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My Mum

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My darling Mum died in October 2017 after a short illness. Such stark words to describe so very enormous a loss. As she put it herself though, we all survive the most appalling things, things we cannot contemplate we shall ever be able to cope with, because that’s the nature of life. And, although I shall be writing more about her, I have primarily created this blog in order to be able to share one of Mums greatest passions – reading, and her wonderful library of much loved books, which I am surrounded by right now.

When Mum downsized into an apartment from the long term family home a couple of years ago, one of the hardest tasks she faced was culling her vast library. Like me, Mum regarded her books as being old friends – if she had kept the book, she would re-read it. A book deemed unworthy was promptly disposed of, those she loved most of all would have been read many times.

So the majority of the books I am now the fortunate custodian of are ones she could not bear to say goodbye to, alongside new treasures. And I am embarking on what will be a major mission, to read every one of them. For a second or third time in many cases, as we shared very similar tastes in literature; for the first time in others. I’m going to ‘review’ each one and post my thoughts on here. And if the book appeals to you, then please comment or message me, and it will become your book – I’ll post it to you at no cost to you. If you’d care to help me out with this, please hit the Shop Now button on the FB page and check out my little Etsy enterprise – no obligation at all though, as my greatest reward is that I’m pretty sure Mum would be delighted that the tales which gave her such pleasure are going to be bringing the same joy into other peoples lives.

I’m looking forward to this!

37. ‘The Secret History’ by Donna Tartt.

The Secret History

I have enjoyed this weeks main read so much. I bought this copy for Mum, and another for myself, at Waterstone’s on Trafalgar Square in 2002 – we were so excited to finally read Ms. Tartt’s much acclaimed debut novel, first published ten years earlier.  And we were not disappointed – it’s magnificent. It still is, as a re-read.

Written by, in both Mum’s and my opinion, one of the most accomplished authors of modern times, this is a dramatic and compelling murder mystery, laced with references to ancient cultures and veering away from the usual sex drugs and rock n roll towards a far darker world. It tells the story of a small group of American college students, extremely clever but eccentric misfits who come under the influence of their charismatic Classics professor.

The opening lines of the prologue – ‘The snow in the mountains was melting and Bunny had been dead for several weeks before we came to understand the gravity of our situation’.

In the course of recreating a Bacchanalian rite, a man dies. Eventually, one of their own must be killed to maintain the secret. I’m really not giving away the plot telling you this, as we find all this out right from the start.  It is the brilliantly written drama of how, why, who, when that is the captivating heart of this novel, and which keeps you turning the pages, wanting to discover how they got to that point, and why.

The central narrator is Richard Papen, an outsider to begin with, coming from a bland, sun drenched Californian suburban environment to study at an old Vermont college, where he falls in with a tightly knit group of five rather unappealing, snooty, and deliberately ‘different’ Classics major students. They are obsessed with the ancient Greeks, in an elitist and unpleasant manner, flaunting the fact that they care little for modern life, funded by family money, and fuelled by whiskey. It’s set in the 1980’s and is a world away from the Wall Street type novels of that era, in the same way that the group of characters strives to be apart from the general blandness of 1980’s college life.

Richard is the only member of the group with no money, a fact he tries very hard to conceal. He only gains membership of the group through solving a Greek problem, and then spends most of his time trying to maintain his friendship with the group – it’s hard to see why sometimes, as most of them are seriously un-likeable, and behave with complete disregard for the feelings of others – a deliberately contrived element of the book that works brilliantly. During the 600 + pages we are led through both the before and the after of the murders, and I warn you now there are a lot of controversial topics; incest, homosexuality, and suicide attempts all feature. But we are led through them with such beautiful prose.

I have read this at least three times. It is a novel that cannot be read fast, occasionally, one has to just stop and breathe. I have read parts of it on a beach, but it is not what you’d call a beach read; it is deep, dark, and magnificently written. For me, it is the fragility of friendships and relationships with ones peers, and the need to be ‘more’ than them, (very Nietzsche), that ‘drives’ the book, and Ms. Tartt drives this one impeccably.

I shall be sorry to see this one go, but as always, should you like to add this marvellous debut novel to your own collection, please get in touch either here or on the Facebook page, and I shall be delighted to gift it forward to you, (with a BeckyandVince Signature book thong!) If you have never read it, a spot of good news for you is that Ms. Tartt has since written two more astonishing books, and unlike Mum and I, you won’t have to wait years for her to publish something else!

Here is an Amazon link for you to purchase a copy of your own if Mum’s has already been claimed…it is, in my humble opinion, a true classic, and not to be missed.

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36. ‘A Dark Adapted Eye’ by Barbara Vine.

Dark adaptation; a condition of vision brought about progressively by remaining in complete darkness for a considerable period, and characterised by progressive increase in retinal sensitivity. A dark adapted eye is an eye in which dark adaptation has taken place.

James Drever; A Dictionary of Psychology.

Barbara Vine, who of course is in fact the amazingly skilful Ruth Rendell, has built the most astonishingly complex novel from this concept, with characters and a plot that remain with you long after you have finally put down the book with a sigh of regret that it is finished. I had not read this one previously, and was delighted to find it during an attempt to find something else entirely – Mum and I both adored a good crime novel, especially one of the great British writers in the genre. P.D.James is a particular favourite of mine, and when she died a few years ago, I re read all her novels, most of which came off Mum’s bookshelves, but sadly it seems Mum got rid of them when she moved out of the house as there were none at the flat. However, this little gem of a novel remained, and I have to say I loved it!

It is a difficult novel to review in that almost anything I say about the characters will in some small way affect you, the readers, pleasure in uncovering the twists and turns yourself when reading it. It opens with a family arising in the morning and going about their business in the full and awful knowledge that their aunt and sister will die that morning – and continues to uncover the tangled skeins of lies and deceptions and desires that have led to this morning.

I found myself pondering the title, and the opening paragraph with which I have also opened this blog post, more and more as I progressed through the book. The relevance is clear; we can convince ourselves of almost anything if we think it and believe it and say it enough, and indeed this family live in a construct that is eventually astonishing, and certainly not what it initially appears to be. The conventionality of their lives is in fact underlaid by overwhelmingly passionate desires and feelings, afternoon tea and cake on a nicely laid table about to burst asunder with uncontrollably boiling sulphurous acid, and the author does a wonderful job of keeping the tea on the table while giving us, the reader, tantalising glimpses of what’s going on under the table.

I did find the first probably third of the book rather confusing at times, a lot of characters are introduced, but it is an enjoyable challenge keeping up with who is who and how they are related. As one progresses through the novel, all becomes clearer (sort of), and it’s apparent that this is a device the author has deliberately employed, it is in fact completely necessary to the plot.

One of the things I like the most about our great British female crime writers is the attention to detail, the trimmings as it were, with which they illustrate their work, and this novel is no different. It is set in post war austerity Britain in the 1950’s, pre contraception, pre womens rights…and I find myself again not wanting to say too much and give away the plot….it is written by a woman, about women, and most of all about an eventually lethal struggle between women, and it is magnificent.

In short, I thoroughly recommend this book! I have no idea when Mum read it as she has not initialled and dated this one inside the cover, but I’m fairly sure she bought it in the mid Nineties and read it immediately after visiting me in Australia as it contained an Australian bookmark, just the sort of thing Mum would have picked up while on holidays. It was a lovely treat to find that inside it, as well as the book itself.

As always, if you would like to add this superb thriller to your own book collection, please get in touch with me either here or on our Facebook page, whereupon I shall wrap it up securely in brown paper and string and post it to you as a gift with much love from both Mum and me. I am almost a year into this project now and enjoying it as much as ever, and I would like to add, I am so thrilled by the support you have all shown for it – thank you all!

Here’s an Amazon link if you have missed out on claiming this book but would like to purchase it, it’s only £3.99 on there, or of course you could pop into your local library for it, heaven knows our libraries need supporting or even more of them will close and what a dreadful thing that would be.

Lots of love, Becky XXX

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35. My Cousin Rachel’ by Daphne Du Maurier.

I first read this wonderful novel many years ago, and was absolutely delighted to find it amongst Mums books this week. Daphne Du Maurier is a thrilling author to read, especially for the first time, but in reading a second time I found just as much pleasure in this very powerful book, more so in many ways, I was a teenager the first time around – this time, I found the plot and character development, the complexities, and the emotions affected me on another level altogether. Basically, I devoured it during a bus ride up to London to renew my passport and finished it on the way back – simply couldn’t put it down!

Ms Du Maurier first published My Cousin Rachel in 1951 when she was at the height of her powers as a novelist. It is narrated in the voice of a young man, Philip Ashley, who has been brought up by his older cousin, Ambrose, in a purely male, very dogs and pipe smoking gruff landed gentry type of environment – there are not even any female staff on the estate, and the neighbouring ladies, the vicars wife and daughters for example, are treated with condescension. Although there is no actual time context, it is probably set around the end of the 19th or very early 20th century, definitely before motor vehicles or telephones. The use of the male voice is fascinating when one knows it is a woman writing, and it is done with skill – Ms Du Maurier conveys just the right level of pomposity and arrogance together with a wariness of women and their machinations – which devious and tangled web Ambrose becomes ensnared by in Italy. Philips reaction to the news that his cousin has succumbed to the charms of their cousin Rachel is one of shock and bafflement.

When Ambrose dies mysteriously, Philip is already right out of his comfort zone, travelling to Italy in response to a desperate and bewildering letter from him. He misses the funeral, and his cousin Rachel who has already left – he is told what happened by the Italian servants and Rachel’s ‘man of business’, the enigmatic and slippery Signor Rainaldi. Returning to the safety of his Cornish estate, by now convinced that Ambrose has been poisoned by Rachel, he is shocked to discover that she is on her way to Cornwall.

And now the novel begins to seriously twist and turn, as the older, very exotic and lovely Rachel begins to work her magic on him. From being certain that she is evil personified, he gradually falls under a fatal spell of attraction to her, and the tale of the seduction is told exquisitely – as the reader, we are almost led to believe we can see what she is up to, while poor Philip, completely unaccustomed to the company of a beautiful, intelligent and seductive woman, let alone sex, is soon in up to his neck and ready to hand over his entire inheritance. And then….. well, the plot thickens, and I really cannot say any more without ruining it for you!

The character of Rachel is multi faceted. Her small hands and exotic profile are mentioned often – her ability to charm everyone she meets, the fact that she has a ‘past’ – she has been married twice, miscarried a child, and almost certainly had lovers and lived a shall we say exciting life in Florence – all add seasoning to this seduction. Philips childhood friend, his godfathers daughter, Louise, can only watch in despair as he succumbs. One has to have a degree of sympathy for the character of Rachel – a woman alone with no independent means in those days would be relying on her wits, looks, anything she could use to secure her future. But one also has to feel a little sorry for Philip on whom the tables have been turned when he realises that a night of unbridled passion which he assumes means marriage is not how Rachel views it at all. Classic Du Maurier plot twisting, with a very strong feminist vein to it.

Seriously, this is a brilliant book, I think better and more complex than the more famous ‘Rebecca’ although I adore that too. I have Mums copy here ready to gift forward, so if you would like to add it to your collection, please get in touch either here or on the Facebook page, and I shall send it to you with love. In case after reading this, you’d like to read the book but Mums copy has already been claimed, here is an Amazon link for you to purchase a copy…or go to your library…either way, if you have not read this, do so! A fabulous, strong female writer at the height of her talent. Right up both Mums and my alley!

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34. ‘Shakespeare’ by Bill Bryson.

Shakespeare

It’s safe to say Mum loved this book as she has two copies of it; the first dated 2008, the second copy, 2011 and 2014….obviously Mum mislaid the first copy,  so she bought it again!

I too thoroughly enjoyed this. It is nowhere near as heavy going as many of the scholarly works that have been written about William Shakespeare – and there are certainly plenty of them – and rather than the plays, it focuses on the eternal mystery of who William Shakespeare the man really was. It is truly amazing how little we actually know about him! Even the three likenesses of him are probably wildly inaccurate, and there is virtually no information that we can rely on regarding his personal life, his relationships, what drove him and inspired him…and many theories that suggest he wasn’t in fact the genuine author of the work attributed to him!

The book is easy to read, and quite short, emphasising Mr Bryson’s assertion that we can know little of the man himself despite exhaustive research. It is remarkable that his works even survived,  for which we can thank his friends and colleagues, John Heminges and Henry Condell, who seven years after his death published the First Folio – about which there is a very entertaining chapter giving us a fascinating insight into the literary publishing world of the 16th century. In fact one of the best things about this book is the way Mr Bryson feeds us snippets about what everyday life in Elizabethan and Jacobean England was like – plagues, superstitions and sumptuary laws abound, together with the robust nature of the theatre, and its remarkable accessibility. Of particular interest are the passages about life in London at that time – Mum would have relished that greatly!

All fascinating stuff, and delivered with Mr. Bryson’s characteristically dry humour, backed up by a solid presentation of the very few solid facts we have, and a measured assessment of the theories that abound. I particularly enjoyed his final chapter in the book, ‘Claimants’, in which he discusses the varied propositions that William Shakespeare did not in fact write anything, including the wonderful story of the decidedly unstable Delia Bacon and her conviction that her namesake, Francis Bacon, was in fact the true author of his catalogue!

A great read, and I have two copies to gift forward if you would like to add this lovely little book to your collection – as always, please get in touch either through the Facebook page or here and I will be delighted to send you one. If you have missed out on one of Mum’s copies but would like to read this, here is a link to Amazon to purchase a copy for yourself…

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33. ‘Rubicon’ by Tom Holland, a guest review by Tom Gray.

It is a tired old trope, perhaps because of its enduring truth; history repeats itself. And drawing parallels between the late years of the Roman Republic and the modern United States is almost irresistible to anyone with an understanding of the period; the rise of populist demagogues, the increasing influence of a powerful military-complex, and the steady erosion of democratic ideals are all forces which precipitated the fall of the what at the time was the world’s greatest nation and democracy, and you don’t have to look hard for such trends in the political and cultural machinations of the current western superpower, the USA.

Understanding this history then, could be considered vital if we are to avoid repeating it. But condensing such a volatile, fractious history into an accessible and even enjoyable read is a task verging on the impossible. In Rubicon, Tom Holland does this spectacularly, by articulating centuries of history into a thoroughly entertaining read, and in doing so succeeds where many have failed before him.

As the name suggests, Rubicon begins with one of history’s most familiar scenes; Julius Caesars’ pause on the banks of the Rubicon, as he wrestled with a decision which would have vast and far reaching implications for him, his troops, and for the entire western political trajectory for the millennia to come; to march his troops on Rome and secure his political future.

Many adaptations of this moment and the events which followed, from Shakespeare to HBO, have centred on Julius Caesar, his march on Rome, and the civil wars that followed and eventually culminated in the death of the republic. But Caesar’s crossing of the Rubicon did not happen in a vacuum; it was the culmination of almost a century of democratic decay, a period which is almost criminally neglected in popular history, a neglect which Rubicon addresses. The Italian wars of independence, the great rivalry between Sulla and Marius, Pompey’s conquest of the east and the Mithridatic Wars are just some of the fascinating events preceding Caesar, events which rarely get a mention in popular culture and adaptations (Colleen McCullough’s epic 7-volume Masters of Rome is a notable exception, and a must-read for Roman history buffs). This crime of omission is made doubly so by the fact that barely any other period or place in antiquity is so well documented.

Not so with Rubicon. Rubicon takes the reader back to the 2nd and 1st century Roman Republic, which had existed and prospered for centuries, and whose democratic, diplomatic and military institutions still shape the modern world. He explores the myriad pressures that gradually moulded the Roman psyche, which had for centuries abhorred the very notion of autocratic rule, and steered it towards dictatorship. He explores the demands of Italian nations’ for citizenship, and the civil conflicts that followed (and which would define Roman politics for decades to come).

The subtitle of this book is apt – the triumph and tragedy of the Roman republic – and indeed it is littered with both. The tragedies of Crassus in the deserts of Syria and Cato’s brutal suicide in North Africa, and the triumphs of Rome and her domination of the Mediterranean are explored in equal measure, as Tom Holland humanizes the countless fascinating characters who defined this period, from the populist demagogue Clodius to the patrician heavyweights Marius and Sulla, and the rivalries, hopes and dreams of ordinary men which shaped these events.

Perhaps the only criticism I can make of the book is that it ends so soon; leaving the periods that followed to other historians, many of whom sadly lack Mr Holland’s eloquence. Still, we can hardly blame him for that.

32. ‘sorry’ by Gail Jones.

Oh my goodness. Off to the great Southern Land again, and this time, in tears by the end of the book. That doesn’t happen very often!

Mum had a great interest in Australia, visiting me there several times. She read Australian authors with delight, I remember her joy at discovering the work of Peter Carey, and she particularly loved Bill Bryson’s marvellous book, Down Under, reading it at least twice! This wonderfully lyrical and poetic novel is new to me, however it is one Mum read in 2008, so it ‘made the cut’ so to speak, when Mum down-sized her library. That means she loved it and intended to re read it at some point.

I’ve just finished it – I began during the week, but it is such a ‘big’ read for a fairly slender volume, that I put it aside until I had time to curl up on the sofa with no distractions and thoroughly read it. I am glad I did so, as it is fabulous. The author, Gail Jones, has won many prizes for her work, and this novel was shortlisted for six major prizes in Australia and the UK on its publication in 2008. Her writing style, in this novel at least, is breath-taking. I found myself on many occasions going back and re-reading sentences to fully appreciate them, and her subject matter  provided a brilliant counterpoint to Rabbit Proof Fence which was my last review. Fantastic.

The central character is Perdita, a little girl born to older English expatriate parents who don’t really want her to begin with, they almost hoped she would die at birth. As a result, her principal relationships are not with them, but with the Aboriginal women who nursed her, Billy, the ‘slow’ deaf mute son of the neighbouring farming family, and finally and most importantly, with Mary, a young Aboriginal girl from the missions who is brought in to care for her when her mother is admitted to hospital, having completely lost touch with reality. Stella lives in a world of Shakespeare, frequently quoting great chunks of plays, while her husband Nicholas, who has come to Australia as an anthropologist to study Aboriginal culture, has long since lost interest and become a mean spirited and rather nasty person, raping Aboriginal girls, and becoming obsessed with the progress of the Second World War in Europe.

The brutal murder of Nicholas in their shack is the opening scene of the novel, and the central theme. From page 1 –

‘This is a story that can only be told in a whisper. There is a hush to difficult forms of knowing, an abashment, a sorrow, an inclination towards silence. My throat is misshapen with all it now carries. My heart is a sour, indolent fruit. I think the muzzle of time has made me thus, has deformed my mouth, my voice, my wanting to say. At first there was just this single image: her dress, the particular blue of hydrangeas, spattered with the purple of my fathers blood.’

Perdita, Billy, Mary, and her mother Stella, are all there, but who did it? Perdita is the narrator, but she cannot remember, and has developed a dreadful stutter after the event, rendering her almost completely mute.

Appropriately named for the character in Shakespeare’s Tempest, Perdita finds herself aligned far more closely with the aborigines, who value life as a whole, ongoing tale, have intricate kinship bonds, and knowledge of the land on a deeper level, than with the white Australians, who have driven them from their ancestral lands and forcibly removed their children.  Aboriginal children, especially half caste, as we saw in Rabbit Proof Fence, were forcibly removed from their families and ‘schooled’ in institutions to provide service to the whites who had stolen their lands.  Perdita is aware of the injustices, having seen her father raping Mary even though she didn’t really understand what he was doing, and she finds a sense of order, love, and care in Aboriginal culture which she definitely does not receive from her own people. Reference is made to the Aboriginal view of the land and the people all belonging together, and Perdita finds solace in their acceptance of her as a part of that whole picture.

The Australian bush is brilliantly portrayed in this book. I could taste the red dust, smell the gum trees, hear the lorikeets, see the cobalt sky, and Ms Jones description of a violent storm was captivating. I loved a chapter where the children were introduced to honey ants by Mary – they are ‘her’ creature so she won’t eat them herself, but Billy and Perdita’s delight is her delight. I remember my children eating honey ants! It is a place like no other, and this author knows it well. Her descriptive passages somehow also manage to convey beautifully the Aboriginal one-ness with the land and emphasise the white Australians inability to cope with an environment they could not control.

I loved this. I recommend it most whole-heartedly. I shan’t say anything about how the story ends. I shall instead add my voice to the countless Australians who have said, sorry. What was done in the last century to the native people of a great country was truly awful – saying sorry is a very small step forward, and Ms Jones, with this magnificent tale, says it from the heart.

As always, if you would like this marvellous book, Mums copy, bought by her and read in 2008, please get in touch with me and I shall be delighted to gift it forward to you. If it has already been claimed, here is a link to purchase a copy on Amazon…

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and seriously, if anyone can talk me through adding this link more simply…please get in touch!!!!!

Don’t forget to like and follow the facebook page Mums Books. Thanks for reading, and I do hope you read this book! Much love, Becky XXX

31. ‘Rabbit Proof Fence’ by Doris Pilkington.

Rabbit Proof Fence
Firstly, massive apologies to all my followers for the looooong wait between reviews! As many of you know, I work full time in primary education, and the start of the first term back after the long summer holidays is always absolutely exhausting, plus I am working hard on growing my little online side hustle…there are never sufficient hours in a day, really! I have also been rewarding myself with short reads from a fabulous book of Mum’s, a compilation of the 100 best short stories ever, which is highly engaging and somewhat controversial in its selection…but is taking me an age to get through, it’s a hefty volume! Excuses aside though, here I am with my thoughts about a slim yet deeply moving and issue raising narrative non fiction book, Doris Pilkington’s ‘Rabbit Proof Fence’.
Ms Pilkington is the daughter of one of the protagonists in this book, the half caste Aboriginal girl, Molly. The book recounts the forcible removal of Molly and two other girls from their families to a Native Settlement, their subsequent escape, and their long walk home following the rabbit proof fence. Shortest summary ever for a book that touches on so many sensitive issues. And the author herself was taken from her mother at the age of four and sent to the Moore River Settlement, only being reunited with her mother over twenty years later.
In the opening chapters, Ms Pilkington gives us an account of the initial interactions between the Aborigines and the first white settlers, and on through to the 1930’s when the incidents related in it occurred. Then things get much more specific, and she recounts, almost as if from a distance, the astonishing story of her mother and her aunt’s epic walk to freedom, as told to her by her mother.
I think this book is well worthy of reading purely because, with no fuss, it recounts the story of what happened to so many mixed race children in Australia. The assumption was made that the children of white fathers and Aboriginal mothers would be better off being removed from the ‘natives’ and raised in camps to be trained as domestic servants and so on – it’s important to note, not to be educated as white children were. The idea, inconceivable though it now seems, was to ‘assimilate’ them into white society, marry them to other half castes and eventually ‘breed’ them into white people. This continued in some parts of Australia into the 1970’s, and is often referred to now as the Stolen Generation. It is absolutely tragic, the more so because so many of the white men who fathered these children, enabled it.
Despite their families trying to keep them out of sight and thus safe from being taken, the girls were found and taken south in July 1931. Interestingly, in August 1930, a year earlier, the Government official responsible for the removal of mixed race children in that area, which had been assumed to be good for them as the pure blood natives rejected the half castes just as much as their white fathers generally did, wrote that the children ‘lean more towards the black than the white and on second thoughts, nothing would be gained in removing them’. A blinding flash of intuition for its time – nothing more than common sense to us today, when we understand that despite teasing or bullying because they are ‘different’, children are much better off staying with their own families as far as possible.
In this case, Molly, who was 15, and the two girls, Gracie aged 11 and Daisy aged 9 who were taken with her in 1931, manage to escape the camp after only a short time there, grisly place that it is, and although they had been taken down the coast by sea, she knows that the rabbit proof fence follows a north-south axis, and that if they find it and follow it north, they must arrive eventually home at Jigalong, from where they left, as it is on the fence.
The rabbit proof fence incidentally is another example of the white mans folly in Australia – the early colonists brought over rabbits amongst other things, initially to breed for meat, but then released to provide a ‘spot of hunting’. In the absence of significant natural predators, and with the warmth of Australia allowing them to breed year round, they ran absolutely riot across the land (a bit like the white man did). An attempt to stop rabbits invading Western Australia from the Eastern States was made by building a supposedly rabbit proof fence that ran between Starvation Bay near Esperance on the south coast up to Ninety Mile Beach, east of Port Hedland, effectively cutting off the bottom left hand side of Australia. 1,139 miles of flimsy barbed wire fencing – it failed to stop the rabbits, but provided a lifeline for these girls.
They did better than most kids their age these days would, surviving a thousand mile trek through the harsh Australian bush, feeding themselves on bush tucker and food they scrounged from homesteads, being careful to arrive and leave said homesteads and farms from different directions to avoid being retaken.
I shan’t give away the ending. I believe this is a book that should be read by all Australian school children certainly. The movie was an OK adaptation, but for me it is the matter of fact tone of the book that drives home the bloody awfulness of the truth. After years of campaigning, by the 1990’s things were changing, but even as of today,  Australian Aborigines are mostly still living in far worse conditions and with a much lower life expectancy than white Australians.
In 2000, Phillip Knightley summed up the Stolen Generations in these terms:

This cannot be over-emphasized—the Australian government literally kidnapped these children from their parents as a matter of policy. White welfare officers, often supported by police, would descend on Aboriginal camps, round up all the children, separate the ones with light-coloured skin, bundle them into trucks and take them away. If their parents protested they were held at bay by police.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stolen_Generations
I recommend reading the Wikipedia article above to learn more about the Stolen Generation. And although John Howard may not have found it in himself to apologise for his predecessors actions, I am genuinely sorry that this happened, not only to these three girls, but the countless others who were lost forever by their families, as was my Mum, who after reading this in 2005 rang me up to see if it was all a bit exaggerated ( I lived in Australia between 1985 and 2012). I was so sad to have to tell her, no, it’s all true.
It’s not a depressing read, for all that the subject matter is appalling. There is a great deal of humanity within its pages, and I recommend it to you all. I have Mum’s copy here which I should love to gift forward to someone – please contact me through here or on the Facebook page, Mums Books, if you’d like it, and in case it has already been claimed, here is a link to Amazon to purchase it for yourself.

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