​This is a dual timeline novel set in Sydney in 1967 and 1997. Although classified as a mystery, it is also a social commentary on the issues of race, alcoholism and family violence.
 
Isla lives in London but rushes home to her father Joe in Australia when he calls and tells her that he’s under suspicion for a murder that happened thirty years earlier. It seems he is the last person who saw their neighbour Mandy Mallory alive in 1967. The case has only just been opened due to Mandy receiving an inheritance and her whereabouts are unknown.
 
Weaving back and forth between 1967 and 1997, we uncover the stories of individuals who lived next door to one another: Joe and Louisa, recent emigrants from England, and their little daughter Isla who is minded during the day by Mandy, the wife of policeman Steve.
 
Louisa dislikes Australia and misses England, while Steve increasingly suffers from the traumatic nature of his work which involves the forced removal of Aboriginal children from their parents. With a job working on the Sydney Opera House, Joe struggles to keep Louisa happy, but domestic violence and alcoholism rear their ugly heads. Likewise, Steve is desperate to start a family but Mandy doesn’t want children and so their conflicts increase. Isla has her own demons, dealing with alcoholism. And back in her old house, she remembers being more fond of Mandy than her mother, but being scared of Steve. As she slowly unpeels the past, she wonders if it is possible her father Joe was involved in Mandy’s disappearance? After Louisa takes Isla back to England, Joe finds solace with Mandy and complications are set in play that are bound to end badly. 
 
The dual narratives are well-constructed and the outcome of the mystery feasible given the circumstances but there is little to like about any of these individuals between their drinking and fighting. Isla is abrasive and in fact it is the tortured Steve who is perhaps the best character portrayal. The ambivalent feelings of English migrants struggling with the alien surroundings of Australia give a true reflection of what it was like for many.

When a novel is exceptionally good, one tends to be forgiving of historical anachronisms but they can become an irritation if the reading experience is less enjoyable for whatever reason.

And it is simple technology that can trip up any author.

Yes, it is accurate that travel between the UK and Australia by air was prohibitively expensive for the average person and thus most travel was by sea. Unfortunately, there is a problem in the ease in which the characters then pick up the phone and just call one another. International direct dialling was not yet a possibility in 1967 and all calls had to go through international trunk exchanges, usually booked in advance for a specific time. These calls were very expensive, only used for emergencies or important occasions. In reality, most of the communication between Louisa and Joe would have had to be by aerogramme (air letters) or, in case of urgency, by telegram.

Also dubious is whether Sydney (i.e. city or suburban) police officers were sent off to rural Aboriginal settlements to take and distribute children to care homes. If this did happen, then I’m happy to stand corrected.
 
The author’s notes carry a lengthy polemic on the history of enforced separation of Aboriginal children from their parents, which is well-known to Australians but probably not to readers in other countries. For anyone who wants to discover more about the “stolen generation”, it is recommended they seek out authentic books written by Aboriginal authors.
 
Unfortunately, the anachronisms extend to the cover which shows distinctly American-style houses, not at all Australian.

​The ones below are more accurate in showing an Australian style of house although it is  c. 1890 Melbourne rather than something more in keeping with 1960s Sydney. 


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3 stars
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(Thanks to Edelweiss for the ARC.)

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Booktopia

​“If you wanted to get away with murder, Vanishing Falls is the place to do it,” is an observation of one of the characters in this novel.
 
Ever since it was known as Van Diemen’s Land, Tasmania has had a dark and troubled history and although it has long since left behind its convict past, there are still pockets where unnamed fears and unease linger, especially in its brooding forests and small towns struggling with unemployment, drug use and other more sordid activities.
 
This all comes together in this compelling page-turning novel about a woman gone missing. She is Celia, wife of Jack Lily, the rich lawyer whose privileged family has lorded it over Vanishing Falls for generations. As people hunt for Celia in what seems like unrelenting rain, we are pulled deep into the psyche of the town and its secrets.
 
Although the evidence is strongly against him, Jack struggles to prove that he was not involved in his wife’s disappearance while trying to hide unsavoury aspects of his own behaviour. The meth-addicted poultry farmer Cliff is mired in his own messy anger and delusions, and Joelle, the apparently simple-minded wife of the local butcher, still struggles with her own horrific memories while desperate for friends and acceptance.
 
It is only through the beautifully understated and unusual characterisation of Joelle that this is saved from being yet another Australian “outback noir” novel in the style of “The Dry” or “Wimmera”, as with an innocence and clarity of vision denied the others, it is Joelle who is instrumental in solving the mystery. As she says: “Something bad happened and I did not try to stop it. I don’t want to do that again.”
 
(Many thanks to Edelweiss for the ARC.)
 
Four stars
 
(Links to book sites after publication)

Matilda (Mattie) Simpkin is an ageing former suffragette who is proud of her achievements (and her police record) and who has no intention of accepting the lot of some simpering middle-aged spinster by disappearing into the sunset. She’s a bit of “old baggage” in the sense that she says what she thinks, is over-assertive, even uncompromising in her beliefs in what is good for her is also good for other people.
 
Mattie needs to find purpose in life and it seems as if the answer is generated following an altercation with a bag-snatcher that results in an unintentional injury to a young woman called Ida. This event gives her the inspiration to create a girls’ group that will involve lots of fresh air and exercise but that will also revive  feminist ideals in the flighty “flapper generation” that doesn’t seem to appreciate the sacrifices and challenges involved by Mattie and her fellow campaigners in gaining them the vote.
 
Mattie lives in comparative comfort with her quieter companion known as The Flea (Florrie Lee) who is involved in health work and giving advice to poor families. Florrie continues to support Mattie, although she can be a trial to live with and Florrie is forever trying to restrain her friend’s outrageous whims and wild schemes.
 
Mattie’s group of Hampstead Heath “Amazons” continues to grow until it finds itself in competition with another enthusiastic youth group, the quasi Fascist Empire League. This gets further complicated when a new girl called Inez joins her group and Mattie loses her focus, going off-kilter in trying to deal with another type of “old baggage” from her past.
 
This is an absorbing and delightful story on all levels, albeit with an ending that some readers may find just a touch saccharine. The writing is brilliant and perfectly conveys the individuals and their attitudes in a style that truly feels as if it were written in the 1920s. There is deliciously quirky humour as well as much deeper psychological and emotional explorations into love, friendship, loyalty and ultimately the benefits of knowing when to admit you were wrong.
  
4 1/2 stars.

Booktopia

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