David Malouf Books

Sorry, I realize this writer and this collection has been critically acclaimed, but all I did reading it was yawn and wonder - where is the wonder! The pace is so slow, and the plots - what plots. Reads more like a narrative of one of my relatives boring lives.

I just don't understand the praise - 5 stars??????

David Malouf is a brilliant writer, as those readers who have digested "Remebering Babylon", "Conversations at Curlew Creek", etc. can attest. Too often Malouf is classified as an Australian writer, a limiting category for a man who spends half his year in Australia ad the other half in Tuscany! But as far as the content of his works is concerned he references the immense, isolated Australia, a country very much in this century and yet still a part of the Last Frontier image. In his works he describes characters who somehow reflect that isolation, that pioneer spirit, that insular view of the world. In DREAM STUFF we are treated to hugely successful small stories that deal with man's tiny speck of space in a universe full of fear and trials. Malouf is able to completely inhabit the female narrator as in "Closer", a tale of Pentecostal dealing (or rather not dealing) with things sensual. "Sally's Story" is the agar plate for a larger novel - a woman who understands that the only way she will experience life outside her cramped environment is to serve as a "hostess" to GIs on leave from Vietnam. In "Lone Pine" a couple escapes the secure tenderings of the workaday life in the city only to face nature in all its evil forces: their Idyll becomes the stage for murder by seemingly "decent folk". And on it goes. Malouf's language is lush while straight forward, his plots are deceptively simple until he leaves us wondering how to finish the dialogue he has started. Another brilliant book from one of the best writers of our time. Highly recommended.

I have read and commented upon seven of the nine novels that David Malouf has written. His novels are not lengthy but they all share the great talent this writer has. "Dream Stuff", is a collection of nine short stories that appear together for the first time. Just as he has done many times over with his novels, he presents a series of shorter works that are uniformly very good, and some that are excellent.

There are two stories that were of great interest as the Author chose children to narrate the tale. At the age of 9 in, "Closer", a young girl is the hostess for the story, and in, "Blacksoil Country", our young male guide is but twelve. The choice of youth for narrators was interesting as the stories they shared were those of adult situations, feelings and actions. The word precocious would not accurately measure the insight these children have.

All of the stories tend toward the darker spectrums of Human Nature. Even when the tale may just be deeply sad I believe it still shows the more negative aspects of people and Family. There is one story that stands out for its absolute brutality. It is particularly savage as it is unexpected, and random in its violence. Unfortunately it reflects what we too often read of in the news.

I highly recommend the work of this Author. I have never picked up one of his works and come away with anything less than great admiration for his skill.

David Malouf has written books that I return to and return to again for the language that is wonderful and the sense of place - Australia from its settlers' beginnings to modern time - that tells more about the uniqueness of that continent than a thousand pictures. One of the stories in this collection, Jacko's Reach is one of the most beautifully written evocations of the enduring quality of memory and wild places, full of mystery, that I have ever read. These are wonderful stories.

This is perhaps one of the most phenomenal books I've read in the past year. Malouf's prose is intricate, flowing, and beautiful, and I found myself taking more time than usual after each story to ponder meanings and significances. Malouf is one of few writers to have completely mastered both style and content; his results are breathtaking. A must read.

A novel about the horrors of running around on the battlefield during world war one, in the main. Unforunately, it is also a very dull example of the same.

The good thing then in that respect, is that it is also quite short so you don't have to put up with it for every long.

I have read most of Mr. Malouf's novels and he is an Author of remarkable talent and consistency. It has generally not been whether a given work is good, just how very good it is. He almost competes with himself alone when he pens another work. This work, "Fly Away Peter", is closer to a novella in length, but felt a bit crowded when read. It would seem examining an issue in depth, or a general theme in breadth can be accomplished without a regard for length, rather just skill. This time out I felt there was room for two or three times the length of the actual work.

This book promises to deal with the issue of men from different classes of life, how they place the strata of society aside and become partners. And then to narrate how the First World War draws the two different men into its maw. These men are not the only characters, and it is not just their histories the Author must communicate. When all of these aspects are brought together in barely 134 pages, it became incomplete for me, almost claustrophobic. Mr. Malouf is a remarkable writer and poet. To read any of his work is to read great literature from this admired Australian Author.

The four stars may seem to contradict what I have said, however I cannot go back and change all of the previous books of his I have commented upon. This is excellent reading when placed next to much of what is available; it only comes up short when compared to the balance of his work. It certainly is worth the time to read and enjoy, it should probably be placed at the beginning of reading his body of work, rather than near its end.

..Malouf's writing shines with nothing but a beautiful magic in his telling of human existence. Personally I prefered the first half of the book, with his slow but thoroughly engaging depictions of 3 people's shared happy laziness in the corner of an Australian lake. The war was also wonderfully drawn, but it carries all of its power in the contrast, and its emotional affect on the otherwise unaffected 'other side of the world'. No question it's Malouf's best.

Malouf deals with big themes here: the continuities of nature; the horror of human conflict; our desire to hold onto the past, and the necessity of relinquishing it. But he handles them in such a personal, beautiful and profoundly moving way that he manages to say it all in under 150 pages. Some readers might prefer more languorous pacing, but Malouf has no reason to stall. Unlike many writers, he knows precisely what he's doing. His precision is utterly astounding. He can say more, move you more, in a dozen pages than lesser writers seem to manage in whole careers. Chapter 14, scarcely more than 2000 words, is the most powerful account of the Great War - what it meant, what it can be made to mean - that I have ever read.

David Malouf's prize winning novel, 'Fly Away Peter' is a beautifully written story that both beautifies and simplifies the life of humans and animals. Malouf has to be considered as one of Australia's leading writers and poets. This novel is not a story to be read if one is after light entertainment. It is truly the work of a poet, a fine piece of literature. His descriptive text beckons the reader to find a deeper meaning. The simple messages of love, friendship and the beauty of life are both refreshing and moving. Do not attempt to read it if you are after cheap thrills. This book needs to be savoured. It follows the lives of three main characters, Ashley, Jim and Imogen. Together they appreciate the joyous beauty of nature by studying and photographing a sanctuary owned by Ashley. However the terror of war rips the paradise apart and leaves the three friends seperated and questioning the meaning of life. Through different experiences, each character comes to a similar conclusion, that life is simple, beautiful and a gift to be enjoyed. It will go on over any hurdles. There are always survivors. An interesting read if you are having difficulties facing each day.

Child's Play, an early tour de force, showcases Australian author David Malouf's remarkable versatility and his focus on ideas and themes. Taking us into the mind of a terrorist/assassin as he waits to commit a murder, Malouf shows him to be a "normal" person with the same thoughts and reactions to the world around him as everyone else. Malouf keeps us at a distance from the killer, however, restricting the killer's consciousness to his sense impressions about the world around him, his remembrances and warm feelings toward his childhood and family, his everyday life, and his philosophical musings about his predestined relationship with his chosen victim.

Though this novella was probably considered shocking when it was written in 1982, its impact has been lessened to the point of insignificance by recent events. The reader is given no clue about what has made this man a terrorist or what his ultimate purpose might be, and Malouf provides no sense of significance or context for what otherwise appears to be a motiveless killing by an intelligent and sensitive man. The assassin is, in many ways, like a child playing a very deadly game.

Malouf uses a similar technique in The Bread of Time to Come, also known as Fly Away Peter, though this novella is more emotionally involving than Child's Play. Here the main character, Jim Saddler, the opposite of the assassin in many ways, also seems detached from his life and also naïve. A young man whose chief pleasure is acting as a guide at a bird sanctuary in coastal Queensland, he has been protected from many of life's cruel realities by Australia's physical isolation from the wider world. This changes when he finds himself, along with his employer/friend Ashley Crowther, fighting in France during World War I.

From the opening scene, which sets up dramatic contrasts between a bird and a biplane, Malouf emphasizes the contrasts between the "civilized" and "natural" worlds and between the Garden of Eden of the bird sanctuary, and the violence and killing of war. Jim's discoveries about life and about himself are straightforward and are enhanced by the author's use of repetitions, a great deal of symbolism, and numerous contrasts: Even during war, Jim sees migrating birds.

In both books, Malouf presents dense imagery of sights, sounds, and smells; lovely vignettes about country life; and characters who seem both intelligent and sensitive. The "civilized" world of Europe is, in both cases, seen to be fraught with violence and random cruelty. The Bread of Time to Come, however, reveals a character who comes to realizations about his place in the universe. The terrorist in Child's Play has no world view. Dramatic and thought-provoking, Malouf's novels richly reward the reader looking for intelligent and vibrant prose. Mary Whipple

As always, Malouf's writing is stunning. I was drawn in unable to stop reading even when the story itself became very disturbing. Although not my farvorite of his books, I always enjoy the feeling that his writing evokes.

Like an elaborate concert piece sung by a soloist to display his full range of talents, this early tour de force by Malouf showcases his remarkable versatility with literary styles, a talent which comes to full fruition in his later award-winning novels. Taking us into the mind of a terrorist/assassin as he waits to commit a murder, this novella may have been shocking when it was written in 1982, but its impact has been lessened to the point of insignificance by contemporary events. The story's impact is further lessened because Malouf keeps us at a distance from the killer, severely restricting the killer's consciousness to his sense impressions about the world around him, his remembrances and warm feelings toward his childhood and family, his everyday life, and his philosophical musings about his predestined relationship with his chosen victim. The reader is given no clue about what has made this man a terrorist or what his ultimate purpose might be--he is like a child playing a very deadly game.

Malouf's dense images of the sights, sounds, and smells of rural Italy, of the city where a terrorist murder is planned, and of the distant piazza where the murder will take place are vibrantly alive. The main character's affection for his father, some lovely vignettes about his life in the country, and his kindness to an elderly woman in his apartment building make the killer seem not only human, but even personally admirable. His ability to transport himself into the mind of his victim, and his beliefs about death and destiny show his sensitivity and his intelligence, certainly fine traits. Ultimately, however, I didn't find the limited exploration of the killer's mind to be enough of goal in its own right--I wanted the author to provide a sense of significance and context for what otherwise appears to be a motiveless killing by an intelligent and sensitive man. Mary Whipple

The act of taking of another life, an act further degraded and depraved by its mechanical nature, an act bereft of any rationalization a society could remotely understand, the death of one at the hands of another, here, is reduced to a job.

Mr. David Malouf through his novella, "Child's Play", brings the mind of a killer very close to the reader, for some perhaps uncomfortably close. There is nothing in this work of the traditional hired assassin, the master of weapons, disguises, and as many passports as there are Nations. Nothing here is familiar much less cliché. The Killer does not seem to even know what he feels his action is to be. He refers to it as a crime, a work in progress, and an act of violence, plain butchery, and much more.

He seems also to grapple with what he is in this act with so many descriptions. Is he a terrorist, murderer, a break from the normal progression of life, is he against Nature, or a part of the Natural Order? The Author even explores when in fact this killing will become fact. The easy presumption is at the moment it takes place, however Mr. Malouf goes much deeper. He suggests the moment and location of the death is meaningless until it is known, until it is reported. And here again he treats us to a barrage of interpretations.

I have become attracted to the skill that certain Authors have to communicate volumes of information in very short spaces. This particular work is only 145 pages in length, but due to its density of thought, it reads and feels much longer. You may well feel more drained from this comparatively brief work, than others of much greater length.

Mr. Malouf is an Author with multiple awards, and nominations to his credit. I enjoyed this first book immensely, and look forward to many more.

The main character of Child's Play, David Malouf's novella from 1982, is an assassin. He spends the hours from 8:30am until 7:00pm in a small office in an unnamed area of an unidentified city, studying his 'mark'. The man he is supposed to kill is a famed author, known internationally for his scintillating prose, known to the killer as a man of refined habits, heightened sensibilities, and a strong work ethic.

We are not told the name of the main character, though the story is written from a first person point of view. Indeed, a large number of characters either have no name, or are referred to by their name only a few times. This creates a tight, claustrophobic feel that allows for little in the way of sympathy or understanding.

The narrator has been uprooted from his life - we assume willingly - and made to live in a new city, in a new home, so that he can work and study. The office where he spends the majority of his time is clean and sparse, there is no talking. In the room where the five assassins that make up our narrator's group is filled with desks and filing cabinets and little else. Personal items, while not forbidden (by who?), are not extant in this tiny room. Elsewhere there is a room for sleeping, inhabited by someone, though the narrator suspects the person does not exist. This belief is reinforced by the arsenal of weapons, bombs and grenades scattered throughout the room - who would sleep there?

We learn, in what is almost a catalogue of details, the particulars of the narrator's work colleagues. They are not working on the same project as he, or if they are, he doesn't know it. We have Carla, a disconcerting woman. Enzo, the alpha male who struggles to show his masculine supremacy in an office routine that is dominated by silence. There are more, but they don't matter. Nor do Carla and Enzo.

Further details don't matter, but we are given them. The narrator has a father, with whom he shares a close but silent bond. 'It disturbs me that in this period of isolation I am forbidden to write to him.' In this short novella, totaling only 147 pages, a full ten page chapter is devoted to the narrator's father, sentences and paragraphs later, bear his touch. Why do we need to know this? The narrator makes it clear that his past is as irrelevant as his future - it is the job, the now, the present, that we should concern ourselves.

It is the chapter regarding the narrator's father that first poses a question in the reader's mind. Why are we reading about his father? Why do we care? The narrator explicitly refuses to detail his personality, his dreams, his previous life, and yet we are forced to suffer through a large section on his father? It is not an excuse that the writing is so sure, so elegant, so understated.

Yes, why are we reading these unnecessary details? Why do we go into an exhaustive recreation of the author's life - the one the narrator is contracted to kill? Pages and pages are spent on items that seem to have no relevance to the plot, or the character. Why is this? What is Malouf trying to achieve?

Explicitly, the narrator has no personality. He rejects personality. 'I am invisible', he states in an early passage. Again and again, the 'who' of the narrator is declared to be irrelevant. In effect, we have a protagonist for whom we cannot care. Because of the cold nature of the text, we are waiting for a revelation, or a secret, that will explain the ever-present mystery. But there is nothing. No revelation, no closure to our reading.

Everything is anonymous. People have no names, or they are fake. We are not given a reason as to why this famous author should die, but nor does the narrator know. He is doing his duty. What duty? To whom?

The most frustrating aspect of this novel is that it has no answers, it offers nothing in the way of closure or revelation, and yet it works double time to create a massive layer of mystery. Can we care about an unknown if the knowns are completely boring and dull? Should we stretch our imagination on a topic that inspires nothing more than a shrug of the shoulders?

To be as plain as can be: we are cheated. There are arguments that suggest that the reader has as much responsibility to work as the author, but I cannot expect that this excuse for obfuscation and sheer nothingness would hold up for this text. It is not my fault that a grander meaning is not there - it is the author's, for writing a piece that is, ultimately, about nothing at all. Should I put the entire novella down to an exercise in a text eschewing the need for meaning, resolution, character, plot, or insight? No, I cannot do that. I refuse to cheat others as I myself have been cheated. Child's Play is an unfair novel. It is all string, without a carrot in sight.

Malouf is a talented writer. Throughout, there are passages of great artistry. The narrator describing the daily routine of the master author is a section of particular note. 'Lighter in touch, more daring than anything he would have attempted in his great days or even ten years ago, it is a kind of scherzo in which his deepest themes reappear in travesty, as if, behind all their grandeur, their imperious graspings after the ideal, their noble solemnities, we were invited to see a group of children dressed up in their parents' clothes, the attic finery of a vanished era.' This is interesting writing, this is compelling imagery. But what do we have to show for all of this? Nothing at all. The narrator purports to be a cipher to a grand mystery, but he isn't. Clear the smoke and smash the mirrors - there isn't anything here.

This is a book I would like to erase from my memory. It's pure mediocrity astounds me. The stories are obviously supposed to be deep and emotional and moving *tear* but they fail abysmally. They are, to a man, a flop. Pointless, boring, inane.