All our stories belong to all Australians. All our stories should have equal value. That's why these three plays by South Asian diaspora playwrights Sonal Moore, Kevin Bathman and Roanna Gonsalves are so precious, and resonated with me.
Because all good narratives, no matter how black in theme or tone, are essentially about illuminating the human condition. And the blacker the story, the more it illuminates. Which is why I'm drawn to binge-watch dismally dark stories about death and violence - narratives that plumb the depths of human depravity.
Author Roger Pulvers is a polymath with a formidable list of achievements that after perusing, usually require a lie down with a cold cloth on my forehead. He is the kind of person we might refer to as ‘atama ga agaranai’, a person whose achievements are so humbling that you are compelled to bow down to them.
After watching three seasons of Transparent, I find myself envying the Jews. The transgressions of the self absorbed, upper middle class Californian-Jewish Pfefferman clan makes my own dysfunctional family seem so excruciatingly banal that I'm wishing I could wallow in all that Jewish trauma. Which is perverse of course, and that to me is the attraction of Transparent.
This book is, in my view, a return to McEwan's former storytelling brilliance (after Solar and Sweet Tooth) because he does what he does best - explore the emotional crevices between love and devotion, love and hate, love and sex, love and morality, love and virtue.
Written in a compelling dystopian tone, I appreciated the confidence author Charlotte Wood has in the reader to absorb her nuanced exploration of the complexities that make up the "female condition".