Vale Kerry Greenwood

Vale Kerry Greenwood (1954 - 2025)

It was with a very heavy heart that I read yesterday about the passing of Kerry Greenwood. Her Phryne Fisher books have been some of my favourite books since I started reading them. I’ve read and re-read all of them, and many of the Corinna Chapman books too. I love Phryne Fisher. She is bold and an unapologetically feminist character: intelligent, independent, sensual, and always deeply committed to justice. Watching her come to life on screen in Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries and Miss Fisher and the Crypt of Tears only deepened my love for her, and I recommend the books and the series to everyone I can.

Kerry Greenwood herself was someone I always admired. I felt that we had things in common - both of us lawyers, both legal aid lawyers, both drawn to that work because of a commitment to social justice. She struck me as so authentic and grounded. Years ago, I emailed her (I found her address in the back of one of her books!) to ask if I could interview her for a blog I was guest writing for. To my amazement, she replied - she was gracious, generous, and kind to someone she'd never met. The interview has long since disappeared into the internet ether (although here is my post about it), but I’ve never forgotten her warmth, humour, and willingness to engage.

She gave so much. Vale, Kerry. And thank you.

Some links:

Wit, charm and heart: novelist Kerry Greenwood, creator of Phryne Fisher, was a true original

Kerry Greenwood, Australian author of Phryne Fisher murder mysteries, dies aged 70 | Australia news | The Guardian

Kerry Greenwood: Australian author remembered - ABC listen

2024: A year of female voices – a reflection on gender in my reading

As I reviewed my list of books read in 2024, I couldn't help but notice an interesting trend: the majority of books I read were written by female authors. Of the 41 books, 20 were by unique female authors, while only 7 were written by men. 8 of the female authors were also Australian. This wasn’t something I intentionally set out to achieve, but looking back, it feels like a reflection of my desire to support and amplify female voices. It’s also a bit of an anomaly compared to the previous years, where the gender balance of my reading was much more even or tipped in favour of male authors. This shift has made me reflect on the state of female representation in the writing industry.

Female authors face unique challenges when it comes to getting published and having their work recognised. While women make up a significant portion of the literary world, studies consistently show that books written by women are underrepresented, particularly in genres traditionally dominated by male authors. Historically, male authors have tended to be considered for and awarded major literary prizes at higher rates than their female counterparts for example. This disparity is a result of historical biases, societal expectations, and even subtle biases in the publishing process, all of which make it harder for female authors to break through. The gender imbalance in publishing has led to fewer opportunities for female authors to gain the same visibility and recognition as their male counterparts, despite their contributions being just as significant and diverse. 

In response to this imbalance, initiatives like the Stella Prize have emerged. Established in 2013, the Stella Prize is an Australian literary award that celebrates the writing of women and non-binary authors across all genres. Its creation was a direct reaction to the underrepresentation of female writers in major awards, notably the Miles Franklin Award.

So, as I look back on my reading habits this year, I feel good about supporting women in literature, but I also acknowledge the broader systemic challenges that many female authors still face in their careers.

The authors

Agatha Christie - many

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie - We Should All be Feminists

Elizabeth Coleman - A Routine Infidelity (Australian)

Sulari Gentill - The Rowland Sinclair series (Australian)

Anna Funder - Stasiland (Australian)

Holly Jackson - Good Girl's Guide to Murder

Azako Yuzuki - Butter

Barbara Kingsolver - The Bean Trees

Geraldine Brooks - March

Hannah Kent - Devotion (Australian)

Jane Harper - The Exiles, The Survivors (Australian)

Suzanne Collins - The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes

Dervla Tiernan - The Murder Rules 

Brenda Jagger - Flint and Roses

Rebecca Huang - Yellowface (Australian)

Lisa Jewell - Then She Was Gone

Stephanie Bishop - The Anniversary (Australian)

Jean M Auel - Valley of Horses

Amy Taylor - Search History (Australian)

Jill Duggar - Counting the Cost

Six Degrees of Separation (Apr): From Knife to Jasper Jones by Craig Silvey

The meme is hosted by Books are My Favourite Best and is described thus: On the first Saturday of every month, a book is chosen as a starting point and linked to six other books to form a chain. Readers and bloggers are invited to join in by creating their own ‘chain’ leading from the selected book. Each person’s chain will look completely different. It doesn’t matter what the connection is or where it takes you – just take us on the journey with you.

This is only the third time I have completed Six Degrees, but for me the journey through these reading experiences has actually been a little emotional for me - definitely a testament to the power of fiction, arising from a non-fiction starting point.

This month the journey starts with Knife by Salman Rushdie, described by Penguin Books Australia as "a moving, life-affirming memoir about survival and the power of love to heal...". Knife is a memoir that explores the aftermath of the attempt on Rushdie's life in 2022. I've not read this book. In fact, I haven't read very many memoirs at all, although I know many people who read a lot of them.

I have read two other books by Salman Rushdie – with Midnight's Children being the stand-out for me. I remember at the time that I read it feeling as though it was one of the best books I had ever read, although it's been many years since I visited it, and the feeling has faded. It falls into the category of magical realism and is the story of Indian independence which is explored through the storytelling of Saleem – who, as a young boy, discovers that he has the power of telepathy and can communicate with other children born close to midnight on the date that India gains its independence. Thinking about this story now makes me think that I might like to re-read it this year.

There is something about magical realism that I love, and it takes me to The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger. The Time Traveler's Wife is the love story of Henry and Clare. Henry's rare genetic condition means that he involuntarily time travels, and his time traveling takes him to the past where he befriends a young girl called Clare – who eventually becomes his wife. When I first read this book, I cried like a baby. I think I have still cried in several re-readings since. There is something about it that is just so poignant – the human experiences of the characters as they live their lives together in as normal a way as possible. It's since been made into a movie and a TV series, both of which I've enjoyed but of course can't match the book. I have reviewed it here.

Other books I have cried in. The first one that comes to mind is The Book Thief by Markus Zusak, an Australian author. This is still to this day one of my very favourite books. We came close to naming our son Rudy after one of the main characters in this story, that is narrated by Death and explores the German experience of WW2 through the eyes of the young Liesel and her family's attempt to save the life of a Jewish friend. I finished this book on a train and cried and cried. You can read my review here. 

Another book I cried uncontrollably in was We Need to Talk About Kevin by Lionel Shriver. If you've read the book, you can probably already understand the part that I mean. I remember being home alone and completely distraught and calling my husband for comfort. I could barely speak, and he thought something was very wrong until I could get out that it was the book that upset me so much. Any book that can evoke that kind of emotion is clearly worth a read. You can read my review here.

At first, I couldn't quite figure out why, but the next book that came to my mind was Salvage the Bones by Jesmyn Ward. Salvage the Bones provides the reader with a heart-wrenching snapshot of family life in a poverty-stricken area of New Orleans in the days leading up to and including Hurricane Katrina. It's told from the perspective of a young teenage girl, who is experiencing her own personal hurricane when Katrina hits. What connects these two books for me is the theme of motherhood. Although each tells very different stories, they both explore motherhood in a deeply real way—truly demonstrating the complexities of what motherhood is and means—to both the mother and the child.

When I revisited my review of Salvage the Bones, I described it as an assault on my emotions—another aspect in keeping with both my experience of The Book Thief and We Need to Talk About Kevin.

Finally, Salvage the Bones has brought me to another Australian book, this time a young adult novel—Jasper Jones by Craig Silvey. They are both coming-of-age novels in their own way, both set in marginalised communities (one in modern-day New Orleans and the other in a small rural town in 1960s Australia), and both are narrated by teens experiencing their own personal upheaval. Both deal with important themes: social injustice, race, and identity. And Ward and Silvey give voice to characters who are vulnerable and overlooked in real life—and do so in an authentic and moving way.