Tag Archives: saga

Review: ‘Savior’ by Martha Kennedy

preview

Review of ‘Savior’ by Martha Kennedy

Historical novels are not my usual choice, but this novel immersed me back in the time of knights and crusaders in the C13th. The protagonist, Rudolph, a young Swiss man is suffering from depression. He believes Satan has claimed his soul and the only way to rid him-self from this dilemma is to travel by horse to the Holy Land where he hopes to end his life fighting for the religion he’s lost touch with. He leaves behind his beautiful fiancé.

Rudolph travels with his younger brother, Conrad, who is full of life and hope. Rudolph has much to learn and the story follows his journey of finding himself through living with a hermit, who helps him discover, ’The truth is everywhere yet so difficult to see.’ This time is delightfully told with philosophical questions posed.

His return home has surprises in store. Will his fiancé still be waiting for him? Does he want this sort of future? This book looks at life from a depressive’s stance, through to his overcoming this disability. It also looks at the effect of loss and loneliness on other characters in the story. We are left guessing how the story will resolve itself until the last page.

Martha Kennedy skillfully writes, whisking us back into a time of long ago.

http://marthakennedy.wordpress.com/2014/09/29/savior-is-for-sale/

Enduring Threads: part 9

‘Currajong’,’ Robin Hill’ and ‘Alandale’

Dad’s family lived on dairy farms at Flowerdale, near Wynyard. New Year’s Day picnics were spent there with lots of cousins, (the full quota, twenty two cousins, but two lived in New Guinea). Early on the picnics would be by the creek at ‘Currajong’ at Loch and Judy Fran’s. That was when we were all small, but not small enough not to be included in a game of cricket.

Middle years tasting the homemade plum wine at ‘Alandale’ produced a rather loud cheery gathering. That was at Dad’s sister, Judy, and Bob Sadler’s. The orchard beyond the house and garden was abundant. In later years gatherings were held at ‘Robin Hill’, Barney and Jean’s farm where we’d sit out on the grass tennis court. Our numbers, including the next generation, were quickly increasing.

When we first had a car, Dad fixed the brakes before departing, knowing that he could use the brakes only once. We made the whole journey without him using the brakes till we arrived home. This was an incredible feat as the road was hilly and windy around the coast. It was all done with gear changes and slowing down.

Dad was the eldest of a family of four sons and one daughter: Frank, Judy, Lachlan (Lock), Bernard (Barney) and Henry (Hong, or as some called him Hank, after the war). His parents Amelia (Amy) and K (short for Knyvet) Roberts lived on the farm ‘Currajong’ at Flowerdale, which passed on to Lock and his wife, Judy Fran. We were all given Knyvet as a second name. The name lives on at Cradle Mountain too, where K did a lot of exploring and the Knyvet Falls were named after him.

 

Grandfather K Barbara and Clive at the Devonport Show 1950/51

Grandfather K
Barbara and Clive at the Devonport Show 1950/51

Dad’s grandfather had come out from Norfolk as a Church of England minister and had thirteen children. They lived on a farm called ‘Woodrising’ which is now the Devonport Golf Club. He was instrumental in having the Devon Hospital built.

The story of his father finding a snake in his bed, grabbing it and tossing it to the other side of the room, made me nervous about getting into bed when in the country.

Amy, Frank’s mother, was from an Irish Protestant family that had settled in the Sale area in Victoria. She had been a teacher before marrying K. Her cousin Mary Fullerton had written several books, and I have a copy of one called Bark House Days, about the pioneering days in the Sale area. It has very dated language but is interesting in an historical sense. Amy had instilled a love of language and books in her children; subsequently that love passed on through my Dad, who encouraged us, by making up stories, reading to us, and later, talking about the books he was reading. My mother read to us too, sitting by the study fire as the clothes dried nearby. ‘Winnie the Pooh’, ‘Snugglepot and Cuddlepie’ and ‘The Magic Pudding’ are instant reminders of that time.

 

(Apologies for my absence. Family commitments have taken me away from blogging… )