By Gabrielle Blondell “She’s dead, Matty. She is dead….and flat.” Daryl says this as if it might be the eighth wonder of the world. “Are you sure?” I ask.  I’m hoping he has got it wrong and the cat’s just in shock. “No I don’t think so. Come and take a look.” “Nah,” I say. I’m squeamish. “What colour is it?” I ask. I see Daryl bend closer to the road. “It’s hard to know really. It’s a kind of black with some white, when you look through all the blood and stuff.” Darryl is teasing me now. He knows about my squeamishness. “Is itRead More →

What takes us back to another time? I’m not talking about a memory, something viewed from afar. I’m talking about us slotting back into the skin of our younger selves, looking through those younger eyes and taking it all in with our younger minds. It’s so rare, I think, this kind of transportation, but when it does happen its powerful. It lingers for days. This is how I felt after reading Tim Winton’s, The Turning. My own childhood, my adolescence came back to me. I know it is partly because he is Australian and a coastal dweller and that he is just a tad olderRead More →

Photo by Marten Bjork on Unsplash By Gabrielle Blondell It crept out of my mouth before I’d thought to reel it back in. I was like that back then. I’d say anything if it sounded right, if the rhythm was right, you know. Like a pop-song lyric. It didn’t need to make sense. And I saw the blood drain from Phil’s face and then rise again, dark red. ‘I don’t give a flying fuck what your mother used to say.’  His hands were white-knuckled on the steering wheel. The weird thing was I didn’t either. I hadn’t listened to my mother in years. This oneRead More →

By Gabrielle Blondell Photo by Mads Schmidt Rasmussen on Unsplash Harriet is rushing through the smoky streets toward the pub. ‘You’ll love him, Harry! You will,’ Sylvie had said that morning. Standing beside the smudge of red which is the DON’T WALK sign on the corner, Harriet is hoping Giles isn’t too inquisitive, not too much of a talker. Sex is a better icebreaker, she thinks. Doesn’t require a personality. A woman huddled at the 114 bus-stop coughs, a deep rasping sound, and Harriet feels her own throat tighten. Perhaps she should buy some of those surgical masks people seem to be getting around in.Read More →

Photo by Priscilla Du Preez on Unsplash We are getting closer to a shutdown in Australia. It’s a strange feeling. I can feel the stress of it in the tips of my fingers and there’s a buzzing on the crown of my head most of the time now, but there’s also a sense of unreality. It’s feels like a movie, one of those disaster films from the 1990’s or 2000’s. You know the ones where the ship is sinking or the volcano is spewing molten lava or when climate change has brought on the next ice age (this one does worry me more than theRead More →

I’ve been thinking about my reading habits.  I’ve always had this thing about reading a book twice.  I know people who will read a book over and over.  My daughter is one of them.  Every time a new Harry Potter book or movie was released, she would read the previous books again and in the right order.  She said it was so everything was fresh in her mind.  It makes perfect sense, except for the time it takes.  I just couldn’t do it.  My brain would seize as soon as the story became familiar.  I couldn’t say, I know this already and it’s okay.  IRead More →

Bradkay Photographics

These were the instructions from the photographer also a Brad (Delaney), who was shooting my author headshots. He said this whenever I became self-conscious, which was rather a lot. “What actor do you like?” he had asked me early on. I’d said Brad Pitt because I’d recently seen his acceptance speech at the Golden Globes and he’s not just pleasing to look at, he’s a funny guy. I like funny guys. My partner is a funny guy.  Anyway, as I’m not comfortable with having my photo taken, BD was attempting to relax me, to give me something else to think about other than how weirdRead More →

How reckless, how dangerous, we can be in the grip of an obsession. We can steal, lie, do murder even. And just before you say, not I, know that if this can happen with Terence Greene, oh yes, it can happen with you. Terence is the protagonist in Joyce Carol Oates’ novel, Double Delight. He is the director of a charity, (a deft move by Oates to give him gravitas) and lives in the wealthy suburb of Queenston, New Jersey. He wears expensive suits during the week and, when not socialising with the other well-to-do residents of Queenston, he fiddles with his small DYI projectsRead More →

by Gabrielle Blondell Please Mum, I know you’re busy, but I want you to meet my fiancé. The Crab House, 7:30pm. Joanna Elise stared at her phone, eyeing it warily and waiting, as if something else might issue from it. Her personal assistant strode into the room, cradling the day’s agenda. “The presentation starts in two minutes,” Bronwyn said. Bronwyn was like herself. She didn’t round things up or down. She was precise. Two minutes was two minutes. Elise slipped her phone into her pocket. “Right then, let’s go.” ~ Michael Bruin was deconstructing the team’s ad campaign with the aid of his laser pointerRead More →

We know we are destructive creatures, but to this I now add ridiculous and delusional. It’s how we go on, isn’t it, in the face of our inevitable end. It makes it possible for us as readers to enter a graveyard and cavort with the dead and pity them their unfinished business. This is the scene set by George Saunders in his novel, Lincoln in the Bardo. We are easily drawn into his tale of these malformed spirits, who despite all they witness, cling to the lives which have long-since left them. This is a netherworld where coffins become ’sick-boxes’ and the life they onceRead More →