Comments Off on Static Horror: A Review of I Saw the TV Glow
The sensation of being at the edge of a personal revelation can be at once terrifying and beautiful. Words, heavy with possibility, are placed at the tip of your tongue. Once they escape, they can never be put back.
This is the line that Jane Schoenbrun’s toes in her second feature I Saw The TV Glow, where the psychological horror doesn’t come from autonomy that is stripped away, but rather from the weight of having full responsibility and control over your life, and the fear of having wasted that autonomy by lying to yourself. The specific type of dread that comes from the possibility of self-destruction doesn’t need to be communicated by gore or jumpscares—in this space, static suburbia can be made threatening by its own ambiguous familiarity. A father staring, blank faced, while canned laughter spills from the TV set. A fallen powerline slithers and sparks across the road, spewing pages from a half-remembered book. An ice-cream truck watches from the sidelines. You don’t have to go far.
Owen, played by Ian Foreman and then Justice Smith, is a painfully reclusive and sheltered teenager. His sickly and quiet mother is constantly frustrated in her attempts to connect with her son, and Owen’s looming and mostly silent father (Fred Durst) furthers his isolation by belittling his ‘girly’ interests. Owen’s interactions are halting, uncomfortable, and laden with a kind of resigned despair, as though he’s already accepted that it is easier, with the rough hand he has been dealt, to navigate the world as a non-person than to experience the pain of being trapped. He bonds with Maddy (Brigette Lundy-Paine), an equally ostracised peer a few years older, over their love of the TV show The Pink Opaque. There’s a specific type of obsession unique to adolescence that Lundy-Paine communicates with raw, clumsy intensity — that feeling of trying to show someone how a piece of media you love has changed your life, the awkwardness in the gap between wanting to be understood, and the limitations of putting feelings into words. To Maddy and Owen, The Pink Opaque is a lifeline — from their alienated, pre-internet suburbia, on the other side of the screen, suspiciously relatable, overpowered heroines fight the same monsters of the week portrayed the way you remember them being when you were a kid: unintentionally terrifying on first impression; innocuous when revisited in adulthood.
I Saw the TV Glow is refreshingly explicit about its connection to trans experience and dysphoria, but it conveys this in a broad, metaphorical sense in such a unique way that seems like something of a formal miracle. The word ‘trans’ is never said, but the pervading sense of wrongness that Maddy and Owen feel is overwhelming in its intensity, conveyed by a grainy, analogue frame of neon light and a soft shoegaze soundtrack that imbues each moment with nostalgia, regret, and unease. Scribbled pink time cards and Owen’s matter of fact fourth wall breaking often abruptly adopt the tone and pace of kitschy millennial coming-of-age stories. But the school corridors are dark and vacant, and the arcade and movie theatre are silent. Owen’s addresses to the camera don’t create a sense of intimacy or triviality so much as they feel controlling, false, and disturbingly out of place. Instead of subverting genre tropes, Schoenbrun lets them function as a trapping of their own, an empty nostalgia prison that Owen has chosen to embrace. Though the film provides the setup and texture of a much happier story, Schoenbrun takes a calculated step back by portraying a protagonist whose story is unambiguously self-destructive, refusing the call up to the last frame.
Time moves differently in the suburbs, certain images moving slowly, ingraining themselves into the fabric of the film, others skipped entirely or only present for a moment, making it feel like you are constantly missing something. In Schoenbrun’s suburban nightmare, years don’t pass in seconds; they have already passed, unseen, by the time Owen takes the time to look back. His story is always in the rear view, always, in his mind, observed too late to change anything. The true devastation comes from our experience as the helpless viewer on the other side of the screen, who knows that Owen is wrong. There is still time, a chalk mural proclaims before the film moves towards the final act, a statement that seems more directed at the audience than at Owen, whose back is turned to the words and who certainly does not take them to heart. There is still time for us, the film warns, but here is what can and will happen if you choose to let time run away. It might not be too late now, but life is not endless. One day, the chalk words on the road will be wrong.
To me, what makes Schoenbrun’s film truly singular is its refusal to shy away from the true consequences of self-repression. No Hero’s Journey does passive participation in real life make — not everything will be okay, unless you work to make it so. Here is a film so intimate and specific that it will make some people cry in the cinema and stare blankly out the window on the drive home; here is also a film that humanises the still deeply taboo topic of dysphoria by pointing out the simple truth: if you want to change who you are, you can. There is still time.
Within Schoenbrun’s precise, familiar imagining of queer possibility, there is hope, and there is despair, dancing around each other, creating a picture that is at once horrifying and beautiful. Go see their film, if you can, in an empty cinema, where the light from the screen can set your face aglow.
Comments Off on Totally Tubular: The Comedy of Errors puts on a radical performance
The return of student theatre in semester two was headlined by ShakeSoc’s The Comedy of Errors with a radical 80s twist. For first-time director Jessica Luff, choosing one of the Bard’s shortest works and, indeed, a comedy proved an incredibly smart choice.
The Comedy of Errors centres on the mistaken identity of not only two twin brothers separated in a shipwreck but also identical enslaved twin brothers. Following a series of unfortunate misunderstandings, including not recognising your own wife, falling in love with her sister and being arrested for stealing a gold chain, chaos in the town ensues. In the end, the pairs finally reunite, uncovering the truth behind the shipwreck that tore the family apart.
With the closure of Kambri Theatre for the remainder of the year, ShakeSoc decided to stage their production at the Canberra Theatre Centre’s Courtyard Theatre. The intimate, sparse theatre allowed for vast creative liberty, featuring well-tiered seating and extensive sound and lighting rigging, aspects generally lacking in the Kambri theatre from our experience. However, we assume that the lack of a backstage would have been troublesome for the cast and crew — although Luff’s clever direction ensured no unnecessary crossing of the stage — so we wonder how this might play out for larger productions scheduled for the Courtyard.
The Comedy of Errors is a more accessible script, meaning that for audiences who are less well-versed in Shakespeare, minor gaps in understanding were bridged by a relatively straightforward plot coupled with Luff’s extraction of every potential physical comedy element. Re-contextualisation in the 80s proved a fun choice, with distinct nods to the decade throughout the play. However, the difficulty with the re-contextualisation of Shakespeare is the extent to which you alter the script to truly commit to the time period. Here, it felt like a slight gimmick to draw in audiences, and we would have loved to see further commitment beyond the music and costuming. Overall, you can see that Luff thought through every single scene in detail, which was particularly highlighted in the cafe date-style scene, which was both well-directed and comedic. All the characters were well-utilised with clear background directing when individuals did not have lines, whilst similarly not saturating the scene with unnecessary bodies on stage. There was a slight slump in the second act, possibly due to many original ideas used in the first half. However, Luff should be applauded as continuous laughter from the audience proved their enjoyment throughout.
As an ensemble, this cast appeared to genuinely enjoy being together on stage. Our biggest stand-out from this production came from the pairing of Oscar Mikic as Antipholus of Syracuse and Ava Ferrari as Dromio of Syracuse. Both remained intensely committed to the slapstick nature of the show, acting larger-than-life at every opportunity. This dynamic was further enhanced by the chemistry between the two, something lacking in their twin counterparts. Ferrari’s ability to change accents ranging from American to Spanish showed an impressive range, with a further comedic moment occurring with dance moves timed to the door-knocking sound cues.
Although rarely appearing together, Ferrari and Julia Wedgewood-Oppenheim were an unbelievably funny twin pairing. Each mirrored the mannerisms and energy of one another, making clear that despite not looking identical, they came across as convincing brothers. While many of the characters relied on physical slapstick comedy, refreshing characterisation came from the sisters Eloise Bisley and Ella Buckley played. Both portrayed the depth of their characters, reacting well to the chaos as it ensued.
The lighting design by Steph Evans remained consistent, with particular highlights occurring with colour changing to red where Satan was mentioned and outbursts of anger arose. However, whilst sufficient, potentially greater variety throughout — especially considering the extensive rigging of the theatre — would have enhanced the production and its 80s charm. Similarly, Tom Lyle’s sound design absolutely served a clear purpose. Well-timed knocking and cartoonish-boingy throwing effects added comedy, amplifying the already slapstick scenes. A crowd-pleasing aspect of this show came from the transition music featuring 80s bops, which had the audience singing along.
Whilst there were very few major set changes, the inclusion of the popular transition music allowed for slightly slower resets without much notice. Further, the team’s commitment to the 80s theme with their period outfits and similar enthusiasm for the music added to the genuine enjoyment and camaraderie of this production.
What most illustrated the time period was the costuming, with shoulder pads, an ET graphic t-shirt, and a fluoro pink skin-tight leotard, which were just some of the nods to the iconic decade. Through innovative colour-blocking, the pairings of twins were made clear, with other characters similarly assigned their own unique aesthetic that showcased their characters’ personalities.
Turning now to the set, when we walked into the theatre, we were immediately met with the familiar comic stylings of the classic 80s music video for Take-On-Me by A-ha. Three white sheets adorned with beautifully hand-drawn locations created by Rose Kenyon and Jeremia Kim covered each third of the stage. Whilst very well designed, the location choices for the differing areas could have better mirrored the settings of the play as it unfolded, with the possibility of a police station making more sense than a dollar store.
Further, props created by Sophie Chiew were another clear nod to the decade. Attention to detail didn’t go unnoticed; small items such as a teen magazine from the 80s and small beanie babies certainly reinforced Luff’s directorial vision.
Overall, this cast and crew should be applauded for putting on a show that screamed, ‘Don’t you forget about me.’ With one final show in ShakeSoc’s 2024 season, we look forward to their upcoming production of As You Like It.
Comments Off on A reminder to feed your dad: “Third Storey” debuts to packed audiences
Easily the bravest choice of NUTS’ 2024 season was their first ever full length student-written play, Third Storey, written and directed by Eli Narev and Adam Gottschalk (pictured above). We had little to no expectations walking into this show, and upon leaving could only describe it as “on crack, but in the best way.”
Third Storey follows prank influencers Jax and Gene, who have been awarded a grant to make a feature film. The play follows the chaos of their creative process as characters slowly stray from sanity in their attempts to adapt Franz Kafka’s Metamorphosis into a one-woman motion picture. Locked in a three storey house, the script explores complex systems of rules, family dynamics, the hunger for perfection, and an attic full of possum shit.
The original script was witty, deeply funny, heart warming and often unexpected. Narev and Gottschalk should be commended on the multi-faceted nature of the characters they created, building an ensemble of individuals easily recognisable to a modern audience. Many of the script’s most tender moments occurred between Annabelle Hansen’s Judie and Beth Fuccilli’s Bev, where the writing touched on some of the difficulties of parenting, questioning to what extent we are all impacted by the choices our parents make. A standout writing and directorial moment in the first act came from an attempt by director-character Jax (played by Adelaide Hayes) to shoot the one-woman scene sequentially one line at a time. As the characters scrambled to perform quick changes, the comedic direction of Elizabeth Barnes’ Alison counting down by ones each time she switched personas had the audience dissolving into laughter.
While the script was excellent overall, it could have potentially benefited from further editing. The production — especially the first act — felt overlong at times. This length can be attributed to attempts to give too many characters tragic backstories, which were at times rushed, and lengthy duologues that could have been shortened or cut.
Turning now to the cast, both of our stand-out performances came from Fuccilli and Mischa Rippon as Bev and Graham, the loveable, stereotypical Aussie parents. The moment they stepped on stage they brought a refreshing lightness that cut through the length of Act One, being comedic, touching, and most importantly giving a sense of humanity to the show. The pair’s talent was further highlighted in the dramatic twist at the conclusion of the show, where despite blood pooling from his mouth Rippon, with stoic determination, refused to break character, whilst Fuccilli continued to movingly comfort her husband.
Paralleling their parents’ dynamics, the sibling duo of Hayes’ Jax and Callum Doherty’s Gene highlighted the range of these actors. In particular, Doherty’s raw, haunted expression at the end of Act Two silenced the audience. Another actor of note was Thomas Neil in his portrayal as the dorky, golden retriever boyfriend Dom who arguably had one of the more significant character developments throughout, emphasising Neil’s versatility as an actor. However other characters, like Pip and the Producer, felt a little rushed and underdeveloped.
An unconventional inclusion for this production was an original garment from Bridget Matison who created a one-of-a-kind cockroach inspired showgirl costume. This bold choice highlighted the eccentricity of the film being created, enhancing Barnes’ dramatic interpretation of Kafka’s Gregor as a cockroach. Additionally, the evening wear used for the award show scenes provided contrast to the otherwise ordinary costumes used throughout the rest of the show. Overall, the costume design led by Lara Connolly was cohesive and enhanced the portrayal of each of the characters.
The set for this production was exceptional. Credit must be given to set designer Katja Curtin and assistant set designer Grace Fletcher who managed to transform Kambri drama theatre into a convincing family home. There were two major sets, the first being the exterior of the house, with well-executed painting of black flats making the set look three-dimensional. The second set displayed the interior of the home, utilising a raised stage to highlight two of the three storeys. The set was further enhanced by the cohesion of the actors’ entrances and exits, at times circling behind the stage to illustrate the journey of travelling to the second floor. Furnished with effective props, this set is certainly a stand-out from the sets we have seen in Kambri this year.
Unfortunately, during the blackouts where set and numerous prop changes occurred the backstage crew moved at what felt like a glacial pace, with a lack of transition music, forcing the audience to hone in on the movements of the crew. Where the script was already long, this elongated the show further.
The lighting design by Jessica Peacock was effective, using spotlights and blackouts where necessary for the script. Whilst at times slightly delayed — Kambri lighting is notoriously unreliable — more creative lighting may have enhanced the script. An inclusion we might suggest would be varying the lighting when the camera was rolling to dramatically differentiate. Further, Genevieve Cox’s sound design was apt for purpose and well-timed.
Neither of us were quite prepared for the dramatic twist at the denouement of this production. All we can say from that ending for those who did not get to see the show is…remember to feed your dad. Overall, the show proved an immense success and we are excited to see what is next for the witty writing duo of Narev and Gottschalk.
Comments Off on ShakeSoc’s TIBB: Bitchin’ Teens in Togas and Romeo as a Sparkling Vampire
For those who have never experienced Then I’ll Be Brief (TIBB), it is essentially ShakeSoc’s annual Year 10 camp-vibe theatre show. Full of comical skits from your favourite Shakespeare plays alongside some original modern renditions, this production serves to highlight the range of ShakeSoc as a theatre society. This year’s show consisted of six skits each with their own director, with some extra ‘TIBB bits’ in-between.
One of our favourite skits was the ‘Julius Caesar Toga Party’ directed by Georgia Motto. Recontextualised in American Greek life, Motto took Shakespeare’s work and enhanced its comedy by introducing caricatures of the kind of college students we all love to hate. Leading the scene were seasoned ShakeSoc Treasurer Liat Granot and newcomer Zara Sheldrick-Aboud, whose comedic timing enhanced the raunchy nature of Shakespeare’s work. Motto’s witty decision to incorporate the well-known Gretchen Wieners monologue from ‘Mean Girls’ had the audience agreeing “We should totally just stab Caesar!”
Another scene that we and the audience enjoyed was ‘Hammy’ directed by India Kazakoff. Inspired by one of Shakespeare’s most famous works Hamlet, Kazakoff amplified the ridiculousness of Shakespeare’s plot as Hamlet attempts to cover up the murder of his prospective father-in-law. All actors in this scene stood out, and perhaps credit should again be given to Kazakoff for bringing out the best in her troupe of performers. Whilst difficult to single out a standout from this performance, James Phillips and Féy Etherington as the iconic duo Rosencrantz and Guildenstern utilised their bro-energy to captivate the audience.
When entering the theatre that night, the last thing on either of our bingo cards for this show was a Shakespeare inspired Twilight scene, but that was exactly what Olivia Hobbs delivered. Conflating modern star-crossed lovers Edward and Bella with Romeo and Juliet, Hobbs took the audience on a journey through all five books in the Twilight Saga, utilising a mix of traditional lines from Romeo and Juliet and dialogue from the cult-classic movies. Complete with Zac Mccutcheon’s glittery chest and Georgia Mcculloch’s awkward Kristen Stewart mannerisms, the pair sped through the fever dream that was the Twilight-era. What made this scene stand-out was perhaps its distinct differentiation from the other recontextualizations by truly taking creative liberty with the Bard’s work.
An entertaining feature of TIBB is the ‘TIBB bits,’ snappy parodies more similar to the types of skits you would see in a revue. From the three included in this year’s show, the ‘Leo’s Monologue’ starring Sheldrick-Aboud, making fun of DiCaprio’s penchant for younger women, and ‘Directors Cut’ on the seemingly endless Shakespeare adaptations in popular culture proved humorous inclusions. However the third skit, the ‘Rappeth Battle’, fell on deaf ears.
Both adaptations of Much Ado About Nothing were entertaining, providing laughs, but not especially memorable. TIBB’s inclusion of a short musical comedy ‘it was so…’ was the weakest of the night. The cast appeared disinterested and awkward while singing live, making it difficult to understand. Unfortunately, when choreography was introduced it did not elevate the skit, rather highlighting the lack of enthusiasm. Directors and the artistic director walked on stage from the audience to join the dance, an interesting choice that could have been better supplemented with some of the under-utilised cast.
Now to the crew. TIBB isn’t a show known for its flashy set or costumes. Instead, the scene changes rely on a basic stage fit for multiple purposes. When some simple set pieces were brought on stage, the crew at times were fumbling and seemed under-rehearsed. Similarly, the costumes are often singular pieces over the top of stage-blacks that, whilst indicating different characters, rarely add significantly to the show. But kudos can be given in this department for the spot-on representations of Bella Swan’s 2010s layered fashion and Edward’s sparkling chest immediately identifiable as a reference to the film.
On opening night, prior to the commencement of the show, artistic director Charlotte Harris made an announcement that technical issues with the lights had occurred. Consequently, there was an inability to remove a green hue from the stage. Keeping this in mind, the lighting design was a little simplistic — potentially due to further difficulties — leaving us wondering whether the scenes might have been enhanced by more creative lighting.
Sound design by Tom Lyle was technically proficient. During the scenes, the occasional sound bite made up for the lack of set, creating the appropriate atmosphere. Music in between skits whilst the crew moved set pieces had us bopping along in our seats, making the gaps between scenes feel significantly shorter.
Overall, this year’s TIBB proved an entertaining 90 minutes. Despite the highs and lows, the audience left the theatre amused by the creativity of the six directors. Possibly concluding with a remix of ‘I’m Just Ken’ as ‘I’m Just Dead’ was a misjudgement by the creative team, as we would have preferred to be left with the crowd-favourite Twilight scene.
ShakeSoc have concluded their first semester of shows on a high note, and we expect to see the tradition of TIBB continue on to a fourth year in 2025.
Hater pants on, popcorn in hand, and my lip-gloss flawlessly intact, I had made up my mind: when I came out of Palace Cinema’s screening of the highly anticipated Monkey Man, I must and would most definitely be profoundly offended. And not just because I’m a self-proclaimed saffron-loving religious bigot of a “patriot” (note: sarcasm) who couldn’t tolerate the film’s unflinching description of how Hindu nationalism has blighted the Indian polity and society but also because I’m sick of the fanciful Western notion of “India: Where poverty shines and hope declines!”
I wasn’t super excited for a new rendition of the same old saga: immense suffering and poverty in India, the daunting, ubiquitous corruption, and most excruciatingly, the repetitive strains of the only Indian music that the myopic Western media recognises (cue the tabla and intro tune to “Mundian To Bach Ke (Beware of the Boys)”). The West’s perpetual fixation on Third World poverty and class division has become exasperating. Yes! It exists — I can vouch for it — but no, that’s not all there is.
But alas! Dev Patel, the man that you are, you completely disarmed me. I absolutely most definitely loved the movie (and Dev Patel himself). And trust me, it boils my “nationalist” blood to say this. Because honestly, how dare this British-Indian guy craft an astoundingly sly satire on Indian politics and societal conditions? How dare he do such a bloody fantastic job at it?
‘You know it’s the ultimate underdog action film, I’m a huge fan of the genre… (but) I never had access to it, looking like this gangly Indian dude. The only kind of roles I was getting offered were the funny sidekick or the guy that hacks the mainframe for the lead dude. So, I was like I got to write this thing for myself.’
— Patel on The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon
With Monkey Man’s stunning cinematography and the actors’ captivating on-screen presence, there is no way the audience could guess that this is, in fact, Patel’s directorial debut. The movie gracefully pirouettes amidst alluring visuals, each frame and sequence, a stroke of such magnificent artistry that it’d easily put some of the most renowned directors to shame. Minutes into the film, you can tell that this is a labour of love, blood, and broken bones.
Sure, the plot is predictable at first glance (I wouldn’t have watched it if I weren’t engulfed by this all-consuming creative void looming over my next piece) — there’s this kid leading a life of serenity with his mother until one devastating day when the bad guys show up and kill her, the kid grows up traumatised, then there’s some grandiose “remember who you are” journey to self-storyline in between, he seeks revenge and triumphs over evil, and yay! world order is restored. It’s a story we’ve heard one too many times before. But at no point does the film feel stale. Patel hits you with a rich tapestry of religion, mythology, politics, class divide, and gender among other complex societal issues that one would ordinarily keep mum about. My naive assumption that this would just be some Slumdog Millionaire x John Wick parody went flying out the window.
The movie draws extensively from the Hindu mythology of Ramayana, which, as Patel shares in several interviews, is also his loving way of paying homage to cherished memories of his father recounting stories of the half-man half-monkey Hindu deity: Hanuman, during his childhood. This is a British kid who grew up in the diaspora, ashamed of his Indian roots, finally embracing his heritage and (literally) taking control of the narrative.
For those who may not be familiar, in Hindu households mothers often tend to affectionately address their sons with names derived from the names of Hindu gods. Well, in the case of Patel’s character, he takes his mother’s endearing reference to Hanuman a little too devoutly. But then, he wouldn’t be the ever-doting Indian son if he didn’t go around in a low-budget rubber monkey mask, valiantly fighting the bad guys to seek revenge for his beloved mother’s gruesome death. Trust me, becoming an embodiment of an actual deity for your dead mother isn’t very extravagant as per Indian film standards.
An intriguing observation that even those with passing knowledge of Ramayana would’ve made is the absence of a character symbolising Lord Ram. Unlike the mythology, where Ram is the central figure and Hanuman is his devoted helper, a side character so to say, who supports Ram in his journey to rescue his wife from a demon king, the movie instead places Hanuman at the forefront, with no Ram in sight. Esteemed analysts (me) interpret this absence as a conscious critique of India’s ruling party. The Bharatiya Janata Party, which is currently in power, is notorious for utilising Lord Ram as a formidable political symbol and has been associated with heightening religion-based politics and pushing for Hindu supremacy in the country. Patel, very intelligently and insidiously (given the uphill battle that he now faces with India’s censor board), uses the tools that Indian politicians adore against them. The movie is his own modest revolution.
Another impressive aspect of the movie is the remarkable portrayal of the hijras, India’s third-gender community. While the society has always been judgemental of them and still looks down upon the community with disdain, defying all convention, the movie wondrously showcases them as nurturing and stalwart protectors; everything you’d never expect to see. In the film, they assume the role of temple keepers and assist Patel’s character in his journey of rebirth and transformation. This also draws parallels to Hindu mythology, as they are symbolic of the Vanar Sena (army of monkeys) who aided Lord Ram in his conquest. The scene where they show up to the final fight, in all their glory — donning extravagant masks and costumes — was beautiful and undeniably chilling. These characters are, surprisingly enough, not some forced plot device to help the movie pass a superficial “woke” criteria. Patel doesn’t try to beat the audience with overburdening messages of social consciousness. Instead, he simply elevates them to fully-realised human beings with rich, complex and mundane lives just like any other. They dance and sing and cook and care and love like all humans do. They are nuanced and well-developed characters with actual significance in the movie, which is truly revolutionary! The sheer brilliance with which the actors execute these well-written roles is commendable. In light of the discrimination and mockery that this community is still subjected to in Indian society, this was a much-needed treat. This is Patel’s “How to Ace Marginalised Representation 101”, and the entire industry needs to be schooled.
However, all that being said, I do have one qualm: the limited screen time with the female lead. For those who are not aware, the female lead, who in the movie portrays the role of a sex worker working for the fancy brothel run by Patel’s evil nemesis, Sobhita Dhulipala is the Indian film industry’s latest obsession having come out of the online streaming landscape. Those who’ve seen her previous works will agree that her character was grossly underutilised. With all the potential she has, there was so much scope to develop her character beautifully without it having to interfere with the main character and his vengeance arc. While I still appreciate her presence and do realise that this was her big global break, which of course holds great pertinence to her career, I also do not think we’d be robbed of any substantial element if they’d killed her character in the first half.
Alright, final remarks? If you’ve been blissfully living under some rock and still haven’t watched the movie, I cannot stress enough how fundamental it is for you to drop every other thing and go see it as soon as possible. Remember, life was never about the grind or the tears we shed over unending uni-work, it’s always been the controversial political commentaries we watched. It’d be criminal to not watch it and it’d be criminal to not start a Dev Patel appreciation society on campus so we can worship the ground he walks on and the air he breathes.
Comments Off on The Chemistry of Theatre: The Effect is more than just a placebo
National University Theatre Society’s (NUTS) production of The Effect, silenced the audience both during and after the show with its breathtaking illustration of the human experience in heightened circumstances.
Lucy Prebble’s The Effect follows two protagonists entering a four-week clinical antidepressant drug trial. The pair grapple with the nature of the trial, wondering if their sudden desires are true love or merely a side-effect of the drug.
The decision by Director Paris Scharkie to open the NUTS season with this heart wrenching drama was an inspired choice. Staged as a theatre-in-the-round, the audience was truly immersed, experiencing the highs and lows alongside Connie and Tristan. The simplistic technical proficiency of the show left the audience with questions about the efficacy of drug trials and whether emotions can be manipulated by chemical compounds propagated by pharmaceutical companies.
With only four members of the cast, there was nowhere to hide — especially considering they were on stage the entire time. Fortunately, there was no need. Eli Powles’ fast-paced and sharp Tristan brought the lighter moments, making the contrast in his moments of crisis more poignant. Tash Lyall’s Connie drove the story, with the highs and lows of her character truly showing her incredible range. A testament to the creative team and the pair, their chemistry could not have been questioned by the audience.
Just as Lyall’s performance showed her range, so too did Amy Gottschalk’s Dr Lorna James. Her astute clinical professionalism contrasted with a deep psychological turmoil brought the character to life, with her Act Two monologue reinforcing Gottschalk’s versatility. Another monologue that demonstrated the talent of this cast was the Ted Talk-style monologue of Isaac Sewak’s Toby Sealey. The sudden shift in pace provided a shining moment for Sealey, who was otherwise under-utilised.
The highlight of the show for both of us came at the end of Act 1. Scharkie’s direction coupled with Kathleen Kershaw’s movement coaching narrated its own story of a couple in the early-stages of love. Individual freeze-frames mixed with effective lighting and the chemistry of Powles and Lyall illustrated through movement the small-moments in a developing relationship. Ending Act 1 with this masterpiece meant the intermission allowed audiences a chance to sit with the dopamine produced alongside the uncomfortable knowledge the play was about to intensify. The return of the freeze-frames in the medical episode was another piece of brilliant direction, portraying the chaos of what was occurring. Utilising this directorial style in a drastically different situation complemented the earlier scene.
Despite the simplicity of the set, the utilisation of innovative lighting and technology transformed the often-barren space of Kambri Theatre into an immersive clinical experience. Watching Marty Kelly and Charlotte Harris’ lighting design it was evident that unlike many other shows, this design had been well thought through, with a clear understanding of the script, a testament to the amount of work that must have gone into this part of the show. Not only were standard overhead lights utilised, but also LED lights surrounding the stage, multiple projectors, a glowing tablet and two light-boxes sitting on the stage. The sheer amount of coordination that was required and went off without a hitch on opening night was masterful.
The only improvement that could have been made to this show was the sound design. Reading the program and hearing there would be an original score sparked our interest. Unfortunately, we were left slightly disappointed and unsure where the original score was. What sound was utilised didn’t often lessen the atmosphere of the show, but paled in comparison to the proficiency of the rest of the production.
Similarly, the costuming was simplistic yet effective. It did not detract and fitted its purpose for this show, however was not of particular note. Regardless, costuming was not a crucial part of this play, allowing the audience to focus on the raw performances of the actors, however, played its role in ensuring the character’s ease of movement.
As a theatre-in-the-round show, the stage was raised in the centre reinforcing the immersive experience. Rather than a stand-alone set, the cast utilised white wooden cubes to create the scenes. The seamless transitions of the movement of the blocks by the cast was both well-directed and well-rehearsed. Whilst limited props, those used were instrumental, with a highlight being the jellified brain dripping with goo.
Another area of improvement was the hanging and centring of the projectors at either end. In comparison to the rest of the well-done set, it looked tacky and rushed. Nonetheless, the projectors added small touches – such as the counting down from intermission and dosage sizes – reinforcing how well thought through this play was.
Overall, this did not feel like a show that had been put on in seven weeks. The attention to detail and overall collaborative effort helmed by Scharkie made it seem as though she had been working on this show for years. We attended opening night, which was not packed, and hope more people had the opportunity to see this incredible show — we know we certainly raved about it to friends. If this is how NUTS is opening their 2024 season, we are very excited to see their upcoming shows.
Rating 4.8/5
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Before we start this review we want to preface by saying we are not professional critics, so please don’t try and track us down. We are merely loyal ANU theatre enthusiasts who go to more shows than are healthy. Because of this addiction we have decided to review all of the student shows put on this year — from NUTS, to ShakeSoc, to MTC and college productions. We can’t wait to highlight the amazing talents of all the people involved in these shows in the reviews.
Macbeth is arguably one of Shakespeare’s most famous works, centring on deceit, ambition, power with a fair share of blood and gore. Shakespeare Society’s (ShakeSoc) production of the Scottish play — although it appeared the cast were confused about geography with their accents — proved an exciting choice to a packed opening night crowd.
What this play certainly was not lacking was ambition. ShakeSoc’s decision to stage Macbeth without re-contextualisation in roughly a seven week period proved a brave choice for the society and first-time director Natasha Ludlow. The choice of Macbeth was a production guaranteed to fill seats due to its popularity…and the trauma of year nine English. However, as the first of the 2024 season, this production failed to make as much of a bloody splash as it may have hoped. Where credit should be attributed, is to the tenacity of the directorial and production team in organising this show so early in the year.
While with humorous intentions the stabbing reference made during the introduction about looking to your left and right wondering who may have a knife left the audience uncomfortable. The joke felt in poor taste before the production had even started.
Matthew Wooding as the titular lead (pictured above) provided a stand-out performance, not only furthering the plot but providing a nuanced portrayal of the complex and often fraught Macbeth. Where a stellar performance by Wooding captivated the audience, unfortunately for Lara her Lady Macbeth was outshined by her counterpart. Lady Macbeth is well-known as one of Shakespeare’s most difficult female roles, and with the added pressure of a seven-week rehearsal schedule, Lara’s portrayal at times felt one-dimensional. Ultimately the pair’s chemistry aided both their depictions, with the scenes focused on the couple providing a sense of intimacy to the violent background of the play.
A personal standout in the cast came from Ash Telford as Banquo, whose ghost at the end of Act One left the audience gasping. Despite blood drooling from the mouth, Telford remained in character, providing a chilling portrayal haunting Macbeth and the audience long after the scene had concluded. A surprising standout scene came in the Second Act. Marcelle Brosnan’s Lady MacDuff alongside Marlon Cayley as her son showcased a different side of Shakespeare’s work, with a touching vulnerability accompanied by a maternal passion that provided a much needed refreshment to the latter half.
A hallmark of Macbeth remains the trio of witches. The choice to double-cast this production, whilst not unusual for ShakeSoc, proved ill-advised, with the decision to double-cast Lady Macbeth with a lead witch serving to confuse rather than enchant. Suspension of disbelief can only go so far, and despite both of us having read, studied, and watched the play prior, we found ourselves having to check the script at the conclusion of Act One. Perhaps a costume change could have justified the directorial choice, as where a witch remained crowned and in an evening gown, the production failed to convey a change in character.
Despite costume changes needed to underpin character shifts, the costume team consisting of Archie Church, Isabel Moller, Alana Flesser and Georgia, provided a clean look to the large ensemble. Colour blocking different pairs and groups dependent on the character was a nice touch, showing the team’s attention to detail.
Technically, Ella Ragless’ sound design created an occasional atmospheric ambiance to slower scenes, with the cast’s voices easily projected across the small theatre. The simple yet effective lighting done by Charlotte Harris and assistant Elinor Hudson showed a contrast between battle scenes, dinner parties and emotional soliloquies, adding excitement to the lack-lustre black set.
Walking into the theatre, the only set on the stage was a few pieces of dirty cloth hung limply from the black curtains and unfortunately the stage design rarely became more advanced than that. Whilst a simple set can be effective, watching the cast walk between sides of the stage between scenes and the door to backstage occasionally visible to the audience was an unwanted distraction. The one attempt at a major set piece in the feast scene regrettably did not go to plan on opening night, with stage crew having issues with the tables.
Overall, despite Macbeth being one of Shakespeare’s shorter works, this production proved too lengthy. Potentially the inclusion of more action and gore in the latter half may have re-captivated audience attention. Ultimately, ShakeSoc’s production could have made a bigger and bloodier splash into the 2024 season with the overall disjointed and rapidly put together production falling short of our high expectations.
All in all, the play set the tone for a dramatic season for ShakeSoc. We look forward to their next show Then I’ll Be Brief in Week 10.
Rating: 2.5/5 stars
The Stella Prize longlist was announced March 4, which means twelve new books to add to your “To Be Read” list (actual reading optional, unlikely, and encouraged).
The Stella Prize is the foremost Australian literary award specifically for women and non-binary authors. Founded in 2012, Stella works to place the writing of women and non-binary authors at the forefront of conversation, promoting gender equity within the Australian literary scene and contributing to a ‘vibrant national culture’.
The $60,000 prize is awarded annually to one book deemed ‘original, excellent, and engaging,’ and among the winners (and those long- and short-listed) are some of Australia’s most recognisable literary names. Think Hannah Kent, Michelle De Kretser, Alexis Wright, Melissa Lucashenko, Ellen Van Neerven (ANU’s own 2023 HC Coombs Fellow), Georgia Blain. Last year, the Stella was awarded to Sarah Holland-Batt for The Jaguar, and in 2022 was taken by Evelyn Araluen for Dropbear (which I can vouch for as a brilliant collection, even as someone who mostly associates contemporary poetry with Instagram poetry and therefore actively avoids it, preferring arrogantly to remain ignorant).
The 2024 lineup is a noteworthy one. In a deviation from the past two years, only one poetry collection has been longlisted, and almost all of the titles come from smaller independent publishing houses. In fact, only two — Maggie Mackellar’s Graft (Penguin) and Stephanie Bishop’s The Anniversary (Hachette) — have made it onto the longlist from ‘Big Five’ publishers. The Big Five consists of HarperCollins, Simon & Schuster, Macmillan, Hachette, and Penguin, which tend to collectively dominate the publishing industry. It’s a big year, then, for indie presses and prose writing.
This year proffers some very well-established names — many of whom have previously been listed for (or, in the case of Alexis Wright, won) the Stella — as well as some who are newer to the game. The shortlist will be announced on the 4th of April, and the winner on the 2nd of May.
Praiseworthy by Alexis Wright
Undoubtedly one of the greatest living Australian writers, Alexis Wright’s latest epic novel Praiseworthy seems to be just that — the New York Times calls it ‘the most ambitious and accomplished Australian novel of this century.’ Each of her three other novels — Plains of Promise (1997), Carpentaria (2006) and The Swan Book (2013) — have been similarly received. Carpentaria won the 2007 Miles Franklin, and her ‘unconventional’ (Sydney Morning Herald) memoir Tracker (2017) won the 2018 Stella Prize, which makes Wright the only author to hold both the Miles Franklin and the Stella.
Wright, a Waanyi woman, blends the real, the surreal, and the magical and draws on the rhythms of oral storytelling to create sprawling, sharply intelligent works of profound commentary on ‘contemporary Aboriginal life’ (Giramondo Publishing) and the ongoing nature of colonialism.
Praiseworthy has already taken the 2023 Queensland Literary Award for Fiction, and looks set to be a fierce competitor for the 2024 Stella.
She is the Earth by Ali Cobby Eckermann
Notably the only poetry collection longlisted this year, Ali Cobby Eckermann’s She is the Earth ‘is unlike any other book in Australian literature’ (The Conversation). In 2017, Eckermann won the international Windham-Campbell prize, becoming the second Australian ever to do so.
She is the Earth is a novel-in-verse (however notably lacking a distinct plot and characters) inspired by landscape, natural elements, and ‘the healing power of Country.’ (Magabala Books) It narrates the process of healing and its inherent relationship with the permanence of trauma.
If you’d like to read more about this one, I really enjoyed this article from The Conversation.
Feast by Emily O’Grady
Emily O’Grady’s sophomore novel Feast is already raking in international recognition with a nomination for not only the Stella, but also the Dublin Literary Award. Feast looks at darkness, isolation, secrets and their exposures, familial relationships which are equal parts love and cruelty, and ‘the unmet needs of women’ (The Guardian).
In the Scottish mansion of a retired actress, Alison, and rock star, Patrick, we observe the complicated consequences of the appearance of a nearly-eighteen-year-old daughter and her mother, an ex-partner of Patrick’s.
Feast centres on the women of the family, ‘connected by something far darker and thicker than blood’ (Readings), ‘and what happens when their darkest secrets are hauled into the light’ (Allen & Unwin).
Abandon Every Hope: Essays for the Dead by Hayley Singer
‘Can anyone smell the suffering of souls? Of sadness, of hell on earth? Hell, I imagine, has a smell that bloats into infinity. Has a nasty sting of corpses. What was it Dante wrote?’ (Upswell Publishing)
Hayley Singer teaches creative writing at UniMelb, so perhaps it isn’t surprising that Singer’s debut essay collection is stylistically experimental and steeped in figurative language. Abandon Every Hope ‘map[s] the contours of a world cut to pieces by organised and profitable death’ (Upswell Publishing) — specifically, Singer centres on animal cruelty and the inhumanity of the slaughterhouse industry.
The Hummingbird Effect by Kate Mildenhall
Simultaneously historical, contemporary, and futuristic, The Hummingbird Effect follows four women dispersed through time, connected by ‘the mysterious Hummingbird Project, and the great question of whether the march of progress can ever be reversed’. One working in a meat factory during the Great Depression, another living in a retirement home during COVID, a third some sixty years in the future, and a fourth further still, ‘diving for remnants of a past that must be destroyed’ (Simon & Schuster).
The Hummingbird Effect grapples with climate change, artificial intelligence, and ‘the enduring power of female friendship.’ (The Guardian)
Body Friend by Katherine Brabon
Katherine Brabon’s previous two novels The Memory Artist (2016) and The Shut Ins (2021) have, between them, accumulated a pretty sizeable list of awards and nominations. These past wins include the 2016 The Australian/Vogel’s Literary Award, the 2022 People’s Choice Award at the New South Wales Premier’s Literary Awards, and the 2019 David Harold Tribe Fiction Award.
It’s a shock to no one, then, that Body Friend is up for the Stella. This one looks at chronic pain, female relationships, and the distance between body and self.
‘Body Friend shows that pain can be a friend and a friend can be a mirror, but what they reflect is more than just a mirror image, and contains many possibilities.’ (Sydney Morning Herald)
The Swift Dark Tide by Katia Ariel
‘What happens when, in the middle of a happy heterosexual marriage, a woman falls in love with another woman?’ (Gazebo Books)
One of two memoirs longlisted, Katia Ariel’s The Swift Dark Tide is ‘a diary that doubled as a breathing exercise and tripled as a love letter.’ (Ariel) The Swift Dark Tide chronicles the author’s journey of self-discovery, interlaced with the stories of her husband, mother, and grandparents to create a ‘matrix’ (Ball, Compulsive Reader) of desire, heritage, selfhood, and family.
West Girls by Laura Elizabeth Woollett
West Girls is interested primarily in beauty and race, in a way that feels like a more unhinged, more rooted in physicality, more innately feminine reconstruction of The Secret History’s ‘morbid longing for the picturesque at all costs.’ The female body becomes something at once displaced from and deeply connected to the self. The body is the identity but also belongs to everyone outside of it.
West Girls is interested in the modelling industry, racial inequality, cultural appropriation, the sexualisation of girls’ bodies, and the normalisation of sexual assault.
Our half-white, half-Maltese protagonist Luna Lewis, obsessed with beauty and a modelling career, presents herself as a ‘17-year-old Eurasian beauty, discovered while dismembering an octopus at a southern-suburbs fish-market’ in order to launch her career. This review from The Guardian talks about the act of yellowface in West Girls and looks at the thematic parallels with R.F. Kuang’s novel Yellowface, which was one of the most internationally popular releases of 2023.
Graft: Motherhood, Family and a Year on the Land by Maggie MacKellar
‘To attempt to sum up this book is to do a disservice to the delicate and finely woven lattice of narrative threads that comprise it, like reducing a glimmering spider web to its geometry.’ (Sydney Morning Herald)
A kind of hybridised memoir/nature writing number, Graft is a lyrical, ‘gorgeously written’ (Penguin) account of life spanning one year on a Tasmanian sheep farm. We see birth and death on the farm, interwoven with reflections on childhood and motherhood. Graft is a meditation on mothers, the land and what inhabits it, and home.
Edenglassie by Melissa Lucashenko
Melissa Lucashenko, winner of the 2019 Miles Franklin for her last novel Too Much Lip, is producing a not-insubstantial catalogue of fiction and non-fiction. The bookshop I work at generally has a significant chunk of shelf space occupied by her books (even better, they’re all being released in new, visually cohesive editions, which always makes my heart happy). Lucashenko writes predominantly literary and YA fiction, which are very sought-after in the shop.
Edenglassie ‘slices open Australia’s past and present’ (The Guardian), elucidating the dark, ongoing realities of colonisation by vacillating between and drawing together two narratives set in colonial and contemporary Meanjin country, Brisbane.
Hospital by Sanya Rushdi
Hospital is about psychosis, mental illness in general, and the medical system. A research student is diagnosed with psychosis, and spends the book questioning her diagnosis and the medical system — ‘indeed questioning seems to be at the heart of her psychosis’ (Giramondo). Rushdi approaches time with skilful indifference, ‘braiding past and present’ (Westerly Magazine), and blends reality with ambiguity. The reader is left wondering where her episodes start and end in a state of constant disorientation.
At just 128 pages, Hospital is the shortest novel longlisted. First published in Bangladesh in 2019, it was translated into English and published in Australia for the first time last year.
The Anniversary by Stephanie Bishop
From the author of Man Out of Time (2018), The Singing (2005), and The Other Side of the World (2015) comes The Anniversary, a ‘compulsive, atmospheric’ (Hachette) psychological thriller which looks at gender, power, art, and the craft of writing.
When her filmmaker husband dies falling overboard on a cruise, novelist J.B. Blackwood navigates her past and her suddenly successful present, visiting and revisiting events and ideas with ‘increasing honesty and nuance.’ (New York Times)
To the New York Times, Bishop writes, ‘A lie told well should sound true. The Anniversary is about the lies we tell ourselves when the traumatic facts of our lives become unbearable and we need to twist them into a story we can stomach.’
This year’s lineup has pulled through with banger after absolute banger, and I’m hedging my bets by saying that it’s really, genuinely, anyone’s game. Every last one of these fits the criteria of ‘original, excellent, and engaging.’ If I had to make a guess, though, I can see Melissa Lucashenko’s Edenglassie coming out on top. It’s super relevant and thematically significant, and the way that it is selling and being received makes me think that it especially brings home the ‘engaging’ requirement. But I’ll leave it up to the infinitely more qualified panel of judges to do the judging, and follow along with bated breath.
Editor’s Note: Edenglassie didn’t even make it to the shortlist. Sorry Caelan.
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Daughters of Sparta by Claire Heywood
Set in Ancient Greece, Daughters of Sparta follows sisters Helen and Klytemnestra of Sparta. Separated through their political marriages to brothers Menelaos and Agamemnon, the novel chronicles a tragedy imbued with equal parts love and violence. After Helen is whisked away to Troy with its prince Paris, a thousand ships set sail to steal her back at significant personal cost to Klytemnestra. For fans of Greek mythology and Homer’s Iliad, Daughters of Sparta gives voice to the two women central to the tale and what it means to be caught in the crossfires of the cruel ambition of men.
Homegoing by Yaa Gyasi
The novel follows the descendants of two half-sisters, Effia and Esi, born in different villages in Ghana during the 1700s. Effia is married to an Englishman and lives in the Cape Coast Castle. Her sister, Esi, is imprisoned in the castle’s dungeons to be sold into the slave trade. One family line lives in freedom yet is haunted by the guilt of its role in enslaving its own people. The other is forsaken to a life in shackles for generations. Each chapter of the novel follows a different descendant from both family lines, positioned against the backdrop of historical movements and events. Despite the changing perspectives, characterisation is the novel’s greatest strength. From the conflict between the Fante and Asante nations in Ghana to plantations of the American South, the book traverses Ghanaian and American history. This is an incredibly emotional story that effortlessly explores the generational impact of colonisation and slavery on family, bloodline, and nation.
Of Women and Salt by Gabriela Garcia
Beginning in 1866, Maria is a cigar-roller in a factory living through political unrest and the threat of revolution in Cuba. In 2014, Jeanette, the daughter of a Cuban immigrant, struggles with substance abuse. After ICE detains her neighbour, she takes in her young daughter. Carmen, Jeanette’s mother, has a complicated relationship with her own mother stemming from a traumatic event she witnessed as a child. Following the women of one family through several generations, from 1866 to 2019, this novel explores the complexity of mother-daughter relationships and how they intersect with colonialism, patriarchy, race, and immigration.
The Dictionary of Lost Words by Pip Williams
The Dictionary of Lost Words is written by Australian author Pip Williams and is set in England from the 1880s to the Great War. Following the protagonist, Esme, from childhood to adulthood, the novel centres around the compilation of the Oxford English Dictionary. Esme spends most of her childhood under a table in the Scriptorium, where James Murray and his lexicographers work. She begins collecting words used by and about women that the lexicographers have discarded. These words form the creation of her own dictionary: The Dictionary of Lost Words. This novel illuminates the erasure of women and their experiences in lexicography. It is an incredibly unique and gripping read incorporating historical events like the women’s suffrage movement.
The Color Purple by Alice Walker
Walker’s epistolary novel is split between rural Georgia in the early 1900s and an unnamed African nation. When Celie is forced to marry “Mr.” and care for his children, her younger sister Nettie travels to Africa as a missionary for the Olinka tribe. The two sisters write to each other, hoping they may be reunited one day. The Pulitzer Prize for Fiction winner, the novel is a shocking and emotional examination of race, class, gender, sexuality, and religion. It refuses to shy away from the domestic violence and sexual abuse experienced by black women and gives voice to their pain, resilience and courage.
Pachinko by Min Jin Lee
Pachinko is an epic historical fiction novel that spans generations and decades. It begins in the early 1900s during the Japanese occupation of Korea, following Sunja, a teenage girl who falls pregnant after being seduced by a wealthy older married man. She accepts an offer of marriage from a sickly minister, Isak, who takes pity on her. Together, they travel to Japan. The novel follows the trials faced by the family as they experience poverty, discrimination, and the Second World War. The pachinko parlours serve as a powerful metaphor throughout the novel, depicting the unpredictability of life. This is a story of love and sacrifice in the face of struggle and hardship.
The House of Doors by Tan Twan Eng
Longlisted for the 2023 Man Booker Prize, The House of Doors is set on the Straits Settlement of Penang in 1921. It is based on W. Somerset Maugham and reimagines the inspiration behind his 1926 short story “The Letter”. Maugham, with his secretary and lover Gerald, visits his old friend Robert Hamlyn and his wife Lesley in Penang. The story consists of two strands that Lesley gradually recounts to Maugham: her connection to Chinese revolutionary Dr Sun Yat Set and the 1911 murder trial of Ethel Proudlock. As Maugham contemplates writing on what Lesley has told him, the novel reckons with a question that all writers must face: who has the right to tell a story. The book is a masterful exploration of British colonialism, queer and feminine identity, and the power of storytelling.
Small Things Like These by Claire Keegan
This 120-page novella is small but mighty. Short-listed for the 2022 Man Booker Prize, the story is set in a small Irish town in 1985. In the weeks leading up to Christmas, Bill, a coal merchant, makes a horrific and shocking discovery. Throughout her novella, Keegan explores the mistreatment of women in the Magdalene Laundries, the church’s role in this systemic abuse of power and the silent complicitness of all those who knew the truth.
I Must Betray You by Ruta Sepetys
Ruta Sepetys’ I Must Betray You is a historical fiction young adult novel set in 1989 communist Romania in the last few months of the reign of dictator Nicolae Ceauşescu. The protagonist, Cristian Florescu, is compelled to become an informant for the government and obtain information on a family of American diplomats in exchange for treatment for his grandfather, who is ill with leukaemia. Given the code name ‘Oscar’, Cristian struggles with feelings of loyalty and duty as he attempts to survive under an oppressive regime. The novel paints a stark picture of 1980s Romania and its climate of government surveillance.
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The beginning of a new academic year calls for fresh distractions, and I come fully equipped to help you drain your wallets and your study time. Even better, you can tell yourself you’re wasting neither; reading is good for you, it makes you smart. You might as well be studying for your actual degree. Girl maths is calculating how many pretty hardcover novels you could buy with the money you saved by pirating your textbooks online (for legal purposes, this is a joke).
Full disclosure, this list does not offer very much in the way of nonfiction, aside from a few little numbers I especially liked the look of, which I’ve put in their own category. Sorry to the non-fiction buffs, but also not really.
General Fiction:
The Mother of All Things by Alexis Landau
(Releases May 7)
This one is for all my dark academia girlies. Think The Secret History but more human, and with a healthy dose of female rage.
Ava Zaretsky is a wife, mother, and art history professor. Following her husband to a film shoot in Bulgaria one summer, she is ‘swept up into a circle of women who reenact ancient Greco-Roman mystery rites of initiation, bringing her research to life and illuminating the story of a 5th-century-BC mother-daughter pair whose sense of female loyalty to each other and connection to the divine feminine guides Ava in her exploration of the eternal stages of womanhood.’
Read the full synopsis (and preorder, if you like) here.
See also:
Table for Two by Amor Towles (releases April 2)
From the bestselling author of A Gentleman in Moscow, The Lincoln Highway, and Rules of Civility comes a collection of six short stories set in turn-of-the-(twenty-first)-century New York City and a novella set in Hollywood’s Golden Age. Fans may recognise some characters from Rules of Civility.
What I Would Do to You by Georgia Harper (releases March 26)
A speculative fiction which places the reader in a near-future Australia, where the death penalty is legalised—but the family of the victim must carry it out themselves.
Fantasy/Science Fiction:
The Atlas Complex by Olivie Blake (The Atlas Six #3)
(Released January 9)
Is it the year for dark academia, or are publishers milking this trend a little bit? Here’s another one which will be a favourite with the dark academics among us.
That was cynical of me—when they don’t feel formulaic, tropey, and artificial (read: exclusively written to test their luck on BookTok), the dark academia branding can work well. This series seems to resonate with a very wide audience, so I’m sure we can expect good things.
The final instalment in the Atlas Six trilogy which more or less pioneered the BookTok cult of dark academia, The Atlas Complex is ‘a race to survive as the Society recruits are faced with the question of what they’re willing to betray for limitless power—and who will be destroyed along the way.’
More info here.
See also:
House of Flame and Shadow by Sarah J. Maas (released January 30)
I’m personally an SJM hater, but as that is a controversial opinion I’ll mention that House of Flame and Shadow came out last month. It’s the third instalment in the Crescent City series, and the Google animation was a jump-scare when I was researching for this article. As one of my friends said, Oh God, she got to the tech bros.
Faebound by Saara El-Arifi (released January 23)
Elves, fairies, high stakes and romance providing all the escapist vibes for your Semester 1.
Tales of the Celestial Kingdom by Sue Lynn Tan (released February 6)
An illustrated collection of short stories set in the world of fantasy romance duology Daughter of the Moon Goddess and Heart of the Sun Warrior, inspired by Chinese legend.
Historical Fiction:
All We Were Promised by Ashton Lattimore
(Releases April 4)
‘A housemaid with a dangerous family secret conspires with a wealthy young abolitionist to help an enslaved girl escape, in volatile pre-Civil War Philadelphia.’
Aside from a gorgeous cover, All We Were Promised proffers commentary on racial injustice, Western slavery, class divides, and female friendship. We follow three young Black women in 1937 Philadelphia fighting for freedom, inspired by the real-life Philadelphia Female Anti-Slavery Society and the Philadelphia abolitionist movements during the early 19th century.
I expect this one will be a brilliant debut from Ashton Lattimore, award-winning journalist and former lawyer.
More info here.
See also:
The Familiar by Leigh Bardugo (Releases April 9)
The author of Shadow and Bone, Six of Crows, and Ninth House delves into the world of adult historical fantasy, set in the Spanish Golden Age.
Literary Fiction:
Hagstone by Sinéad Gleeson
(Releases April 11)
Recent years have seen some brilliant literary voices coming out of Ireland—I’m thinking of Sally Rooney, John Boyne, Maggie O’Farrell, among others—so I have high hopes for Sinéad Gleeson’s debut Hagstone.
Drawing on myth and folklore, Hagstone places our protagonist Nell on an isolated island, ‘the source of inspiration for her art, rooted in landscape…and the feminine.’ The island is inhabited by a commune of women who travel from all over the world seeking its refuge. Described as ‘beautifully written, prescient and eerily haunting,’ I think this one will be gorgeous.
More info here.
See also:
Until August by Gabriel García Márquez (releases March 12)
This one is super exciting—a lost novel by the Nobel Prize-winning author of One Hundred Years of Solitude and Love in the Time of Cholera, to be published with the permission of his two sons. Sure to be an instant modern classic.
Anita de Monte Laughs Last by Xochitl Gonzalez (releases March 5)
‘A mesmerising novel about a first-generation Ivy League student who uncovers the genius work of a female artist decades after her suspicious death.’ (Macmillan)
Whale Fall by Elizabeth O’Connor (releases April 25)
Set on a remote Welsh island, this one is a study of ‘loss, isolation, folklore, and the joy and dissonance of finding oneself by exploring life outside one’s community.’ (Penguin Random House)
Nonfiction: A Novel by Julie Myerson (released January 2)
I want to read this based on the title alone. Nonfiction dissects the relationship between a mother and her child. We look at motherhood, addiction, and the act of writing.
Crime & Thriller:
Anna O by Matthew Blake
(Released January 31)
Predictably and unsurprisingly, I work at a little independent bookshop in Kingston, which is in part how I’ve devised this list. Since its release at the end of January, Anna O has been selling well. According to our customer base, at least, it probably isn’t quite the ‘instant global phenomenon’ HarperCollins eagerly declares it to be, but it’s definitely getting some solid attention.
Anna O is an ‘ingenious’ (The Times) psychological thriller interested in the human mind and its subconscious. Anna O, suspected of the murder of her two best friends, has been in a deep sleep for four years. Forensic psychologist Doctor Benedict Prince must find a way to wake her, and in the process any information about what happened the night of the murders.
‘As he begins Anna O’s treatment – studying his patient’s dreams, combing her memories, visiting the site where the horrors played out – he pulls on the thread of a much deeper, darker mystery. Awakening Anna O isn’t the end of the story, it’s just the beginning.’
More info here.
See also:
Butter by Asako Yuzuki (releases March 6)
I believe Butter has met with success overseas, and is being published for the first time in Australia. We’re getting so much fantastic Japanese literature, which I’m loving (Japan and Ireland absolutely killing the game). Inspired by a real case, Butter is ‘a vivid, unsettling exploration of misogyny, obsession, romance and the transgressive pleasures of food in Japan.’ (HarperCollins)
James by Percival Everett (releases March 19)
A ‘harrowing and fiercely funny’ (Penguin) retelling of The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, from the perspective of the enslaved Jim.
Romance:
Funny Story by Emily Henry
(Releases April 23)
I think Emily Henry (author of Beach Read, Book Lovers, and You and Me on Vacation among other titles) could quite reasonably be called the mother of BookTok romance. Maybe I should confess that I haven’t actually read any of her novels yet, simply because romance isn’t a genre that I tend to gravitate towards, but her readership is so large and so devoted that it’s pretty clear Funny Story will be big this year.
There is absolutely something to be said for the importance of the romance genre, and the questionable foundations on which we often dismiss it as unimportant or holding less literary value. Romance as a genre is often written by women, typically for women, centring female characters. Lately I’ve been interested in the way we determine our hierarchies of artistic value, and the potential sociocultural issues underlying the way we perceive literature and its importance. Emily Henry herself did an interview with The Age last year which I thoroughly enjoyed—if you’d like to give it a read, here’s a link.
But I digress. Funny Story sets our heroine Daphne in a small town, ‘propositioning [her ex’s fiancé’s ex, Miles] to move in. As roommates of course. A temporary solution until she gets a new job literally anywhere else.’ The ‘awkward exes of exes-to-friends-to-lovers’ trope is a new one for sure, but I have no doubt all the romance lovers will eat it up.
More info here.
See also:
Fangirl Down by Tessa Bailey (released February 13)
The bestselling author of It Happened One Summer is jumping on the sports romance trend, but the love interest ‘was once golf’s hottest rising star’ (HarperCollins, italics added by me for emphasis). A romance novel where our protagonist is the hardcore fangirl of a ‘gorgeous, grumpy golfer’ sounds insane, and if I end up reading it you can be so sure of a review. (If not, someone else read it and tell me how it is.)
Token Non-Fiction:
Outspoken by Dr Sima Samar
(Releases March 6)
This list has been almost entirely composed of fiction (sorry, not sorry), and while there were several non-fiction titles I wanted to include, for the sake of keeping this readable and a not-absurd length we’ll stick with this super important memoir which I’m hoping to read when I can get my hands on it.
‘The impassioned memoir of Afghanistan’s Sima Samar: medical doctor, public official, founder of schools and hospitals, thorn in the side of the Taliban, nominee for the Nobel Peace Prize, and lifelong advocate for girls and women.’
Outspoken is relevant and necessary; it recounts how Simar ‘[became] a revolutionary,’ single-handedly providing medical aid to remote areas and fighting tirelessly for the rights of Afghan women, and ‘all the citizens of her country.’ Important reading for our 2024.
More info here.
See also:
The House of Hidden Meanings by RuPaul (releases March 6)
‘From international drag superstar and pop culture icon RuPaul, comes his most revealing and personal work to date—a brutally honest, surprisingly poignant, and deeply intimate memoir of growing up Black, poor, and queer in a broken home to discovering the power of performance, found family, and self-acceptance.’ (HarperCollins)
Who’s Afraid of Gender? by Judith Butler (releases March 19)
Who’s Afraid of Gender? studies the relationship between authoritarian movements and gender as a concept, and the fearmongering surrounding particularly non-binary and trans people promoted by certain ‘anti-gender ideology movements’. ‘From a global icon, a bold, essential account of how a fear of gender is fueling reactionary politics around the world.’ (Macmillan)
Rebel Rising by Rebel Wilson (releases April 3)
A memoir from Rebel Wilson is so certain to be thoroughly iconic. Recalling her rise to fame with all the insane anecdotes our little hearts could desire, you just know this one will go crazy.
That’s all I’ve got for you today, but I always have one eye on the upcoming releases throughout the year, so expect a part two somewhere in your (relatively) near future.
Until next time!