarily composed. They can feel tossed together in an ersatz attempt to be coherent while not adhering to an organising principle that makes them whole. Which says nothing about the quality of the stories in isolation, but is instead an observation of the lack of textual cohesion that plagues so many short-fiction collections.' (Introduction)
'As the United States tears itself to pieces over a proposed wall, which has in recent months transmogrified into a steel fence, here in Australia we have no right to be smug or to rubberneck. After all, Australia loves its fences. Since it was first occupied as a penal colony, this land has been bisected by a seemingly endless series of enclosures, barricades, frontiers, and fences, including some of the longest in the world: the rabbit-proof fence in Western Australia; and the dingo fence in the Eastern states. Fences, both physical and symbolic, have long been used by our leaders to banish undesirables or to constrain their movement within acceptable boundaries. Various Australian governments have forcibly removed Indigenous Australians to reserves and missions, interned so-called ‘enemy aliens’ within camps during wartime, and detained those fleeing danger or tyranny abroad within remote and offshore prisons.' (Introduction)
'You enter the hedge maze planted with lilly pilly shrubs. Dead end follows dead end as each twist and turn yields more of the same. You begin to get weary. And then there’s something remarkable. Right at the end of the labyrinth, waiting like an oracle or a punchline that baffles comprehension, you discover a live zebra calmly grazing, absolutely content and unexpected.' (Introduction)
'Adelaide’s sharp, casual, to-the-point sentences are both silently aesthetic on the page and a pleasure to read aloud.'
'You enter the hedge maze planted with lilly pilly shrubs. Dead end follows dead end as each twist and turn yields more of the same. You begin to get weary. And then there’s something remarkable. Right at the end of the labyrinth, waiting like an oracle or a punchline that baffles comprehension, you discover a live zebra calmly grazing, absolutely content and unexpected.' (Introduction)
'As the United States tears itself to pieces over a proposed wall, which has in recent months transmogrified into a steel fence, here in Australia we have no right to be smug or to rubberneck. After all, Australia loves its fences. Since it was first occupied as a penal colony, this land has been bisected by a seemingly endless series of enclosures, barricades, frontiers, and fences, including some of the longest in the world: the rabbit-proof fence in Western Australia; and the dingo fence in the Eastern states. Fences, both physical and symbolic, have long been used by our leaders to banish undesirables or to constrain their movement within acceptable boundaries. Various Australian governments have forcibly removed Indigenous Australians to reserves and missions, interned so-called ‘enemy aliens’ within camps during wartime, and detained those fleeing danger or tyranny abroad within remote and offshore prisons.' (Introduction)
'Often, short story collections seem arbitrarily composed. They can feel tossed together in an ersatz attempt to be coherent while not adhering to an organising principle that makes them whole. Which says nothing about the quality of the stories in isolation, but is instead an observation of the lack of textual cohesion that plagues so many short-fiction collections.' (Introduction)
