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Our reviewers on the best (mostly Australian) books they've pulled from the shelf in the past few months.

Stone Yard Devotional Charlotte Wood, Allen & Unwin (2023)

Reviewed by Lucy Munro

“Nobody knows the subterranean lives of families,” writes Stella prize-winning author Charlotte Wood in her latest novel. Stone Yard Devotional is the story of a woman in search of answers. Disoriented by the death of her mother many years earlier, she abandons her marriage and comfortable urban life for an
isolated monastery on the New South Wales Monaro plains. She finds solitude, but her seclusion is punctuated by a series of arrivals: an unexpected visitor, the skeletal remains of a long-lost sister, and a mice plague of biblical proportions.

The prose is sparse and contemplative as Wood questions notions of grief, forgiveness and what it means to be truly good.

For cult followers of Wood (whose previous works include the provocative and award-winning novel The Natural Way of Things) there’s a lot here that feels familiar, in particular the skin-prickling atmosphere of foreboding. But Stone Yard is also new territory, being acutely personal. The aftermath of a cancer diagnosis that rocked Wood’s family ripples through the book, stripping bare all that is inessential.


Small Things Like These Claire Keegan, Grove Press (2021)

Reviewed by Lucinda Stump

This brief but exquisite novel by Irish writer Claire Keegan is not an Australian book, but it has links to relatively recent Australian history through its description of the notorious Magdalene laundries, which existed in both Ireland and Australia last century.

Set in the weeks before Christmas 1985, in a small town on the River Barrow, it tells the story of Bill Furlong, a coal and timber merchant. A hardworking and
thoughtful man, given to small acts of generosity and kindness, Furlong finds himself worn down by anxieties over the future for his five daughters, to whom he is devoted. While delivering coal to the prison-like Catholic convent that looms over the town, Furlong discovers a horrifying secret that leads him, ultimately, to rebel against the accepted orthodoxy that “if you want to get along in life, there’s things you have to ignore”.

Keegan’s dialogue beautifully captures the character of Furlong’s almost Dickensian family life as well as his own gentle heroism. It is a story that lingers long after the final page.


The Bee Sting Paul Murray, Penguin (2023)

Reviewed by Annabelle Hickson

We might need to redefine the remit of our Bookshelf page to focus on Australian and Irish books. When the books are as brilliant as The Bee Sting, we really have no other option. This glorious, sweeping family saga – described by The Guardian as a tragicomic triumph – is set in small-town Ireland. One of the younger characters wishes it wasn’t: “I just want to live somewhere I can get a good coffee and not have to see nature and everyone doesn’t look like they were made of mashed potato.” It’s a very funny book, but also heart-wrenching. The only other time in my recent reading-and-watching life I have been as emotionally invested in multiple characters was season 2 of The Bear. I watched that TV show five months ago and still think about it daily. Now all the Bee Sting people are swirling around in there with Chef Carmy, too.

The Bee Sting was short-listed for the 2023 Booker Prize, but pipped at the post by another Irish book, Paul Lynch’s Prophet Song. Galah’s Irish obsession may well continue into the next issue’s Bookshelf pages. Stand by.


Exit Through the Gift Shop Maryam Master, Pan Australia (2021)

Reviewed by Frankie Davis, age 12

Anahita Rosalind Ghorban-Galaszczuk (or Ana for short) is dealing with the normal stuff of being 12 – school, friends, a bully named Alyssa Anderson – plus everything that goes with having a terminal illness.

Exit Through the Gift Shop is a life-changing book. I’ve read it four or five times and every time I loved it a bit more. It’s a rollercoaster of emotions, and even though it’s written in a hilarious tone, some parts will probably make you cry (unless you’re a stone). The language is easy to read and the book features some fun and interesting illustrations that enhance the story.

What I love most about this book is that it offers a new perspective on life, death and everything in between. It’s about kindness, forgiveness, courage and acceptance. It’s real, and funny. It really gave me an insight into what life might be like as a kid suffering from a life-threatening illness. I strongly recommend this book to anyone aged 10 to 110 who is looking to deep-dive into life’s big questions in an inspiring, uplifting way.


Storytellers Leigh Sales, Simon & Schuster (2023)

Reviewed by Annabelle Hickson

If you ask me, journalism is a trade: the basics can be taught, but mostly it is best learned by doing. Not everyone has the means or desire to do a journalism university degree. And because of the downsizing and closure of many newsrooms across the country, the opportunities to learn-by-doing are fewer, especially in regional Australia.

Acclaimed journalist Leigh Sales has created a lifeline for anyone who is interested in storytelling, reporting and interviewing. Her book, Storytellers, gives us under-the-hood access to journalists such as Samantha Maiden, Richard Fidler, Lisa Millar and Kate McClymont, people who I would basically kill to learn from. In a perfect world, I’d be shadowing them earnestly for extended work-experience gigs in real life, but this book is the next best thing.

This year, Galah has plans to build and launch a truly excellent eight-week journalism course to equip young regional writers with skills to write articles, profiles, features and newsletter stories. Storytellers will be at the top of the reading list.


I’d Rather Not Robert Skinner, Black Inc. (2023)

Reviewed by Lucy Munro

“I retired when I was 28 years old and ran out of money the same afternoon,” are the opening lines of Robert Skinner’s memoir. “My feeling about unemployment was: Someone’s gotta do it. Why not me? The pay was lousy, but I’d heard the hours were good.”

I’d Rather Not is a collection of short essays by the editor of the now-defunct Australian short-story journal The Canary Press. Skinner’s conversational anecdotes span topics such as how to deal with demanding bookshop customers, what it’s like to go on a 10-day camel trek in the outback with ageing parents, and how to run a literary magazine while sleeping rough in a dog park.

His observations are wry and entertaining and it’s clear why some critics have coined Skinner “Australia’s answer to David Sedaris”. Perhaps the best summation of this book is the front-cover endorsement by Annabel Crabb: “An absolute bag of lollies”. I think of it as an assortment of delicious sugar hits, best enjoyed slowly.