Blog

At its centre is Franny Stone, a woman driven by an almost physical need to keep moving. She's crossed countries, abandoned homes and repeatedly left the people she loves, but her latest journey is different. Believing that the Arctic terns may be undertaking their final migration, Franny travels to Greenland and attaches tracking devices to three of the birds. She intends to follow them south to Antarctica, where she'll fulfil a promise connected to her husband Niall.

At the core of the narrative are two women in their eighties whose relationship has endured for nearly a century. Agnes Lee is a celebrated author who fiercely guards her privacy, while Polly Wister has oriented her entire life around marriage and family. Every summer since childhood has been spent on Fellowship Point, a secluded peninsula on the Maine coast. When the future of this jointly owned land comes into question, old loyalties, buried griefs, and long-held assumption

Dianne Yarwood's latest novel follows Maggie Reid, a woman in her forties who has spent much of her life carrying wounds she rarely speaks about. Adopted as a baby and raised in a home largely devoid of affection, Maggie has worked hard to build a life that feels safe and manageable.

Allen Levi's Theo of Golden is the kind of novel that restores your faith in literature's ability to illuminate what it means to be human.

As contemporary Australian fiction continues to grapple with questions of housing, class, labour, and generational instability, Kill Your Boomers stands out for the sharpness of its social observation and the sophistication of its psychological insight. It is an unsettling, darkly intelligent novel about inheritance in every sense of the word: financial, emotional, cultural, and moral.

At first glance, the premise sounds deceptively familiar: a seventeen-year-old girl named Waldo begins an affair with her middle-aged creative writing teacher, Mr. Teddy Korgy. On paper, it risks sounding like another contemporary “taboo relationship” novel built to provoke discourse and little else. However, in reality, Half His Age is far more psychologically precise than that. It's not romantic fantasy masquerading as literary fiction.

Grief doesn’t arrive cleanly in Intermezzo. Nor does it announce itself or demand attention in the way we expect it to. It seeps, it rearranges and it sits quietly inside conversations that seem to be about something else entirely, like sex, money, timing, responsibility, up until you realise every choice being made is orbiting a loss no one quite knows how to hold.