Author: Andres Kabel

“Trang: The More You Give” is an unassuming biography of the sort that shouts “fascinating person I’ve known,” normally only of interest to those who actually are friends of the subject. And I do know Trang Thomas, the Vietnamese-born Australian covered in this book, though my acquaintanceship is recent and not especially deep. But appearances deceive, a cliché that applies equally to this bio and to Professor Trang Thomas herself, because this book is an engrossing tour through both a life and her times. Most unexpectedly, the gentle, intelligent academic I thought I knew was in fact a trailblazer through my era. A pioneering psychology academic, Trang was way ahead of the curve in Australia, tackling issues of aging and multiculturalism long before they became mainstream. She headed up government commissions, served on landmark boards, and was called to duty by a revolving roster of senior politicians. Consistently, she stood up unswervingly for the principles of multicultural richness and equality, as well as feminism, that are close to my heart. The number of times she was accorded a “first” (first woman, first Asian, etc., etc.) amazed me. Of course an interesting life often a boring book makes, but Peter Nolan, in his second book, is a smooth, logical writer with strong narrative control. In short, “Trang” is a superbly crafted biography that should be read by all Australians.

Saturated with portent and gloom, and lurking in and around Oxfordshire river folk country, “Everything Under” is a most unusual novel, a gothic tale blended with modern transgressiveness and family schisms. Gretel, a humdrum lexicographer, tracks down the mother who walked out a decade and a half earlier, and then Daisy Johnson deftly (but deliberately obscurely, the strands are indeed murky) ducks in and out of the past with tales of transgender waifs and role models, and generational ills. Johnson pens evocative, mystery-saturated prose that grips from scene to scene, but to this reader, the overall narrative glides with little laid-out purpose. By the time of the climax, I found myself both engrossed and over it, so my judgement is this: a memorable novel that offers no easy closure.

Melbourne thriller writer Matt Rogers follows the tradition of Matthew Reilly with combat-centered action tales, and “Contracts” is a solid, if unassuming story set on the standard route to Everest. The second of a new series combining previously separate heroes, Jason King and Matt Slater (one is bigger, one is faster), the story revolves around the kidnapping of an American teenage girl, daughter of a senior secret service official. Battle after battle ensues, with the perils of high altitude sickness a further obstacle. Rogers choreographs the violence well but for me, little made the two nigh-superheroes stand out above the scrum of many similar Ethan Hunts in a crowded marketplace. Entertaining, nonetheless.

The cunning interloper … an entire thriller sub-genre has developed around the idea of someone worming their way into the lives of innocents, with deadly aims. Perhaps Killing Eve’s Villanelle is the ultimate example (except she infiltrates with ease again and again and again). “Deserve to Die” is an entertaining entrant into this field, with gorgeous Tamara entering the world of designer Dom and his author wife Stacey and their two children. Miranda Rijks writes with great confidence, her dialogue especially admirable, and the mechanics of Tamara’s misdeeds are plotted with finesse. The characters are credible if a trifle shallow, so that “Deserve to Die” makes for a fine one-sitting read that underplays the implicit tension. A satisfying meal without being a wonderful night out.

The wondrous, hard-sci-fi worlds of Neal Stephenson crown him as the king of futurism. No one can match his entertaining, minutely imagined unravelling of fascinating futures. In “Fall: or, Dodge in Hell,” Dodge Forthrast, the super-smart, super-rich games developer at the heart of near-future techno-thriller “Reamde,” dies and is accorded a second existence in virtual reality. Stephenson, of course, delves into the very notions of cryonics and virtual reality with depth that is in itself fascinating, and he is a brilliant plotter who also gets under the skin of his numerous characters. This is a typical hefty book (nearly 900 pages) that mostly intrigues and entrances. If you love to witness a fantasy world – in this case the virtuality reality Bitworld in which Dodge emerges – unfurl in kaleidoscopic cacophony, this book will delight. And Stephenson loves to puzzle out the thematic possibilities of his futures. But for all the pleasures of “Fall: or, Dodge in Hell,” two aspects detract. Once upon a time, back with “Snowcrash,” Stephenson wrote with exuberant style. No longer: his late-career discursive style, while never shallow, is now almost pedestrian. And Bitworld, I’m sorry to say, quickly becomes numbingly tedious. No one is like Neal Stephenson and for that reason alone, I commend this book to readers, but there’s a world of pity in me that he doesn’t curb his excesses and focus more on the on-page experience.