Tag: fiction

Ten Books, One Nervous Breakdown: Reckoning with the ABC Top 100

I am a reader. Not the “I’ll grab a paperback at the airport” kind. I mean the full-blown, emotionally-attached-to-fictional-characters, rearrange-my-bookshelves-for-fun kind. So when ABC Radio National asked Australians to nominate their top 10 books of the 21st century, I did what any sane book lover would do: I spiralled.

Coming up with this list was horrendously difficult. I probably agonised over it for longer than it took to name my children, and with far more existential dread.

What if I forgot a book that changed my life?

What if I picked something too obvious?

Too obscure? Too emotionally manipulative?

Eventually, after much soul-searching, tea-drinking, and dramatic sighing, I settled on ten. I will preface it and say they may not necessarily the “best” books of the century—but they’re the ten books I think are the ‘my‘ books. My literary lifeboats. And because I clearly enjoy suffering, I’ve explained why each one made the cut.

My Brilliant Friend (2011) by Elena Ferrante

A colleague recommended this one to me back in 2019. Book one of a four-part saga that nails the messy magic of female friendship. Elena and Lila are best mates, worst rivals, and emotional sparring partners. Ferrante helped me realise that friendship isn’t always soft—it’s sharp, complicated, and utterly formative.

A Man Called Ove (2012) by Fredrik Backman

My best read of 2018—and the gateway drug to all things Backman. Grumpy old man meets chaotic neighbours, and somehow it’s a masterclass in love, loss, and chosen family. Proof that sometimes, the best family isn’t the one you’re born into—it’s the one that barges in uninvited.

The Tattooist of Auschwitz (2018) by Heather Morris

Heart-wrenching and unforgettable. Based on interviews with Holocaust survivor Lale Sokolov, this novel brings humanity to horror. It’s a story of love, resilience, and survival in the darkest of places—and it left me absolutely gutted. Furthermore, for the non-readers in my life- there is a TV series.

Wolf Hall (2009) by Hilary Mantel

Book one of Mantel’s Tudor trilogy, starring the ever-scheming Thomas Cromwell. This was another recommendation from a colleague. Wolf Hall is lyrical, slyly funny, and so well written it makes other historical fiction feel like homework. A must for history buffs—and anyone who likes their politics bloody and their prose brilliant. TV series available for the non-readers. Different note – Alison Weir just released a title called “Cardinal” based on the life of Thomas Wolsey … so will need to pop that on my list to read soon.

A Thousand Splendid Suns (2007) by Khaled Hosseini

Heartbreaking and beautiful. Set in Taliban-era Afghanistan, it follows two women whose lives collide in tragedy—and transform through love. Their bond, almost mother-daughter, is a testament to resilience, sacrifice, and the fierce power of chosen family. This was an accidental read, I found this book on a plane, left by a forgetful passenger… I still have it on my bookshelf. It has been well read and is still much loved.

Circe (2018) by Madeline Miller

I’m a sucker for Greek mythology, and this feminist retelling hit all the right notes. Circe steps out of the shadows and into her own power—witch, exile, goddess, woman. Strong female themes, lyrical prose, and a fresh perspective on ancient tales. Loved every spellbinding page. This book is far better than Song of Achilles, also by Madeline Miller. I felt like slapping Achilles more times than I could count in that novel.

Go Tell the Bees That I Am Gone (2021) by Diana Gabaldon

Book nine of the Outlander saga, and a rich tapestry of time-travelling drama. Jamie, Claire, Brianna, Roger, Lord John Grey, and William Ransom all get their moment—and it’s beautifully woven together. Such emotion. Jamie and Claire at their best. A love story for the ages. I have included this in the list because it is one of my favourite series, as I couldn’t squeeze in Cross Stitch (wrong century!), but this one carries the torch. BTW – I am waiting desperately for Book 10. Hurry up Diana!!

Burial Rites (2013) by Hannah Kent

A beautifully written fictional take on the life of Agnes Magnúsdóttir, Iceland’s last execution. It forces you to confront 19th-century prejudice, gender roles, and how reputation can be shaped more by rumour than truth. Quietly devastating—and deeply human. This was a senior text when I was teaching in the ACT and I read it as part of my curriculum planning. An absolutely brilliant novel and quite frankly, should be taught more in schools.

Hallmarked Man (2025) by Robert Galbraith (aka J K Rowling)

This one was hard as I nearly shoehorned in Harry Potter, but alas, that was from last century. Then I dithered over Deathly Hallows, but it’s book seven, and I’ve got a “book one” theme going (see Wolf Hall, My Brilliant Friend). Therefore it seemed logical that Cuckoo’s Calling made the list. But in the end, as I selected Book 9 of the Outlander series, I felt that it was OK that Hallmarked Man won out over the other 7 books in the series. Additionally, it is the best book I’ve read this year. .So, it’s in. No regrets. (Okay, maybe a few – I agonised over this one the most).

The Nightingale (2015) by Kristin Hannah

I cried buckets. This heartfelt tale of a woman risking everything to save Jewish children under the Nazi occupation of France. First it was for her best friend’s son… then it was another woman’s son…. and daughter. This book is a gut-punch of love, loss, friendship, and motherhood. It broke me, then stitched me back together.

So there you have it…

Ten books. Ten emotional rollercoasters. And one very frazzled reader. If you’re brave enough to try making your own list, I salute you. Just stock up on tea, tissues, and a sturdy spreadsheet.

Growing Up on the Page: Teaching Coming-of-Age Novels in Australian Classrooms

Coming-of-age novels have long held a central place in literature, offering rich terrain for both personal reflection and academic exploration. For educators working with adolescents, these texts are more than just stories—they are mirrors and windows into the complex journey of growing up. This post explores why coming-of-age literature resonates so deeply with teenagers, why it matters in the curriculum, and how educators can harness its potential to foster empathy, identity formation, and critical thinking.

Bildungsroman

Adolescence is a period marked by emotional intensity, identity exploration, and social upheaval. Coming-of-age novels, also known as bildungsroman, capture this liminal space with authenticity and nuance. Teen readers often see themselves reflected in protagonists who grapple with similar dilemmas: family conflict, peer pressure, romantic entanglements, and the search for purpose. These narratives validate the adolescent experience, offering reassurance that their struggles are not isolated but part of a universal human journey.

Moreover, the first-person perspective common in young adult fiction allows readers to inhabit the protagonist’s inner world. This immersive quality fosters emotional resonance and encourages teens to reflect on their own values, choices, and aspirations. As Biscontini (2024) noted, coming-of-age literature “provides young people with a relatable experience while offering adults a sense of nostalgia,” and often centres on the loss of innocence, self-discovery, and the struggle to adapt to societal expectations.

Why They Matter in the Curriculum

From a pedagogical standpoint, coming-of-age novels are invaluable tools for teaching literary analysis, thematic exploration, and cultural literacy. These texts often engage with issues such as race, gender, class, and mental health: topics that are both timely and timeless. By studying these works, students develop empathy and gain insight into diverse lived experiences.

Importantly, coming-of-age literature also supports identity development. For students from marginalised backgrounds, seeing characters who reflect their realities can be empowering. For others, these stories offer a chance to understand perspectives different from their own. As such, these novels contribute to a more inclusive and socially aware classroom environment (Federation of Egalitarian Communities, 2024).

Why Choosing the Right Text Matters—Especially for Boys.

“Puberty is merciless. Regardless of who you are,” Becky Albertalli in Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda

This sentiment that captures the emotional turbulence of adolescence with striking clarity. For boys, this period can be particularly complex, often shaped by conflicting expectations around masculinity, emotional restraint, and identity formation.

Potential reads

Choosing the right coming-of-age texts for boys is not merely about fostering a love of reading. It is about offering them tools for emotional literacy, ethical reasoning, and self-reflection. These stories help boys navigate moral ambiguity, understand the consequences of choices, and appreciate the nuances of human relationships. Crucially, they provide a safe space to explore vulnerability, fear, and belonging, which often occur before boys feel equipped to express these experiences in their own words.

Selecting texts that feature emotionally authentic male protagonists, whether they be sensitive, conflicted, resilient, or flawed; can disrupt narrow stereotypes and expand boys’ understanding of what it means to grow up. When boys see themselves reflected in literature, or encounter perspectives that challenge their assumptions, they are more likely to engage deeply and critically.

Incorporating well-chosen coming-of-age novels into the curriculum also supports literacy outcomes. The relatability of the content increases motivation, while the layered narratives encourage boys to interpret symbolism, character development, and thematic complexity. With the right texts, educators can foster not only stronger readers, but more thoughtful, empathetic young men.

How Students Socially Learn from Narrative Fiction

Recent research by Gasser, Dammert, and Murphy (2022) offers a compelling framework for understanding how children socially learn from narrative fiction. Their integrative review identifies three distinct mechanisms:

  • Getting the Lesson – where children extract and internalise explicit moral messages from the text.
  • Simulating Social Worlds – where readers imaginatively engage with fictional characters, enhancing empathy and perspective-taking.
  • Dialogic Inquiry – where students develop social reasoning through peer dialogue about complex sociomoral issues raised in fiction.

This framework is particularly relevant for educators designing literature programmes that go beyond comprehension and into the realm of ethical inquiry and emotional intelligence. It supports the use of coming-of-age novels as tools for cultivating sociomoral competencies in the classroom.

Key Texts – Australian Coming of Age stories for Boys

Australian literature offers a rich and diverse array of coming-of-age narratives that speak directly to local contexts, landscapes, and cultural tensions. There are wide range of novels that can be utilised effectively in the classroom, however, these texts are particularly valuable for fostering national literary literacy and connecting students with stories that reflect their own communities.

  • Jasper Jones by Craig Silvey
  • Boy Swallows Universe by Trent Dalton
  • I am not really here by Gary Lonesborough
  • Rowan of Rin by Emily Rodda
  • Breath by Tim Winton
  • The first third by Will Kostakis
  • Scartown by Tristan Bancks
  • The Sidekicks by Will Kostakis
  • Ready when you are by Gary Lonesborough

Key Texts: Classic Coming-of-Age Novels

These canonical works have shaped the genre and continue to offer profound insights into the human condition. They are ideal for comparative studies and historical context.

  • David Copperfield by Charles Dickens
  • The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde
  • The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger
  • The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain
  • To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee
  • The Outsiders by S. E. Hinton.

Key Texts: Modern Coming-of-Age Novels

Contemporary novels reflect the evolving challenges faced by today’s youth, including cultural identity, mental health, activism, and global conflict. These texts are especially relevant for engaging students in current social discourse.

  • The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas
  • Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi
  • Darius the Great Is Not Okay by Adib Khorram

Reference List (APA 7)

Biscontini, T. (2024). Coming of age in literature. https://www.ebsco.com/research-starters/literature-and-writing/coming-age-literature

Federation of Egalitarian Communities. (2024). What do coming-of-age novels teach us? https://www.thefec.org/news/what-do-coming-of-age-novels-teach-us/835/

Gasser, L., Dammert, Y., & Murphy, P. K. (2022). How do children socially learn from narrative fiction: Getting the lesson, simulating social worlds, or dialogic inquiry? Educational Psychology Review, 34(3), 1445–1475. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10648-022-09667-4

Sun, X. (2024). Teaching young adult literature in secondary L2 classrooms: A case study of The Outsiders reading programme. The Language Learning Journal, 52(3), 233–254. https://doi.org/10.1080/09571736.2022.2107694

The Greatest Books. (2025). The greatest coming-of-age books from 2020 to 2025. https://thegreatestbooks.org/the-greatest/coming-of-age/books/from/2020/to/2025

Book Review: Darius the Great Is Not Okay

Adib Khorram’s debut novel, Darius the Great Is Not Okay, is a beautifully crafted story that captures the emotional complexity of adolescence with rare sensitivity. At its centre is Darius Kellner, a teenage boy growing up biracial—half Persian, half white—in a world that often demands simple answers to complicated questions about identity.

Darius feels out of place in his hometown of Portland. He doesn’t speak Farsi fluently, struggles to connect with his Persian heritage, and feels alienated from both sides of his cultural background. When he travels to Iran to meet his grandparents for the first time, the story deepens into a moving exploration of belonging. Khorram doesn’t offer easy resolutions. Instead, he shows how identity can be layered, shifting, and deeply personal.

As a parent of biracial children myself, this novel struck a chord. I often worry about how my kids see themselves—whether they feel “enough” of either culture, whether they’ll be accepted, and whether they’ll find peace in the spaces between. Darius’s journey reminded me that these questions don’t always have answers, but they do deserve compassion. The book offers that in abundance.

What also makes this story so powerful is its honest portrayal of mental health. Darius lives with clinical depression, and Khorram treats this with care and authenticity. He very gently reminds the reader that mental health is often not viewed the same way across generations and cultures. I particularly found it endearing when Darius was taking his ‘medicine’ in front of his grandfather and being told that medicine is only for old people. This was said in such a matter of fact tone, you could almost hear the slightly questioning tone of a grandparent’s concern. However, Khorram keeps it calm. There’s no melodrama, just the quiet reality of what it means to live with a condition that many teenagers face but few feel safe talking about. The novel understands that mental health isn’t a side issue—it’s central to how young people experience the world and themselves.

Equally important is the novel’s emphasis on friendship. Darius’s bond with Sohrab, a boy he meets in Iran, is tender, grounding, and transformative. For teenagers, friendships are more than social connections—they’re mirrors through which they begin to see themselves. A good friend can validate your experiences, challenge your assumptions, and offer a safe space to be vulnerable. In Darius’s case, Sohrab becomes that anchor. Their friendship helps Darius feel seen—not as a collection of contradictions, but as someone worthy of love and belonging. For teens navigating identity and self-esteem, these kinds of relationships are vital.

The thing is, I never had a friend like Sohrab before. One who understood me without even trying. Who knew what it was like to be stuck on the outside because of one little thing that set you apart.

This moment captures the emotional core of the novel. For Darius, friendship isn’t just about companionship—it’s about being truly seen. Sohrab’s presence helps Darius begin to accept himself, not in spite of his differences, but because of them. It’s a reminder that for teenagers, especially those navigating identity and mental health challenges, friendship can be a lifeline

Darius the Great Is Not Okay is a fantastic coming-of-age story because it doesn’t rely on dramatic transformations. It’s about small, meaningful moments: a friendship that feels like home, a conversation that bridges generations, a glimpse of self-worth. For young readers—especially those navigating multiple cultures or mental health challenges—it’s a gentle, affirming reminder that being “not okay” doesn’t mean being broken. It means being human.

#boybooks -Why Jack Heath Belongs in Every Boys’ School Library

If you’re looking for books that speak directly to boys—stories packed with action, danger, and emotional grit—Jack Heath is an author who delivers every time. Based in Canberra, Heath has become a standout voice in Australian young adult fiction, known for his fast-paced narratives and male protagonists who face extreme challenges and somehow manage to survive. His books aren’t just entertaining—they’re powerful tools for building resilience, especially in young readers who need to see that courage isn’t about being fearless, but about pushing through fear.

One of Heath’s most popular texts in my school library is the Minutes of Danger series. Each book features ten short stories, each unfolding in real time over ten minutes. Titles like 300 Minutes of Danger, 400 Minutes of Danger, and 500 Minutes of Danger are perfect for reluctant readers, offering bite-sized thrillers that are impossible to put down. The protagonists are often boys who are caught in life-or-death situations. They must rely on quick thinking, bravery, and resourcefulness. These stories are not only gripping but also subtly teach problem-solving and emotional regulation under pressure.

The Liars series takes a different angle, blending tech intrigue with moral complexity. It follows Jarli, a teenage inventor whose lie-detecting app turns him into a target. Across titles like The Truth App, No Survivors, and Armageddon, Jarli navigates a world where truth is dangerous and trust is hard-earned. These books explore ethical dilemmas, the consequences of innovation, and the importance of standing up for what’s right, even when it’s risky. Jarli’s journey is one of growth, resilience, and learning to think critically in a world full of deception.

Then there’s the Money series, featuring Ashley Arthur is based around a teen thief with a conscience. In Money Run and Hit List, Ashley pulls off high-stakes heists while wrestling with questions of morality and loyalty. These books are like Ocean’s Eleven for young readers, combining adrenaline-fueled action with deeper themes about risk, justice, and the blurry line between right and wrong. Ashley’s cleverness and internal compass make him a compelling role model for boys who are learning to navigate complex social dynamics.

“Thrills, Truth, and Tough Choices”

Jack Heath’s literary universe doesn’t stop at young adult fiction—it boldly steps into adult territory with the Timothy Blake series, beginning with Hangman. This marks Heath’s foray into darker, more psychologically complex storytelling, offering older teen readers a bridge into adult fiction. I have recently acquired the series for my school library because these books are perfect for boys who’ve grown up devouring his YA thrillers as they provide a natural progression into more mature narratives. With a protagonist who’s part genius, part monster, and whose moral compass is as twisted as the crimes he solves, the series channels unmistakable Thomas Harris’ Hannibal Lecter vibes, intelligent, disturbing, and impossible to look away from.

For boys’ schools and educators curating their library collections, authors like Jack Heath are essential. His stories don’t just entertain. They shape character. They help boys confront fear, wrestle with ethical decisions, and develop emotional resilience. In a world that often asks boys to be tough without teaching them how to be strong, Heath’s books offer a roadmap. They help boys grow, not just as readers, but as young men learning to navigate complexity, responsibility, and identity.

Jack Heath’s stories are more than just thrill rides. They offer boys a mirror and a map, reflecting their struggles and showing them paths through adversity. His characters don’t have superpowers, but they do have grit, intelligence, and heart. For educators and parents looking to foster resilience in boys, Heath’s books are a goldmine. They prove that strength isn’t just physical, it’s emotional, ethical, and deeply human.

Book Review – The Hallmarked Man.

Robert Galbraith’s The Hallmarked Man is a riveting addition to the Cormoran Strike series, delivering a classic whodunnit with a modern edge. Published two years after the last book in the series, avid readers (aka me) were very excited about the release. The Running Grave (Book 7) was easily the best book I read in 2023, so I was very, very excited about this new title which was released today around the world. I excitedly opened up my Kindle edition at 12.01AM and picked up my hardcopy version at 10.15am. The eBook/Kindle version may be portable, but the hardcopy will always win with me!

The story opens with a gruesome discovery—a mutilated corpse whose identity has been deliberately obscured. Strike and Robin Ellacott are tasked with unraveling not just who the victim is, but why someone went to such lengths to erase him. The mystery is layered and atmospheric, steeped in London’s underbelly and the world of antique silver, with plenty of red herrings and unexpected turns.

I found the references in the novel to the Freemasons interesting, and the novel did often allude to the role Freemasons have in public office may be compromised by their own allegiances. This theme of secret societies is rather popular and does seem to appear in several crime and thriller fiction across a range of authors.

As the investigation deepens, Strike finds himself under media scrutiny, with past indiscretions resurfacing and threatening to derail both the case and his reputation. This subplot adds tension and continuity for longtime readers, tying in threads from earlier books and forcing Strike to confront uncomfortable truths.

The novel also tugs at the heartstrings, especially when Strike reflects on the death of his beloved uncle Ted—a man he calls a “proper man”—whose quiet strength and moral compass shaped Strike’s own. In a surprising emotional turn, Strike rekindles a relationship with his estranged father, Jonny Rokeby, adding layers of vulnerability and reconciliation to the narrative.

Ellacot, meanwhile, is navigating her own emotional minefield. Her feelings for Ryan Murphy—a charismatic, Paul Newman lookalike—are complicated by her loyalty to Strike and the unresolved tension between them. She’s also forced to confront the eternal juggle between motherhood and career, a theme that’s handled with nuance and realism, reflecting the pressures many women face in balancing ambition with personal life.

The novel is rich with minor plot twists that add texture without overwhelming the central mystery. Each twist feels earned, contributing to a narrative that’s both intellectually satisfying and emotionally resonant. Galbraith doesn’t shy away from darker realities either—human trafficking of young women is woven into the case, serving as a sobering reminder that this global crisis remains urgent and unresolved.

Galbraith’s prose is sharp, the pacing tight, and the resolution deeply rewarding. The Hallmarked Man is a triumph—gritty, elegant, and impossible to put down.

Book Review – The Vanishing Bride

Bella Ellis’s The Vanished Bride (2019) is more than a historical mystery—it’s a poignant reflection on the constraints and quiet rebellions of women in Victorian England. Set in 1845, the novel imagines the Brontë sisters—Charlotte, Emily, and Anne—as amateur detectives, drawn into the case of a young bride who disappears under violent and mysterious circumstances. While the plot is rich with gothic suspense and clever twists, its emotional core lies in the exploration of female suffering, silencing, and survival.

This book was an unexpected surprise. I have always been a fan of Austen adaptations, but I had never really looked for other works. Then I saw this book. Just sitting on a shelf in Chermside Library…. What drew me in, pulled my eye onto a shelf filled with books, was the cover and the beguiling title – who vanished?

The vanished bride herself becomes a symbol of the countless women whose voices were erased by marriage, patriarchy, and social expectation. Her disappearance from a blood-soaked room is not just a mystery to be solved—it’s a metaphor for how women were often consumed by the institutions meant to protect them. The Brontë sisters, still unpublished and largely dismissed by society, are portrayed as fiercely intelligent and empathetic women who refuse to accept the limitations imposed on them. Their determination to uncover the truth is an act of resistance, a refusal to be passive observers in a world that demands their silence.

Ellis’s depiction of the sisters is deeply respectful of their historical reality. Each woman brings her own perspective shaped by hardship: Charlotte’s yearning for recognition, Emily’s wild defiance of convention, and Anne’s quiet moral clarity. Their investigation is not just about solving a crime—it’s about asserting their right to think, to question, and to act. In doing so, they challenge the rigid gender roles of their time, offering a glimpse into the emotional and intellectual lives of women who were often denied both agency and autonomy.

What makes The Vanished Bride especially compelling is its ability to weave these themes into a gripping narrative without ever feeling didactic. The gothic setting, the eerie clues, and the complex characters all serve to highlight the emotional toll of being a woman in a world that sees you as property, decoration, or burden. Through the Brontës’ eyes, Ellis invites readers to consider not just the mystery of a missing bride, but the deeper mystery of how women endured, resisted, and ultimately reshaped the world around them—often through the power of storytelling itself.

The Whimsical Wonder of Readathons: Reading for Joy, for Fun, for Pleasure!

Normally, my annual fundraiser is Frocktober, where for the month of October, I celebrate the gloriousness of frocks whilst fundraising for the Ovarian Cancer Research Fund. But this year, I’m mixing it up with something equally delightful and just a bit more bookish: a readathon! And not just any readathon—The World’s Coolest Readathon, hosted by the Australian Book Foundation. I saw that another wonderful Teacher Librarian Barbara from Bourke High School had signed up and then I thought… why not do it myself?

And what better way to kick things off than with a mystery? My first book for this readathon is Diabolical Bones by Sue Ellis—a Brontë Girls Mystery, borrowed from the ever-wonderful Brisbane City Council libraries. Gothic Yorkshire, clever heroines, and a touch of the macabre? Yes please.

A readathon, I’ve decided, is the perfect sequel to Book Month—like the epilogue where the characters (aka readers) get to celebrate their love of stories with wild abandon. It’s the encore performance, the bonus chapter, the literary afterparty.

Once upon a time, in a land not so far away (okay, it was my bedroom in Brisbane’s Southside), I embarked on a noble quest: the MS Readathon. Armed with a stack of books taller than my bedside lamp and a sponsorship sheet that made me feel like a literary philanthropist, I read my way through mysteries, adventures, and magical lands—all while raising money for a good cause. It was glorious.

Fast forward to today, and I find myself whispering reminders like a mantra: Read for fun. Read for joy. Read for pleasure. Because somewhere between grown-up responsibilities and inbox avalanches, the simple delight of reading can slip through the cracks.

Why Readathons Are Brilliant (and Backed by Science!) 

Readathons aren’t just nostalgic—they’re powerful tools for literacy, wellbeing, and community. Here’s why they’re so magical:

They Spark a Love of Reading: Choosing your own books makes reading feel like breathing—natural and joyful.

“Until I feared I would lose it, I never loved to read. One does not love breathing.”

–Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird

They Boost Brains and Wellbeing: Reading for pleasure improves mental health and cognitive skills.

“Reading gives us someplace to go when we have to stay where we are.”
— Mason Cooley

They Create Lifelong Readers: Even reluctant readers get swept up in the fun.

“A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies. The man who never reads lives only one.”
— George R.R. Martin

They Build Community: Fundraising through reading turns stories into shared kindness.

“No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted.”
— Aesop

A Readathon Renaissance

Whether you’re a teacher, parent, librarian, or just a book-loving human, readathons offer a delightful way to reconnect with the joy of reading. They’re flexible, inclusive, and can be tailored to any age or interest. Plus, they’re a fabulous excuse to wear pajamas all day and call it “literary immersion.”

So if you, like me, sometimes need a nudge to read for the sheer pleasure of it, consider joining or hosting a readathon. You’ll be part of a movement that’s not just fun—it’s transformative.

And if you’re ready to dive in, check out The World’s Coolest Readathon. It’s got all the charm of the MS Readathon days, with a modern twist and a mission to make reading joyful again.

References

Book Lovers Day – August 9

“A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies. The man who never reads lives only one.” – George R.R. Martin

This weekend we celebrated an unusual day. A truly inclusive day, where anyone and everyone can join in the festivities. This day celebrates the peculiar joy of falling headfirst into a story, where dragons roam, detectives brood, and friendships bloom between pages. Book Lovers Day is a gentle reminder that quality literature doesn’t just entertain the mind, rather it transforms. It tickles the imagination, sharpens the mind, and teaches us to see the world through someone else’s eyes.

“Reading is an exercise in empathy; an exercise in walking in someone else’s shoes for a while.”

Malorie Blackman

Reading fiction is more than a leisure activity as it is a cognitive and emotional exercise that cultivates empathy, enhances wellbeing, and supports lifelong development. Classic novels such as 1984, The Handmaid’s Tale, Rebecca, and The Three Musketeers exemplify how literature invites readers to inhabit diverse perspectives, a process closely linked to the development of Theory of Mind (ToM).

ToM refers to the ability to understand that others have beliefs, desires, and emotions different from one’s own. Research shows a reciprocal relationship between ToM and reading comprehension: engaging with narrative fiction improves our capacity to infer characters’ mental states, which in turn strengthens our understanding of complex texts. This cognitive skill is foundational not only to reading but to social interaction and emotional intelligence.

Moreover, (and this is the part I absolutely love!), reading fiction contributes to stress reduction and emotional regulation. Works like Life of Pi, The Scarlet Pimpernel, Gone with the Wind and Wind in the Willows offer immersive experiences that promote relaxation and introspection. As noted in The Conversation, reading also fosters curiosity—a trait linked to career success and psychological resilience.

In sum, literature nurtures the body, mind, and spirit. On Book Lovers Day, we celebrate fiction not just as art, but as a vital tool for cultivating empathy, enhancing wellbeing, and deepening our understanding of others.

Book Review – Schindler’s Ark by Thomas Keneally

Book of the Day

Schindler’s Ark by Thomas Keneally was a very dry read.  It was drier than the cheapest plonk at the pub during happy hour.  Now before anyone starts collecting rocks to stone me, I would challenge them to read the book too and then comment.  

I am not denying that the material in the book is powerful.  I definitely acknowledge that the book is filled with names, places and intense facts.  But it is not prose. Upon thinking this further, I recollect the subject of the book and wonder if there is a reason for that.  If the author, in this case Thomas Keneally was aiming for an emotive piece, it would be a character lie. By all accounts, Oskar Schindler was a hard drinking and reckless businessman who cheated on his wife with regularity (Hurvitz & Karesh, 2016).  He destroyed his family business, sought to cheat, lie and swindle his way back into a life of comfort. Quite frankly, by all tokens, this man was an immoral and wasteful character. Then Schindler went on to save almost 1300 Jews from the concentration camps during those dark days in Eastern Europe.  This man, who by the standards of his time, and now; unworthy of attention; put his own life at risk to save others. His actions have been immortalised in a book, a major Spielberg movie production and the term Schindlerjuden or Schindler’s Jews, which is still used to refer to the descendents of those that were saved.   

So when you consider all these facts, the dryness of Keneally’s “Schindler’s Ark” makes sense.  It would be a lie if the book was anything other than prosaic. Instead, its matter of fact manner of describing the main character’s traits ensures that the reader does not view him with rose framed lenses.  The reader is made fully aware of Oskar’s failings as a man and a husband. It is in viewing these failings that Schindler’s true heroism is seen. The plain language allows the reader to envision the fear hiding between the stalwart words.  Conversely, the plain language also allows readers with little imagination to read the book without being overwhelmed.  

“Schindler’s Ark” was a very dry read for someone who is a lover of prose.  As an avid reader of fiction, I found this novel to be more informative than anything else.  I also found it heartbreaking, just like the sadness I feel when the happy hour wine is just awful.  But whilst this book was a struggle for me, it would be ideal for reluctant teens who struggle with engaging with fictitious stories.  The language, style and format of the book resemble information books and thus may satisfy their need for ‘facts’.  But whilst the Guardian review suggests this book as appropriate for 8-12 year old children, I would probably restrict it to students over 14-15 years old.  This would then correlate well with the year 10 HASS’s World War 2 and Holocaust unit especially the ACDSEH025 elaboration.  It would also work well in the Biographies and memoirs unit in Year 10 English.  

 REFERENCES:

Alannahbee, (2013). Schindler’s Ark by Thomas Keneally – review. The Guardian. Retrieved 16th March, 2020 from https://www.theguardian.com/childrens-books-site/2013/sep/25/review-schindler-s-ark-by-thomas-keneally

Axelrod, A. (2013). Schindler, Oskar. In Encyclopedia of World War II, vol. 2. New York: Facts On File. Retrieved March 16, 2020, from online.infobase.com/Auth/Index?aid=19165&itemid=WE53&articleId=265017.

Hurvitz, M. M., & Karesh, S. E. (2016). Schindler, Oskar. In Encyclopedia of Judaism, Second Edition. New York: Facts On File. Retrieved March 16, 2020, from online.infobase.com/Auth/Index?aid=19165&itemid=WE53&articleId=263928.

The good, the bad and the ugly of Roald Dahl

Authors are magicians. 

pendleburyannette / Pixabay  – Magician or Author

 

They capture your imagination with words and imagery. 

Similar to a siren singing her tune, an author draws the reader in with stories of heroes, villains, mysteries and magic.  There are several writers that come to mind when one thinks about  perspicacity at understanding a developing mind. Enid Blyton comes to my thoughts immediately, as it was her books of Faraway trees, Wishing Chairs, Mallory Towers and the adventurous children that beguiled and transformed me into a certifiable bookworm.  Other authors with these same mystical powers include Emily Rodda, A A Milne, Dr Seuss, C. S Lewis, Beatrix Potter, E.B White, Lewis Carrol, Eric Carle, Rick Riordan, J K Rowling and of course, Roald Dahl.

Dahl’s popularity has enthralled generations of children with his fantastical tales.  Even 30 years after the publication of perspicacious Matilda, the lure is still strong according to Kelly (2019) who recently published an article in the Sunday Times just short of the author’s birthdate.  Dahl’s books have inspired generations of children to read.  His stories of redemption and resilience appeal to both children and adults.  I found it particularly interesting that the books often seem to be narrated by the child protagonist.  By doing so, Dahl places the reader in the central position and thus immediately engages their interest.  The books often place the child in the role of an underdog and their eventual vanquishment of the bigger and older (usually an adult) enemy gives great satisfaction.  Darby (2016) believes that this narrative style is appealing to children as it makes them feel like “someone is in their court”.  

Studiolarsen / Pixabay – Victory at last

 

Some people assert that Dahl’s books are macabre and filled with violence, racial slurs, misogyny and vindictive behaviour.  Anderson (2016) argues that the books caused great disturbance among adult readers when they first started being published in the late 60’s. Stories where witches turn children into mice, people are fed worms and or eaten by giants, and let us not forget principals that swing cute girls by their hair like a discus and push children into nail studded cupboards.  

In fact, “James and the Giant Peach has been lambasted for its racism, profanity and sexual innuendo” Anderson (2016) states.  

punch_ra / Pixabay – Just Peachy

 

It appears Dahl was provoking everyone, as he offended numerous demographics in equal measure.  But I am starting to believe that the provocation is what lured children to read and re-read his books.  It was just that little bit naughty and disgusting. Just enough to make children feel superior and more wise than the character, but not too much as to disengage the reader.  Arguably this is probably what explains Dahl’s longevity as an author. Nice clean stories such as Wilder’s Little House series has its staunch clientele but it does lacks the Dahl’s drawcard in that the majority of children do not identify with these characters.  Kole (2018) suggests that it is when the reader can draw upon their own experience with the subject matter that engagement with the text occurs. This could be contended similar for L M Montgomery’s Anne or White’s Charlotte’s Web. All extremely well written and received books, but not as far reaching as Dahl.  Whilst their stories do have points of personal travail, they simply are not dark enough.  

KELLEPICS / Pixabay – Looking for the Bogeyman

 

This need for darkness is important for children’s literature

as Anderson (2016) and Kole (2018) further elucidate.  One can only think of the popularity of the Grimm fairy tales, Rowling’s Harry Potter, Collins ’Hunger Games and Meyer’s Twilight to realise that the desire for grim has not changed in centuries. The adage about literature reflecting life is the underlying support for this need for fear and fright in children’s books.  Stories of children overcoming great difficulty has the ability to build great resilience and empathy in the reader.  

johnhain / Pixabay – Empathy on your mind?

 

We are all aware of how reading builds empathy.  Readers identify with the characters in the story and thus the feelings from one are juxtaposition-ed on the other .  But reading fictitious stories of giants, witches and wizards, whilst unrealistic, also gives children an important cathartic release according to Bettelheim (2010).  Rochelle (1977) whilst dated, firmly believes that adults and children both require fantastical literature to interweave the complex strains of good and evil in humanity.  Fantastical tales give children innate strength to overcome hurdles life throws at them, no matter how bizarre it is (Kole, 2018).  Children are aware that these stories are unreal in the fantastical sense but the situation that the characters are facing are very real indeed (Rochelle, 1977). Wakefield (2014) agrees and points out that fairy tales are there to protect rather than terrify, as the protagonist is forced to seek inner strength to overcome the villain.  The stories illustrate that these situations can be overcome, and in that, give hope and possibly a way out. 

Fantastical tales are more than just entertainment.  In their own way, they give children (and adults) the ability to fight demons in both the real world and in their dreams. After all, the lives of children are not always filled with rainbows and unicorns.  Many children live in shadows. Reading stories such as Dahl’s encourage children (and adults) to go past their grim quagmire and find their inner strength.  

So this Roald Dahl day on September 13, read a fantastical story… and at the same time, gain some humanity.

References.

Anderson, H. (2016) The dark side of Roald Dahl. BBC Culture. Retrieved from http://www.bbc.com/culture/story/20160912-the-dark-side-of-roald-dahl

Bettelheim, B (2010) The uses of enchantment; the meaning and importance of fairy tales. New York: Vintage Books. Vintage Edition. 

Darby, S. (2016). 15 Must read children’s authors. BNKIDS blog. [blog]. Retrieved from  barnesandnoble.com/blog/kids/15-must-read-childrens-authors/

Kelly, L. (2019). Roald Dahl clan to share £6m dividend from licensing rights. Sunday Times. Retrived from https://www.thetimes.co.uk/article/roald-dahl-clan-to-share-6m-dividend-from-licensing-rights-bdtdt6qfd

Grinstead, R. (2016) Happy Roald Dahl day. Medium.com [blog]. Retrieved from https://medium.com/@rhysgrinstead/its-roald-dahl-day-here-s-how-he-influenced-me-844a4e75bc19

Kole, K. (2018). The role of fairy tales in affective learning: Enhancing adult literacy and learning in FE and community settings. Australian Journal of Adult Learning, 58(3), 365-389. Retrieved from https://search-proquest-com.ezproxy.csu.edu.au/docview/2250950746?accountid=10344

Rochelle, L. (1977). The search for meaning through fantasy. The English Journal.  Vol. 66, No. 7, pp 54-55.  Retrieved from https://www.jstor.org/stable/814365

Wakefield, M. (2014). Why scary fairy stories are the best. The Spectator.