![]() Instead, I chose a far more stable and predictable life, possibly one that Nora would have detested. Sometime over the two decades between reads, I had changed dramatically from wanting to be like Nora, to feeling relieved that I didn’t walk too closely in her footsteps. Instead, I kept wondering who was looking after Nora’s young daughter, Gracie, tsking at Javo’s hopeless addiction and wondering why no one was going to work.Ĭlearly, I was missing the point of Helen Garner’s semi-autobiographical novel about the joy and angst of share housing in the 1970s. No longer was I swept away by the romance of Nora’s life, of her complicated relationships, her bohemian sensibility and her long, lazy afternoons spent by the pool. While the language remained just as strikingly beautiful, the story changed dramatically under older, warier, more wrinkled eyes. That was the case when I picked up Monkey Grip, 20 years after first read and adored it while I was at university in Carlton. ![]() Sometimes, re-reading a beloved book can be a mean shock. ![]()
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