•• Ink Rescript#9

It was as if she had never found her true metier, a grandeur or passion as endless and uncaring, as intoxicating and indecipherable as the vast lands below that fatal hill.

•• Ink Rescript#8

She seemed aglow with some indefinable aura, a wickedness that was also a glamour; a conspirational mystery that somehow you and you alone felt invited to join, and at its apex, a gorgeous darkness that wasn’t quite evil and wasn’t quite not evil.

First Person by Richard Flanagan… (No spoilers)


I wrapped up this beauty over the weekend! I must say, it was a highly compelling and engaging book not only for the storyline but how the novel was actually written.

I’ve read many books (that’s an understatement), and I’ve never read one written in such a style that is so incredibly detailed. Now, admittedly, this is the first Flanagan book i’ve read, so I can’t compare it to his others, and I believe there are six, this might just be his style of writing. In saying that, I was intrigued by his extensive use of knowledge about just about everything. Now, Richard Flanagan is either a highly educated man or, he does his research when compiling a novel extremely well.

Needless to say, First Person was an absolutely brilliant read and if you haven’t, do grab a copy! Richard Flanagan is an amazing author and he is worth a place on your bookshelf (or virtual bookshelf if you prefer). Furthermore, I’ll definitely be giving his others books a go.


That how summer passed…

I wasn’t listening,

I wasn’t watching.

Blinded by the sunshine strip.

You were in the kitchen,

your mind was marked and wounded with the wounders whip.

That’s how summer passed,

maybe it was peace at last,

who knew?

I forgot where we were.

•• Ink Rescript#7

The more I invented her on the page, the more the page became her and the more she became me – and me the page and the book me and me her. For the first time in my life I sensed the terrifying unity I had always craved as a writer.


⇢ Maybe I should open the drawer and burn the pages, and write poems with the ash on the floor. ⇠