Mixed feelings when it comes to this book, but the love of footy reads true. I play the edges. Kick to kick is easy, marks up is a battle and British Bulldogs is beyond me. One real game and I was done.

Cover detail
Mixed feelings when it comes to this book, but the love of footy reads true. I play the edges. Kick to kick is easy, marks up is a battle and British Bulldogs is beyond me. One real game and I was done.

Cover detail
A twist in the back, cut-throat sharp excisions, all the way to the ‘wilderness suicide’, the world in a room and ‘you’ are there, deep in the layers (206). This book cannot be scrubbed off, no matter how much coin you carry.

Cover detail
The opening pages of this river of a book float you into a place you know/don’t know. A siren song that reads like a bedtime story until you realise you’re spooked out at a campfire with no light back to the house.

Cover detail
Not easy reading, this efflorescence, different voices ranging out together, holding each other, becoming truth together, calling for justice, urging towards joy, surging towards transformation. A glorious grounding. Local, right across the world, held in this basket that ‘grows and evolves’ (1).

Cover detail
Deep faith. Souls ‘drawn together the way they were in the life before life’ (116). The fight against the ‘proliferating, evolving whisper of instability’ , that ‘constant threat’ to women (218). The ‘sanctity’ in privacy (269). Love as an ‘unsubstantiated recognition’ (292).

Cover detail
Forest of pain. ‘The hungry cat sees the girl, her wounds still warm. … gets close to try the flesh; a bomb pounds the street. No flesh, no girl, no father, no cat. Nobody is hungry. The moon overhead is not ….’

Cover detail
Finessed sledge: ‘corrupt, empty, selfish, self-absorbed … horrified to realize that they are made of skin, flesh that can be cut, boiled, and eaten … despise this world and therefore they are engaged in a constant act of covering themselves up …’

Cover detail