Showing posts with label House of the Flight-helpers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label House of the Flight-helpers. Show all posts
Sunday, 29 March 2020
Wednesday, 19 February 2020
Feedback from Edith Speers...
Edith Speers is a Tasmanian poet and publisher (Esperance Press). This is her feedback on my recent novel, "House of the Flight-helpers"...
Anyway, I'm finally
reading House of the Flight Helpers - about 50 pages so far. Your
writing is so wonderful, the descriptions so powerful - I'm getting
depressed! What a miserable world is Incognita. I'm feeling like I
wish the birds would totally invade the place and send everyone
running. Well, the fact is, you are even more brilliant as a writer
than I ever suspected, and I already thought you were the best...
love, E.
Only stating the obvious! Your writing so deserves that gorgeous
hard-back publication. Oh, and also, just as a reader with not a lot
of time for reading, I so appreciate the beautifully short chapters.
No matter how scary or gloomy the scenario, I can move on to the next
bit. The last few books I've read, the chapters were sooooo long, and
I read late at night, and get sleepy, and just groan sometimes. And
sometimes don't even finish the chapter - heresy!
And I'm now at
the part of Flight-Helpers where Honeysuckle Rose and Juana Jubilee
get out of Incognita. Thank heavens!
Have to admit, I'm breathing easier now that those
poor people have some fresh air and open sky...
Hi there, you amazing person. What a great ending! And the stories and
sagas and travels and meetings that converge at the end - wonderful.
And yes, I noticed that Bird Boy ended up with a crown of thorns, and
I'm glad he didn't get the gruesome demise that goes with it. And I
noticed the "Havnotz" bread, too; this was the grimmest ever society
of haves and have-nots.... It's great how you snuck in the religious
and the political elements with barely a blip on the radar. That's
subversive! Whew - trouble is, great literature seeps into my brain
and my brain feels saturated and next thing, thoughts will come oozing
out of my ears. I better pick up a trashy crime novel real quick, as
an antidote... Love ya!
Aha - and that wonderful revolution, not a 'call to arms' but a call
to compassion, blankets for people who were cold. Brilliant!
I hope you realize you have totally subverted the whole male-dominated
warrior / cowboy orientation of the SF genre. The annoying thing is
that few people will buy a book of that price. Any hope of a
paperback...?
Oh good! I was wondering it they'd put the book in contests. Well -
win a prize and they might bring out a paperback!
Anyway, I'm finally
reading House of the Flight Helpers - about 50 pages so far. Your
writing is so wonderful, the descriptions so powerful - I'm getting
depressed! What a miserable world is Incognita. I'm feeling like I
wish the birds would totally invade the place and send everyone
running. Well, the fact is, you are even more brilliant as a writer
than I ever suspected, and I already thought you were the best...
love, E.
Only stating the obvious! Your writing so deserves that gorgeous
hard-back publication. Oh, and also, just as a reader with not a lot
of time for reading, I so appreciate the beautifully short chapters.
No matter how scary or gloomy the scenario, I can move on to the next
bit. The last few books I've read, the chapters were sooooo long, and
I read late at night, and get sleepy, and just groan sometimes. And
sometimes don't even finish the chapter - heresy!
And I'm now at
the part of Flight-Helpers where Honeysuckle Rose and Juana Jubilee
get out of Incognita. Thank heavens!
Have to admit, I'm breathing easier now that those
poor people have some fresh air and open sky...
Hi there, you amazing person. What a great ending! And the stories and
sagas and travels and meetings that converge at the end - wonderful.
And yes, I noticed that Bird Boy ended up with a crown of thorns, and
I'm glad he didn't get the gruesome demise that goes with it. And I
noticed the "Havnotz" bread, too; this was the grimmest ever society
of haves and have-nots.... It's great how you snuck in the religious
and the political elements with barely a blip on the radar. That's
subversive! Whew - trouble is, great literature seeps into my brain
and my brain feels saturated and next thing, thoughts will come oozing
out of my ears. I better pick up a trashy crime novel real quick, as
an antidote... Love ya!
Aha - and that wonderful revolution, not a 'call to arms' but a call
to compassion, blankets for people who were cold. Brilliant!
I hope you realize you have totally subverted the whole male-dominated
warrior / cowboy orientation of the SF genre. The annoying thing is
that few people will buy a book of that price. Any hope of a
paperback...?
Oh good! I was wondering it they'd put the book in contests. Well -
win a prize and they might bring out a paperback!
Tuesday, 20 August 2019
Carol Patterson responds to "House of the Flight-helpers"...
Reading the House of the Flight Helpers, by Philomena van Rijswijk an amazing, original, beautifully written post apocalyptic novel, request from your library, or buy it, Philomena is another great Tasmanian writer who needs support from you, the readers.
* Carol Patterson lives in South Arm, a serene coastal hamlet south-east of Hobart, Tasmania. Her arresting style infuses her short stories with fresh, vibrant life. She explores the crucial points in people's lives when change takes place. Her post-graduate degree in Geography and Environmental Studies gained from the University of Tasmania, allows her to see the world from an original perspective, which further enriches her stories.
* Carol Patterson lives in South Arm, a serene coastal hamlet south-east of Hobart, Tasmania. Her arresting style infuses her short stories with fresh, vibrant life. She explores the crucial points in people's lives when change takes place. Her post-graduate degree in Geography and Environmental Studies gained from the University of Tasmania, allows her to see the world from an original perspective, which further enriches her stories.
Anne Morgan responds to "House of the Flight-helpers"...
Reading Philomena van Rijswijk's House of the Flight Keepers. What an original, compelling, strange, satirical collection of amazements! Pure genius. My pick for the Man Booker prize, for what it's worth. And the physical book is gorgeous too. Thick paper, with its own ribbon marker.
* Anne Morgan is a full-time writer who lives on Bruny Island, Tasmania. She has published eight children’s books and one full-length volume of poetry.
Anne has a PhD in Writing, for which she won a university medal, and a Master of Education Degree. She has worked as a journalist, public sector administrator, teacher and professional actor.
Thursday, 4 July 2019
The Walking of the Dolls
(Excerpt from "House of the Flight-helpers" by Philomena van Rijswijk, Tartarus Press UK)
Once a year, the main street of Grenzgebiet was closed to wheeled traffic, such as trucks and carts, and the tall dolls atop their skilfully wielded stilts, would lead a parade through the town. Some of the dolls had faces as smooth and as white as porcelain, with kohled almond-shaped eyes and ridiculously long orange wigs. Others had their faces covered with leather balaclavas, their eyes and mouths suggested behind irregular gashes. On their heads they wore simple goggles. There were yellow raffia skirts and tall head-dresses made from fake palmfronds; and there were long cotton trousers and sequined capes. There was an inflatable doll sitting side-saddle on a smiling inflatable moon. The inflatable doll was always the crowd’s favourite. She was called Sybil Obedience, and for many years had represented the ideal of Productive Motherhood. On the day of the doll parade, the young woman with the most children, who at the same time had put in the most hours of paid labour, was given a small resin replica of the round-eyed pneumatic character.
Once a year, the main street of Grenzgebiet was closed to wheeled traffic, such as trucks and carts, and the tall dolls atop their skilfully wielded stilts, would lead a parade through the town. Some of the dolls had faces as smooth and as white as porcelain, with kohled almond-shaped eyes and ridiculously long orange wigs. Others had their faces covered with leather balaclavas, their eyes and mouths suggested behind irregular gashes. On their heads they wore simple goggles. There were yellow raffia skirts and tall head-dresses made from fake palmfronds; and there were long cotton trousers and sequined capes. There was an inflatable doll sitting side-saddle on a smiling inflatable moon. The inflatable doll was always the crowd’s favourite. She was called Sybil Obedience, and for many years had represented the ideal of Productive Motherhood. On the day of the doll parade, the young woman with the most children, who at the same time had put in the most hours of paid labour, was given a small resin replica of the round-eyed pneumatic character.
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