Writers and Lovers, by Lily King

Casey is an aspiring writer, crippled by student debt and grieving the sudden death of her beloved mother. She has been working on a novel for six years and at 31 is facing the question of how long she can maintain her commitment to the creative life. She also faces a choice between two very different romantic possibilities, which kind of echoes her economic dilemma. Will she take the path of risk or stability? Of heart, head or gut? Will past mistakes and experiences influence her decision? This deceptively simple tale of a young woman at a crossroads is easy to read and hard to put down. Casey is a fully realised, complex and endearing protagonist, with admirable principles, debilitating anxiety, a damaging family history and great supportive friends. King makes some gently interesting points along the way about the differences in the treatment and expectations of male and female writers. She also highlights the casual everyday sexism and harassment endured by women, especially in hospitality. This is an absorbing and satisfying read that prompts investigation of the author’s other work.

Record of a Spaceborn Few, by Becky Chambers

The Exodan Fleet of homestead spaceships departed a wrecked planet Earth many centuries ago. Since acceptance by other species into the Galactic Commons the fleet has orbited a sun as a kind of giant space station nation. The ageing fleet has some maintenance issues and its population is slowly depleting as young people leave for new lives and opportunities in the GC colony planets and moons. The Exodan tale is told through the experiences of several of its inhabitants – mother of two Tess, archivist Isabel, teenage rebel Kip, immigrant Sawyer and caretaker of the dead Eyas. There is also an outside perspective from an alien visitor. The final in Becky Chambers’ space saga trilogy has only a tenuous direct link to the first two, although clearly in the same universe. Tess is the sister of Ashby, the captain of the mining ship at the centre of the first novel. The action is disjointed through most of the novel, the disparate voices painting an engaging picture of Exodan history and culture but providing little in the way of plot. A tragedy brings some of the characters together and overlaps their stories, pointing the way to the future for Exodans. It’s a little sad to farewell this fascinating universe, but this story is a fitting way to do so.

Brazen Hussies (2020), directed by Catherine Dwyer

Students of history and feminism may think they have a good handle on the rise of the women’s movement in Australia. While Brazen Hussies hits some familiar notes and shows a few well-known faces, it also takes a deep dive into all aspects of the movement for change in the key decade of 1965 to 1975. Small actions and consciousness-raising grew into mass protests and political action, with women united by anger and a determination to achieve equality. Contemporary interviews with a huge variety of activist women are bolstered by archival footage of these same women and their contemporaries. Equal pay, discrimination, reproductive rights, sexual harassment and domestic violence – great strides were made on these and many other issues after the Whitlam government was elected in 1972, based on the work done by the women’s movement and its allies. But 50 years later all these issues are still live concerns for women and the progress made cannot be taken for granted. The documentary doesn’t flinch from depicting the conflict and disagreements that were inevitable within such a broad-based movement. Ultimately it was a victim of its own success, with groupings such as lesbian separatists, aboriginal activists and the Women’s Electoral Lobby inevitably having different goals and methods. Through the ages the men who write it have often obliterated women’s history. This film underlines the importance of acknowledging and building on the work done by previous generations to secure the gains women have made and keep moving towards equality.

You Have to Make Your Own Fun Around Here, by Frances Macken

Childhood friends Katie, Evelyn and Maeve have been thrown together by circumstance rather than affinity. Their friendship holds through to adulthood because of habit and the dominance of Evelyn’s strong personality. Evelyn is a pampered princess for whom everything comes easily. Maeve is her poor cousin with few choices. Narrator Katie is a people pleaser, who adores Evelyn and endures Maeve. The dynamic of their friendship is disturbed when a new girl arrives in their rural Irish town and leaves in mysterious circumstances. But it takes many years and much drama for their roles to change and for Katie and Maeve to find their own voices. The girls’ story is told in a series of time jumps through primary school, high school, college and beyond. It provides a vivid picture of small town life in Ireland, with echoes of Derry Girls in its quirky characters with a dark side. It’s a little difficult to accept that Katie stays in Evelyn’s thrall even when she moves to Dublin for University. Would it really have been so clicky that she couldn’t make any new friends? After a tale stretching more than a decade it all comes together a little too quickly and neatly in the end, particularly for Maeve, whose voice has until then barely been heard.

The Grove of Caesars, by Lindsay Davis

Her husband is out of town on a family matter, so Flavia Albia must oversee his building business. Their major project is clearing up a neglected section of some public gardens – the Grove of Caesars. There they find some old scrolls, which may prove valuable. Nearby to the building site a grisly murder takes place and Flavia Albia uncovers a conspiracy of silence about what may prove to be a long history of serial killings. Can she solve the mystery before the killer strikes again? Immersion in ancient Rome is once again total, although the level of detail on the city’s layout does tend to read too much like a Roman street directory. In the end the perpetrator is obvious, more to the reader than to Albia, but it’s still an exciting ride getting there – if a rather dark and grisly one. Already softened up by the addition of a dog to the household, Albia’s personal life takes an interesting turn in this novel, possibly promising a more domestic bent in future tales of the informer.

Battle of the Sexes (2017), directed by Valerie Faris & Jonathan Dayton

The 1970s saw some great leaps forward for feminism and equality, led by some strong characters who broke new ground for women. In tennis it was Billie Jean King, with great support from her husband Larry, who made the case for equal pay for female players. She did a lot of work over many years to achieve this, but is best known for the rather showbiz stunt of beating former pro player Bobby Riggs. The self-proclaimed chauvinist declared that even he – a 55-year-old has been - could beat the top women’s player of the day. The film is interesting and entertaining, creating King and Riggs as fully rounded characters with strengths and flaws. It focuses a little too heavily on King’s sexuality, at the expense of her tennis and business achievements and really does not do Larry’s role justice. Emma Stone is very good as King and Steve Carell makes a credible Riggs. Jess McNamee makes a rather strange cameo as Margaret Court, but at least they cast an Australian so the accent is right.

Almost a Mirror, by Kirsten Krauth

Teenage groupie Mona and her childhood sweetheart Jimmy live through the music of the 80s. Later Benat’s memories as an immigrant teen in the druggy Melbourne music scene are added to the mix. The action jumps back and forth in time between the 1980s and the 2010s, in a series of sometime confusing vignettes. It’s all sex and drugs and rock’n’roll, with a dash of child abuse and neglect thrown in for fun. Set in Castlemaine and grungy St Kilda, the integration of real musicians sits oddly amid the fictional; it should add authenticity but makes the fictional seem fake. Bold, evocative writing creates a strong sense of place and time, but there is little in the way of character development. Elliptical references in early chapters are fleshed out in rather too much detail later in the book, whereas some questions could use an answer. A classic 80s song, said by the author to have inspired it, heads each chapter. Some inspiration is clearer than others and similarly, some chapters work better than others. The best are knife-sharp, moving, evocative and heartbreaking; others are kind of meh. It seems Mona and Benat are survivors, able to eventually grow up, while Jimmy is not. Is the moral of the story that it is impossible to escape your origins and that we are destined to be the kind of parent we had? The title refers to matching incidents in 1984 and 2018, the only chapters written in first person, with Mona abused as a child and taking a kind of revenge as an adult. These sit oddly out of context with the rest of the book.