On injustice: Just being political, for a moment

The mentality of our government and seemingly of many people in this country is that what we should aspire to on an individual basis is nothing more than personal wealth: so you can afford to send your kids to an elite private school, and a prestigious university, so you can live in a big house in a nice suburb and dull the discomfiting effects of human existence by the fact that you've got an expensive car and your clothes are brand-name.

We can all be rich, if we just work hard enough, Joe Hockey will have us believe. As if acquiring a tonne of money is somehow equivalent with personal responsibility. As if anyone with little money is to be looked down upon - they're lazy, they're entitled, they think they can get a free ride.

They talk about the tax-payer like the tax-payer is a sociopath. Which, maybe some of them are. Maybe some of them truly believe we can all be rich and drive Audis and send our kids to a school that will teach them their superiority to other people - that they're better than state-school educated kids, and single mothers, and the people fleeing their home country for ours in fear of their lives.

I don't. It is not possible for us all to be rich. It is not much of a thing to aspire to, anyway, especially if all you plan on doing with your wealth is manipulating others to make yourself richer.

I pay my taxes so that people who need a doctor can see a doctor, and so schools can pay teachers properly, and so single mothers and disabled people and other low-income earners can survive, and so we can properly welcome asylum seekers into our country instead of killing them in an offshore facility (which is so disgustingly wrong, I could vomit). I am not in favour of taking money away from these people. (I am in favour of taking money away from bureaucracy, which is the hugest and most ridiculous money-suck ever invented. I am in favour of taking money away from extraordinarily exploitative big business and mining.)*

I would so much rather live in a country that looks after its countrymen (and women and other gendered people) than one of revolting individualism that values nothing more than kicking other people down in aid of your own journey to high-status. Because that would be a terrible country to live in.**

* Which is not to mention the across-the-board attitude of derision by Tony and co towards the environment, science, the arts and any degree of egalitarianism in this country.

** (Which is not to disparage all people who are wealthy or private-school educated - because I know lots of lovely, down-to-earth, generous people who are either or both.)

The Haunting of Lily Frost by Nova Weetman

This room holds secrets, and even if they are of the dark–frightening type, I love secrets more than anything else.
 
When Lily Frost’s parents move her from the only home and best friend she’s ever known to a country town called Gideon, things are dire. Lily knows no one – but someone seems to know her. And that someone isn’t exactly the welcoming type.
 
Upon entering her new attic bedroom, Lily faints. Coming to, she’s overcome by the whispers of secrets. Determined to find out why, Lily is thrown into the path of cute local boy Danny. He’s not giving anything away, so it’s up to Lily to make sense of the watery footprints on her floor and the cold air that constantly seeps into her bones.
 
For Lily, life in this small town is about to get very interesting as she finds herself seeing things she thought belonged to the dead.

I am continually impressed with the lovely Australian YA published by University of Queensland Press, and the Haunting of Lily Frost doesn't disappoint (and how good is the cover?). The novel opens with a memory: Lily as a young child, terrified of next door's dog and almost drowning in the pool, foreshadowing things to come and setting the scene beautifully.

I would recommend this to younger YA readers (let's say twelve to sixteen) though I'm very wary of putting age suggestions on books because tons of adults love YA and tons of younger kids read at a higher level (I remember always wanting to read about people older than me, in this very aspirational way. Later I discovered that at age 16 you do not really discover you are a princess, or have an epic romance, or develop superpowers. How disappointing). But I think you'll enjoy this novel more if you can relate to Lily's frustrations - of not being in control of her life when her parents move her away, and of really longing to fit in. Lily as a character reads as young - captivated by trying to solve the mystery, she makes some really poor decisions (I would have told my mum when I started feeling a watery ghostly presence in my room, or when jackets belonging to dead people materialised).

I found it reminiscent of both Shirley Marr's Preloved and Karen Tayleur's Love Notes From Vinegar House, especially the gothic elements of the latter. I was reminded also of Karen Foxlee's The Midnight Dress, even though that doesn't have a ghostly theme. It balances supernatural mystery and the ordinary frustrations of being a kid (trying to fit in at a new school, missing and losing friends, being bored in the middle of nowhere) really well. I think this is a really promising debut by Weetman, and I look forward to what she writes next (especially if it's non-supernatural - the social dynamics of high school were really nicely illustrated in this novel). You like novels about ghosts in creepy old houses and sassy teenage mystery-solvers? Read it.

On being published as a teenager, and regret

I have often heard people say 'I'm so glad I wasn't published as a teenager' or 'I was a terrible writer when I was a teenager'. Which is valid, which is fine, but which is very irritating when they project that experience onto young people, generalising with 'teenagers are rubbish writers' or 'you'll regret being published as a teenager because you are crap/vulnerable/unprofessional'. This is something I hear from people who were not published as kids, generally speaking. This is something I hear less and less of, fortunately - people treat me enormously differently now than they did five years ago, although I hardly behave differently - but I still think it's a really curious viewpoint, and one that discourages young people from putting themselves out there. Kids don't need to be reminded that they're crap as much as you think they do. I think young people being arrogant about their abilities is not a matter of overconfidence but something borne out of deep insecurity, which is what continually putting down their skills and capacities is going to generate.

I don't think the narrative of 'you will regret having your early work published' is necessarily true, either. I think irrespective of your age when you start putting work out, you're going to experience the dread of criticism, the fear of people thinking your work is stupid and you're a rubbish writer, and as time passes and you grow and evolve as a writer/human being, you're going to cringe at what you wrote in the past (hell, I cringe at what I'm writing in the present. I'm cringing at this. I cannot spell cringing for the life of me). There is no way to avoid this. There is no age or number of words or hours of writing experience at which you are a whole and perfect writer of absolute confidence, who will win awards and write a bestseller and find universal adoration. It's a journey without end. You are always imperfect.

People will enjoy your early work and/or your later work and it's all going to be pretty random, because that's what our reality is like. You enjoy writing, you write as well as you can, you attempt to contribute whatever it is you're trying to contribute, you negotiate publishing and promotion and building a career as best you can. You will still make mistakes, you will still cringe at yourself, and your age is not necessarily going to advantage or disadvantage you. Vulnerability is unavoidable. You cannot skip being a beginner. You cannot guarantee perfection.

Additionally, people who have not published a book imagine publishing a book as this event that occurs devoid of context, some odd sort of add-on to your life. In my experience it isn't. Being published and writing professionally has hugely shaped my life. I've done a ton of speaking at festivals and in schools, I've met and learnt from many other writers and readers and kids and teachers, I've learnt a great deal from working with an editor and with a publishing house. These have helped me immensely as a writer. I would not be the same 20-year-old had I not done these things. I also have money, and the freedom some savings affords you is extraordinary. I can pay for my education. I can dedicate life hours to writing I may have had to spend in a day job. I can travel. My aim of owning my own home is marginally less absurd, despite the ongoing absurdity of property prices.

My life is much richer for being an author. I've made some poor business decisions, I cringe at things I've written, and people wrote me off as a silly kid at times (and, look, they'll probably continue to) - but I would've had awkward and embarrassing experiences anyway. I would've struggled and been confused and been silly entering a new field age 25, 35, 45 (having not been these ages yet, I base this on older people I know, who are more knowledgable and experienced, absolutely, but still self-conscious and flawed and human). If I wrote Girl Saves Boy today, it would not be the same book. If I wrote All This Could End today, it too would be different. But fixating on things you can no longer change is pointless, and in no dimension does a perfect version of those books (or any other) exist.

Girl Saves Boy was published almost four years ago, and I continue to get emails from people reading and enjoying it, including one the other week from a Year 12 English teacher who decided to set it as a text for the school's lunchtime YA book club (and who changed one of the English units to a creative writing one, partly inspired by seeing me speak at Brisbane Writers Fest). And that's wonderful. I've been very, very fortunate and I've also worked really, really hard, and I've had a lot of wonderful opportunities and experiences and I've learnt a great deal from all of it. To regret all that would be silly. To focus on the past and the flaws of my earlier work would prevent me from writing the next novel.

It is my sincerest belief that if you enjoy or feel compelled to write, you should, irrespective of your age or profession or location. If you'd like to publish, you should pursue that. If you'd rather not, your words are still worthwhile. Creative expression is a splendid thing. But don't quit writing or put it off out of fear of not being good enough, or that you will hugely regret sharing your work because 'teenagers are crap writers'. You are not less than by virtue of your age or any other factor. You still ought to write your stories if you feel a drive to. Your writing doesn't have to be serious and profound to be meaningful. 'Easy, enjoyable' reads still connect with people, still bring something to the table. I'm not going to be Hilary Mantel or Jonathan Franzen or J.K. Rowling, or even E. L. James for that matter, and you're not going to be either, but the world of fiction has room for a lot of voices, including young ones, including older ones. And guess what? You can like your own books, flawed as they are. Even if they were written when you were fifteen.

Daughter of Smoke and Bone by Laini Taylor

Errand requiring immediate attention. Come.

The note was on vellum, pierced by the talons of the almost-crow that delivered it. Karou read the message. 'He never says please', she sighed, but she gathered up her things.

When Brimstone called, she always came.

In general, Karou has managed to keep her two lives in balance. On the one hand, she's a seventeen-year-old art student in Prague; on the other, errand-girl to a monstrous creature who is the closest thing she has to family. Raised half in our world, half in 'Elsewhere', she has never understood Brimstone's dark work - buying teeth from hunters and murderers - nor how she came into his keeping. She is a secret even to herself, plagued by the sensation that she isn't whole.

Now the doors to Elsewhere are closing, and Karou must choose between the safety of her human life and the dangers of a war-ravaged world that may hold the answers she has always sought.

I am late to the party. This has been known to happen. Daughter of Smoke and Bone, if you've not read it already, should be on your to-read list. It evokes a profoundly strange and exotic and surreal world, in which creatures can be made from teeth (super creepy, super awesome) and hidden realms can be accessed through magical doors and holes in the sky. This stuff, you guys? I love this stuff. Not quite as much as I love time travel, coma dreams, and everybody getting killed by zombies, but almost as much. Daughter of Smoke and Bone was so extraordinary that my expectations were impossibly high for Days of Blood and Starlight, and while that contained some astonishingly good twists and more of the vivid imagery of the first book, it's pretty difficult for a middle book of a series to be a stand-out, especially after the amazing world-building and utterly mesmerising first novel.

Another thing that happens with series is that with each subsequent book the characters have experienced more suffering and pain - necessary for a good, exciting plot, but if the characters develop properly (i.e. not in soap operas, where everyone forgets five minutes later) characters get dark and tortured really quickly. I think that can make a book a little too draining - and as Karou discovers more and more about who she was, it gets terribly heavy. What I seek in stories is generally some sort of ultimate hopefulness, and Days of Blood and Starlight did not end on a good note. So I'm certainly looking forward to Dreams of Gods and Monsters, the final instalment of the trilogy.

Daughter of Smoke and Bone on the publisher's website

Zac & Mia by AJ Betts

The last person Zac expects in the room next door is a girl like Mia, angry and feisty with questionable taste in music. In the real world, he wouldn’t—couldn’t—be friends with her. In hospital different rules apply, and what begins as a knock on the wall leads to a note—then a friendship neither of them sees coming.

You need courage to be in hospital; different courage to be back in the real world. In one of these worlds Zac needs Mia. And in the other Mia needs Zac. Or maybe they both need each other, always.

I think what was most striking about this novel was the human aspect of it - so often novels for teenagers marketed as realistic are anything but. Zac and Mia, on the other hand, seems profoundly real - people are deeply flawed (Mia most especially), little is romanticised, but their story remains compelling. 

Unlike so many other books in this genre there does not seem to be an effort to tug at heartstrings - which is not to say that you don't feel anything while reading - anything but. But it seems manipulating the reader's emotions doesn't play into it. Sure, I like books that I can expect an emotional rollercoaster out of, that fit the formula and play up the melodrama - but what is so remarkable about this one is the realness. 

It's wonderfully crafted and emotionally insightful but it isn't obvious. A very, very human novel and one I wouldn't recommend solely to teenage readers, though it speaks beautifully of the teenage experience.

Zac & Mia on the publisher's website

The Assassin's Blade by Sarah J. Maas

Celaena Sardothien is Adarlan’s most feared assassin. As part of the Assassins' Guild, her allegiance is to her master, Arobynn Hamel, yet Celaena listens to no one and trusts only her fellow killer-for-hire, Sam.

In these action-packed prequel novellas – together in one edition for the first time – Celaena embarks on five daring missions. They take her from remote islands to hostile deserts, where she fights to liberate slaves and seeks to avenge the tyrannous. But she is acting against Arobynn’s orders and could suffer an unimaginable punishment for such treachery . . . 

Assassin's Blade is the prequel to Throne of Glass, comprised of five novellas which not only function on their own, but also as a whole - telling the story of how Celaena Sardothien came to be in the salt mines of Endovier. I daresay I enjoyed these novellas even more than I enjoyed Throne of Glass - Celaena is described often in both books as the most famed assassin in her realm, but Assassin's Blade actually has plenty of assassinating. I lamented that Throne of Glass was not bloodthirsty enough, but the prequels certainly have a satisfying amount of fight scenes and blood-spilling. Celaena has a whole ton more depth as a character knowing thia huge part of her backstory, which occurs across a range of settings, all beautifully evoked - a crummy nowhere town, the unforgiving desert, the pirate island and the sinister capital - and involves many increasingly shady characters. 

Because you know how the book will end before you even start (the trouble with prequels!) there is a certain inevitability to the ending, but it remained compelling, and often even surprising (not a good surprising. A profoundly depressing surprising). The logical realities of the world tripped me up a bit - they have clocks, and the wealthy have running water, but everything else seemed stuck in the equivalent of the Dark Ages.

I very much appreciated the strong and interesting and multi-faceted female characters, but as with much fantasy I've read (and watched - I'm looking at you Game of Thrones) lately, I really question why women have to generally be subservient in fantasy realms. It's an entirely made up place where magic once existed! There's an architecturally impossible glass castle! It's about assassins and pirate lords and a world very, very different from our own! So why must the poor female characters be forced in prostitution? Why must beauty be a weapon women wield? Why does it have to be surprising that the best assassin in the realm is young and female? Couldn't there be as many fearsome women as there are men? This is not really commenting on this book in particular - it's quite a good representation generally, not damaging in and of itself, and Celaena herself is a stellar character - rather my frustrations with the high fantasy I have read as a whole.

Brace yourself for a devastating ending. Assassin's Blade is worth a read for intrigue and evisceration, but it'll probably hook you in for the whole series. You've been warned.

All Our Yesterdays by Cristin Terrill

What would you change?

Imprisoned in the heart of a secret military base, Em has nothing except the voice of the boy in the cell next door and the list of instructions she finds taped inside the drain.

Only Em can complete the final instruction. She’s tried everything to prevent the creation of a time machine that will tear the world apart. She holds the proof: a list she has never seen before, written in her own hand. Each failed attempt in the past has led her to the same terrible present—imprisoned and tortured by a sadistic man called the doctor while war rages outside. 

Marina has loved her best friend, James, since they were children. A gorgeous, introverted science prodigy from one of America’s most famous families, James finally seems to be seeing Marina in a new way, too. But on one disastrous night, James’s life crumbles, and with it, Marina’s hopes for their future. Marina will protect James, no matter what. Even if it means opening her eyes to a truth so terrible that she may not survive it... at least, not as the girl she once was. Em and Marina are in a race against time that only one of them can win.

All Our Yesterdays is a wrenching, brilliantly plotted story of fierce love, unthinkable sacrifice, and the infinite implications of our every choice.

I don't think I've adequately mentioned how much I love time travel stories: I really, really love time travel stories. I don't think I've adequately mentioned how much time travel stories that aren't properly thought through and are full of logical impossibilities irritate me: I am really, really irritated by flawed time travel stories. Looper was very, very annoying. The movie I've seen most recently that does some version of time travel really, really well was probably Triangle, which reminds me of All Our Yesterdays - going around and around in time trying to fix the unfixable.

All Our Yesterdays reads like a movie, but I mean that in the best possible way - it's fast-paced and evocative and tightly-packed - cinematic but not tacky or cliche (they're turning it into a film, which I am not the least surprised about. I look forward to seeing it and not comparing it to the book, in order to avoid disappointment). A little overwrought at times but it works. A little predictable, sure - when I finished the novel I was still so incredibly excited by it, I went to convince my sister to read it. I explained the premise and she immediately guessed the ending. But there's a sort of dark inevitability to it when you're reading, so, yes, you'll likely work out the twist early on but it doesn't take away from your enjoyment of the book.

And the time travel? The time travel's perfect. It all made sense. I couldn't find a flaw in it. Amazingly well-plotted. I don't think you properly grasp how delighted that made me. It functions so beautifully as an action sci-fi thriller that I'll look past the fact that I find the protagonist annoying - I almost always dislike the protagonists in these big blockbuster-y novels, and I think it's possibly because I'm so used to reading character-driven fiction, where it is all about the protagonist rather than a big dramatic plot. It's sort of tricky to do both well, I think - don't really have room for a well-built interior life for a character when they're being shot at and sent through time and so forth. The villains are always my favourite, anyway.

It ends perfectly. Good endings are difficult. I was impressed. You like time travel, you should read it. You like any of the big dystopic YA novels, you should read it. I'm not generally all that enamoured with books in that category (I may just have bestseller prejudice. Is that hipster of me? Apologies), but All Our Yesterdays is a stand-out.