Cirrus@Austlit

'One morning I listened to Fiona McGregor talk about her writing on a podcast as I washed a dusty pink cashmere sweater I bought from an op shop for five dollars. Although it was before nine and I was still at home, I had started work for the day. Multitasking by doing laundry and listening to a podcast felt legitimate to classify as ‘on the clock’ because of several factors: the time and day of the week (Monday, 8.45am), the match between the manual activity and a key theme in my current research (housework) and, primarily, the direct relationship between the podcast and my task for the morning (drafting this review of McGregor’s A Novel Idea). While a complicated, informal, internal algorithm determined the legitimacy of this action, I felt justified nonetheless. Even if the difference between work and life is only ever one of degree, I won’t tell HR.'  (Introduction)

'When I started reading apparently, savouring the contents page, I was sitting in Wollongong’s beloved Rad Bar waiting for the band to start. I get everywhere too early, but that’s not a problem if you’ve got a book. I started humming to myself. I was humming the song I’ve been loving you too long by Otis Redding and Jerry Butler. Because apparently is by Joanne Burns. And I’ve been reading and loving her work for nearly thirty years. We don’t have anyone better than Joanne Burns. And apparently is at least as good as all the other books by Joanne Burns, and it’s better than some. So if this was going to be a solely evaluative review all I’d have to say is apparently is really, really good. You won’t find a book of poetry that’s better. I’ve been loving the work of Joanne Burns too long to stop now, I can’t pretend to approach apparently any other way.'  (Introduction)

'Philip Salom’s fourth novel The Returns is the story of two middle-aged characters: Elizabeth and Trevor. Elizabeth is an editor whose in-house career stalled when she had the temerity to suggest a manuscript by a famous author might require substantial revision. Now she muddles along as a freelancer. Trevor was an aspiring artist, but has come to spend most of his time idling behind the counter of his sleepy North Melbourne bookshop. They meet one day when Elizabeth nearly faints out the front of Trevor’s shop and he comes to her aid. She subsequently asks him to place a notice in his window advertising the spare room she is hoping to rent out. Trevor’s marriage is ending — not acrimoniously, things just seem to have run their course — so he applies to become Elizabeth’s lodger, lured by the opportunity this affords to convert the disused shed in her backyard into a studio and rekindle his artistic practice.'  (Introduction)

'It is difficult to know where to begin with The Erratics. For the story begins many times, at different places and points. The book begins near the end of the story, although more follows, and what happened before is revealed fleetingly, in slow unravellings and chronological leaps. So let us begin here firstly with the context, why I am writing about this book and why you might have heard of it.' (Introduction)