True History of the Kelly Gang

I have been meaning to write about The True History of the Kelly Gang for several days; in fact, Pete has nearly finished reading it now, so that must mean several more days. Not because he doesn’t read as fast as me, because he does; just not as often.

This is a thoroughly good book, once you get over the Molesworthesque vernacular. I thought it would grate, but in fact it was grate. Sorry.

Ostensibly, this is the manuscript scribbled by Ned Kelly in his own defence, explaining how he was driven into his life of crime, and became a Robin Hood for the Australian people. Pete says that it narrowly missed being an Irish Hardship novel, but is slightly Australian Hardship instead; this is true.

This is probably a deserved Booker Prize winner, certainly a match for Vernon God Little; but I can’t be more definite than that, because I didn’t read the other nominees, so I don’t have a fully informed opinion. One year maybe I should try to do this.

I do usually like Peter Carey, often despite an unpromising start; and Oscar and Lucinda is a book I remember with strong feelings. It was one of those books that I liked so much at the time that I lent it to someone and never got it back. Duh. I have gone and done the same thing with The Time Traveller’s Wife this year.

I have also just read a funny little book called Magyar Menu, a birthday present from Lyle. This is a collection of newspaper columns from one of the Hungarian national daily papers, about food. Some of them are nearly recipes, but most are mainly anecdotes written in a flippant style about the sort of food that you simply don’t find in restaurants. Why, some of the tales are even about vegetables.